Well boy's, that's it, fair fortnight over. In-box over flowing, answering machine bursting at the seems with messages (mostly complaints about why their jobs are still standing) mouth like a welders mitt from all the refreshments, whole body aching from entertaining 2 wee Yankee nieces for a week in a wet seaside town, erses who think they can call my mobile and book us to run too their jobs first thing on Monday morning, holding the usual lucky dip in the yard tomorrow to find this years lucky winner to whose job we actually go too first. Glasgow fair, wouldn't have it any other way.