I called you last night from Glasgow

It's funny where you find yourself on a wet October evening. I'm in Glasgow in an hotel. I've no idea where I am in relation to the rest of the city. There's a river just outside and lots of cranes and things. It feels very industrial in a not very pleasant way. It's all quite grim and dark up here. We got to the Lake District and the heavens opened, and I've not seen the sun since.

Driving up was an adventure. I've come to Scotland to help our friends Lisa and Mark with a drumming workshop, and was picked up by a suspicious-looking white van at Luton airport. We travelled at a good speed all the way up, despite being buffeted almost constantly by high winds which threatened to blow us off the motorway. 

My travel companions were Simon and Catherine. New friends. Great fun. There's something about a road trip which bonds people very quickly, and no subject was left undiscussed. 

I'm annoyed to report that my cold seems to have reappeared. My glands are up again. I had a frightening episode in the night when I started to cough and then couldn't breath. I was gasping for air, almost choking. Everything felt constricted. In the cold light of day I realise I was have some kind of spasm and from now on, need to remember to stay as calm as possible if the same thing happens again. As Lisa said earlier, "it happens to children. The worst case scenario is that you'll pass out, and at that stage your body will take over and start breathing normally again."

Her words were wise, but it was a frightening experience, so much that  I woke Nathan up afterwards to talk things through. He was wonderfully calming, and we had a cuddle until I drifted off to sleep again. 

350 years ago, Pepys spent the afternoon hanging a model of a ship from the ceiling of his chamber. He was very pleased with his work and went to The Dolphin for a celebratory drink with Sir William Batten. They ate bloat herrings for their tea, which I'm told were a form of smoked herrings.