The other day I went on a trip over the border. I changed my money and put on my tartan trews and set out with my friend Carole.

It was a cold and frosty morning, but the moon was shining brightly. Yes, I did say the moon.

It was 7.30am and we were heading to Glasgow. As our journey progressed it became colder and colder, though for me the journey seemed magical –the frozen trees looked like lace sentinels lined up and I imagined I was driving through Narnia. Actually, we were heading to a trade fair.

Carole runs the Sleepy Elephant shop in Sedbergh. It’s a great place with all sorts of interesting stuff, and she was looking to buy some woollies for the shop and had invited me along. Fancy that.

When we reached Glasgow we had a little trouble finding the Exhibition Centre.

The windscreen washer suddenly burst into life and in the moment it takes for the screen to clear we drove right past the turn off. Carole is virtually unflappable, unlike me, I would go straight into a panic if I lost my way when driving somewhere unfamiliar.

However, we eventually found our way back, only to find the entrance to the car park closed.

We had to be a little imaginative about how we got in.

So, we parked up and rushed in excited anticipation toward the building.

Carole had promised that the food was good and that I was guaranteed a first-rate lunch.

As we walked into the centre we couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t busy –we put it down to the bad weather.

Eventually we asked. Carole speaks the lingo, though being a Cockney I often have trouble with dialects, especially Glaswegian.

The doors to the main hall appeared to be shut fast and yes, you guessed it, we were two days early.

That’s a laugh as anyone who knows me would tell you I am always running up the road because I’m late for church, the coffee morning, or my stint at the charity shop.

I’ll probably be late for my own funeral - I am for everything else.