THERE are two ways I could paint my recent stint presenting a late night show on BBC Radio Scotland.
I could give you the edited, shiny Facebook version (for by and large that’s the bit of people’s lives we see on social media) – that it was ever so glamorous, choosing tunes for the nation – followed by a stay in a trendy, boutique hotel in Glasgow.
Or I could tell you the truth. That hosting a show from 10pm to 1am was surreal, given (unless alcohol and a bar has been involved) I haven’t made it past 10.30pm for two and a half years – since Monty was born then Chester came along.
Come 1.30am, I spotted a fish and chip shop beside my hotel and ordered a double sausage supper, which I proceeded to eat in my single bed in a hotel room with a weird twilight film flickering across my chips and pickled onion.
Living the dream, my friend. Living the dream.