Anyway, here we are. It’ll be ages before the speakers start but. At least there’s mair space – for a wee while, until the rest of the demo gets here. I turn and take a gander round about me. It gies me a chance to look at Julian without him noticin. He’s standing with his shoulders hunched and another rollie in his hand. He must be cold; he’s chitterin slightly. He could a done wi his parka the day, no that wee thin combat jacket. The corner of his black and white Arab scarf is stickin out the pocket. His hair’s the colour a glass in the sun. Like that spun glass.