My turn to drive to Scotland, then. I didn't mind, although the traffic was heavy on the A1, the situation exacerbated by major roadworks. But for much of the way we were travelling reasonably quickly. Many drivers used the heavy traffic as an excuse to undertake, and after a couple of hours of vehemently slagging them off, I found myself doing the same. Richard pointed out my hypocrisy, and after some consideration I decided that "undertaking is like farting or shagging a sixteen year old - it's always wrong unless you're the one doing it."
Edinburgh came into sight far later than we had planned, so we wasted no time cracking open some cans of beer and catching up with Brucey. I was introduced to the dubious delights of Channel 5 - I'm not sure that I'm missing much, living in a region of poor reception. We began watching a film billed as an "erotic comedy", but as it eventually proved to be neither erotic nor funny, we switched it off.
Lexy and The Ginger Prince soon arrived, as did the pizza. Somehow we'd managed to order pizza toppings that none of us liked - everybody had been politely suggesting combinations that they believed the others to like, and we'd all foolishly agreed to them, each of us too polite to refuse any suggestions. The blame, unsurprisingly, was apportioned on myself.