We board the tube for The Huntarian Museum and Mackintosh House on the grounds of Glasgow University, getting to them just before they open at 10 AM. The house is where he and his wife lived for about 10 years … not THE house but a modern replica built 100 feet from where the original was, with the same elevation and orientation and window placement and room sizes, so the light inside is EXACTLY the same as when Mackie and Margie lived there: the reconstruction scrupulously based on numerous photos taken by Mackie aficionado beaks from the university’s architectural and arts departments just before the interiors were dismantled (literally) and the house demolished.

The Huntarian Museum had a few Whistlers, some other nice stuff, but paled in comparison to the Kelvingrove, a 10-minute walk across the Kelvin River and downhill. We listened to a free half-hour recital from the king’s instrument and toured various parts of its many rooms. Yet another whole room of Mackintosh memorabilia, art, and history, a whole room of “The Glasgow Boys”, some of whose work foreshadowed German Expressionism (some of their works were shown in Hamburg and Berlin in the 19 fifteens, so influence is highly probable). A whole room of taxidermied beasts and fish and birds of the Scottish persuasion.

We wend our way on a 15-minute walk to a Belgian restaurant — some 20-something girls urinating and laughing at us and each other on the way — where Cynthia decides the decibel level is beyond bearable. Not wrong, so we kathak ourselves into Ashoka, an Indian restaurant. We forget to look around us at the dishes people order so, when we order, we get two dishes and rice and naan. The two dishes come in copper woks the size of baptismal fonts: enough to feed Utter Pradesh.

We waddle to our hotel.