Last late shift of the year. Hogmanay. The city already half-dressed for celebration and half-undressed by road closures. Main streets sealed off like a crime scene, cones breeding overnight, and diversion notices fluttering about as if they’d only just been agreed over a pint. Typical. I had three trips left in me, all different routes, each one with its own bespoke “tweak” designed to keep things lively. Or confusing. Or both. First trip: a diversion. Second trip: a different diversion. Third trip: a diversion of a diversion, just to keep a bus driver humble. Then, as if the city felt things were going a little too straightforward, a road traffic collision arrived to really pull the threads loose. So now it wasn’t just Plan B, but Plan C, D, and a bit of freestyle navigation thrown in for character. Diversions on diversions. The sort of night where your indicators get more exercise than your right foot. Still, that’s Hogmanay for you. Controlled chaos with a hint of civic optimism...
Your city, your journey, our drive.