This weekend marks the beginning of what is known locally as the "Glasgow Fair" It's a holiday that dates back to the days when Glasgow was a market town, and the fair was an annual summer celebration. During the industrial revolution, the fair became the only chance in the year for workers to get a break from the grime and smog of the city. They used to take paddle steamers down the River Clyde - "doon the water" - to seaside towns on the Clyde riviera, such as Rothesay.

These days, not everyone takes a two week break for the fair holiday, although this weekend has been Glasgow Airport's busiest in history.

My family used to take our fair holidays in Dublin. We stayed with my aunt and her family, often going for seaside jaunts to the east coast of Ireland. We went to places like Howth, Portmarnock and the wonderfully-named Dollymount.

It was on such an occasion that I had my first same sex encounter. I was about ten years old, and went to have a pee in one of the toilets near the beach. There was a man already at the urinal, and I must have been looking at his dick because I remember him saying "It's a big one, isn't it?" Nothing else happened, except I made the mistake of telling my mother and got a long don't talk to strange men lecture. I've been ignoring that advice ever since.