In a couple of hours I'm going to meet a man for a St Patrick's Day drink.
I met him outside the Jam House in Edinburgh a couple of weeks ago. It would seem I wrote my telephone number on the back of his tourist map.
Yesterday, when he called to arrange our date I had to be honest and tell him I had no idea what he looked like!
You see, I don't remember meeting him!
I wasn't drunk that night, I was happily dancing to 70's hits with Scotland's Only Son.
What I do remember about the end of the evening was My Mate Charlie asking a group of girls if they knew who Scotland's Only Son was.
"Is he a footballer? Is he a footballer?" they shrieked.
They lost interest and walked away when they found out he wasn't.
That is what I remember from my moments outside the Jam House.
I am now hoping that if I was wearing super strength beer goggles at the time after all, my date turns out to be a nice guy.
If I do mention him again, I'll call him Paddy.
I wish you all a very happy St Patrick's Day!
(Question to self. Should you go on a date if you are not currently on the market for a boyfriend?)