Sleek and slender, Macdonald loves the furtive, anonymous aspect of this exercise "because I'm in a helmet and glasses so they never know it's me, which is a great thing because otherwise I'd never get round the park".
They spring up on my face like the weeds in my garden - one day nothing is there; the next, a cheeky wee sucker is sprouting between the crevices of my sleep-deprived face. So when I arrive to meet Dr Darren McKeown, Glasgow's foremost Botox practitioner, I am sceptical - but intrigued. Recent years have left their mark on my face. As a working mother who has suffered many sleepless nights, my standard facial expression, even when happy, seems to be that of a frown.
(McIntosh is not only an actor but a writer and screenwriter too, and a good one; but more on that later.) "It was the biggest horse I've ever seen," she announces as she sits down to a cup of tea in the G&V Hotel in Edinburgh. "I came off it at the end of the day. I was holding a crown which was very heavy, and it had lots of spikes and diamonds on it and I was leaning backwards and arching my back. It was wanting to go forward and with me being bareback … I had to let myself fall off. So I came down, rolled and my head hit the ground, but it could've been a lot worse."
Instead what plays in the house is an audio clip from the HBO television Western series Deadwood. As Grant makes his way to open the door, the sound booming throughout his house is "Welcome to f*****g Deadwood," complete with old-timey, yee-ha cowboy music.
After such a successful year for the city, it is only fitting the people, businesses and organisations working on the front line to ensure Glasgow's growth and development as one of the world's most exciting, dynamic and successful cities are recognised.
She herself had been shunned for speaking in her native tongue, having come from the generation who had no confidence in their Gaelic identity, and for whom speaking the language at school could get you caned. When Matheson's mother came from Barra to the mainland at 14 to work in a hotel with other island girls, they were forbidden to speak it. Using their own first language would have been viewed as slovenly.
Her many visits to Ethiopia have fuelled both fiction and non-fiction books. Photograph: Stewart Attwood
Passing remarks included "Where has he been?" and "Crikey, he's still alive?"
DJ and producer Laurent Garnier sidles up to the decks, headphones askew, a coy smile to the crowd, the sun streaming through the building, creating a golden halo around him as he starts to do his thing. Boom, the beats kick in. The crowd starts moving; Garnier's head starts nodding. One set of fingers drum on an imaginary keyboard, in sync with the pulsing music.
Drenched. Deflated. All words Gus Patterson and Derek McLennan might use to describe themselves at 3pm on December 19, 2013. The rain was lashing down, the field they were in was as muddy as a battlefield, and the 60mph winds were cutting through them. They had been there for five hours. In the diminishing light, hope had turned to hopelessness. It was time to call it a day. Then, all of a sudden, Patterson was dancing. Bending his knees and moving his arms as if doing a jig.
