We huff and we puff around lovely, bright Strathclyde Park: Luca on his bike, cousin Paul and me running. Slowly. Extremely slowly, judging by the flashes of Lycra as club runners thunder by in a relay race that sends walkers scattering and Luca a-wobbling. Then, after slipping on our jeans, we decide to drive up the hill and brave Bothwell's wags and footballer bling for Sunday lunch in the Grapevine.
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It's a funny old game
Restaurant review: Grapevine, Bothwell.
