THE tartan-clad warriors invaded London with a smile on their faces and a drink in hand for last night’s meeting with the Auld Enemy.

The traditional HQ for Scotland supporters every two years for England fixtures was always Trafalgar Square.

 While plenty of Scots swarmed underneath Admiral Horatio Nelson as tradition dictates, the mood was reflective rather than raucous in the build-up to last night’s World Cup qualifier at Wembley.

An estimated 14,000 of them were in the UK capital, but left heartbroken after the 3-0 defeat An Armistice Day service had taken place in the morning and the fountain which was used as a baroque paddling pool by many a hairy Highlander back in the day was full of poppies. There would be no fountain flings. Not on this day.

“There is a lot of self-policing going on which is good to see. We haven’t had to do anything,” said one of London’s finest who along with his colleagues were a notable presence wherever the visiting fans congregated.

“They are drinking a lot, an awful lot, and have been since early this morning but I think, because of the day it is, they are behaving themselves. It’s been good fun.”

A sizable number of Tartan Army foot soldierss, an estimated 15,000 made it to the capital attended the service before heading towards the nearest pub. After all, that is what they do best. That and having a laugh.

A running joke was to get a picture underneath every Iceland shop they could find; a warm tribute to the country which knocked England out of the European Championships last summer. 

Fridays at Covent Garden are not usually like this. Instead of an opera singer entertaining wine-drinking city workers with a lovely aria, instead the rather bemused locals were treated to a song about Diego Maradona. 

Sightseers who had no clue what was going on had to be told that Maradona was not, in fact, a Scottish tenor; rather many believe his face should appear on a Scottish tenner.
And one T-shirt did sum up the feelings of the many. It read: “If Donald Trump can win then so can Scotland.” Quite.

The Scots were spread right across the city meaning it was hard to walk down any street without bumping into a middle-aged pot-bellied man wearing a kilt and a 1978 Scotland top with the name Gemmill on the back.

Indeed, such gentlemen were spotted drinking in a bar in Soho’s famous Old Compton Street, known for its popularity with London’s gay community. One had to think it was a first for the regulars and those who had dropped in for a pint. This fixture has changed. Football has changed. Homemade falafels and vegetarian sausages were on sale from the many food outlets on Wembley way, the greatest (or worst) example of the game’s gentrification.

However, some things thankfully stay the same. Saltire flags were hung from every second pub, pints were consumed at a frightening rate, some punters were utterly gone hours before kick-off,  songs got belted, strangers’ hands were shaken even if they wanted it or not and a good time was had by all.

Even if metropolitan and multi-cultural London really wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all.

Police made two arrests, one on suspicion of common assault and the other on suspicion of being drunk and disorderly. Public toilets in the square were also damaged.

Blood poured from one fan’s leg covered a Saltire flag as paramedics took care of a concussed fan. At least one person was treated in an ambulance at the square, where thousands of Scotland fans had gathered.
Blue flare smoke hung in the air and the sound of breaking glass could be heard as police pulled away a group of England fans who looked ready to fight with a handful of Scotland supporters.