It's the Glasgow School of Art - it's Mackintosh - it's Christmas Eve - it's us banging away on the door oblivious to the fact that they're all gone home for holidays and it's the pissed off janitor that eventually warms to us and gives us the most amazing private tour of a building I've always loved, and inside, it's still an art school, just like mine, and the stairwell landing tells the universal tale of late night, last minute touchups by sleep starved artkids. I could still smell the fumes.