I had a good weekend, thanks for asking. Hung out with friends, had a few beers... made a bit of history.
Because I was one of the folk who marched along the streets of Scotland's capital at the weekend, in a bid to remind Scots about St Andrew's Day. I even took the boy with me, although I think he was more interested in the police motorbike outriders escorting us along Princes Street than the reasons for the walk itself. I'd like to say there were hundreds of us, but there weren't. But those who did turn up turned heads.
They ranged from folk just in jeans and Goretex to some hardy souls who were kitted out as Jacobite soldiers, complete with broadswords and muskets. But nearly all carried a Saltire in one form or another.
Ours is a special flag, you know, the oldest on the planet. And as historian David R Ross told its story in a speech to mark the end of the march, I was glad I had taken my lad along.
As David said, every child in Scotland should be taught how the Saltire came into being.
How in 832 AD an army of Scos saw a cloud formation make the cross of St Andrew in the sky before defeating an invading horde from the south and adopting the image as their banner.
How the Saltire flew at the head of the armies of Wallace and Robert the Bruce.
How it is the people's flag and deserves to take its place among the flags of the world.
And how St Andrew's Day should be a day to reflect on our national identity.
As the march ended, I asked my mate who the organisers were. He just shrugged and said: "The people of Scotland."
Let's hope that more people join in next year, and the year after that, and the year after that.
Until St Andrew's Day celebrations are massive affairs not only in Edinburgh but in every city, including Aberdeen.
We have reasons to be proud of our history and hopeful for our future.
Let's celebrate that.