But we were somewhat north of Camden Town - around 600 miles north, on a latitude higher than Moscow. Let me quickly disavow any southern cynics of the notion that Aberdeen is a grim, grey granite city shrouded in Arctic darkness. Parks and verges are ablaze with blooms for much of the year. The architecture is stunning. Long, sandy beaches stretch for miles.
Bars stay open late and, when they finally shut, there are clubs in abundance.
No shortage of cafe bars either. Here in The Cafe, the pouting lips of the female clientele were damped around the rims of hefty Czech beer bottles, almost to a woman. My youthful companion was an engineering graduate on leave from one of the off-shore oil rigs and obviously intent on making the most of his furlough. I should have made my excuses and left him to it. I made a mental note to keep my hands in my pockets.