Sure enough, on the Monday there were 20 protesters, two activists with loud hailers and a kettledrum vocally attacking an 80-year-old actress as she applied her make up.

There was a small police presence hovering well away from a jangle of noisy justification from the activists present.

Inside, we got on with the serious business of making people laugh.

The play is about a woman who is relentlessly happy. I was naturally a bit nervous that day, and some lines went awry, but the good burgers of Glasgow laughed and cheered and gave us a standing ovation at the end.

This is how we beat the bigots — with art and inclusivity.

Sadly, audiences were smaller than we’d had in other cities because of the citizens’ fear of trouble. In this, sadly, the losers win.

The papers avoided mentioning the protest so on Tuesday night the groomed activists’ numbers were down to nine and by Wednesday they had gone — perhaps preferring to lounge in the exquisite Botanical Gardens.

At Theatre Royal, 600 hundred people stood up and cheered. The question remains, after the four year invasion of Ukraine, will these deeply-caring thugs turn-out against the Russian Ballet?

Will they be marching against the butchers of Iran for murdering 25,000 of their young in one week?

Will they boycott Glasgow’s excellent Chinese restaurants for the continued torture of the Uyghur people? Yazidis? Rohingans Somalis? Congolese?

I doubt it. Because Action for Palestine is about antisemitism and media wise, no Jews/no news.

It bothers me that there was no counter protest from Jewish activists, but keeping our heads below the parapet in protests is an immigrant habit.

Mind you, three of my great- grandparents were born in my beloved country.

I was enchanted by the shining city of Glasgow, its galleries and history.

My hotel, The Kimpton, was cool, tasteful and luxurious — my only quibble was being asked, as a paying guest, to pay £45 to swim in their small pool.

I was beautifully entertained by the Giffnock Newton Mearns Synagogue and visited the Burrell Collection, as I always do.

I don’t belong to Glasgow, but in spite of the unhinged racism, in some way, Glasgow belonged to me.

Dame Maureen Lipman,
London.

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