A GROUPON deal flashed up on my screen and without giving it much thought I bought it for me and my friend Susan.

The deal was for one hour touring on a Segway bike down by the River Clyde.

"It'll be a laugh," I said attempting but not entirely succeeding in convincing my pal.

So Sunday morning arrived and, as we headed to the Riverside Museum for our Segway Tour, I started to feel rather nervous.

"What if we fall off?" I asked Susan.

"It'll be a bit embarrassing."

"I know what you mean. I'm nervous too," she agreed, "but we're here now so we might as well go for it."

"That's true," I replied.

"Anyway there should be about a dozen of us on the tour which means you and I can blend in with the crowd and we won't be the only ones embarrassing ourselves."

Handing us both a high-vis vest and a crash helmet, Mali, our tour guide and instructor shouted: "Right ladies. Secure your helmets and let's get started."

"Where's everyone else?" I hopefully enquired.

"There is no one else this morning ladies," replied Mali.

"It's just you two."

Seconds later, as I strapped on my crash helmet, I turned to see a coach load of camera-clicking tourists disembark from a coach and head our way.

"Oh no," groaned Susan.

"That's all we need."

But we were on board now and there was no escape.

Mali had set up a test area of blue cones for us to practise weaving in and out of and, after 10 minutes, we were able to slowly go forward and back which meant our test was complete.

"Let's hit the road," our trainer shouted and led us off towards the underpass.

Half an hour later, rather windswept but surprisingly exhilarated, we were back at base.

"That was brilliant," I told Mali.

"We were like Charlie's Angels whizzing along those cycle paths.

Feeling pretty proud of myself I asked: "So just how fast were we going?"

"Five miles per hour," answered Mali.

"Five miles per hour? Seriously, five miles per hour?"

I couldn't believe it. "Are you sure that's all we were doing?" I squawked.

Mali immediately offered to do something about my consternation.

"Well, since you have both managed to stay on, I can put your bikes up to a maximum speed of 12.5 miles per hour," she said.

More than twice as fast as we'd been going.

I looked as Susan and she looked at me before we both agreed: "Em. No. It's fine. We'll stick to five miles per hour."

So we set off again behind the museum when Mali came to a halt.

"This is the Glenlee," she informed us, pointing to the Tall Ship.

"It's free to board and it's also a fabulous venue for weddings.

"In fact, there was a wedding onboard the ship last weekend."

"Oh, I would have loved to have seen that," I said.

"How did it go?"

"Well, I'm not too sure," said our guide. "I was else-where. But appar-ently the bride looked amazing in her bridal gown.

"How-ever ..." she paused.

"How-ever, unbe-known to the bride the groom had decided to get into the spirit of things aboard ship and turned up dressed as a pirate."

"A pirate. That's a scream," I laughed.

"How did that go down?"

"Hard to tell. It seems she was coming round to the idea and then the pirate groom insisted she walk the plank!"

"No way," laughed Susan.

"I bet he was the one walking the plank after that."

"I believe that was the straw that broke the camel's back," agreed Mali.

Thanking Mali for a brilliant morning, Susan and I headed back into the city centre.

The sun was beaming and luckily we managed to find an Italian restaurant which had seating outdoors.

Somehow, we squeezed in behind a large party of fairly inebriated women who sounded as if they were having a great time.

"I'll serve you as soon as I've finished taking their order," assured the waiter as he turned to the table of ear-piercing females.

"Don't fancy his job," said Susan, as we noted how difficult he was finding it to get the attention of the drunken females.

Exasperated, he turned to the last female on the table who had very loud hiccups. "Madam. What would you like to order?"

"Mmmmmm. I'll go for the hic. Hic. Spicy chicken, hic, pizza with mushrooms and onion. Hic, hic."

"Thank you, madam," he answered, trying not to laugh.

"And would you like that cut into four or eight pieces madam?"

Pausing for what seemingly was a difficult choice, she eventually replied: "Hic hic.

"Four please. Hic hic. I'm not that hungry. Hic. I couldn't eat eight pieces."

I turned to my friend: "People Make Glasgow right enough Susan. People Make Glasgow."