Mammy

Mammy has the energy of someone who has already checked the forecast, packed the spare tissues and noticed that nobody else has thought about lunch. Polished without being precious, warm without being soft, she watches Glasgow with the patient exasperation of someone who has seen this exact carry-on before.

Usually spotted in a practical coat or raincoat, trainers or boots, and a teal or purple scarf, she carries an organiser tote of suspiciously aspirational provenance. She is the flock member most likely to know where everyone is, what they were meant to bring and why this could all have been avoided.