Exhausted and drained I collapsed onto the seat in the bus shelter. It was one of the main streets in Edinburgh and people began to push past me as they followed the diversion signs that took them round some nearby building works. I was in everyone’s way but this was the only seat free. I didn't care. It was late and I had a ton of things to do at home before I could go to bed. I had just missed the number 31 and it would be a full twenty minutes before the next one. I fully intended to remain welded to that seat until it came.

Only something truly exceptional would make me move.

A few minutes in to my occupancy a gaggle of young girls, maybe around 16 years old assembled at the far end of the shelter. Finding a relatively quiet corner they plonked themselves down on the floor and began passing round a two-litre bottle of cheap cider. Long blonde hair, tight jeans, thick make up and big boots. Typical Scottish lasses and nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday night.

Only they weren't typical Scottish lasses at all. If I had been paying more attention then their waste lines alone could have told me that. Rather it took a while before I realised something was different. Over the din of departing busses and rowdy Saturday night partygoers I caught the odd word or two of the girls conversation. That I didn't understand a word is not entirely unusual for me in Scotland, but something about the order in which they deployed their syllables was unfamiliar. If it wasn't English they were speaking then . . .could it be?

I immediately stood up and began to fake interest in the bus timetable so as to best over hear them. And yes! It was confirmed. Polish they were!

Ignore the scare stories, cultural integration is in full swing my friends!