There is much joviality coming from one the jet black portacabins that serve as pitch-side changing rooms at the St Mirren Training Centre, the unmistakable sound of a tightknit group of players enjoying one another’s company.
The laughter dies down a little when this group of unattached pros emerge into the daylight and find that the sun has burned through the morning harr, and that the temperature in Ralston is now surging towards the high twenties. Suddenly, game faces – as well as liberal applications of factor 50 – are well and truly on.
