Can I embrace a moment with you? I missed my chance a thousand times before. I swear that I am going to miss no more. I will die in this place reading in the papers, Another frown, another face hoping for a rebirth…Discomfort, I will wait for you.

Not my original choice this week but I like The Answer now I understand which band it is with that name that I like. Top pop picker, Emma J, is as confused. I had previously chosen something not quite as happy cos it’s not been a good week, work-wise but….well, let me explain. Get it over and done with.

Basically one income stream from the BBC is not going to happen and another with a nameless College in North Glasgow is not going to happen and another BBC stream may be diverted into the next financial year. Ho hum. It’s  a bit of a nuisance.

However, it does not excuse me saying to Son Brian; ‘I’ve had worse weeks.’ (He was standing on the balcony of his hotel in Hull at the time overlooking the Marina there. Serioulsy). That was just poor/pure self-pity and is not me. Had that happened in the early days of the blog, the Editorial Committee would have had me by the balls and…… (pauses briefly and leaves the room….returns a few minutes later). Is it me or are cold showers no’ as cold as they used to be?

(Sorry I’m practising some of the screenplay stuff I’m writing and L, frae Troon, last Monday night….the Christmas lights? Scene 71)

So we move on. Maybe I forgot to send on one of those e-mails that I’m supposed to send on to create world peace….just in case. But thanks to those folks who I told earlier this week about the week and who sent on best wishes and I’m following the first rule of freelance journalism – my freezer is full. I will not starve.

Even if I’m the sort of person who, when told the word ‘gullible’ had been removed from the dictionary went to get my copy of Collins to check.

But silver clouds when the door slams in your face and for the Vampire Slayer, Missie K, and an anonymous third who I shall not name cos to do so might identify a prof of yours who I’m told is rubbish at five-a-sides,….flexibility and bendiness remain the order of the day, you know what I’m saying;

bestest friend, Caitlin, I am such a creature of impulse but the actual ideas are worth working on;

and Siobhan, nice facebook quiz;

and my gd frnd Clr……. (stands up from computer and goes through to kitchen to re-arrange the cards for the screenplay yet again, sighs and eats an individual cheesecake from Morrison’s with a plastic spoon) No. No reason. (Well, actually they’re my latest addiction….sticky toffee, since you ask. Really nice….and sticky….and toffee)

But this is maybe not the best week to get my latest PSA test.

Yes*. This long after treatment finished it should be lower than it is but there is a slight problem, but it’s more technical than anything else. No. No reason (bites lip bravely). If The Sun says all my bits are working then who am I…….? I’ll keep you posted.

*Like much of the blog, there is no real reason for this ‘Yes’ to be there, but it just is. It may just appear again like the penguin in Gregory’s Girl.

Incidentally I watched the programme about John Smeaton and did anyone notice that the Guy Fawkes masks they chose were actually from the movie V for Vendetta ( a marvellous irony, eh?…No, I don’t understand what I mean by that, either, but it sounds good) but I do know, and not ‘cos I did Politics at Uny, that Smeato didn’t stop the BNP in Glasgow North East….the voters did.

And I am thinking about the Christmas office party for my one man business (turns away from camera and sobs, swallows pride and looks pleadingly into camera…..Voiceover….‘All it would take is maybe a couple of hours of your time , just hours before your own office party’) C’est mon appeal mais c’est toujours ton appel.

Incidentally, whilst I remember, nice to see The List featuring some of my own fave bars in Glasgow, including Bar Ten, Upstairs in the Doublet and Brel down Ashton Lane, but can I draw your attention to page 8 of the current edition, where they’re looking for a list of Hot Ten Talented Scots nominated by you, the listener, well maybe in this case, you the reader. Why not nominate me on www.list.co.uk/hot10 ? See, clrly, the self-pity is ebbing away even as we speak.

Yes*.

And I’ve to choose a bit of dialogue from a movie for the class as well. I’ve watched Debbie Does Dallas a few times now, but repetition of the one word is not good dialogue. So, it could be American Psycho, a gentle comedy, and its descriptions of food. It’s like reading the labels in the new Waitrose, in which I have not been yet. I have a friend. Who has. So far, so good and don’t the former Somerfield staff scrub up well.

And I’ve just spoken to someone whose judgement I trust who has heard the new Susan Boyle album and says it’s very good, but I tell you Wild Horses wouldn’t make me buy it.

I hate Children-in-Need but that’s because of an unfortunate incident a wee while back with a woman selling balloons in Edinburgh Waverley Railway Station and a presenter who was not paid to run, he said, but to everyone else involved, I hope you raised a lot of money, unless of course you’re a business presenting a cheque for a suspiciously well rounded sum of money.

Gary Tank Commander BBC 2 Scotland watch it and laugh.

And finally can I say a big thanks to Robin Galloway for not only growing a moustache but actually explaining in his column how prevalent prostate cancer actually is and why the moustache thing is happening.

(Laughs quietly, goes back through to kitchen, picks up one card and stops………..) Yeah, I haven’t a clue how it ends either. A bang maybe, rather than a whimper?

cya

Johnt850

Except to say thanks to the Comedy Unit for the mail about the contract for some stuff they seem to like. It’s not  a lot but it will help pay for beers, pasta, coffee and tomato juices in the run-up to Christmas. You know where to find me. I’m handy. Try me.

And another thing. You should have known from the start The problems in hand are lighter than at heart. Be like the squirrel, girl, be like the squirrel. Give it a whirl, girl. Be like the squirrel.

Wise words there from The White Stripes and whilst it might seem quite innocous, try it turned up to vol level 11 and beyond in the ASDA car park with the windows open. Scared the hell out of the folk waiting for the free bus to the Acre Road flats.

Must have been what it was like at the Alice in Chains gig at the Barrowland (no ’s’ and it’s safe) during the week and nothing like their dreadful performance with one song on Jools’s show the other night. Sorry about that, blogmeister et al. The ‘heads-up’, not the performance, that is.

But before I go any further, can I just say one thing; everything in the blog happens, with maybe a slight embellishment. It was my gd frnd Clr in her semenal work Literary Generations which I (in-gag deleted) the other day who drew parallels between blogging and New Journalism. Albeit unwittingly, but to be on the same page as Wolfe and Thompson was a tremendous fillip in early daze. Serious ta.

So, yes, dear listener, I have been through the front doors of Bubbles, the Sauna on the South Side but for what purpose? My thanks to a number of ppl who contacted me to confirm it was in Merrylea ‘just beside the American Golf Shop’ but was now demolished. But, no, they had never been in. I merely make an excuse and move swiftly on.

And the reference to new shops in the Byres Road area was not about Waitrose and the (soon to be) Tesco’s Extra but some amazing new shops just arrived above De Courcy’s and anybody wining and dining with me in the Ashton Lane area in the near future (bookings being taken and some are being discussed and please feel free to get in touch) are welcome to come and see them with me. (C’est toujours ton appel, btw)

I was La Maisonette’s first ever customer yesterday. A birthday present for Son Brian’s mum, since you ask. No. I’ve never remarried. No. No reason.

And not all my presents for people come from Papyrus and Urban Outfitters. C’est tout que je dis. Actually, Francophiles out there….the gag that finishes with the line, ‘That’s You, That Is’, what’s a good translation?

But Gary: Tank Commander is back on BBC 2 Scotland. PT fans are soooooo talented. And the rock that says Limmy on Tour remains untouched in Summerston – cultural centre of…….Summerston. And someone must have died violently recently at the bottom of the road, cos there’s lots of flowers saying whatever flowers say at a time like that. Must have been someone local ‘cos no-one’s pinched the flowers.

And when I tell ppl I spent Friday afternoon in The Social, they all assume I mean the Job Centre and not the bar/brasserie place in Royal Exchange Square where I actually was.

And the Winers’ Club did meet last night and only time will tell regarding its impact on World events. I’m still coming to terms with the fact we had a Powerpoint presentation on Tin-Tin, the Belgian boy reporter. Serioulsy. I’d like to say I was tomato-juiced out of my mind, but I stay amazingly surprised at the number of licensed establishments in Glasgow who don’t stock it. The look I get when I ask for a virgin, Mary.

But I absorb enough of the vapours and the vagaries to have a hangover without feeling the need……..worry not, support team.

But bad news from the Dinner for Son Brian from your Uncles Brian, Dennis and Jock. You’re….you’re….you’re paying for the next curry. Not. I tried, guys, I really did. Aaaaaargh!

They do do a good Virgin Mary (it was a joke, okay?) at the Lansdowne, where you can watch Scottish international football matches (if you must) when a bunch of rugby playing Fijians and First Scotrail combined to make it difficult to reach Dunfermline if you’re a PT fan but to see it described in The Times of Evening as ‘the pub hidden in a housing scheme’ came as a real surprise.

But speaking of PT fans with talent a big Well Done to Erik the Floodstalker, and his mate Martin, (both Caley Uny journo students) and their big Local News coverage of the Glasgow North East by-election. But before anyone accuses me of having any reservations about journo courses can I reassure journo students everywhere that, when Darryl (about to leave the Herald) Broadfoot says he learned more from (now dead) former colleagues than any journalism course could ever teach, that I think he was referring to just one, but WTF do I know….just in case.

But get out there! Come on down from the Tower Blocks and talk to people. There are a million stories out there, just waiting to be told. It’s what I love about travelling on trains, altho’ big apologies to Liz for the other day. Out of uniform it’s a totally different story. (Can I say that? Actually Jaymi said it, so I think I can) 

I think I meant Ivory Tower just there, didn’t I? Just Come on Down, anyway. You want introductions? I can do introductions.

And am I bovvered that we have a Prime Minister who has sight problems and writes with a thick black felt pen and seemingly can’t spell? Naw. Iraq, Iran…does it matter? (It’s a joke okay?) Incidentally we don’t elect Prime Ministers in this country. The party with the most seats in Parliament wins.  Its leader, which the party members choose, becomes PM. C’est tout. So the cheap Kharzai dig doesn’t work.

So how much is fact, how much is fiction? How much is fantasy and how much embellishment? To quote Wolfe himself ‘Even hostile parodies admit from the start that the target has a distinct voice.’ Clrly I have absolutely no idea what that means.

And finally, in a week when nothing continues to happen - e, BBC, longed for meets and Leona Lewis phoning – can I say a further thanks to all those, including some sports pundits I was with, who are currently sporting moustaches to bring awareness to male health issues. No. I wear the ‘blue man cancer badge’ all the time. Yes. There’s a reason. But serious thanks.

cya

Johnt850

Incidentally rainforestriverman, ‘blue man cancer badge’? Not one of mine. I think it works out 50-50. So far, so good, so I can’t stop laughing some times. So, What the Hell?

I am a one way motorway, I’m the one that drives away then follows you back home. I am a street light shining, I’m a wild light blinding bright burning off alone. It’s times like this you learn to live again (and so on)

No. No message there other than to say Sting’s a pretentious tw*t and I was so glad that the Foo Fighters followed him on Jools Holland the other night even if they did sound a wee bit like Status Quo.

And speaking of guitar heros, how you doin’? Long time no…….

And in a complete non-sequitor (honest) can I say how long it is since I held a decent twelve inches in my hand, although seven inches seem okay. I refer, of course, to the new computer game DJ Hero which reminds me of the Co-op camp in Rothsay and Uddingston Community Centre et al. I’m tempted. As I was then. I succumbed in just one of those situations….just in case. But I’ve never been to Bainsford.

Scratching and mixing and the other skills go back a long way and the first guy I remember who did more with records than just play them was the brilliant Robbie Vincent. He played a lot of soul like northern soul Dave and Craig Charles do on a Saturday night, but now head 2 head, so maybe this week, with gd frnd Clr’s permission, we can keep it funky.

Incidentally, Jaymi and James Ellroy? I am just soooooo jealous but I’m not saying for why.

And the screenwriting class continues. Tutor Jim (I call him that cos he’s my tutor and he’s called Jim) has set us dialogue tasks. Now unfortunately I have been trying to develop a character from real life (No. Not one of my usual very patient people) but for some reason I have to set my dialogue in a porn establishment.

Now this is good ‘cos it gives me a legit reason for my hard-drive history. But it’s given me  a really red face in writing it. Incidentally, younger listeners ask older male members if they remember Bubbles, a Sauna and Massage parlour on the southside of Glasgow which stood in a building all on its own seemingly in the middle of a field. Well, it still exists.

Incidentally, in another non-sequitor, can I say Hi to Siobhan, one of my favouritest ever students who once said to me, ‘Not now, John, not now.’ Next week, The Question. Regards to Fiona btw.

No. I’m just a wee bit annoyed with the BBC Trust (and if anyone else has views about them, then I’d be happy to hear them). Have they no sense of humour? No memory of childhood? When Frankie Boyle talked of Rebecca the swimmer as being reflected in a spoon, to me it brought back memories of those concave and convex mirrors in amusement arcades. How we laughed. But then I grew up in Peterhead.

Not every gag can be accompanied by the words hahahaha……….but then even at the age of 42 I’m old enough to remember the days when to work for the BBC meant you believed in the existence of Santa Claus and specific instructions from on high as to when you could mention Christmas. No. No reason.

However, I’m not too sure I remember my alkie thirteen months that well. I must have been really boring when people look at me now and laugh and say things like, ‘Well I still keep my fridge full jt’ or ‘I still laugh at that story about the electric blanket jt.’

That last one comes from a High Court lawyer who attends that Winers Club formal dinner thing I go to and it’s that time again, next week, Friday 13th.

We’re not a secret organisation, like, say, Bilderberg* although membership is by invitation; as a committee member I have access to only eight addresses; and the goat is a volunteer. We have politicians, professors, businessmen, broadcasters and lawyers amongst our members (I am there to remind people of why it is important to stick in and get a good degree. I didn’t. That is possibly why I am its public face) Oh, and we have the manager of a football club as well, kinda. And yes we do set interest rates and the rest of fiscal policy. So far, so good. I just wish we made these decisons before the others reached the brandy.

*At the College where I used to work, somebody asked me about Bilderberg and I started my answer by saying, ‘It’s a secret meeting where……’ and someone else in the room said, ‘If it’s secret how do you know about it?’ Yes. He does have responsibility for student journalism. Worrying isn’t it?

I didn’t make it to the fireworks party, Caitlin. Did you? I got held up in town.

And wise words from Lindsay C, the Record’s top angst queen. Respect is indeed a two-way street. The rest is a bit too obvious were I to quote.

And this week’s Heroes of the Week are the taxi drivers at the top of Byres Road who boxed in the East European Big Issue pimps who think they run the world.

But I do think it’s important we get over the message about drugs accurately and whilst I’m more on the side of scientific advisers than politicians (remember that interview I gave you Parfery person?) I think the kids on the streets will really get down to the wise words of a boffin on the recent BBC Scotland prog  ’How to grow your own Hash’ with the gorgeous Sam (what a woman) Polling. It told you almost everything apart from naming that shop just off the Saltmarket.

The boffin made a comparison between ‘drinking a pint of beer or a pint of port.’ Yeah. The Summerston Zombies (their ‘menchie’ is YSL) doing in the cheap cider in the graveyard with the fireworks and the AK47s know exactly where you’re coming from with that one. It’s a wee bit like Andre Agassi saying he now regrets taking crystal meth in the years he won lots of tennis championships, millions of dollars and pulled lots of women. And your point is?

And to all those I’ve invited across to the West End in recent months, if not years, the shopping just got better but the restaurants are just as good. C’est ton/votre appel(s). That didn’t really work, did it? It’s kinda Stingly pretentious, isn’t it?

So, and finally, can I say a big thanks to all those who raise money for cancer charities (I’m selfish. Okay?). I’m a lousy fundraiser. So whether you do ceilidhs, strange Facebook pages, run 5k or grow moustaches, can I say thanks? I’m an awareness man myself but not always formally. Thanks. Serioulsy.

cya

Johnt850

And incidentally to set all sorts of things in perspective this weekend including football matches, being upset by Twitterers, getting voted off reality shows and falling out with friends, here’s a track by Siouxsie and the Banshees. At least these days we can bring bodies home. It’s called Poppy Day and it’s exactly two minutes long with reverb.

…in Flanders fields The poppies grow Between the crosses Row on row That mark our place We are the dead…….

Perspective is good. Isn’t it?

I am a nation A worker of pride My debt to the status quo The scars on my hands And the means to an end Is all I have to show

And I make no apology for playing Green Day and other loud rock’n'roll bands over the last twenty four hours or so ‘cos what should have been a really good week became a really good week but with a ‘but’….my PC got attacked last week but all boarders were repelled with but one casualty….I’ve lost a lot of e-mail and, unfortunately, my e-mail address book with loadsa contacts, both business and personal. My network nerve centre.

I wasn’t looking at anything ‘iffy’ or ‘pervvy’. It was websites to do with Andrew Lloyd Webber (Actually now, when I think about it…..) who, according to The Sun, has been ’struck’ with prostate cancer. (I wasn’t ’struck’; I just ‘had’ it but then again I’m not a Lord). The newspaper, which very kindly told the world recently that ‘all my bits are working’, then goes on to perpetuate the myth that it usually ‘kicks in at pensionable age and beyond’.

FFS, according to my birth certificate age I was 51 years old when it insidiously worked its way into my defences like Security Tool tried to, only I was too busy pickling my liver on a daily basis to notice. So, please, if you do know males who have questions about this, then tell them to go to the doctor. If I, or Prostate Cancer Charity Scotland, can help in some way, just ask….just in case. Andrew, I know you read this.

(And Dennis Hopper, star of Apocalpyse Now and Easy Rider, has it as well. ‘Get your motor riding…..straight along the highway……looking for adventure…..and whatever comes our way’. C’est moi, c’est tout)

So anyway if you know my alter ego (I am/he is calming down) and you communicate with him or there’s anything outstanding, please get in touch. I think he’s lost some business as well. On the other hand I bumped into Gwen the other day and she’s just back from travelling the world. Some you win; others you don’t lose. (God, that sounds like one of those twee calendars doesn’t it?)

(Does a funny calendar lose its impact the following year, if  it wasn’t used as a Christmas present this year?)

And Caitlin, my taxi driver taking me to the Hilton the other day (it’s business, okay?), took me to the back door thinking I worked there! (I was going to say rear entrance but then that becomes the sort of obvious innuendo that frightens Adrian Chiles on the appalling The One Show).

But a lot of the social stuff is also on Facebook and my own little BBC Friends Re-United (No. I still haven’t heard) continues with re-finding the amazing Ruth, the World’s Second Greatest Researcher (apres moi, d’accord). And her first question on re-connection? ‘How’s your Son?’

I think it was ‘cos, long before the sexism of Take Your Daughter To Work Day, I had Dump Your Son at a Spare PC Afternoon once a week after Primary School, and when other estranged kids got taken places at the weekend, he got taken to Studio 6 in Queen Margaret Drive. Happy Daze. Yes. He’s an accountant. No. No reason. 

(And it’s thanks to him I’m reffing a Beaver football tournament instead of going to Firhill. Don’t ask. Let’s upset Adrian)

So I can’t say much about the very diverse group I was working with last week but it was helping people into employability and it was the last week and two out of fourteen have already got job offers. Listen, I was chuffed.

We did mock preparing for employment interviews and stuff and no smartasses were (allegedly) deliberately failed but I was reminded of a previous similar exercise and when I asked the question, ‘Have you had any recent experience of the NHS?’, I got the answer;

‘Aye, when my brother was murdered a few weeks ago. Me and my maw stayed with him until he died.’ My follow up question was more journalistic than Human Resources.

But as ever I learned a lot and I was tipped off about a band called The Tenements (lots of good talent now in the East End) but they seem already to be known to quiet but busy top pop picker Heather C, who once wrote of them; ‘they are all like strawberry jam’….aw. Who taught you journalism stuff H? Oh, aye.

Incidentally, gd frnd Clr and bestest friend Caitlin, met a colleague of yours the other day. C’est tout. And I am now a legit member of Strathclyde Uny Library. Guided tour a possibility?

And the screenwriting class thing continues. Again not a lot I can say, except they think I’m a bit weird. It’s maybe to do with the short movie we were shown, where everyone else raved about the child actor, whereas I enthused about the druggie mum, who seemed to me the eternal optimist, stealing the car keys, stealing the car, stealing the ring and then punching her daughter to help get away from the police, Cool, eh? But not to be condoned, obvioulsy. (Way to go, smackhead mum)

But I’m sorry, blogmeister, I did go to a PC recovery man. In the past a guy called Yassim has done work to my PC but when I took it to the Sick Computer Hospital at the bottom of Byres Road (it does all sorts of other stuff but not the sort of place ethical journos should know about.) I was told Yassim has gone. To Duke Street. Lots of good talent in the East End. He has been replaced.

By Jo-El, who also dances the tango of  a Friday evening and was having a party that night for his Kung Foo pals. I declined the invite. Well, to both since you ask. He wasn’t that expensive. He wasn’t responsible for the parking ticket I got for waiting outside the hospital, which added to the cost. Jo-El exists btw. Creativity does not have to be about invention but talking to people, not ignoring them. We, I’m sorry, they have stories, different from those  you might expect. Still waiting for the call, as it were. As  ever.

And so, finally, I knew a lot of students at the College where I taught, not ‘cos they were students of mine but ‘cos they came out of Summerston. (I think for many people my nickname was ‘He-who-teaches-at-college-and-therefore-must-know-the-answer.)

So Big Hi to Jo-Anne, due to give birth in about ten weeks and who is organising a Big Night for the Beatson Cancer Centre at The Scotch (pub) down the road from me. I won’t be there. She does it ‘cos she lost two males from her family to cancer. Sometimes I feel such a fraud. Sometimes I don’t even pretend I can’t find change.

I do hope this explains to people in the high flats why I was giving a pregnant woman money the other day. It’s a strange form of guilt but not as they thought it.

cya

Johnt850

Oh, and bytheway, a big thanks to Missie K and the Vampire Slayer for their patience. Yes. Loadsa reasons.

At every turn the water runs away from me and the halo disappears and the hole when you’re not near. So what if I was wrong? But hold on to what you believe in the light when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight So hold on to that you believed in the light

To whom it may concern; my obsession is not an obsession, it is a belief and if it is still an obsession, it’s not that obsession.

I’ll explain all that in a wee minute but my thanks for this week’s music to Heather C, quiet but busy. It took me a wee while to get into Mumford & Sons but well worth it.

But first, as unimaginative presenters might say, news of a top appointment. (No. I’ve still to hear from the Beeb. They did say the ‘end of month.’).

I have been made the Vampire Slayer’s Hit Man, although I suspect the contracts may be different from the one I’ve just signed to provide some freelance training services in Glasgow. (Some people see the present, not the past).

No. The Torrance One came to me with a problem and I have offered a solution. It’s cool. Although I suspect I may need to learn an entirely new language, LOL, smh, btw.

Unfortunately they’ve already made a TV series called The Hit Man and Her and younger listeners can find it on YouTube. (Michaela Strachan in the middle of the night. ) As you watch it, please remember that I was officially single as of 1990, and still looking (2009).

Please feel free to ask your mums, aunts or whoever if they ever went on girls’ nights out to Bonkers, Clatty Pat’s or, if I was on PR expenses, Victoria’s (The Piano Bar). No. No reason.

Actually isn’t it interesting how many panellists on Question Time sounded as if they’d just discovered YouTube. They had over-prepared. They ignored the first rule of journalism; they didn’t listen to Griffin’s answers. They were too busy reading their cribsheets. Aaaaaaaargh!

(Missie K, that’s a different aaaaargh from the one that’s on its way to you)

Still I think it’s only right we listen to folk with strange views on immigration. Go to BBC iPlayer and listen to Baroness Warsi, the cherrypicker. Jeez.

Schweppes Russchian tastes awful on its own. How could I drink it even with vodka? And I hate the clocks going back. I just wake up earlier. Thank God for the twenty four hour garage.

No. I started my screen writing class this week just past based in the Dr Livingstone I Presume Tower in Strathclyde Uny and it was a good start. As with a previous class certain rules of confidentiality exist. But it was really nice to meet up with someone from the previous class who shouted, much to the fear of the others, ‘Hey the blogger’s back’, and described me to some others as an ‘aspiring writer’. I may yet have an identity for Match.com.

And I got a really nice note from a previous writing tutor who was asking after the blook as well as me. See, C, it’s made academic circles as a word. Maybe even that new Glasgow Uny Thesaurus.

So, yes, I have a belief. I have a story I want to tell, which is fun (alkoholism and cancer) and it involves good people, and some bad………. Moving swiftly on as imaginative presenters say. (Plus I have still my homework to finish)

Strathclyde University where the student newspaper leads on false fire alarms by students and hides an amazing story about a student caught up in riots at the G20 on page 6. A firefighter friend of mine (a real one) at Maryhill tells me that the biggest cause of callouts are the students who live in the Glasgow Uny flats at Murano Street who don’t realise that grill pans need cleaned after toasted cheese.

I got round it in the first flat I stayed in after living in a mixed sex (eh?) Uny Hall of Residence by stealing  a brand new combo grill and oven from that Hall. After three months they came and asked for it back. No charges were pressed. Serioulsy.

Sailor not Santa by the way. Christmas can come too soon, and I still have last year’s pressy to give. Call, etc, etc……Aaaaaargh (It’s a different one. I have many voices)

And Jaymi, I was going to use Diana Ross’s Chain Reaction as the lyric but then I actually checked the lyrics.

And I love all the publicity for Frankie (he seems okay on Saturday mornings) Boyle including the jury ruling on two of his recent gags. My own favourite was always about Princess Diana and ended with the punchline,……….actually, you might be reading this after 9 p.m. I’d better check with BBC Al. Maybe next week? Or I might just take my lead from the new series of The Thick Of It.

See the person, not the age.

Incidentally, Jordan not wanting publicity? Priceless.

And so I was out yesterday with a blooming and blossoming e (there may be a special blog edition in 3 weeks or so….Son Brian’s birth anno was done on BBC Radio Scotland) and we went into the ol’ Fopp shop, and I bought a CD and The List and e said, ‘So you’re hiding the CD behind the mag’, and the assistant smiled and I said to the assistant, ‘No. You don’t understand. No’ and the assistant continued to smile.

Albeit unwittingly.

And finally, I realise I like the lite club in The Corinthian in Glasgow but I now realise that many welldressed women do not instantly relate to my crumpled Timberland look. I keep saying to them , look at the person and not the shirt.

Thoughts, Caitlin? As I say, you’re the boss.

So, Son Brian we’re moving the venue for my final show but we’ll keep the music. Dare I risk deathclock.com? It’s beginning to tick.

cya

john ‘the hitman’ t850

Reg McKay (56) died this week. He’d written about his cancer in the Daily Record and, as regular listeners will know, his style was different from mine. But he had a different editorial team; his wife, the gorgeous Gerry, who herself had beaten breast cancer. So far, so good.

Like me, Reg came from the North East of Scotland. He was a social worker who went into print. I was a community worker who went into broadcast. Neither of us had a formal qualification in journalism but there the similarity ends. He drank with, knew and wrote about people I may have met ‘just the wance’ – scary people. (I knew the footsoldiers).

Now at a time when the McGoverns, the Daniels and the Lyons cause such misery in North Glasgow from their homes in Cumbernauld and Jordanhill, there is a big vacancy, but it’s a serioulsy scary vacancy. Take care, prospective applicants.

I ask you questions, tell you lies, criticise and sympathise Be careful what you wish for friend because I’ve been to hell and now I’m back again…..I feel alright – I feel alright tonight

It’s been a wee while since I’ve played Steve Earle, so thanks to David L for the suggestion. Nice also to see Northern Soul Dave back spinning the platters on Radio Six International and maybe I should ask Tony Currie for my own show*. Excellent book on the history of Radio Clyde btw, Tony, altho’ I’ve long given up waiting for my cheque for the stuff I did for Clyde many years ago. Anderston Bus Station – that’s how many years ago.

*Is there internet radio demand for a show featuring angst and addiction rock, I wonder?

I know. It’s not a normal start but at one point I thought this week’s blog would have to be a simple record show cos it was going to be so quiet with so many of my pals away for school and college holidays but the way it worked out can only be described in one word; artyfartyhealthythingymybobbity.

The arty part could well have been vampires cos news programmes tell me they’re sexy again. Well, the slayers always have been. Torrance. So near but yet so far. So good? So safer.

No. I’ll give you an example. On Tuesday I was at an NHSScotland (sic) seminar and I met a community artist called Claire (No. Not that that Clr. Nor indeed the other Claire). This Claire can’t practise her Art for health reasons. So, obviously, she gave me a lift up the road. To Summerston.

And then……she’d never been in my ASDA. And so it was, dear listener, that Tuesday afternoon was spent giving this Claire a guided tour of my local supermarket. I know how to give a girl a good time. (Call your it’s) Oh, and this Claire is getting married next year. Her bridesmaid’s called Claire as well. Moving swiftly on. To Wednesday.

And this was the day the surveyor was due to see whether the new windows in the flat where I flat sit were working. (To the taxman: Yes, some money does go into one of my six bank accounts but it’s only to cover the gardening and cleaning costs and is well within the Legg Guidelines. Honest….just in case)

Well his visit took longer than expected. He’s also a part-time lecturer at the School of Art, and maybe this is this week’s serious stuff, except…….

Y’see, he’s had two cancers to my one. And this is the bit that’s sometimes difficult to explain. The laughter. So he’s telling me about getting some of his vocal chords cut out to stop the cancer spreading, and I’m laughing my head off and then, well that’s the words he says, ‘And then…….’ and at this point I hit the floor and roll about laughing. He’d also had a cancerous kidney removed.

People used to say to me how positive I was. Naw. That sounds like biting your lip and putting on a brave face. Maybe for me, C, the mantra became Find The Fun. And then…….. Keep It.

I did. And so have many others. So mega ta.

Moving even more swiftlier on.

To several of my student and former student friends; hamsters do get pregnant and they do have lots of little hamsters; To Jaymi, well done for abseiling across the River Forth for the Chest, Stroke and Heart people; And to the blogmeister’s wean, ‘Happy Birthday Ali’…a bit belated but October is a busy birthday month. Ami, next door to me for example.

I have what age cannot wither; boyish charm.

Oh, and to all those folk I contacted regarding finding a Cumbernauld flat for filming, I’ll drop some of you a wee note explaining more but if it’s going to happen to the guy who Erik the Floodstalker put me in touch with, then I’ll let some of you know when the party is.

Incidentally, I wrote last week about the importance of contacts? One of the reasons the film production company contacted me was the fact that I write about Cumbernauld occasionally in the blog and it was spotted (seriously)…….I’m now dreading the call from another film company who notice my link to Airdrie and ‘dogging’ contacts. Altho’ as my mate Alan said in a beer garden in Dundee last week; ‘Cross dressing does not make you a transvestite.’ Factoid.

None of that was logical, was it? So what do you follow a non-sequitor with?

To Missie K and the others who tried the Musicians or Serial Killers quiz on Facebook; was that Carlos the Jackal or Carlos Santana, and Frank Sinatra could have been either.

Oh, and interesting conversation down at the cornershop with the rainforestriverman who’s trying to kindle interest in a new product. It looks good. (Technically it’s not product placement, okay?) However, I was overwhelmed by  the fliers you gave me for HP Lovecraft – an author, btw, and not merely an interesting way of passing the time on monthly payments. Tommy T has tentacles everywhere, indeed.

Books are like newspapers; hopefully they will always be with us. Their reading can only be enhanced and encouraged.

As, hopefully, will my screenwriting skills as of Monday evenings. My tutor has written and produced a Tartan Short and directs a daytime soap from time to time; I’m quite nervous. What If I’m asked the last DVD I watched? (For the record, it was resident evil degeneration which seems to be an animation based on a computer game. Blogmeister?)

‘Rothesay – It’s wilder than Millport’ kinda summed up the pub conversation amongst those who didn’t get away this week. L frae Troon seemed to go further afield. So can I just say Happy Holiday (again) to Son Brian and Katie who are off to the States within the next couple of days. 19th October. Big day for lots of people. No. No other reason.

So, on that note, a simple ‘and finally’,…..On Friday I helped a young Korean lady and her wean from Summerston Railway Station to Cessnock Subway Station (it’s a long story but a fun one). I noticed that not once did she take her hand(s) off the buggy. A lesson to be learned, Australian lady?

cya

johnt850

And a kinda apology to some Motherwell fans who I described last week as ’spliff smoking’ and ‘Buckfast drinking’. I now realise that the spliff was started by a PT fan before doing the rounds. I, of course, simply passed (it on). Sober and solvent free. C’est tout que je dis. Mais c’est bon, n’est-ce pas?

Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it’s not for days And the people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day by the bottle you drink And times when you’re alone all you do is think

And according to Facebook that was my eighties song, but it’s also an album I have on cassette in the back bedroom. Interesting exploring (including Metallica, blogmeister), and that was Bon Jovi in case you hadn’t noticed. The album? Slippery When Wet. (It’s not about the weather, is it?)

So, as many people suspected, part of last week was about a BBC board. It wasn’t for a job, as many people might know it, but it was for work there and I won’t know until the end of October, so I’m not going to be stupid. It was nice in itself to be on a shortlist of twenty out of hunners.

I have lots of contacts; I have lots of friends; I have plenty to offer to open minds. You’ll never know if you don’t ask.

Loads of thanks to folk who offered advice in advance or recognised me although I didn’t recognise them on the day. Special thanks to an unknown mystery woman who helped me with the General Knowledge quiz I’d to do (I was stuck with three and she went and got the answers, but got one badly wrong I now realise).

Special thanks to another mystery woman (who I know but good looking, spoken for and likes jazz) who met me after the board and poured coffee down my throat and listened to a load of jibber jabber. It should be stressed that the coffees that she and BBC Al bought for me came out of their own pockets. Well not the actual coffee itself, but the money.

BBC Al doesn’t even have a swear box, but he does have one helluva view. I’ve always liked Ros. Is she……..?

And special thanks as well to bestest friend Caitlin who, once again, had to put up with my narkiness on the day itself. And I meant what I said.

Okay, that’s me back in the room, if I have any listeners still left. Let’s do normal blogging stuff for a minute. Albeit unwittingly.

I have no sympathy for the 69 year old lollipop man who got sacked for giving primary school kids High Fives and sweets. He should have been concentrating on getting them across the bloody road! I bet the teachers are glad to see him go. He claimed parents said he was the highlight of the kids’ day.

And,I’m not being ageist. I intend to be 42 for the rest of my rolling five years. Can I just say that I chose this age, not ‘cos of the Douglas Adams book, but because of an Alabama 3 track in which it’s claimed that 41 is close to getting measured for ‘the box’.

But I’m also doing some (paid) training work with regeneration agencies and I spent some time last week with a group of trainees who I’ll be doing more with later in the month. A really diverse group who invited me to the pub after the session. I declined on the grounds that I was flatsitting for new windows being put into a flat for someone who doesn’t live in Glasgow and they asked for the address on the grounds that it sounded ideal for a party………

And rainforestriverman, you’ll never guess. Two of the trainees……….

Incidentally, rrm, I know loads of people with birthdays round the middle of  October. I’ll have four please. Just deduct the cost from my retainer.

Tommy T has tentacles everywhere, but John-Paul, I believed what you said about native North Americans not being frightened of heights. Mind you, Dundee home to the Discovery, is a long way to go to get beat – again – altho’ the spliff smoking, Buckfast drinking Motherwell fans who got on at Stirling were a good laff, but I will have a hangover tomorrow.

The contacts thing is interesting…..just in case…..for students of journalistic ethics. I was on a train sitting across from one of Scotland’s top political print journos and he was on the phone and he was dishing the dirt on the candidates for Glasgow North East (I thought everyone knew that candidate was lesbian. Serioulsy).

So, as soon as I could, I passed on details of the conversation to a student journo who pays his way through Uny (with a ‘Y’) by paid freelance work. It’s how I work. I’ll get a ‘drink’ back.

I like my women like I like my coffee; in a large mug with one sugar.

Speaking of which, Good Luck to Jaymi who’s abseiling for the Chest, Heart and Stroke charity from one of the Forth Bridges. Hope she chooses the right one. Saturday mornings may never be the same again! All donations, obviously……

Oh, and the screenwriting class I was going to at Glasgow Uny was cancelled but some nice folk at Strathclyde found me a new one. I still think the basic story is a good one, as clrly, do the others who were involved in the writing and the idea is to add, not just fictional romance  (but not in a Woody Allen way but more Doctor Who, with me played by Johnny Depp), but other peoples’ stories as well.

Like last week, I was talking to another alkie who’d gone through the cancer experience (I think I hold the Scottish record for being the youngest to have both confirmed within the one year. I think I’l keep it, rather than anyone else going through what I went through) People like him and me recognise each other. There’s a kinda code similar to the skippering marks you see in places.

He was a practising policeman and part-time taxi driver and alkie drinker, all at the same time, and has millions of stories to tell.

But, like so many former police, Special Branch and SAS men I have met over the years, he claims to have been on duty the night the Duke of Edinburgh entertained a Lady friend overnight on the Royal Train in Glasgow Central Station in what must be the best known secret bonk in the history of secret royal bonking.

I’m not sure how I can use that, but then again I’m not sure how you get Glasgow Central Station closed overnight just so you can, well, bonk. It must be contacts.

cya

Young Johnt850, and well spotted Vampire Slayer,…..and Missie K, you were beaten fair and square but to take it that personally?

Oh, and Sir Jimmy Saville does have good lawyers………..No. No reason. No end of that story.

Notice that my eyes have been A misty place since Saturday Brings a feeling we might lead The fire engines anyway……..Run and get the fire brigade Get the fire brigade See the buildings start to really burn

The Move. Some people might recognise the context but don’t jump to any conclusions because all will be explained later when I do the serious stuff. ‘Cos I’m not my usual self this week. (Can I just say your uniform looked good….suits……do they still do the tunnels?……cos they are really scarey…..and it’s still your call) Moving slowly on.

Y’see, I’ve got kinda work interviews coming up – not jobs but possibly more regular income than at present – and I want to be judged purely on work stuff. And I know that some folk out there don’t like us alkies.

When I first returned to my previous employment after Cold Turkey Sunday I was told by some folk higher up the management chain that alkies were ’scum’ and that sooner or later they couldn’t cope and would relapse. Always on a 1:2:1 basis. But I’ve spoken of my Get It Right Up You attitude before. So I’m happy to move on. I wish they would. Almost three years since you ask. So far, so good.

But what can I write about if I avoid so much of the obvious?

I could do the ‘in’ stuff and say to Missie K….that record title you and I were discussing during the week? You’d be amazed how many different songs have that title. No. No reason. Arrange that reunion, get me drunk and I might tell that story, the one I never tell.

And Vampire Slayer? A simple Phwoar! will suffice, I think. Keep the pics coming. I must get a new one. Of me, that is. Cya soon.

Or I could do this week’s Well Done Awards a wee bit earlier. Normally it would go to Son Brian for passing yet more exams, but it’s going to bestest friend Caitlin for designing and writing a newsletter for the charity www.thedaviecoopercentre.org/

Check it out. But I’m biased. Caitlin’s family is the second bestest in the entire world. Waifs and strays adopted while you wait; basically me.

Or I could pretend to be a political blog and say, ‘I can exclusively reveal that the date of the General Election will be Thursday, 6th May 2010.’ Except it’s not exclusive. William Hill’s have already stopped taking bets. Well, they didn’t take mine.

Sarah Brown (Gordie’s wife)….she’s why the glass ceiling still exists.

Or I could mention my social life and say that I was out with the guys from Planet Holyrood and had a very pleasant time in Rufus T. Firefly’s (which is soooooo me, dark and gothic) Except I felt old. For a forty two year old, I felt old.

Not because I was with people younger than me (and I know people younger than them who are Rufus regulars, yah, boo, so you might know them too). No. It was a poster. There. A poster. For a band called New Model Army. FFS (Sorry Tommy T…..No. No relation) I was brought up on them. Kinda. They are still touring.

So I rushed home, and looked through my cassettes (small boxes, with tape, about the size of a box of Swan Vestas) and there it is, NMA – The Independent Years.  I also found a cassette entitled Led Zeppelin in Concert – A Copy of the Original Concert (1969). So, there you go. If I was recording tapes at age 2 then clrly, you could be climbing trees at age 4. You win that one as well.

Or I could rant, and maybe Tommy T is with me on this one as well. Does no-one know Latin these days? The correct abbreviation of university is ‘uny’. The word ‘uni’ is a prefix meaning one, as in unicycle.

Mind you, I heard a BBC person complaining that ASDA George’s new range of clothing would have sizes in Latin but how wld ppl kno wot was ment? Gah!!!!!!

X = 10. II = 2. Therefore XII = 12. IV = 4. Therefore XIV = 14. VI = 6 . Therefore XVI = . Och, do that one yourselves. I could rant, but I can’t be bothered. XL, in clothes sizes btw, does mean Extra Large and not size 40………just in case.

I used to know a bankrobber we called The Clydesdale Bank One. He didn’t use a balaclava. He used a scam that the banks copied in recent years. He always bought his round. We drank it, albeit unwittingly, until his day at the High Court.

These are the kind of people I know so I smile benignly when I hear student journos talk about three hours ethics classes. Most of my life was spent in live broadcasting. Was Andy Marr (and his production team?) right to ask the PM about his alleged pill popping? I think so. And it was denied. It is now a matter of record.

Maybe I could do a bit of namedropping and say I was in Beanscene just off Byres Road this morning and Frankie Boyle walked in with child (!) but I ignored him cos I was sitting talking to a Scottish Hockey International but when a former Professor of Communication and Media from Glasgow Caley Uny walked in I said Hi. This guy was one of the best contacts/sources/guides I ever had. Every journo needs some of those and No, I’m not making a point. Honestly.

Or what about the football, jt, I hear you say? Well plucky PT managed to defeat Airdrie United (Death to the Diamonds) by all of two goals to nil, altho’ it did help when one of their players got sent off. Our massed voices were led by three year old Ruby, a denizen of Dennistoun, who singled handedly forced the feared Section B to leave with their tails unfurled between their legs. Em, she didn’t come to the pub with us. Her mum collected her after the game.

Oh, and a quick word to the wise to the PT directors. Those new camouflage tops for away games, the purple and black numbers? Like, they’re only camouflage if they’re on a shelf of lifesize Blackcurrant Tango cans.

So, and finally, to the serious point of it all except I can’t remember how I was going tie it all up with the fire fighter stuff at the top. Mind you listening to it all again, before I sign the compliance form, maybe I’ve already made the serious point plus I can keep it fun, eh, C?

cya

Johnt850

Oh, the Jimmy Saville story from last week? (I’ve met him. Horrible man) The radio station that introduced me to real music was the late, great Radio Luxemburg and all their programmes used to be of fifteen minutes’ duration sponsored by record companies.

Saville used to have a prog called The Under The Bedclothes Club (seriously. And this in a week when I watched the movie Lolita. No. No connection)

Well,….what? Word count again? Already? I don’t bel…PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIIIIIP

You know we’re gonna want some, want some, we’re high in the backroom, gonna have a pack soon with this you will regret so just let it be, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Admittedly it sounds a lot better when actually sung by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and it may have been the Beatles references that led to Missie K suggesting it, but it’s the chorus (check it out BBC Al; a meet would be good btw) that I really like and I’ve been playing it at full volume, window down, thru the streets of leafy Milngavie recently. Oh, they hate it.

Cos I’ve been in Milngavie a lot recently watching Son Brian spend my money on furniture. To the dining table and chairs has been added a desk. But I have now eaten off the table having supplied the food, having been given the shopping list by txt. I don’t need hands to drive. Just knees. It’s a Hunter S. thang.

Thus it was I found myself charging around Tesco’s looking like Anneka Rice on speed (who will get that Treasure Hunt reference?) and I’m slowly adjusting to the idea of Tesco’s taking over the world but why, oh why, do they have a catalogue, to encourage you to buy online, that is over 900 pages. How many rainforests is that?

Incidentally they will never take over Maryhill. They bought the old Co-op there and planned mega refurbishment with underground parking, not realising the old railway tunnels which exist under there already, thus allowing the residents of that Wyndford tower block, I’ve never ever been to, to escape when the police try an early morning raid, like they did last week.

It’s got more catacombs than the Arches, the club/bar/diner/theatre place I was in last week and can I apologise to the folk I was with cos at one stage, moving from bar to bar, they turned right but I turned left and ended up exiting on the other side of the Clyde. Albeit unwittingly.

(Late night emergency phone call Thursday, package delivered Friday morning, no problem, rainforestriverman. That’s why you pay that retainer.)

And I saw my favest pic yet of the Vampire Slayer but it worried me. It involves a mirror (there is a context but I’ll keep it to myself) but worryingly, there is no reflection. Could this mean…….?

And Missie K. The Cold War Kids? I bought the CD without DVD Doc and the guy in Fopp said to me; ‘Are they playing here soon, do y’know?’ Like, I would know? Hang on….Like, I would know.

And there is a brilliant American Lit book called They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? which is about a marathon dancing competition during the American depression where the winners are those who stay standing the longest. It would never work as a TV programme, would it?

And my gd frnd Clr….nice to see the competitive element is still there. Reassuring….just in case. And your College attendance record ended up sooooo much better than mine, didn’t it? You won that one.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. This week’s serious bit. When I moved into my substantial semi in Summerston, I made a will. Moist folk buying a  new place do so. (I’ve typed ‘moist’ by mistake. I’m leaving it in). Now, after the well documented events of the last five tears I’m reorganising things and doing some new stuff.

So obviously some charities are going to get some donations and maybe one not-so-obvious one as well (I’m now rolling about on the floor laughing cos, well just cos…….Summerston…..we don’t do impromptu gestures………but if we did, then maybe one day we’d get it right…..Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Thanks I’m okay.)

And I’m doing a ‘living will’ amongst other things (omg, Leonard Cohen’s on the radio….the new will might be too late….how could you do this to me Nick, Janis?) but this does not mean I do a piece to camera. Shame. No. It’s me making it easier for Son Brian to know when to pull the plug should things ever get that bad. And currently I am no worse than the 42 year old sitting next to you at the moment (hostage to fortune there). It just makes sense.

But my legal raised the point; ‘but it does mean he has to consider questions of your mortality, jt850′. Em, three years ago, he saw a very sedated me lying on a bed in an alkie ward with tubes sticking out of me. He’s considered that question. Now the years just continue to roll off me. Right, at this point, I pause for five minutes, go into the cemetary and seek solace from the zombies. It’s crying time again.

(Peace in the Valley is now on the turntable)

Right. I’m back. Incidentally, if anyone out there wants anything of mine (like a piece of clothing with my name on it, and one is still set aside……literally with my name on it, worn once and cheekily frisked by Special Branch……) just say. It’s yours. Oh, and the music is confirmed. And it’ll be a humanist service; e will help. And the NHS can have all my organs. They know that. The rest is up to you, Son Brian. Just keep it fun.

Right back to nonsense. Coatbridge has been named ‘best small city in Scotland’, praised for its green spaces. But seeing The Dykeenies improve the line up for the Homecoming Rock Fest that is Fat Eck’s latest desperate attempt to get down wiv the kids reminds me; Craig Ferguson? Cumbernauld never rated you anyway.

Actually there’s a wee green space just down the road from me and someone’s cut a Crop Straight Line into it – ‘Summerston – we don’t do circles‘.

But on the work front there might just be a wee change in direction. I’m doing okay with the stuff I’ve got just now but whilst I quite enjoy the self-employed aspect of things you do miss out on office gossip. I mean I know what I’ve been up to. And I do remember what I did the night before at the office party. Altho’ much of 2006 is still shrouded in mystery.

And I was so deeply envious when I heard of some friends going team bondaging this week. Altho’ I may have added some letters to the original txt. Albeit unwittingly.

So there you go. Another week over and I think the blog flowed okay. A wee bit like that amazing rainforestriver, what’s it called….the Orinoco. Oh Damn and Blast. I think I’ve just lost that retainer. Bloody shame. (It’s what they call a Virgin Mary at the Hilton.)  Ho hum.

cya

Johnt850

Oh, and I heard a brill story about Jimmy Saville which I can tell you without any worries. Y’see…..What? Word count? Already? Ach, well it will keep until next week, I suppose.

If your body’s feelin’ bad And it’s the only one you have You want to take away the pain Go out walkin’ in the rain…….Can I put my hands on you?

Sensational. Faith Healer. Alex Harvey. And it was him a long time ago who started off the first blog with a piece of music which will be played at my funeral in a rolling five years’ time. (Anthem, it’s called, but not all of it, please) And today is now the hundredth edition. (Whistling in the Dark is to be played on the way out of the Crem btw) So far, so good.

So, how did it all start, jt?

Well I was about to start Part Two of my cancer treatment (the sandblasting) and I thought ‘everyone with cancer blogs’ so I asked the blogmeister for advice and he said ’stay out of the shed and use WordPress’ and I approached my gd frnd Clr for editorial advice and she said, ‘your choice of title is crap, but keep it fun’ and that, dear listener, was that, and there are now about two hundred and fifty of you out there each week. Ta. So, let’s move on. Had you worried there, eh, rainforestriverman ?

Incidentally, BBC Al, I don’t mind writing ‘crap’, as it were but she actually said ’sh*te’. Where do I stand on that kinda thing? And the rest of the Steel Panther album is in a very similar vein, btw. No. No reason.

Incidentally, some really good Scottish progs on BBC 4 and the funnest was the one about Calvin (the protestant reformer, not the boxer shorts designer). So based on that prog, a wee centenary quiz throughout the show;

a) Who is the top female presenter with whom I spent many a happy Saturday morning?

Incidentally, if stv are serious about product placement, then they could do worse than give me a minicam and let me spend a week in Tescoland, or Springburn as my mum knew it, existing totally out of the uber-capitalist shop. It’s taken over the entire area. I’d sleep in a Tesco sleeping bag in a Tesco sponsored bus shelter, but at least I’d be Tesco insured. (All your needs met, jt?)

And the John Hartson prog showed how good the programme makers down there at stv can be.

b) Who is the leading MP with whom I had many a pleasant glass of sherry in the old BBC Club?

Incidentally, is Flat Earth News on every student’s reading list? That’s my copy promised away to someone. Send me your reading lists, your huddled masses. It’s not just Journalism; it’s Politics and Literature and Al-Quaeda before 2001 (serioulsy). You’d be amazed at what I’ve got. I’ll call it ‘long- term’ loan. It’s what Paulo Freire would want.

Incidentally, if you’re ever asked for suggestions for a guest speaker for college or Uny………why not? You’re reading this, aren’t you?

c) Who is the well-known female author and stand-up whose West End flat overlooks that bit of the River Kelvin where I go for inspiration? (Pixies, Elvis and Dragons, was it, C?)

Incidentally this being 42 for the rest of my life ain’t easy. I was talking to my(former) sister-in-law and happened to mention that I was at that Neil Young concert a wee while back and she said,’ so you were six at the time were you?’ She’s a primary school teacher.

d) Answers next week, if I remember.

Incidentally, it’s 100 years that PT have been at the Field of Dreams that is Firhill and it’s Johnny Tuffey’s one hundredth game for the club. (Didn’t expect that when you threw your jersey into the crowd at Dundee last game, last season, did you?)

Incidentally, I didn’t make it to the game. I ended up at Son Brian’s new flat helping him and his mum (she looked familiar, somehow)  with washing, hoovering and measuring. Now, I’m sure I said I’d buy a coffee table. Somehow it’s transmorgified into a dining table and chairs. Anyone out there with a new flat who’d like a coffee table?

Incidentally, isn’t ironic that communications workers have to have a postal ballot to decide whether or  not to go on strike? Why don’t they use e-mail like the rest of us?

Incidentally, before any postman complains, one of the joys of my student life, and the range of holiday jobs available, was being a postman in the Summer (two o’clock finish) and just before Christmas. The postman always rings, incessantly. That way you get a Christmas tip.

Incidentally, in a week when cheats in sport was top of the news, can I just say to my PT mates; Adebayor and the Arsenal fans? We play Airdrie United in two weeks’ time. (Death to the Diamonds) I’ve just had an idea for when we score. Just don’t hold me back.

Incidentally, to the man in the (now very) brown trousers crossing the road down by the ASDA this afternoon at a very obese angle…….Yes. I did speed up when I saw you doing that but it was okay. My knees were controlling the steering wheel. That’s why I was able to give you the v-sign with both hands.

So and finally, yet another blog without incident….just in case. It’s better that way. Albeit unwittingly.

So has it been worth it, jt, keeping the blog going?

Son Brian (23, who picked up keys for his new two bedroomed flat only yesterday, but it’s not a competition) reckoned that one of the reasons I took to the bottle so quickly and easily after my mum’s funeral (that afternoon) was ‘cos I lacked a focus. During the cancer treatment I might have returned to it, and I saw someone else do that after sixteen years without alkohol. The blog gave me a focus and a discipline.

I’m still off the bottle. I’m still blogging. Is there a connection? 1100 words every week is a discipline and I’m not going to take that risk.

Thanks Kevin (Sunday name). Thanks Claire (Sunday name)

cya

Johnt850 (Not really my birth certificate name, but you might have guessed that, anyway.)

Incidentally, I’d a great week. It started on Sunday (novelty) when two incredibly beautiful women phoned me from Italy to complain bitterly (LOL) that my credit was no good (I’ll be in touch. The champagne is on me. Bring a friend…. or two. I won’t) and I just couldn’t stop laffing. Thank you.

And it finished with a meet with blossoming friend, e, who took me to places I’d never been before. (There is so much to see in Glasgow’s West End, isn’t there?) Thank you as well.

Roll on 101.