Get your rocks off, Get your rocks off, honey, Shake it now now, Get’em off downtown

A little patriotic song there from Primal Scream, played before the start of every Scotland football match. When there’s all this chat about a new Scottish national anthem, why are we ignoring such an obvious contender? What? Sexist? Oh. Older male readers might want to pause here and cast your minds back to the Ayr Drum Majorettes. I was about twelve years old, they were about fourteen/fifteen. That’s all I’m saying.

Moving swiftly on and we’re into the second week of the cancer treatment and, mentally, it’s a wee bit harder. I now understand why all my new friends count down the number of visits they have to do and after today I have a further thirty to go. But we all seem to get there.

Educationally, it’s a revelation. I can now lip-read a radiotherapist at a distance of thirty yards, mouthing the words, “Has your enema worked yet?”. I do hope she realises that my return gesture means, “Give it another two minutes”. And, the ultimate compliment from one of these marvellous ladies in white. Explaining why there’s a slight difference in the way they do the sandblasting from before, she said, “You’re good. You’re really good. You don’t wriggle.” I believe it’s a medical term, but comments are invited.

Luckily, I’m not looking for an epitaph at the present moment…just in case….but is that how I would like to be remembered? I think not. Incidentally, regular readers will remember that last week I mentioned burials and saunas on the same page. You would be amazed at the piece of mail I was sent, which was spammed and is now deleted. There’s a lesson there.  

Elsewhere, I discovered that the Kelvingrove Art Galleries don’t open until 11 o’clock on Fridays and Sundays. No prizes for guessing when I discovered that. And that the guy who comes and cuts my grass now employs two people. He is now a business and good luck to him. I also attempted to paint my picnic bench but unfortunately I was unable to open the child-proof top on the bottle of boiled linseed oil…..and you can never find a child when you need one….and who came up with the idea that boiling linseed oil would be good for picnic benches, anyway?

The mail has just arrived. I have claimed for Jobseekers’ Allowance because I paid my stamps over years and I am aware, that because I resigned, there may be a slight hiccup. Basically I am now being asked why I just didn’t go “on the sick”. Em,…’cos I thought this was the fairest way for everyone involved, particularly students and myself, in order to let everyone know where they stood…or is that being old fashioned? I will keep you posted. And while I’m on a rant……when will Gordon Brown ever actually talk about real people in this country and not just quote from a macro-economic text book? Anyway I’ve arranged to see Margaret from the Macmillan people next week and we’ll see what can be done…about my benefits claim, not the state of the economy. Well, you never know.

And now for this week’s Cyberspace experiment…….which hasn’t worked. Blogmeister, if you’re reading, Grasshopper is struggling. I will publish and am terrified that what appears in Preview is not what appears on the published page. Forgive me everyone. I am but a novice. So much to learn but, thankfully, so much time in which to learn.

And if you’ve been opening new business premises in Swansea, hope it went well.



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