People tell me that I’m paranoid, And I admit I’m getting pretty nervous, boy. It just gets tougher everyday To sit around and watch it while it slips away

No real reason (honest) for choosing that particular track by Steve Earle, except I can. It’s my blog. And my thanks to Laurie for asking the nicest question I’ve been asked in weeks, “What’s going to be this week’s lyrics?” And sorry. I didn’t catch your own suggestion because you lowered your voice for some reason. But more of Sandra and Laurie later.

But nothing on the sandblasting front at the moment. I’m really worried I’ve offended the sandblasters. But I know there are people connected with Gartnavel who do read this. So if you want to wander past TRC at some point and casually say, “Read any good blogs lately?” (or indeed, “any bad ones?”), please feel free to do so. Give them my address, as it were.

The three-in-one oil can story awaits.

Y’know, it’s amazing what some people can do with blogging, albeit somewhat unwittingly.

But to lunch with S & L, alphabetically so close to lunch with S & M, which would really have amazed the passers by in Royal Exchange Square. And if a restaurant is busy, then just say the words erectile dysfunction in a loud voice. It’s amazing how quickly all the males in the restaurant get up and leave. I even say those words in italics now. Although, believe it or not, I do have other topics of conversation.

We ate al fresco. Well, L ate pizza. And we discussed how I should begin my search for a “good looking woman, UNspoke for”, unlike all the rest I seem to know. (Kay and Sharon, my diary awaits) Internet dating seems a good idea but I’m not sure “Divorced, recovering alcoholic with or without cancer seeks relationship. Has small semi.” is the best introductory line.

And yes. I did once advertise in The List. And yes. I got no replies, not even written in green ink. So, dear readers, the suggestion book is now open, within taste and reason, please. The search begins.

But not the lady with the “House of Fraser” bag. Although it was impossible not to notice you. Maybe that was the point.

And. Yes. I am growing my hair long. Because I can and I want to. But no. No medallions. So what if flicking it out of my eye becomes useful, C, instead of a relatively minor tic? Useful is good….just in case.

Elsewhere in the not-so-real world….. Day 1 in the Big Brother Household and the Sun reveals that the little sister of BB star(?) Dennis McHugh is a convicted thug and thief. Dennis, apparently, is a “camp dance teacher”, and I don’t think we’re talking scouting and guiding here….Call me an old journo (No. On second thoughts, don’t call me “old”) but I suspect there’s just the hint of a euphemism here.

It’s also really pleasing to see that a former first year student of Glasgow Met Journalism, described in the Sun (See Kevin, you can keep your job. I’m happy with the hot tomatoes), as “baby faced” is a star of the long awaited “High Times” on stv. I’ll be watching, Steph. You always asked good questions.

It’s also been nice to read the words of former students in the likes of the Evening Times and the Herald. I saw your by-line in the Times, Tam, and I saw a very sad statto in the Herald, Gary. Is Croatia worth a punt?

And if Lesley, whom I met in ASDA for the first time in years, not that I’ve met you anywhere else recently, is reading….I’m sorry. I thought you knew. But best wishes to Nico and Gillan. I think it’s good naming your children after rock stars.    

Oh, and the Torrance One – the Vampire Slayer, has been spotted, chasing pigeons in George Square. Okay. Practice is good, but the vampires and zombies are getting closer, particularly Saturday evenings when they’ve been on the Matteus Rose all afternoon. (I didn’t realise they still sold that stuff). And once I get more news of Kenny, the shed pimp, I’ll let you know. Must pop round and see his wife…No, Dennis, I’m not doing the rest of the line. He’s a mate.

Incidentally, watching BBC News during the week I was taken by the astuteness of their advice to anyone approached by people telling them that they have won lots of money in a Nigerian lottery but asking them to pay some money up front. Ask yourself. “Do I remember buying a Nigerian lottery ticket? If not, then that might be a clue to a possible scam.” Good advice.

And finally, this has been written before I set off to watch my good friend Claire, and 12,999 others, in the Race For Life at Glasgow Green, which I’ll describe in Wednesday’s blog. But if you’re looking for me, I’m the one wearing the blue man cancer badge. And thanks, by the way, to the folk I know who sponsored C. Serious thanks. And I’m due to see some of you next week. Looking forward to it already.

It’s such a shame that Kaye Adams, in Saturday’s Record, thinks it’s at Bellahouston. That’s where the Men’s 10k is next week. I’ll be there as well. I’m becoming a cancer race groupie. 

cya

Johnt850