I like the way you like to touch, I like the way you stare so much, but most of all, yeah, I like the way you move

Bodyrockers there. And yes. It is a bit cliched and a bit sexist but only as cliched and sexist as the Councillor who opened Race For Life on Sunday and said he hoped it would rain because there were so many nice women wearing t-shirts. No. I must have misheard him.

And somebody else from the stage made a comment about people “following you up the rear.” Why does everyone think they’re a blogger these days, albeit unwittingly? Cheap laughs come at a price.

Because nothing could spoil a great day for over 13,000 women, including two of Cumbernauld’s finest, numbers 8981 and 2550, or as they’re known for the rest of the week, my good friend Claire (Alexander) and another good friend Gillian (Kirkwood). And yes. A silver medal does mean you came second. But seriously well done to you and the other 13,000 folk, including the men who dressed up as women! Lots of patience shown by lots of people at the starting lines, and as for some of the costumes! Well.

I hope Brian Hanrahan was there and counted them all out and counted them all back in again, cos there were lots of people.

And so many unanswered questions, like, “Do some young boys grow up wanting to be “Nivea Men?”. Actually, I am looking for a career change. I wonder.

Some people took it real seriously. They stubbed out their cigarettes before they set foot on Glasgow Green, and it wouldn’t be a Glasgow event, would it, without swigging from the quarter bottle of voddie with your mates standing around you?

But the bad news is, I didn’t see C or G. I was there. I have the photies to prove it. Until the batteries ran out in my camera. I have my notes. Written on the notebook I had to buy from a licensed newsagent in the Saltmarket because I had forgotten to bring my own.

And well done to the proprietors of that shop for refusing to sell alcohol to a man at eight thirty on Sunday morning. You’d almost think he’d bought it there before at that time of day. Surely not. But other Glasgow traditions still exist. The good old fashioned “hing oot” made famous by Bud Neill was very much in evidence. (Younger readers beware. There are two definitions of a “hing oot”. I know which one I am referring to).

Anyway I used to be a serious journalist. So, of course the first thing I did was look for the Press Tent or the VIP hospitality marquee. Mmm….I think I’ve been to too many golf tournaments or civic bashes in recent years. Black coffee from a hamburger stall is good at that time of day. I just hope the Mens’ 10k race this Sunday at Bellahouston is as successful.

So what did the rest of us do whilst G & C relaxed in the afternoon or the bath or whatever? (If I put their initials in that order then it sounds less like the building society or bank or whatever it calls itself these days).

Well, I know the Torrance One – the Vampire Slayer, spent the afternoon in serious preparation. Gainfully employed, you might say. And white suits you.

Whereas I spent the afternoon in the bookies and then watched the Pussycat Dolls on YouTube……as you do. Hot stuff indeed!

On a personal note I now have my dates for post-treatment cancer tests, and results, but not for some time, so I’ll maybe keep them to myself at the moment…a wee bit like a driving test…just in case.

Incidentally, on another personal note, does anyone else find that they don’t bother with wallets, and just shove money into pockets, then forget about it, only to find it a few days later, when they put that jacket on again. Mind you Kevin C, I do have so many jackets, albeit their origins may be a bit dodgy.

Oh, and tonight, Wednesday, I go out for my first curry for a long time and a few beers with some mates. Except, as regular readers know, I won’t be having the beers. Possibly the same reason I haven’t been to a Winers’ Club dinner for some time. (Yes. There is a clue in the name of the club). Anyway, I hope Friday night went well. Any goss?

And since you ask. Today? Eighteen months “sober and solvent free”. Or to put it another way. I’m the designated driver for the rest of my life. Sobeit.

Oh, and to “Concerned” of Pacific Quay in Glasgow. I note what you say about unsolicited e-mails but it’s probably like getting back on a bike again and the other end of the M8, I agree, would be a good place to practise.

And I walked past BH today, as you and I still think of it. It’s beginning its transition to a “boutique hotel”. (A totally different bh)  Quite.

By the way, BBC readers, the Parthenon in Great Western Road, host to so many secret meetings about how to deal with the people secretly sitting at the next table, may soon be no more. Watch this space! And whilst we’re on the subject of venues being re-furbished, does anyone else remember a trendy showbar in the late nineties called Bonkers in Hope Street. God! I’ve been to some dives in my time but……. 

Welcome back, E. Nothing to do with the above para. Nice pix. But why didn’t you go someplace exotic for the honeymoon, like Arran? No. Now that I think about it. You chose well.

And finally, whilst keeping it fun. Thanks Claire. My mum would have appreciated that. And Gillian? You already know my thoughts. Bien fait. Merci. C’est tout.

A bientot


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