Flowing like a river into the ocean. Better get yourself ready for the new vibration. My vision, one nation, one tribe. One day’ll come the might to move any mountain

The optimistic sounds there of The Shamen. I did think about their jolly number Ebeneezer Goode but someone told me it contained coded messages. Like, this blog doesn’t?

I realised how much this blog had taken over my life when I noticed I’d sent a congratulatory text to my son which read “I have just told the Vampire Slayer. She is pleased for you.” And this is me, “sober and solvent free”? Makes me wonder. (Led Zep)

So, I’m going a wee bit serious (just briefly, C, just briefly). I was talking to Suzy from the Prostate Cancer Society (I think our musical tastes might differ) and she was talking about the group support I’d received with the sandblasting, but that an equally important part of the cancer treatment, so far, has been the large hormone injections I’ve received. (If this wasn’t a serious bit I’d mention Laura F so I won’t). These you face on your own. But you don’t have to. Yes. I’m kinda thinking ahead.

So, let’s go back to fun, C. It’s been a week when bloggers have got a bad press cos, apparently, we rant and slag. Me? I just ramble, albeit unwittingly.

Ach, I think I’m still annoyed at the way Croatia chucked it against the Turks, the other night. I’d already decided how to spend my winnings but I don’t suppose there’s anything really to stop us still eating in the attic. And, of course, how many pundits are now picking Germany, but following it by saying, “Yes. The Germans are so used to trampling over everyone else.” and then sitting back for all the references to Poland and the old Czechoslovakia? That was seventy years ago!

So, how’s your week been? Mine’s been quite varied since you ask. A nice lunch on Friday where I was early and awaited the arrival of my companion by sitting on a very comfortable settee, as you do, only this one was outside a charity shop in Dumbarton Road, just across from a shop offering “Simple Bulgarian Properties”, except it didn’t say where they were located.

Thursday saw me at an excellent proofreading course in Edinburgh with Publishing Scotland, except me being a smartass, had to start it off by pointing out they had misspelt my name. But Barbara the tutor was the standard by which any teacher should set themselves. And I do eat more than just breakfast bars. Honest.

Nice train journey and I’d forgotten how far out in the country Croy Railway Station is and really nice to see Alison Walker of BBC Scotland at Queen Street Station, if only to be able to shout, “Good luck in the Olympics in Beijing!”. It may not be name dropping but it made heads turn. I’d also forgotten that people who arrive late for trains insist on running to the front carriage. Why?

And why is it the only time I feel like putting my feet on the seats on a railway carriage is when I read the sign forbidding me from doing so.

The other nice part of the trip to Edinburgh was looking at the old Fountainbridge area and remembering the time when I was researcher for a documentary on Sean Connery. The rest of the team went to Marbella. Me? I gumshoed my way around tenement doors asking if people remembered a milk boy called Tam Connery.

And do you know what? I found some. Now that was a real buzz, but no Spanish suntan. But aren’t suntans over-rated anyway? Me? I prefer hot tomatoes. 

Incidentally, my heart goes out to supermarket kiosk operators the world over, well Cumbernauld and Summerston, whose hearts must drop at a minute past eight on a Saturday morning when they see people approaching with handfuls of lottery tickets and fistfuls of cash. And it’s the same people every week. I find it quicker just taking my newspapers through the self scan…oh, and paying for them. Honest.

However, last week’s intellectual opening prompted one reader from South of the Border (Hi Ken) to describe it all as part of the “stream of semi-conscious post-ironic self-reflective genre” around these days. I wish I knew what that meant. Just in case, cos I do worry, is there an expert on New Journalism out there? It’s your call.  

Mind you, it’s quite interesting what former journo students get up to that isn’t journalism. (High Times wasn’t so good this week) I might just catch myself listening to the Ellis and Clark Show on Radio Scotland on Friday nights over the next few weeks (available South of the Border online).

Can I just, say, James, son, that I know what it’s like to sit with your ear to the Cat’s Crystal and what it’s like when your material is used? And you can’t find anyone to tell! Well, if you must. (Incidentally this blog exists on scraps of paper and I did wonder when I saw one that said “Alison Clark”. I’ve not seen her in years).

I think I can still recite every gag of mine that was ever used on radio plus the two that my son wrote and were used as well. No. I only produced one of the progs where his material was used and it was in on merit. Honest. And I made sure he got all the money. Honest.

And finally, all this Euro 2008 stuff, has put me in the continentale mood. Now, is there anybody I know jetting off to Paris for a well deserved few days quite soon, or even, a good second best, about to be sitting overlooking one of Glasgow’s top parks, whilst sipping a cafe au lait? Yes Loads of people. I’m really jealous.

Just to rub it all in, someone offered me a video of one of France’s top hotels. Why would I want to look at a  Paris Hilton video? pfft, as they say on the streets.

Au revoir, mes amis, au revoir

Johnt850