I’m not saying that I work like my dad, I know I don’t work like my mum, But I’m made of the same stuff and I’m six feet tall. Gimme the tools I’ll get the job done

The Proclaimers there with Follow The Money and I know everyone expected Bruce Springsteen’s 4th of July but those lyrics were really written for Sandy, and I don’t think I know anyone called that. No. Words there not just for my son Brian who graduated on Friday but for everyone else who now has to put good fun student days behind them and start earning  a living. Seriously hope you’ve enjoyed the last four years.

And I know I’m not working at present but I have reasonable hopes about my own consultant visit in just over a fortnight’s time, but I’m still not saying when. Soon, and then hopefully back to looking for work. Bonne chance to any folk with similar missions coming up soon.

But back to Friday and Karen’s birthday. Yes. That’s Karen who recently gave birth to Stephanie. (Great pic by the way). Gosh. It’s all happening.

Meanwhile to the Barony Hall where the Congregation was taking place. And my thanks to Amy and Richey and Richey’s folks for getting me there. Summerston rools okay. Spelling was never my strong point.

In the Barony, (extended) family on one side and a really chatty lady next to me on the other. We both really appreciated the pre-organ music which, to be honest, sounded like a call to the Confederate side during the American Civil War, with, maybe, just maybe, the odd pro-slavery song.

Anyway, the mood soon changed to what sounded like a pre-wedding march and my new friend and I speculated as to where the bride was. We then pretended to be on the set of Morse (the detective series, Katie) and tried to work out where the sniper was.

Laura F, we would really have appreciated your personal expertise, and look, not a size gag in sight. In fact, until I know what the consultant has to say, I might just drop the large jag line, know what I mean?

And then it started. And then it finished. I had a great view. Tall lady in short dress immediately in front of me. Come on! One sexist gag in twenty seven issues!  Mind you, it did seem that L, my son’s mum, thought everything I said was a bit that way on Friday. She always did say I never took her seriously. I just laughed.

But it was good, L, to know that you were able to get a mobile phone message down in Buchanan Street subway station. But did you have to offer everyone on the very safe platform a drink at my expense? (It’s okay. She doesn’t read this…..and we’re nineteen years divorced…but twenty one years proud)

And then what seemed to me to be a bit of a pub crawl began, starting with drinks in a Strathclyde University bar and finishing up in a vodka bar in the West End. It’s as if I’m drawn inexorably to Ashton Lane, GK, GP. Or am I watching too much Doctor Who?

I must stress that all the way I had soft drinks (tomato juice where available. Are you listening upstairs in the Printworks?) but I think I bought everyone else some nice wine. Hey, it’s okay. I like reading labels.

Incidentally, it was in the Printworks that I met Fraser’s grandmother who had me summed up in a minute. “You’ve never re-married, have you?” Eh, no.

Interestingly though, I had earlier in the week gone to a local Tesco’s (the Co-op as we call it in Maryhill) for some comfort food shopping. My eye was caught by something interesting in the bakery; “Tear and Share garlic and herb bread”. Tear, and Share? Aaargh! Go on, I thought. Rub it in. (When I say rub it in……)

Even when collecting my new specs from the opticians, and thank you, son of mine, for telling me that the one with the long hair is spoken for, I mentioned something about my “life” to the other optician, except she thought I said “wife” and when I explained I didn’t have one, she said her ring was for warding off unwanted attention, I think.

I think I may have missed something there and if any creative writers are out there, C et al, please feel free to recreate what the dialogue may have been before I make a right fool of myself. (C. Have you met al?)

Incidentally, my good friend Claire, I’m going to hate myself for saying this, you might just be right about the Labour party in Scotland. Your comment about drinks at the party might just be true, perhaps, albeit unwittingly. Frightening that. What? The fact that C might be right. Frightening.

By the way, Mr Rainforest Riverman, my wallet was never closed. The next day I was still picking odd fivers out of odd pockets. Had to get my money back somehow.  Just like the old days.

And can I stress to Lydia and Janis, high heid yins at Glasgow Met College, I don’t usually run up to women in Queen Street Station and hug them but, hey, you two were worth it…just in case.

At home I’ve been tidying out thousands of e-mails and Vampire Slayer, I’ve now destroyed the details of your inspiration – Chip the cardboard policeman – saviour to us both on that particular occasion! Eh…

Actually the graveyard is a lot quieter these days. Maybe you’re out when the rest of us are fast asleep. Maybe? Eh? Send me an e-mail. I’ve still got the last one, T1.

And finally to Kay-J. Thank you for your message. You know me so well. Always did. As do so many others. J, G, A, C, G, S, K, C and C, to name but nine. All good looking, all female and, and, and all seriously brilliant.

And to everyone else who knows me, thanks for getting me to the Barony, and back. It’s been an interesting journey over these last few years but it’s been fun so far. So good. Let’s keep it that way.



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