Why would the world stop spinning and if its too late for this I dont feel the same, you can’t hide from the things you cannot see.

The Dykeenies there, who I missed at Loch Lomond yesterday, for reasons I will explain later but it does involve a lady called Linda, and I notice, Missie K and my gd frnd Clr, that one website decribes the Dykeenies as coming from “Glasgow’s satellite town of Cumbernauld”. Mmmmm.

Damn. One opening paragraph and three hat-tips. This canning (sp) the “hot air” et al ain’t going to be easy. Sorry al.

My thanks to the Parfery person for brilliant encouragement and making me go there and to Emma J and Heather C for their suggestions. Alabama 3 were brilliant but there’s always the problem when you see yr heroes (eh?) for the first time that there will be a slight disappointment, but my faves were the Infadels who cranked out some serious hot jams (eh?).

Sorry but that’s all the new rules broken right at the start of today’s blog. Sorry, high horse level movers and shakers. I’ll move swiftly on.

Serious moment.

Despite all the advice I’d received from good friends (I have more than just the one I mensh from time to time) I didn’t put enough SPF on (Sun Protection Factor). This in a week when a proper survey pointed out that fewer than 50% of all new creams offer complete protection against the sun and I went to an area with absolutely no physical cover, except the dance tent (when it rained. Nice smells). Will I ever learn? Yes. I will.

No wonder my face was so red at the party I went to later on on Saturday night and not just because of my chat up lines, which are so obviously four years out of date. But, hey, I got a phone number. So far, so good.

It’s not “cancer paranoia” that causes you to notice things like reports about skin cancer and stuff and news of wonder drugs but it sure as hell means I do not take seriously, badly edited adverts on behalf of a cholesterol challenge. Some things just need a compromise of lifestyle. I served a roll and fried egg to myself this morning with Flora spread on the roll. What do you think of that then, Gloria?

But, by now dear readers you’re probably looking for Linda.

Have you ever been standing at the gates of Balloch Country Park clutching your day ticket for a Music Festival when you’re approached by a complete stranger asking you to help get his partially sighted sister through that gate cos his ticket is for the Weekend Gate? Well I have. Yesterday.

Linda can see lots, mind you (what was that on my lip?), but the black glasses were quite attractive, as, indeed, was Linda, 43, divorced, with a degree in Home Economics, now living in Sydney, Australia but originally from Clydebank and just back from a holiday in Barra with her brother. Shows how long it can take you to get through those gates.

And what does Linda drink? Red Wkd vodka. And how do I know? Because she produced a full bottle of it from underneath her mini-kilt once we were through all the gates. No wonder the sniffer dogs were confused. Vodka has no smell. I made an excuse and left…just in case.

It took half an hour for her to meet up with her mates, which was not unpleasant, but it does give a certain irony to the Dykeenies’ lyrics about “things you cannot see”. And as I write this I see the rain pouring down, again. I’m still washing the mud out of yesterday’s clothes. I took part in a mud fight (eh?). Albeit unwittingly, but not unwillingly.

But away from the Elysian fields of Balloch.

I know I’m not now supposed to mention lunches, which is a good job, as I met a friend for one the other day in an Italian restaurant in Glasgow. The scene was set when the waiter asked us what we wanted to drink. I said tomato juice and he, without even checking with the kitchen, said “No. We have no tomato juice.”

Howver the background music was good. Yes. The Infadels. How cool and how “pivetal” (I remain to be convinced of spelling) to my enjoyment of the weekend was that?

But there are other changes to my life and not just the evolution of a blog (stay with me readers as I adjust to a once a week writing journey).

Being clear and clean means I no longer visit the Health and Addiction Centres, and the Job Centre gets a note sent in every week. There is now a large part of Maryhill centering (sp) on the Co-Op, sorry Tesco, which saw me as regular visitor. Ruchill no more, Shawpark no more.

On the job front, the search starts now and no reasonable offer will not be considered.

But equally as important to anyone who has visited my house over the last twenty years, I have accepted the decorator’s estimate. I have still to decide on the basic colour of the downstairs room and all the way up the wall to the top of the house so all suggestions gratefully accepted.

And once that’s done, maybe a party, although given the size of my house, it will be the equivalent of getting students (I will invite other people as well but should I invite partners? Advice?) into a telephone box. Remember them? They’re for when your mobile phone battery runs down.

Invites will be done properly and individually. But not through the blog.

And, being topical, my take on the Olympics? Y’know those conversations you get into at parties? Did you know there are 107 million bloggers in China and that the most visited blog in the world is that of the Chinese actress Xu Jinglei? What is really worrying is that it was me supplying those stats. I really do need to work on my chat up lines.

But, from a good source, I now have some good English speaking website addresses for China. If anybody wants, just ask.

And so, finally, I know I have said I’m going to cut back on apologies and thank yous (too much/too many recently) but sorry if there’s been too much hot air today and not enough canning (sp). But seriously, thanks for reading.



2 Responses to “Why would the world stop spinning and if its too late for this I dont feel the same, you can’t hide from the things you cannot see.”

  1. pat kelly Says:

    I wasn’t aware of your recent trials and tribs etc., until Jock sent me details of your blog. Well done you! – for continuing to wave your private parts in the direction of Fate, and farting in the general direction of Adversity. If I were half the man you were, you’d be twice the size of me.
    (provenance. GUU debates stunt circa 1972). Keep on trucking. Hope to see you at the Winers.


  2. Johnt850 Says:

    I’ll be there, Pat. I’ll be there

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