Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue, Sweet Home Alabama Lord, I’m coming home to you. Here I come Alabama

And that’s the original, and the best, the real Lynyrd Skynyrd version from 1974. Accept no imitations.

Plus, for once in my life, can I recommend Wikipedia, and its entry for Lynyrd Skynyrd, particularly if you’re an Aerosmith playing Guitar Hero? It is a real rock’n’roll lifestyle story and gives a whole new dimension to the idea of “going down”, in an aeroplane, but not in an elevator. No. Seriously.

Wow. Almost as exciting as watching Partick Thistle beating St Johnstone four to nil, but not quite. The chant was “Our REAL radio celeb is happier than your BBC one”. Well at least it was where we were sitting. No name dropping, but the cat really had the cream.

It’s funny but after all the years of watching Celtic and then working for them as their paid PR, and then watching Clydebank and working for them as unpaid anything required, I thought I’d heard and seen it all, but when the Jags entered the field to the theme from The Omen, we knew it was going to be something different. Heads turned.

Wow. Almost as exciting as watching Team GB collecting all those medals, although I didn’t realise there were so many races you could run on water whilst sitting down, as it were.

But my favourite performers of the Olympics must be people like the BBC’s gorgeous Carrie Gracey who spoke to people in their native Chinese (Mandarin?) and then translated back to us what was said. Of course you have to trust that what she said she truthfully translated in the first place…just in case.

But what I can’t get away with, C, is the number of times I have now heard the word “pivotal” used, but with the proper spelling.  I remain to be convinced by your source. Hang on, you’ve still to tell me your source.

And by the way, all potential journalists, I read recently that journalism is a bit like driving taxis; “It’s not so much the work you enjoy, as much as the people you meet”. But, hey, just like taxi drivers, you’ve got to ignore the fact that everyone ends up talking behind your back.

And talking of everyone talking, my views about Jade Goody? Yes. I share a fair amount of the cynicism as well, but if it persuades women to go for screening and testing, then something good must come out of it.

I think I was made much more cynical by the arrival of Shilpa Shetty, the host of India’s Big Boss, to host a major Bollywood event in London and never once did she ask after Ms Goody in any publicity interview I saw.

But then maybe people with cancer, and I hate calling it the big “C” or the “C word”, are getting less and less sympathy. I heard one professor, in a discussion on the cost of providing expensive drugs, say, “The villain of the piece here is cancer.” Sorry, folks. Had I but known.

So what have I been up to this week that doesn’t cost the taxpayer money, apart from staying unemployed. Plan A didn’t work. Plan B doesn’t exist yet but it will do by Tuesday. Honest, Tuesday’s lunch partners, it will. (Note to high horse level committee, I didn’t mention who I was having lunch with, just that I was having lunch)

Well I’ve been enjoying my freshly decorated house (Not as sad as it sounds). And to my regular correspondent who asked, “where did you get the impression that the decor you had needed updating?”. I say, not only do you know where and when, but in celebration of a famous night in March of this year I realise that the walls are now the colour of a reasonably good sticky toffee pudding, albeit unwittingly. Thanks guys. You’re still an influence.

If you’re passing, please drop in. The house would be delighted to see you, as would I. Oh, and everyone else who remembers the old wallpaper from the last twenty years, you’re invited as well.

Welcome to homely Summerston as recently featured in Channel 4’s “The Secret Millionaire” and in www.bloodbus.com/ . Put “prehistoric rutting frenzy” in the search bit. You’ll find it’s just before the bit where he says, “But this was Summerston”. I know that bus terminus. Well, not that well, obviously. Honest. Read and enjoy. Well, not that much.

Or, just put “Summerston” into the search bit. There’s five entries for Summerston, none of them very flattering, but, hey, it’s where I live. Hola.

Sure beats living in Milngavie where a fake milk token coupons scam is apparently running wild. I’m told it started in a supermarket where every little helps. Well, obviously.

Next week? Everyone else who knows me, please feel free to drop in. B.Y.O.B., and if there’s anything left in the bottle, maybe take it away again. For all sorts of reasons it’s not been a good week.

I went through to the Edinburgh Book Festival to a workshop dedicated to trends in publishing and my optimism was fuelled by Jenny Brown, chairing the workshop, who welcomed us all as “new and creative writers”.

The smile was wiped off my face when she went onto say that the days of the “misery memoir” were finished. Ooops. That may be what I am working on, although I did say to her afterwards that mine would have a fun element to it. She just looked at me, but then what does she know? Quite a lot actually. She is Scotland’s top literary agent. Mmmm.

However my faith in what I’m trying to do, with some help from some others, was restored this morning when telling a friend what I was trying to do, he said, “I like autobiographies by non-interesting people”. I think I know what you mean, Stuart.

And, Mister rainforest riverman, Bob the hatchetman seemed a nice guy.

(Maybe one obscure mensh per issue, please, people with more votes than me, eh, please? I’m always willing to explain them)

And finally, again to all potential journalists, check everything before publication. Tuesday’s Evening Times blamed their crossword compiler as follows; “The clue for 24 across should have read “African Country” instead of “Star Sign” to give the answer “Libya” not “Libra”. That’s a Fail, not even a Defer.


Johnt850, who never gets anything wrong. Aye. Right.

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