And after all this time How can you stand there Look at me and smile? Now are you just waving or drowning? It’s so hard to tell when you’re so far away

Almost the only words, there, of poetess Stevie Smith that any English student ever remembers, sung by the lovely Kirsty McColl.

And can I say thanks to pop-picker, Heather C, for your suggestions for extending my collection. It was raining today or else I’d have been down the ol’ Fopp shop buying them. I note what you say about the genius of Dan le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip (Dennis, I have no idea what H is talking about) except to say……

This London electro duo are due to play Strathclyde Students’ Union this Thursday the 9th. Any Strath students out there, you can sign me in, any time. It’s always your call. So far, so good.

And “Thou Shalt Always Kill” might yet be a blog lyric, H, except for the Clash reference. But their X factor audition on YouTube is immense. Impressed or what? No. No reason.

I think this week’s blog might be a wee bit of a catch up. Updates’r’good. I like updates. Not so sure about sequels. After all, who remembers Tennyson’s Charge of the Heavy Brigade? Well, apart from me, that is?

So the first bit of catch up is that Noddy wasn’t at the Thistle game. He was at his final ante-natal class. His wife wasn’t at the game, either. No. I don’t know where she was.

And before you ask, I didn’t go to any classes at all and I turned out alright. But son Brian, to be going shopping on a Saturday afternoon instead of coming to the game? Obviously I blame your mum. She went to those classes. Possibly put ideas in her head.

And also Dave from the crew recently went hillwalking in the lake district wandering lonely through the Wordsworth route, apparently, but never saw any daffodils.

Hang on. What’s happened to the usual New Journo style of the blog? It’s being taken over by olde worlde poets. It’s metamor…eh, metamrophi…eh, it’s changing. Whatever happened to the courageous conversations now so popular, particularly at the BBC? Let’s go back to what this blog is supposed to be about.

Quiet down at Maggie’s farm, but pleasant enough. Didn’t meet Clr+1 but I do have this picture (of a broken bar stool leg) which keeps me going, but hang on, when did it metathing into a bar stool? Mmm.

And to the wee girl at the game who asked me about the blue man cancer badge I wear? (It’s okay. She was with one of us). All I could do was explain that I’d been ill and was a lot better. She then spat our her pie and went to the toilet with her dad.

And to my gd frnd Clr, one of my small but faithful team of blook copytasters. (27,000 words since you ask and some of them quite good). I note your comments about reading the most recent versions, but maybe just read the most recent one. It’s always the latest update. Pffft.

Sorry, C, I’m being cheeky. All three of you…your efforts are seriously appreciated. Yes, folks, I’ve reached one of the most embarrassing bits in the book so far and now three more people know a part of my life that I thought would always be undisclosed. It happened just the once, okay? Your silence is seriously appreciated…just in case.

Education for the masses. It’ll never catch on. When I went to the Uny, I was one of the top three per cent in the country. No. I don’t know what happened to the other ninety six per cent.

And, whilst I’m in a cheeky mood, nice to see the latest group of Second Year student journalists at the Scottish Parliament, exactly one year to the day after my first visit there. Nice to be updated there by Kevin C, “the man who replaced me at my desk, but not in the students’ hearts.” No. Seriously. That is a real quote. I used it in an e-mail I sent to Kevin on Friday afternoon, albeit unwittingly.

You’re right, Kevin. I was frightened “the Spaniards were going to give me the bum’s rush for being a one-legged jakey”, but what is more frightening is that it took me three pages in the blook to say all that. You do it in one sentence. I’ll get the drinks in, shall I? Pass on my reagrds to Lisa B.

The reason I was at the Parliament? It was in connection with the Days Like This competition. Check out the website , look up the Days Like This bit, and check out the brilliant piece by some dude called John Thom(p)son, who is in no way related to the writer of this blog.

And a couple of updates on things I noticed in the newspapers; one, where a letter writer told us an easy way to remember how to spell appaloosa. I’ve never, ever in my life had to find the right word for a spotted horse, have you? No. I didn’t look it up just now in the dictionary, did you?

And my favourite tabloid columnist, the one who doesn’t write her column “for charity or a good cause”, but for money. Apparently she recently saw a documentary on the Treeman of Indonesia and had been wondering how he was doing?

Global capitalism is imploding (hurrah!) and she’s hinging oot a windae on the seventeenth floor of Cumbernauld asking, “Has anyone seen the Treeman? How’s he doing?” How kafkaesque is that?

Yes. It’s jealousy. I have latent talent (spot the anagram).

And I walked past the Kelvin Hall recently – it’s close to Maggie’s farm – and I saw all these young international acrobatic gymnasts going in and what really impressed me were their coaches, the men and women they look up to. They were all standing outside having a last and final draw at their cigarettes, especially the Ukranians. I almost texted Yulia Tymeschenko there and then, but she never returns my calls.

And finally, this blogger’s dilemna. I was told today about a sex scandal involving an SPL player which was pulled from a Sunday tabloid last week. Possibly a wee bit more than terracing gossip, cos there’s a legal “hands off” doing the rounds. Unfortunately this blog, altho’ published Saturday for Sunday, quite often doesn’t get read until Monday morning by which time…..You could always e-mail me. It’s still cyberspace.

So, as they say down the Bradford and Bungley; Fixed. Done. Sorted. We certainly have been!




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