I’m not that medieval, sometimes I write my thoughts down. I can never remember who I am. Who I am, where I am, what on earth I’m doing here. What on earth I know. No, no. I’m agile and everyone says that you’re so fragile

and that applies to, I think, three separate people with lots ahead of them this week, and I just think you’re all a lot stronger than some other people think you are. Pretty uncoded that and I’ll just say, you are all potentially masters of your own destiny but, please, make your own minds up…..just in case. And the band is Idlewild.

Sorry. I was thinking about that on the train back from Stirling after a PT win, but more memorably, after lunchtime in the Albion Bar and the very pleasant company of Sharon and Sharlene who decided to join the five of us, after John-Paul bought them drinks. Why, J-P, why? Still, you’re the one with Sharlene’s phone number. Keep it that way, eh? Of course, they knew Mags Heaney. But three year old Ruby, if you’re reading this, your dad, Steve, looked away the whole time.

And as for the silence in the pub when the cash monitor behind the bar registered “2 tomato juices”? My sexuality has been questioned before, but never in such a deafening manner. I felt as if I’d been named and shamed. We drank elsewhere after the game.

Earlier, Sharon had drunk Alan’s whisky (in a oner), her own rum and coke, and shared twenty two cans of cider the night before. No. I do not know with who, but some temptations I can resist. 

But a good week in which the highlight was the brilliant Kate Adie at Glasgow’s Concert Hall. Every studenty person with hopes and aspirations of being a journo or writer should have been there, and nice to see three of Glasgow Met’s current crop of hopes and aspirations there in the form of Tricia, Rachel and Natalie.

My fave stories were about George Bush’s foodtasting unit, but her tales of the Belfast newsroom, and the run with a camera crew when “The Shout” went, brought back memories. I never had to cover bomb scares, but I was once at the behest of a London Newsroom who thought that Fort William was just north of Glasgow, and there were times I had to run, on command.

The first lesson you learn, and I hope they’re teaching you this kind of thing on Journo courses, is to get a carton of soup on the way out – you might be gone some time – and get lentil or tomato, anything that means you can keep one hand on the steering wheel. Veggie broth requires a spoon and, therefore, driving with your knees.

It frightens people when you do that cos that’s what I was doing when I left my cancer test this week, with an All Clear for the next four months, but there are one or two things we need to keep an eye on. So far, so good and the saved txt was read in the car park before I went in. Ta, C. And I cried in the car park when I came out. Nothing to do with you, C. Honest.

One of these problems has been hinted at previously in the blog, so I discussed it with the Good Dr Fiona, who suggested a natural remedy (eh?), so I went down to a shop on the Great Western Road, spoke, thankfully, to a male assistant who gave me some coloured capsules and said that if I needed “anything stronger”, just to come back. Last time anyone said that to me was when I bought the DVD Zombie Strippers, and I’ve still not seen that movie all the way through to the end.

I’ll keep you posted, although some people may find out in their own time and their own way. But it also means I want to do all those lunches and drinks things and parties I’ve not done in the last two years, and I don’t remember from three years ago. You know who you are, albeit unwittingly, and I know where to find you, as does the ADtrailer man. You know where to find me.

Incidentally those of you who kindly sponsored my gd frnd Clr and the (in)organic materials specialist, Missie K, in the Race For Life earlier this year, you might be interested to know that £300m of your money is to be spent on up to twenty centres for treatment and prevention. To you, and everyone else, seriously ta.

And student journos, whilst doing millions and millions of reading is good, and don’t worry too much about essays when those setting them don’t know what they’re asking, make sure you talk to people, even those you’ve fallen out with, and, as I said to a potential student journo down the ASDA only this morning, do as much writing as you possibly can, for student newspapers, such as the Glw Uny Guardian, or Young Scot (it used to pay and might still do), or the “underground” magazine, The Skinny.

Hang on, he says, reading The Skinny. Here’s a band preview with two forenames I recognise, but no surname. Could it be……? Well, I did listen online and they sounded good, but much too young for the likes of me. (Happy now, Son Brian?)

But moving swiftly on, my own business idea is coming close to fruition, launch date in February (no names confirmed as yet but I do think The Word Process is so important (particularly with capital letters), don’t you?) and one of the things I’m doing is to talk to the Job Centre about earning whilst on benefit, cos the last thing I want to be seen doing is “working and drawing”, which if my clued memory is in any way accurate, is how the Jung Wan seems to spend much of her working day. Or maybe I was just lucky, but I do think I’ve now just been struck off a Christmas card list I was never on anyway.

And I want to say something about the demise of Woolworth’s. I bet the Board of Directors wish they had a pound for everyone who said how much they’d miss it and how much they liked to shop there when they were children. Doh! My own apologies, as well, to Woolies. C’mon, am I the only one to admit to shoplifting from there when younger? Oh. I am. I’ll come quietly.

And I did notice that Barack has even forgiven Hillary, but it’s your call.

And finally, in a week when Met grads were in the news (did I hear the applause here in Summerston but then should I have?) can I do my own preview and say well done to the incredible Katie and look back almost two years (sober and solvent free) to the wonderful world of Ward 8A Gartnavel. Who would have thought, eh? Although I should stress I was a patient, drying out, and Katie a trainee nurse. Happy daze and seriously well done for Glasgow Uny graduation later this week!

Cya, oh, and bytheway, the coloured capsules? Cranberry, and let’s hope they do what they say on the box. 

Johnt850….. are they gone yet, J-P? I think beggars can still be choosers but what do I know?

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