Cause when the world doesn’t make no sense And if you’re feeling just a little too tense Gotta loosen up those chains and dance

Or relax. Relaxing is good as well. Altho’ I can dance. Honestly. Indeed I used to go clubbing down the original Clatty Pat’s, y’know. No. No reason. And I was divorced at the time. No. I’m not sure why I used the past tense there. 

Thanks to the gorgeous Dixie Chicks for the opening music and thanks to the gorgeous Jung Wan who directed me to a relaxation class down on Maggie’s Farm last week. I thought she was coming with me to metaphorically hold my hand. But no. I ended up holding my own. Ah c’mon, we did all those gags months ago. Grow up.

But it was so embarrassing. (I don’t often do lycra catsuits. I thought everyone knew that) Between leaving the house and going to the class my left sock had developed a hole in the big toe. How can you relax knowing that everyone is staring at you and your big toe? So, the most settling thing, to be honest, was driving away and road raging two silver haired old ladies in a silver haired Fiat. Honest. I thought that roundabout was big enough for both cars. Well it was for mine. Let’s call it partycrashing.

I did think about using Thank You Too by My Morning Jacket as the opening lyric for reasons which will become obvious, but excuse me folks whilst I pass on a message; No. I wasn’t worried. Honestly. But I am pleased. Really. But what do I know?

I know McFly never came up with a good lyric, that’s what I know.

So, moving swiftly on. My thanks to the Rainforest Riverman for his help in publicising the unfinished blook in Hawaii. I received the message in the bottle he’d obviously thrown overboard from the Bounty and I could make out the following words; “gifts”, “hospitality”, “3 rounds of golf” and “they like their drink, don’t they?” Such devotion. Such indefatigability. And the full phrase is Mahalo Nui Loa. Don’t worry about the question. Son Brian wants to know if you need a caddy, I mean assistant, and the rest of the team want to know if we’re getting t-shirts.

And can I say a big aloha to Lindsay Cochrane (21), set to become the Daily Record’s new teenage angst aunt? About four years ago I met (there is a similar phrase which we don’t use, do we, Clr?) the twenty-one year old Lindsay at a three day journalism taster course at the College where I was then working.  The following week my teaching (?) methods were exposed all over the pages of Lindsay’s Teenage Chat Room, as featured in the Record. (Basically we taught a German student fifty Scots words for being drunk. Hey, it was in context, okay?)

Apparently when Lindsay was in the States recently at one of those Summer camps there was much consternation when the camp heart throb “came out”.  Unfortunately, L, that’s what many “camp” people do… 🙂 (lol). Young journo students. So much to learn about words.

Oh, the joy of poking fun at……Hang on. What’s this? She’s “a journalism student at Strathclyde University” (cue spooky music) but that’s where my gd frnd Clr and my latest bestest friend Caitlin are studying journalism. Gulp. “Dear Lindsay, I have this friend….” Oooops, when I say…..Y’know the word process is so important. You’ve got to be sure what you’re saying is not misunderstood.

But I’m kwl with the modern world, or so I thought until I realised the other day that I’d turned the TV sound down to reply to a txt, and I’ve now lost my Sat Nav. Wonder how I find it? But can anyone explain to me how an ad executive came up with the notion that an advert for a “stool softener” should be based on “Sex in the City”? No. Not even me.

Mind you. I am a big fan of Skins so I blend in well with everyone. There I was, for example, buying a specialist magazine in a newsagent in Byres Road to be told it was bought only by “students and other sorts.” Mmm….which camp did I fit into? When I say……

Incidentally young listeners, why not embarrass older male members of your family by asking them what they got out of reading Health and Efficiency, particularly the volleyball photos? Me? No. I never had to. We had Danish fishing boats coming regularly into Peterhead. That’s all I’m saying.

So let’s stick to the thanks stuff. My website designer (I’ll name him once we’ve agreed terms) has come up with a smashing idea for a logo which I ran past four very carefully selected people in a focus group plus about half a dozen people totally at random including Debbie from next door, Heather the top turpsichorean PR, The Vampire Slayer and Missie K all the next day, and everyone came back within hours and minutes with thoughts, all positive.

Aren’t support teams brilliant? I’ll be honest. I cried. A little.

I’m sensitive, okay but not “camp”…..just in case. 

But talking about the support I’ve received over the last two years, one month and three days (I’ve stopped counting too accurately) it seems fairly quiet on both the alcohol and cancergytis front but I did notice one article which suggested that too much coffee would produce hallucinations and strange happenings. Eh, no. I know why the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse came to see me that night and it wasn’t cos I’d overdosed on the Kenco. 

But I was pleased tonight to see Erik, another student journo and a male one to boot, also drinking tomato juice after the game, in the Doublet. Why, though, Erik, did the barmaid serve it in lab type specimen glasses?

And finally. I fell in love on Friday. It lasted fifteen minutes or thereabouts. She’s twenty. I think. No. No name. A supermarket in the West End of Glasgow. I was at the cash desk about to buy zingy lime and coriander soffritto. (No. I have no idea). She was, I thought, selling double glazing. A couple of old people brushed past her. Y’know the kind that say young people have no manners, that they road rage indiscriminately. She and I looked at each other. We shrugged our shoulders simultaneously. I paid for my soffritto. (No. I really haven’t a clue).

I walked across to talk to her. She was selling Talk Talk. I’m a Virgin user. The incompatibility was obvious. We spoke for a few minutes. We hugged. Seriously. I wished her “Good Luck”. I walked away. I didn’t look back. I’ve not been back.

And that, dear listener, is a true story. It’s been that kinda week. Wonder what Lindsay would make of it?

cya, and soffritto, so good.

Johnt850….is your reportage as good? Let me know.