Been around the block once, twice, maybe more Never met a hungry fool I couldn’t learn to adore Hopeless smiles and crooked eyes Trade it in for a heart full of lies. I won’t tonight

Ah, the gorgeous Juliette Lewis there (age 36 and hot woman with guitar) and I have fallen in love with her and I’d like to thank Emma J for bringing us together, kinda, but Hope springs eternal and I’m trying to remember who I last fell in love with, but I know it was quite recent. Suggestions, anyone?

BBC Al, I did consider using Steel Panther‘s ‘Community Property’. Have a listen and tell me what you think.

But before next week’s Hundredth Anniversary celebrations of the blog, a very important Birthday message;

Happy Fortieth Birthday Scottish Ballet!!!!! ๐Ÿ™‚

Check out

Was that okay, Heather?

For next week’s hundredth edition of the blog, plans are being laid. Lucky plans. Bunting is being bunted, balloons are being balled and the shag pile has a very smug look on its face. And ppl have been saying to me they enjoy the blog but they don’t understand half of it. Clrly much more than I do, then. And I write it. Sober and solvent free.

Y’see ordinary blogs sound like this;

‘See that Speech Debelle? Doesn’t she sound just like Katy Brand doing Lily Allen but with a Kanye West accent? She’s awful. You’d think her friends would say something.’…….. but I don’t/can’t do that. But she is awful. Albeit unwittingly. I hope.

My friends say things to me like, ‘Lucky you weren’t me last week ‘cos I was pished as a fart.’ OR ‘I was going to come to the pub after the game last week but I thought you’d all be drunk, except you of course, jt’ …and what would have happened if he’d found me drunk?…..’I’d have been forced to take you outside and kill you…..just in case’.

So in the spirit of friendship, a spoiler alert to Renney, blogmeister and Kev’s pal Al; for everyone else, ‘omg, did you see the opening scene of True Blood?’

Happy maternity leave, e, btwย !!!!!! ๐Ÿ˜‰ Cranberry juice and crisps was it?

‘And I don’t need a motto. I let my guitar playing speak for me’ (quote from Mr Mosh in Kerrang), except I don’t play the guitar. I also don’t like cycling and never learned to swim. It’s the bit where the floor dips towards the deep end. It terrifies me. Serioulsy.

So what do I do? I talk and listen a lot, which is why, sometimes, mails and messages and txts go so wrong. I stare at the screen too long and want to fillet. So, sorry. So sorry.

But it does mean that I have amazing conversations and my second favest of the week took place on the train into town where a young American woman (serioulsy….these things do happen) told me she smelt diesel and what should she do if there was a fire? So, I consoled her.

But it turned out that her major worry for me and her and others of the iPod generation, as she described us, was that we’d go deaf before we were thirty. My knees are trembling at the thought.

And favest conversation stays a total secret, but to Central FM’s JC, I’m kinda glad our meet was cancelled. My mind was all over Finnieston. Some friendships may drift and then come back, but some stories remind me why friendships exist and some stories are closer to my own than I can ever imagine.

Moving swiftly on, and I’ll re-read that closely before publishing. (And I did)

Incidentally the Vampire Slayer, Missie K and bestest friend Caitlin are on pre-returning to Uny holidays…….

So my thanks to those nice ppl from Bell’s whisky who sent me a wee questionnaire, in the ‘spirit of friendship’ (and how many of these did I sign up for in my alcoholic gap year?). It says, ‘I suppose it’s because Bell’s, like true friends, never fails to reward.’ Nope. These days I’m happier with true friends, even if some of them seem quite far away at times.

Actually for me a true friend is someone who clears my computer history as soon as I’m dead. But I do love the sense of cameraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent another from cutting in at the front. We are united as one on these occasions. And my thanks to Trish for those profound thoughts.

And whilst I remember;

Happy Birthday Son Brian ๐Ÿ˜€ ๐Ÿ˜€

(Thank goodness for shops like Urban Outfitters and Papyrus, and the hand of friendship they extend)

Y’see this is where the serious cancerly message kicks in, and I’ll maybe say it here, rather than at the birthday dinner party. (Incidentally we’ve had to liaise, Son and I, to make sure we avoid the same Byres Road bars tonight).

No. Because I had prostate cancer my Son has a much greater chance of getting it, but it’s no death sentence. After all, I was quoted in The Sun as saying ‘all my bits are working’, and not a bad place for a quote like that but it’s one helluva present to pass on, cos my dad didn’t do that for me.

So, where did I get it from? Well we don’t know what specifically causes prostate cancer but in my case it was possibly lifestyle. If I’d known then what I know now? Not sure, but I notice Reg McKay in the Record complaining that ‘young journos (these days) are all diets, spring water and eight hours kip every night’. Well, I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m only too happy to help disprove his theory. I’m handy. Try me. You know where to find me.

And so, it’s a wee bit more thoughtful than usual and a wee bit shorter this week, but sometimes, when you speak open and honestly through something like the blog, it has to be, and one conversation this week caused me to think a lot more than I’ve done for a long time. So, hopefully, gd frnd Clr, you’ll excuse me if for once, I don’t keep it fun. Normal service tho’, of a sort, next week.


Johnt850, and incidentally blogmeister, that Facebook comment where I mentioned my disappearing envelope icon, WTF has it gone? I miss it. I feel a bit of a yelt, now.

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