At every turn the water runs away from me and the halo disappears and the hole when you’re not near. So what if I was wrong? But hold on to what you believe in the light when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight So hold on to that you believed in the light

To whom it may concern; my obsession is not an obsession, it is a belief and if it is still an obsession, it’s not that obsession. 😉

I’ll explain all that in a wee minute but my thanks for this week’s music to Heather C, quiet but busy. It took me a wee while to get into Mumford & Sons but well worth it.

But first, as unimaginative presenters might say, news of a top appointment. (No. I’ve still to hear from the Beeb. They did say the ‘end of month.’).

I have been made the Vampire Slayer’s Hit Man, although I suspect the contracts may be different from the one I’ve just signed to provide some freelance training services in Glasgow. (Some people see the present, not the past).

No. The Torrance One came to me with a problem and I have offered a solution. It’s cool. Although I suspect I may need to learn an entirely new language, LOL, smh, btw.

Unfortunately they’ve already made a TV series called The Hit Man and Her and younger listeners can find it on YouTube. (Michaela Strachan in the middle of the night. 🙂 ) As you watch it, please remember that I was officially single as of 1990, and still looking (2009).

Please feel free to ask your mums, aunts or whoever if they ever went on girls’ nights out to Bonkers, Clatty Pat’s or, if I was on PR expenses, Victoria’s (The Piano Bar). No. No reason.

Actually isn’t it interesting how many panellists on Question Time sounded as if they’d just discovered YouTube. They had over-prepared. They ignored the first rule of journalism; they didn’t listen to Griffin’s answers. They were too busy reading their cribsheets. Aaaaaaaargh!

(Missie K, that’s a different aaaaargh from the one that’s on its way to you)

Still I think it’s only right we listen to folk with strange views on immigration. Go to BBC iPlayer and listen to Baroness Warsi, the cherrypicker. Jeez.

Schweppes Russchian tastes awful on its own. How could I drink it even with vodka? And I hate the clocks going back. I just wake up earlier. Thank God for the twenty four hour garage.

No. I started my screen writing class this week just past based in the Dr Livingstone I Presume Tower in Strathclyde Uny and it was a good start. As with a previous class certain rules of confidentiality exist. But it was really nice to meet up with someone from the previous class who shouted, much to the fear of the others, ‘Hey the blogger’s back’, and described me to some others as an ‘aspiring writer’. I may yet have an identity for Match.com.

And I got a really nice note from a previous writing tutor who was asking after the blook as well as me. See, C, it’s made academic circles as a word. Maybe even that new Glasgow Uny Thesaurus.

So, yes, I have a belief. I have a story I want to tell, which is fun (alkoholism and cancer) and it involves good people, and some bad………. Moving swiftly on as imaginative presenters say. (Plus I have still my homework to finish)

Strathclyde University where the student newspaper leads on false fire alarms by students and hides an amazing story about a student caught up in riots at the G20 on page 6. A firefighter friend of mine (a real one) at Maryhill tells me that the biggest cause of callouts are the students who live in the Glasgow Uny flats at Murano Street who don’t realise that grill pans need cleaned after toasted cheese. 😦

I got round it in the first flat I stayed in after living in a mixed sex (eh?) Uny Hall of Residence by stealing  a brand new combo grill and oven from that Hall. After three months they came and asked for it back. No charges were pressed. Serioulsy.

Sailor not Santa by the way. Christmas can come too soon, and I still have last year’s pressy to give. Call, etc, etc……Aaaaaargh (It’s a different one. I have many voices)

And Jaymi, I was going to use Diana Ross’s Chain Reaction as the lyric but then I actually checked the lyrics.

And I love all the publicity for Frankie (he seems okay on Saturday mornings) Boyle including the jury ruling on two of his recent gags. My own favourite was always about Princess Diana and ended with the punchline,……….actually, you might be reading this after 9 p.m. I’d better check with BBC Al. Maybe next week? Or I might just take my lead from the new series of The Thick Of It.

See the person, not the age.

Incidentally, Jordan not wanting publicity? Priceless.

And so I was out yesterday with a blooming and blossoming e (there may be a special blog edition in 3 weeks or so….Son Brian’s birth anno was done on BBC Radio Scotland) and we went into the ol’ Fopp shop, and I bought a CD and The List and e said, ‘So you’re hiding the CD behind the mag’, and the assistant smiled and I said to the assistant, ‘No. You don’t understand. No’ and the assistant continued to smile.

Albeit unwittingly.

And finally, I realise I like the lite club in The Corinthian in Glasgow but I now realise that many welldressed women do not instantly relate to my crumpled Timberland look. I keep saying to them , look at the person and not the shirt.

Thoughts, Caitlin? As I say, you’re the boss.

So, Son Brian we’re moving the venue for my final show but we’ll keep the music. Dare I risk deathclock.com? It’s beginning to tick.

cya

john ‘the hitman’ t850

Reg McKay (56) died this week. He’d written about his cancer in the Daily Record and, as regular listeners will know, his style was different from mine. But he had a different editorial team; his wife, the gorgeous Gerry, who herself had beaten breast cancer. So far, so good.

Like me, Reg came from the North East of Scotland. He was a social worker who went into print. I was a community worker who went into broadcast. Neither of us had a formal qualification in journalism but there the similarity ends. He drank with, knew and wrote about people I may have met ‘just the wance’ – scary people. (I knew the footsoldiers).

Now at a time when the McGoverns, the Daniels and the Lyons cause such misery in North Glasgow from their homes in Cumbernauld and Jordanhill, there is a big vacancy, but it’s a serioulsy scary vacancy. Take care, prospective applicants.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: