I think you already know How far I’d go not to say You know the art is gone And I’m taking this all to the grave [repeat chorus]

Queens of the Stone Age there, dear listener, and I’m playing that cos it’s been a week of memories but worry not, these are not tearful memories brought about by research for the documentary. I keep personal and professional life separate, don’t I, Great Council and various sub-committees? I’ll explain the Queens reference later.

No. Kenny the Shed Pimp’s been in, flooring my attic and he was using a nail gun. And that did bring back a tearful memory. So I had to get out of the house.

I borrowed the boy child formerly known as 7lbs 1oz and took him for a walk in his pram thing around the Botanic Gardens. Okay, his mum, e, came with him and her mate and her two weans but I just let them get on with whatever they were talking about and I just went and played chicken in the Great Western Road traffic (he’s too young for kerbie, Siobhan M) but then, being the West End, we just had to go into Waitrose and yes, you’ve guessed it. The women went and bought cous cous.

At this point I was showing Boy Child pics from my mobile (No. Not the Kermit the Frog in an unnatural position one. No. No reason) Instead, ‘Here’s one of me in a beer garden in Dundee, here’s one of a strange blue Aura over Oran Mor and here’s one of the Scottish Rockette Cheerleaders at Firhill’.

You’re never too young. 😀 So that brought back memories. But not broodiness.

But then on Monday evening I attended a prostate cancer meeting and there were some new folk there and I found myself, again, explaining why I chose one particular form of treatment as opposed to another (I’d only a choice of two ‘cos my cancer was serioulsy bad but hadn’t spread) and it worked. So far, so good. Now, clrly, most peeps know the story by now, but the big thing is it brings out laughter when told. Okay, strange, uncertain laughter but it sure makes heads turn at a time when…….well you can guess. Well, maybe you can’t. It’s a ‘walk the walk’ thing.

So, clrly, that is why that story is so important (laughter at a time when I was so unsure)  and……..well, if someone could put in a good word, know what I mean?…….Ta……..Eh,……I think I’ll stop for a moment. Back shortly.

LONG GAP

Sorry. I’ve been away for longer than I planned. I went for a walk over in the graveyard. No vampires obviously cos the Vampire Slayer has taken care of all those but the zombies are out, quaffing cheap caffeine based alkohol.

Was there a TV doc about Buckfast last week, btw, cos they were asking me about it? I gave some answers to their questions. No. I hadn’t worked on it. No. I had no spare change. No. I needed my phone. The usual banter. They kept my shoes. 😦

But my thanks to Missie K and bestest friend Caitlin; I enjoyed Glee and I really like the dysfunctional teaching staff. No. I’m not going to say they reminded me of the College where I taught. I was that dysfunctional member of staff or, at least, so some College management told me. Ah, the memories.

By the way, Louis, I’m reconsidering Barcelona and New York. I’m thinking Kirkcaldy. Okay it was a lousy game but I liked the Harbour Bar, a bar down by the harbour, which sells a real ale called equity for punks, a really good tomato juice with stuff and plays thrash metal. I could be happy there as it also has a wee lending library through the back. The town also has a huge department store called Rejects but its butcher’s seem to be closed on Saturday.

We also played an Alan Partridge CD on the way back in which he asks one of his guests; ‘your autobiography – what is it about?’ That, and Milton Jones’s gag about finding the remains of a thousand dead snowmen and then realising it was a field of carrots, provided a lot of laffs.

Incidentally, I’m reading Irvine Welsh’s Glue which contains a very graphic sex scene quite early on, written in phonetic Edinburgh dialect which needs to be read out loud. So I did. I’d now like to apologise to passengers on yesterday’s 0930 Glasgow to Edinburgh train but it sure as hell stopped people talking on their mobiles. I’ve never been thrown off at Croy before. Albeit unwittingly. 😉

Oh, and whilst I remember (it all falls into place doesn’t it?)….the Queens reference. I had a couple of hour long scans once my cancer was confirmed just to check out some ‘bits’….as it were….so CDs are played. Queens of the Stone Age was one of them and the radiologist said ‘they’re just like Foofighters aren’t they?’ And so I began to extend the music library here in t850 Towers. Mind you, still doesn’t explain 8 (eight) Green Day albums. I blame Jaymi, altho’ I didn’t know her then. Damn you Easyjet.

So what’s ahead of me this week that might prove memorable? A 21st birthday party (De Courcy’s for pressies obvioulsy), maybe some pubbing on Friday night (apparently it’s payday for some…….I must find out when I’m getting paid for this doc but there’s twelve hundred pounds floating into one of my accounts at end of March (I don’t understand it either Son Brian)), my TV’s behaving errotically (the blogmeister says scart cable) and I’ve just started to put some boxes into the attic……oh, and I’m doing a cancer awareness stand at some ecstatically happy newspaper offices on Wednesday (usual plug; if you want a prostate cancer speaker or awareness stand (or male members that you know do) just ask….I have other stories to make you laugh).

For example, …..L frae Troon, I haven’t said temporary erectile dysfunction for some time……just in case. Did Sandra ever recover, btw? Does she even remember? Does she even care? Ah, the memories.

Keep(ing) it fun

cya

johnt850

I didn’t know Bill McLaren but I once saw the A3 research sheet he prepared for a commentary for a Scotland game. It is incredibly tiny handwriting and is in more colours than I have colours of wheely bins (four). To be able to use that at the same time as do live commentary and make it sound so natural was amazing. Budding sports journalists, try and find one if you can. The one I saw belongs to my hairdresser’s husband…..a Scottish international wheelchairbound curler.

Sometimes, some memories need to be seen in context. Eh bien?

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