We drive all alone at night, A never ending begin. Sweet as a curse just out of reach, Awakens the dead end part of me and, oh, Now more wandering. Just me and my dead end friends again.

Them Crooked Vultures there with what could be the theme song for anyone who goes Party Crashing. At Nighttime. In cars. But what do I know? 😉

I’m the kinda guy who sits in a posh hotel at the top of Byres Road and talks about the old BBC being a listed building but I couldn’t remember whether it was Class A, B or C . There was a silence until someone leaned over and said, ‘I think you mean Grade A, B or C. Class A, B or C refers to something else.’ Oooops.

And in the same geographical area, this week’s driver for the away game at Dundee suggested a pick up point on the corner of a Kelvinbridge street and GWR. I thought we were strike breaking by going back in time. 

(I can wait, listeners, I can wait)

But before I go on not to talk about the radio feature doc I’m doing (It is possible that I may be able to use the word ‘producing’ as I’ve now done the relevant BBC modules…..oh, you are so safe with me dear listeners, so safe, so far, so good) I want to introduce this week’s Hero Of The Week. Me. Johnnyboy.

Presenter John Beattie and I had recorded some interviews at the Beatson about prostate cancer and I was walking back to the Demus Multi-Media Global Offices in the leafy West End when I saw an old lady lying on the ground being supported by an old man. I rushed over and said those words we all feel the need to say under these circumstances; ‘Do you want me to phone an ambulance?’

They looked blankly. I said it slowly. ‘Do you want me to phone an ambulance?’ They still looked blankly. So I did. 999 but not necessarily in that order.

(Do you remember that line, Son Brian, Clr, rrm and anyone else who read Chapter Zero of the blook, to which I plan to return?

And, yes, I did walk up and down, talking in a loud voice, drawing attention to myself (wearing black as I do helps), saying things like ‘No. I see no signs of bleeding…Yes. I will stay with her.’ Please feel free to swoon in admiration.

And, yes, when the ambulance came close I did walk out into the centre of the (G)reat (W)estern (R)oad thus risking life and limb, altho’ with an ambulance arriving, I felt reasonably safe, and, yes, I did point heroically towards the body, I mean, old lady, and walked quietly, on my way. Yes. You may touch me.

Sorry. But you did ask. Didn’t you? No. No reason.

But all I want to say about the doc which goes out on the morning of 8th March, presented by John Beattie with phone-in immediately afterwards presented by Kaye Adams, is that there is an amazing amount of good material there and my through the night paper edit (fuelled by caffiene) was worthwhile. I got it bang on. First time. Three and a half hours down to just the right amount. To say more would give away trade secrets, but I’m sure all student broadcast journos are taught these things anyway.

Editing and scripting and recording and payment all this coming week…..well three out of four, anyway.

And today was another vain but glorious defeat in Dundee – City of Discovery, where the opening greeting from a local resident was ‘Any of you want to buy designer jeans?’ We made our excuses and walked on.

So, Missie K and the Vampire Slayer and the blogmeister are doing well with exams  and stuff and, yes, VS, I am thinking along those lines (basically that’s a quadruple entendre, I admit it), my gd frnd Clr has introduced me to a new word but I realise it’s an existing practice of mine (evidence above) and the rainforestriverman played to a sellout gig at Glasgow University during the week. I, meantime, have a new TV (black) sitting in a box hidden behind a chair……just in case……. have lifted almost all the carpets without ordering new (but they will all be the colour suede), discovered that a ‘masticating juicer’ is not an insult and attended a formal dinner with the W(h)iners’ Club the other night. Ach, some of them are getting to be getting grumpy old men, masticating juicers the lot of them.

Or maybe it’s me ‘cos I’m the sober one these days and, whilst I’m obviously relaxed where alkohol is concerned, maybe I’ve no inhibitions to lose. That seems to worry a lot of people. At times I feel like Camus’s l’etranger, not the stranger but the outsider. For once, I don’t know the answer, cos I don’t know the question. (Yup, you can guess what time of morning I wrote that paragraph)

But I am 42. Altho’ someone did say to me the other day, ‘Aye. Your alkoholism and cancer have taken quite a lot out of you. I’d have said late forties.’ It’s my hair. Omg! It looks like a young Ian Beale’s.

I’ve stood in Albert Square. Serioulsy. BBC Elstree Studios when it did Top of the Pops there. That was the Ian Brown night. I was told the next morning. Actually, it is possible that I stood in Albert Square with Ian Brown. It was that kinda night. Four Jocks. Four Mancunians. Four hours. One BBC Club.

And finally, why I’ll never be rich. Wearing my other hat http://www.thewordprocess.net/, my business hat, I received a request from someone not known, honestly, to me or you, dear listeners, asking how much it would cost to read and edit 4,000 words, she (I think) has written for a short story contest. Please, businessppl, don’t shout at me, but I may just have introduced the concept of No Win, No Fee to editing. Why? Because I can.

Dissertations, essays and articles can be done on similar, but maybe not exactly, the same terms. Try me. I’m cheap, I mean handy. No. I mean, I’m an easy touch. Obvioulsy. Discounts for friends and family and former students of mine. Not rich but happy. 😀

And she might just win. I’ll keep you posted.

cya and keep(ing) it fun

Johnt850

And this week’s serious note is a straight lift from The Sun. 18.02.2010. page 54.

‘Tom is angry at the way alcoholics are treated in this country. He says; ‘Most drink addicts are not down-and-outs. They are like me – functioning alcoholics holding down good jobs’.’

Altho’ in my case, getting cancer diagnosed just months after I’d cold turkeyed, was not a good career move. I blame my hedonistic lifestyle of the previous few years. Diet can help or hinder. Albeit unwittingly.

There’s a word I’m looking for to describe so much of the above. What is it again? Eh bien, c’est toujours ton appel.

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One Response to “We drive all alone at night, A never ending begin. Sweet as a curse just out of reach, Awakens the dead end part of me and, oh, Now more wandering. Just me and my dead end friends again.”

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