Archive for October, 2010

If it’s raining and you’re running don’t slip in mud cos if you do you’ll slip in blood. Tonight is the night of the vampire. The moon may be full, the moon may be white All I know is you will feel his bite. Tonight is the night of the vampire.

October 30, 2010

So, dear listener, what connects the Vampire Slayer, The Prostate Cancer Charity, the Scottish Parliament and the amazing Roky Erickson? Why, Hannah does. (Hi, Hannah). Y’see Hannah is one of an amazing bunch of gorgeous women who man (eh?) the offices of TPCC in London and Glasgow, many of whom I met for the first time on Wednesday night at a reception in the Scottish Parliament to highlight much of the work being done in the world of the prostate.

Now this list includes top press and pr guru Claire (Hi, Claire), who is clry different from any other Clr (either psycho clr or my gd frnd clr) who has been on this prog in the past, ‘cos her hair’s a different clr apart from anything else, and the challenge I was issued was to incorporate bloggily VS into Wednesday night’s proceedings. Mmmmmmmmm……..tricky one.  Except when I got home that night there was a message formed in the mists of a mirror telling me what she’d be wearing, sorry, what her disguise would be come Saturday night. I’ll tell you next week…….just in case.

Well, blow me down as easily as Kirk Broadfoot in the Celtic penalty box. How uncanny was that? Not only that, she told me when she’d be off duty. So, this weekend, you may have to rely on me at times. She’s taught me lots of tricks. (pauses for effect) I’ll move on, shall I? Swiftly.

(And Hi, Eleanor) Networking? I’m a natural.

Incidentally The Times of London calls the prostate ‘almond sized’. In Scotland we liken it to a walnut.

A very quick word on Wednesday night. I just wish everyone who decides to grow a moustache this month could meet some of the guys who were there; whose cancer stories make me and my straightforward treatment feel a wee bit of a fraud but hopefully stories like mine are the norm. There’s one guy I do awareness stuff with………….f**king amazing guy (cancer in every bone now) and he asks how I am! Jeeeeeez.

But on a personal note, and I’ve never mentioned this to family or friends but as I did discuss it openly on Wednesday night……….hormone implants like those I received can (and it’s only can) can increase the chances of diabetes, which is one of the reasons why I get it checked annually. (It’s also a way in which my GP can check if I’ve lapsed alkoholically).

http://news.stv.tv/scotland/205271-top-scots-give-backing-to-prostate-cancer-service/

But one very strange image from Wednesday, and it was nothing to do with cancer, cos there was a lorra laffs at the ‘do’ (purvey was rubbish for us veggies).  There’s a poster in the Gents’ toilet at Waverley Railway Station for the Samaritans giving a phone number. At the bottom of the poster it advises people to check the website for the cost of the calls…………

And today’s featured artiste? What is there not to like about Roky? A man who dropped out of Travis High School in 1966 cos he wanted to keep his hair long; who, in 1968, was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and was sent to a hospital where he involuntarily received ECT; whose band the 13th Floor Elevators were awfully keen on LSD, mescaline and other hallucenogenics; and who, and this is my fave bit, in 1982 claimed that a Martian had invaded his body. Apparently. And my thanks to Skippy the bush kangaroo for all that information. (I don’t thinky Roky was a Daily Mail reader. Not that there’s anything wrong…….)

Now, I know some folks are a wee bit worried about my own state of mind (especially after all the above) but all that’s happened are a few wee knockbacks workwise (everything else is fine (ish)). I’m now just bored with life (but not in a George Sanders type way) and I need money. But no. No temptation. Not this week, anyway.

And anyway I felt a lot better after a very early morning walk today through the Botanic Gardens. Okay, they weren’t open but that’s never stopped me before. Me and 100% Trance Anthems on one of my MP3s.

And all I want to say about the death of Paul the Psychic Cephalopod is that the gorgeous W discovered him long before the rest of the world’s media (kinda) which helped make for an awfully interesting summer.

And bestest friend Caitlin has just been in touch. Somehow she knew I was doing a special charities edition of the blog and given that she’s a member of a really gorgeous (apart from the men) family I will mention the charity she’s involved in; http://www.thedaviecoopercentre.org/ Oh, and there’s a nice wee pic. Gorgeous. I might come over Bonfire night. It’s been a while.

Gosh. It’s like the City Chambers on the day they sell all the charity Christmas cards, isn’t it? Room for one more, if you’re thinking about charitable donations this Christmas. Or that Christmas. (At this point W, I have started to do that thing with my arms) 

Oke. I can’t find an e-mail address for this final final one but please Google the Salt and Light mission which works with women working as prostitutes and is run by a gorgeous (she’ll slightly dislike me for saying that) woman called Anne Wallace. You’ll find them via http://www.glasgowelim.org.uk/cma/ Wow. I start off with Vampires and I end with a pentecostal church. All human life is here. And a bit more besides.

And finally, I once showed Tommy Sheridan and another man into the same room as Anvar Khan (serioulsy ungorgeous) and watched what they did through an internal window. And I got paid to do so. Serioulsy.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun (I was kinda reminded. Recently) and still Wearing that badge 😀

Johnt850, keeping it simple

And it was five years ago this week that my mum died. Wasn’t going to mention it cos I’ve kinda given up on anniversaries of any sort but, as some of you know, I was at a party last week and it was just along the road from where the folks had lived. But it was a long way to go for a smoke (eh?)

A couple of people remembered Nan from the church and described her as a ‘nice wee wumman’ (phonetic rather than patronising) which is how many people think of her. ‘Nice’. Not gorgeous but ‘nice’.

Wonder what people will say about me, eh Skippy? Skippy? Especially as I don’t go to church. Of any sort.

p.s. The cost of my ‘newspapers, etc’ shopping through the ASDA self-scan (Hi, Dawn, Hi, Jaymi) this morning? 6.66 pounds. Spooky, eh?

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You need something to open up a new door To show you something you seen before……That it’s you and no one else that owns That spot yer standing, that space you’re sitting That the world ain’t got you beat, ain’t got you licked. It can’t get you crazy no matter how many times you might get kicked.

October 23, 2010

And my final final word ever on the Chilean miners is that my own particular hero was Manuel Gonzalez who was the rescuer who went down to test the equipment and then was technically the last man up. I mean, what did he do when he was down there on his own? Apart from that, I mean. Did he tidy the place up?

Which reminds me….I’m going to a housetrashing party this weekend…..folk who’ve sold their house and are about to move out. Thirties’ skirting board anyone?

(I bought a bottle of Stellar Organics Shiraz Rose to take with me……..I wonder what it tasted like. Honestly, I do.)

So the music is from Bob Dylan and is his Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie and in a week when the Tories and their Lib Dem lackies cheered hundreds of thousands of people being put out of work, I make no apology for any hint of old fashioned socialism last week.

Anyway the song is also for me, a wee bit, but for others in my support team who continue to amaze me by their, well, support. And my thanks to Lindsay C, the Daily Record’s Top Teen Angst Queen who tells me ‘It WILL get better’…… but when?  I’m beginning to feel the call of the Call Centre. Vegetarianism ain’t cheap, least not in the real West End.

And can I just clear something up with L frae Troon? I think you may have thought I said I was going home ‘to look at some porn’. What I actually said was I was going home ‘to cook some quorn’. No. I have no idea why I then squealed the word ‘Nurses’. I meant to say ‘bangers’.

And can I also say ta to e for initiating me. In the ways of Waitrose. It is amazing. You put your credit card into these space age self scanners, go about the shop picking up stuff and zapping it and shoving it in your shopping bag, pay the bill and then, when you get back out, you still find you’ve been overcharged and go back in and complain. Amazing.

And W, I have a brilliant idea for a day out. No. Not all of Waitrose (that’d be silly, doh!). Just the crisps counter. It is amazing! Brands and flavours I’d never heard of! Tyrell crisps! Hairy Bikers’ Lemon Pomander (or should that read With Coriander?)  I went back in the next day and made some obvioulsy indecipherable notes.

What’s that Skippy? How am I doing on the veggie front? As it were? (Apologies, but I’ve just burst out laughing. Uncontrollably :D). Right. I have done the thing I do with the palms of my hands and I’m fine again.

The seaweed I used as a garnish. On oven chips. And was okay. I’ve done two basic potato dishes, bravas and bubble’n’squeak. And I’ve discovered that if I eat fish but not meat I’m a pescatorian. But I’m a Cancerian and not into astrology. ‘It’ will happen. Slowly. Patiently. My freezer is sooooooooooo full of chicken.

And what about Saturday morning breakfast with Liz and Jaymi down the ASDA?

Quorn bangers. From Waitrose.

Serious note; If you’re squeamish, avoid this next paragraph. 

At a recent football match, not Partick Thistle, the guy in front of me was eating a processed meat burger and I’ll swear I saw bulls’ bits in it. Steak tartare it was not. I’d a physics teacher who used to send us to the slaughterhouse to get cows’ eyes so we could poke about with them. No. Not a biology teacher. She was a physics teacher. I did languages. From Third Year onwards. With the girls. And the school sissy – not a word you hear much these days.

And finally am I the only man in the world who feels pride when he finds the car’s bonnet catch; who, when asked about filling up the water bottle in the car, says, ‘No. I just get a four pack of Volvic ‘with a touch of strawberry’ from the supermarket’; and whose sense of pride on being asked to help jumpstart the neighbour’s car was negated when he realised the crocodile clips were to be attached to the car battery? I’ve been watching too much quorn recently.

And finally finally, to Missie K, the answer is always, yes – now what’s the question?; to Son Brian, good luck with the exam; and to The Vampire Slayer – one of your birthday photos only made sense when I turned the monitor upside down. Weird, eh?

cya, keeping it chirpy (eh?) and still wearing that badge? Yeah. Absolutely no reason why not.

Johnt850, destined never to be an Eddie Stobart truckdriver. Nor any other sort. Apart from unlicensed in Peterhead Fish Market. 

And so to the serious final wordy bit. Hang on a second. I just want to try something. No. That didn’t work. I’ll try again. No. Not that time either. Gosh. I’m really awfully rubbish at drawing lines, amn’t I? Gosh again.

I like keeping doors open and maybe it was when I came out of the drinks cabinet and explained I was, and still am, addicted to alcohol, and I saw doors being closed through prejudice and ignorance. Y’see I haven’t stopped drinking. I’ve just not had one today. So far. So good. But sometimes I feel I’m also speaking up for other alcoholics who don’t have the confidence and the support team I have. Yes. Somebody I met this week.

But that’s possibly the last time I’ll mention it this year. Final final word. It’s almost Christmas planning time and I’ll need to start thinking about buying presents and Christmas Card lists and stuff. My credit card is empty and my application for Call Centre/shelf stacking work is almost complete. Now is my letterbox big enuff? (and post offices are open in the mornings, W 😉  ) Now how big is my sack?

(Not sure about that last final sentence, Skippy. What do you think?…….Skippy? Skippy?)

May peace find you tonight Like a breeze through your window, Sit by your light, Let it warm by your fire And laugh with delight Like a heavenly choir. May peace find you tonight.

October 16, 2010

And that’s a lyric specially for the Copiapo 33 and their families and the mistress of Yonni Barrios (no 21 out) but also his wife of 28 years; and also for all parents (especially single) who had yet more school holidays and suchlike to endure; and for the friends of two possible clients who seemed happy with my suggested prices for editing their dissertations until, in at least one case,  somebody said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll read your 80,000 words on trade marks and internet domain names just four days days before your deadline for nothing. What? Twenty hours or thereabouts in total? I’ll do it in two. And f**k up all your years of studying while I’m at it.’

(I’ll delete that rant before publication. Rather devalues the rest of the dedi, doesn’t it?)

And; why are rescued Chilean miners just like buses? To be honest, I have no idea. It was a question posed on the radio just before I left the house the other day and I don’t use buses so I don’t really know.

And I know I promised music from The Dead Kennedys but they are far too hardcore for this blog (Danielle, my designated cash desk operator down the ASDA agrees). To be honest it would be easier finding an Eminem track without the ‘f’ word than a usable DK song. So that was Reckless Kelly, instead. 

The unluckiest miner was Victor Zamora (no 14 out) who was only there to fix a broken down truck on that fateful day.

But it’s been a week of Kulture with a capital Josef K. Cos earlier this week I watched the legendary Malcolm Ross of Josef K and Orange Juice (Edwyn Collins and Grace are doing a reading at North Lanarkshire BookFest if anyone is interested) performing with Billy Boy and the Britoons, and Miss Jacqueline, who invited me – not only did I return to my hovel, full of mirth, but to do so I had to walk through the local family of foxes – really really spooky – as they circled. But I felt safe. I’m Cancerian btw, not a Leo…explains a lot.

And of course seeing The Britoons could only mean one thing – the animation The Illusionist – not to be confused with the movie of four years ago starring Ed Norton which was also very smashing. I don’t want to say too much without spoiling it but the bunny boiler bit was brill and W, my recent Bookfest companion, you’d have been soooooooooooo embarrassed by me. It’s a  cartoon version of Edinburgh, right? And at one point I said, audibly; ‘That’s the mad dictator’s house.’ You can feel a pitying stare, even in the dark. I slinked away, avoiding the darkened Cafe Bar.

Edison Pena, a Chilean miner (no 12 out) is a fan of Elvis and has been invited to Gracelands.

And the other Kultural experience was Bolt FM on Monday night; a show hosted by Missie K, Rebecca and Chloe (I wonder if they’d like to be Facebook friends of mine, but I don’t like Mr Brightside) Their chat was good cos it wasn’t X Factor and Strictly Come; it was Franz Ferdinand down the Dennistoun Co-op; train-flirting (and I learned a lot); and how gorgeous is the smell of new technology such as new computers, Kindles and so on.

I have this marvellous fantasy (?) of them going into an Apple Store and when asked, ‘Can I help?’ they reply, ‘No. Just sniffing.’ 😀

They’re on again this Monday, 6 – 8.

Incidentally to the rainforestriverman (you did notice, didn’t you?) and one or two others who’ve received mails from  my alter ego, you’ve got to remember he writes as broadcaster – it’s meant to be read out loud. From now on, I, sorry, he may do voice directions. 😉  

Omar Reygada (no 17 out) has been trapped twice before below ground. Be wary if you see him in Hillhead subway station.

Housekeeping; and Happy Birthday to the Vampire Slayer (yes, I did stay away from the graveyard so thanks for the warning); and Happy 24th to Amy next door, whose mum gave me a massive quarter share of a sponge cake which was two layers of sponge, jam and cream; and Happy Birthday to anyone else, clrly, whose birthday is round about now.

And finally, many good friends will know I’ve been flirting with vegetarianism for some time. (I have a straight face. Why don’t you?) So I bought a book. Not the one with the recipe for Bloody Mary Gazpacho. But one by Simon Rimmer. At first it threw me. Tahini? Goats actually make cheese? There’s more types of olives than green and black? Buffalos make mozzarella? Birdseye make chillis?  Halloumis make cheese? (Hang on, what’s an halloumi?) 😀

So, e, and young 20 lbs, gonny take me shopping to Waitrose one day? And, of course, this week’s motto is Keep It Simple. Obvioulsy. So start off with something simple. Basil roulade with goat’s cheese and sun-blushed tomatoes anyone? (Hang on, WTF is beetroot caviar? And why’s it not in the name of the recipe?)

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and (for a couple of weeks) simple, and still wearing that badge. It’s just the job. Hunting.

Wreckless johnt850

Mario Gomez (no 9 out) has been working the mines since he was 12. He is 63. He has a serious lung disease.

‘When I was a little boy I went to work each day, No school for kids like me, No time to learn to play, Early every morning they dragged me from my bed. I grew up tired and hungry, A worker like my dad.’

Lines written by another great Chilean hero Victor Jara, one of many thousands of Chileans arrested and taken to a football stadium by a previous Chilean government (1973 when General Pinochet overthrew a democratically elected administration). Because he played guitar they broke his arms; because he sang they tortured him; and then the junta finished him, and many thousands of others, off with sub-machine guns.

Five years later Scotland played Chile in that same stadium. Earlier this week Amy McDonald sang Flower of Scotland with more passion that any Corrie could ever muster.

No. No reason, and no real point. Except sometimes I need a perspective.  It’s been a thoughtful, if simple, week.

ps.   Dear Diary, today I bought chick peas, seaweed and Linda McCartney’s vegetarian sausage rolls.

‘So when people go, ‘Don’t be so self-deprecating, don’t say you’re an idiot,’ I go, ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter.’

October 9, 2010

Wise words there, and strangely appropriate for me, from Claudia Winkleman, female, 38 and good looking like all of my female friends (give or take a couple of years either side)…..and if you’re (former) BBC then my maths ain’t so good, and if you’re a (former) student (of mine), then just this week, and this week alone, add approximately fifteen years and I think that’s everyone covered.

The music I was going to choose was (a) Viva (in) Las Vegas (interesting idea for a weekend away) by The Dead Kennedys from the soundtrack of Fear and Loathing but a slight run-in with one of the market traders with a stall outside the rrm’s corner shop means that I’ve not yet taken delivery of their amazing album Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death from 1987. I didn’t know credit cards had a limit.

But musically I’ve been fine as that MP3 player seems to be permanently playing a band called Shuffle who seem to do nothing but play cover versions, reproducing the likes of The White Stripes and Tsunami Bomb, note for note. 

But can I draw to your attention a band, I know, called Pooch (Hi Roddy) who seem to be playing a band called Themselves in a programme called Being Victor on stv (or is it STV?) this week? Why don’t they call themselves Pooch?

Actually can I draw the programme to your attention? It’s a G.U.U. based version of Skins, only at 7.30 at night. At the end it has one of those ‘If you have been affected by any of the issues…..’ messages. FFS, it’s a programme about growing up at College! Let them find their own way round the problems, like everyone else does, be it, drink, drugs, STIs or religion……..or studying. Didn’t do me any harm to find my own solutions to my problems. Well, actually, in the short term, it did. Obviously. And I was teaching at a college at the time.

(For those of you wondering about the religion, she was called Jan Aitchison. For those of you wondering about anything else, keep wondering, but yes, and under interesting circumstances)

It’s also a programme about a young blogger using the anonymity of his blog to say that he fancies a female friend………No. No similarity, there, then. Apart from being young. And a blogger. And anonymous.

Now excuse me while I go and find an olive to de-stone, a lump of feta cheese I’ve sampled from Ian Mellis and a beef stock cube (sorry W) with last century’s sell-by date and I’ll go make soup, content in the knowledge that nobody knows who I really am. :-#

Moving smilingly on, and onto safer ground – The Sheridan perjury trial. I was going to hint at how well I knew the female journalist named in (a very loose) connection with alleged visits to a swingers’ club called Cupid’s in Manchester but many (former) BBC people know about me and Anvar Khan anyway. But the real courtoom drama, according to one journalist of my acquaintance covering the trial (not on your screens) is whether the courtroom artist, the amazing Priscilla Coleman, has enough bronzed orange crayons with her.

And to my female Facebook friends, I understand the importance of having ‘it’ where and when you want ‘it’, but no-one broke Facebook omerta. I just wish similar male organisations were as imaginative.

But Skippy thinks I should mention PR Guru Julie M, the only person I’ve ever seen in a restaurant send back the ice; say good luck to Missie K on Bolt FM, Monday night at six; hope L frae Troon is feeling better (‘a lot of it around’ and I now have something) ; rools is rolls, I always say; the new Glasgow super college is looking for a Vice Principal at £75k; and thanks to all those who pointed out the media job with the Prostate Cancer Charity in Scotland.

I’d be rubbish at that. It’s not like as if I know anyone in print media (Sun, Aug 2009 and Herald and Times of Evening, various), or in radio (one morning hour on BBC Radio Scotland in March 2010) or in TV (stv last month), and as for the idea of spreading awareness through social media. Preposterous. It’d never work.

So, and finally, this week’s Bore of the Week is a man in Glasgow city centre whom I overheard saying, ‘and to this day, Trigger is the only horse ever to climb the stairs of the Central Hotel.’…….No. I do not miss some of the conversations that take place in bars down Byres Road. And before anyone questions what we talk about upstairs in The Doublet, when PT are not doing well, how about the popular guitar combo of the sixties (The Beatstalkers) and their influence on AC/DC. Or something.

cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Well, yes, but the pin’s bent. I may have to sneak into Fopp one day soon and buy a number of similar badges and throw them in the washing machine.

Johnt850, and ‘still a nutcase’.  😀 😀 😀

And on the subject of cancer awareness (Sorry. Weren’t we?) it’s possible that this November will again be Movember when men will be wearing moustaches to increase awareness of male cancers, except I don’t think it worked. At the end of the last one, one Scottish footballing legend talked of the importance of self-examination.

Now while this may work for testicular cancer (there are videos showing you how) it’s not so easy for the prostate, even when hanging upside down naked from a light fitting with a tangerine in your mouth pumped full of amyl nitrate. (Don’t even think about asking. See above.)

So, I despaired. Until earlier this week, it was mentioned, in passing, with a friend’s son, who spoke of the need for men to be aware of their health. It would be wrong for me to name Nick’s son, in case of possible embarrassment. Except, from the sound of things, he’s not going to be embarrassed.

I like the universe of the open mind. As opposed to the other.

It’s about talking. It’s about asking, first, or being the first to ask; about not making assumptions. Being willing to listen and not assert opinions to cover lack of knowledge, or worry at showing weakness cos you might be wrong.

I know which universe I prefer. And which age. Now you’ll have to excuse me, the olive and feta cheese soup is boiling over. It needs to last me a whole week. 😉

don’t look so horrified. I preserve with formaldehyde. nobody likes their body cold. I doll up and my bodies sold. can’t say I like this from the scent. c’mon and let it go

October 2, 2010

No messages in the lyrics this week and I thought why not something melodic, mainstream and musical? And then I thought, ‘Why?’ So that’s ‘Who Brings a Knife to a Gun Fight?’ by Audio Karate from the CD Lady Melody. The first rule of a Gin Fight (I know what I’m saying) is that there are no rules (and Chuck Palahniuk is my favest author of all time. This week.)

I was reminded, dear listener, of the time, a few years back, when a few of us were drinking in a local hostelry when for some reason we were invited outside for a ‘square go’ (there are no rules except Marquis of Wyndford rules) and on the way out one of our number had the presence of mind to pick up a half brick. He then had the same presence of mind to bring it crashing down on the head of one of the opposition. This gave us enough time, and enough element of surprise, to run.

So I suppose that, with ‘no, no connection’, brings us to the rainforestriverman’s visit to the Easterhouse Learning Community (ELC) and his ‘inspirational presentation’. I’ve got to be careful when I go to these things with him. I tend to laugh before the punchlines. Still I answered a few questions myself, informally, and I found myself wondering why these, mostly female, educationalists seemed so familar to me. The old Clatty Pat’s at Kelvinbridge is the answer. Obviously.

The rrm was best man at my wedding xx years ago. I wanted my flatmate Viv ……… to be my best man. She had an amazing laugh. It could silence a cinema audience talking through the curry shop ad in Pearl and Dean 🙂

Incidentally, W, I have started Burroughs’s Naked Lunch again. It only makes sense when I read it out loud. Which led to a presumably avoidable incident at the cucumber counter in the ASDA. I would like to apologise publicly for a number of things recently, incidentally, but would somebody tell that security guard I am not his ‘friend’? (One of the most memorable shopping trips I have ever been on was with e when she bought four cucumbers for the price of two. You had to be there. I think).

And daggering is a dangerous, yet jolly interesting form of dance, originally from Jamaica, but tbh, anyone who remembers the staff of Bonkers (a club/showbar near Central Station from way back) has seen it all before. They were the show. It later became Buffalo Joe’s. But I digress.

As I, now, cos of an incident involving a fly, have a badly bruised finger. (We used to worry that this would be how nuclear wars would start). Middle finger. Left Hand. Long story. Last time it happened it led to a visit to A & E. And a splint. Oh, and a filling’s just fell out. Of my mouth.

Oke. So, on the tekkie front, I have achieved so much. (I complained a lot last week. In fact I’ve been a real grouch since mid-September. Hence the apology.)

Anyway, there is a new phone working downstairs. Black. Easy peasy, lemon squeazy. But volume control not good. The analogue phone upstairs was a present from ex-wife on occasion of separation xx-y 1/2 years ago. It was six months before I checked the pre-recorded message she’d so kindly left on it. Explained a lot.

The new toilet handle is kinda working. Why don’t instructions tell you to keep the split pin before they tell you to remove it?  It’s a very bulbous handle, btw. When it comes back up after discharging ………………….complete your own innuendo, I think.

The digital photo frame from Son Brian is up and running with a random selection of pics from mobile phone including a pic of Bellshill YMCA and a very empty hall with Prostate Cancer Charity stand…… 😉 

And I found an empty MP3 player, which is now full of new music, but dear listener, it marks an interesting departure for me, three years and nine months after Cold Turkey Sunday (Son Brian’s birthday is always the nine months mark). I am about to walk the city streets with neither Green Day or Alabama 3 for company. How will I cope?

Hang on. It’s got photos on it but how?……omg!……News of the World. Ten years from now…….or am I too much of a gentleman?

And finally, and quickly,  I’ve just had one of those phone calls when I’m asked what two rooms in the house I’d like to improve. So I said, ‘the dressing room in the maid’s quarters and the en-suite bathroom in the groom’s quarters above the stable’, and the caller hung up on me, before I could say anything about wanting a conservatory…….Curious. 

cya, keep(ing) it fun, and still wearing that badge?

Well, no, but nobody read anything into that. The jacket to which it was welded on needed washed as it looked as if I’d done everything except sleep in it. No, these days, I take my clothes off before I go to bed to sleep. Actually going to bed to sleep is in itself a great step forward. Looking back.

Anyway the badge continues to be worn. With pride. On different jackets. Apart from the new waterproof one. Obvioulsy. Well, once already. Before I’d thought it through. Can one small prick do that much damage?

Johnt850, contriteness personified, but average is good.

And a quick cancerly word below the line, if I may.

To those scientists, who recently claimed that people tend to get seriously stressed just before they start treatments for cancer such as radiotherapy or chemo – that may be true for some but I was just so relieved when I got my dates for treatment. The real stress, for me, was in the waiting. It’s a walk you gotta walk yourself, but I’d much rather you didn’t have to, and I’m happy to talk. Too much sometimes…..xx

There are so many mindsets that need changing, tho’, aren’t there? Maybe the security guard does know me. I never thought to ask.