There’s this fear I keep so deep Knew its name before I could speak, yeh. They know my name cos I told it to them But they don’t know where and they don’t know when it’s coming, oh when? But it’s coming, keep the car running.

Arcade Fire and for me it’s the drums, the drums, the drums. Years ago I put The Glitter Band (without the nonce) on at a students’ union and they were immense. Two drum kits – two drummers. The pounding rhythm of drum’n’bass ain’t new. It’s the drums, the drums, The Damned, the drums, the drums.

So only one story in town this week; and with a new Tory Government imposing major financial cuts plus a royal wedding up and coming, I’d cancel that holiday in the Falklands, if I were you……………My ex-wife creosoted the garage the day Chazza and Di got hitched. Me? I just sniffed the creosote. Ah, happy daze.

A couple of thoughts;

I heard Prince Charles described as ‘Prince William’s dad’. Could be problems when Prince Harry gets engaged.

And, Katie, he’s given you his ‘mother’s engagement ring’ (I can’t stop singing it either) but wait ’til he compares your cooking to hers. Actually, he won’t will he, ‘cos……..(at this point BBC Al, the blog’s bad taste pal, stopped watching for a Hugh Janus contributing to C-i-N and red penned fourteen of my options for a pay-off line, including the ‘tucked in a funnel’ option).

(Incidentally hot tip for wedding seating plans? http://www.saveourseat.co.uk/ Maybe they can also find me someone to go with……?)

Ah, Al you missed a good (formal) dinner the other night (logic? what logic? the drums are still going but the CD stopped a long time ago) but I now realise a problem with my conversion to pescatarianism (and not ‘presbyterianism’ as someone thought I said). Sometimes I need to order ahead. So I played with my meat and ate the vegetables. I was not a normal child. Plus ca change……..

It was a nice lamb shank, btw. Yes, I am reduced to childish giggling just saying it. And Liz in the ASDA remembered this morning that my regular order now came without black pudding and sausage……..which was really well remembered.

So to Job Search and those nice people (no sarcasm) at the Maryhill Job Centre are trying to find me something using my creative and teaching experience (the ‘and’ should be superfluous) when basically I’m looking for guidance in other directions. It’s partly the cancer thang (sympathy cos that was the reason for my year on Incapacity rather than ‘bad back’ but yet taking part in X Factory) and the BBC thang…..’do you know so-and-so?’ It’s nice but I’ve got to accept that these days……

But yet, but yet, but yet…….

I met up with a smashing bunch of folk on Thursday afternoon all of them involved in community media, all of them with a belief in empowerment, of people telling their own stories – the kinda thing I tried to do. I couldn’t make a TV or radio programme about the evolution of Scotland’s countryside to save my life, but give me a  recorder and someone with a crack addiction and I’m happy. They have a story to tell, even if people in management don’t think you should hear it. But then me and management didn’t always get on.

And then on Thursday night I was the ‘soul’ (sic) judge at the Ayrshire Inter-Club Video Competition down in Prestwick (Yes. Sweet Sweetback’s Baadass Song won it) and again this was a bunch of people who had stories they wanted to tell, slightly different from the domestic abuse campaign trail I’d seen that afternoon, with the most amazing tagline ever this week. I think it’s launched this Thursday coming.

It was good, if frightening fun, but luckily on the night there could be only one winner; a brilliant wee animation from Stewartry Camcorder Club about a drunken Santa. It was fabulous.

So maybe yet, maybe yet, maybe yet…….

So in a mixed bag (eh?) big thanks to Jayne for both (but you are buying both coffees and caramel shortcake the next time); to a guy from Washington DC (I got that wrong) for recognising me; to Kirsten for being Kirsten; to Helen for being Helen; to Jim for organising Prestwick; and L to frae Troon for seeing me safely there, showing me Flanagan’s pub and, and, and I can’t do the Puddock line. 😉

And to W, what must your mum think of me? Apart from the reported comment. It was a bit like delivering an empty envelope, wasn’t it? (The drums are getting louder even as we speak). Sorry.

And finally, something of interest below the line to Son Brian (and possibly others) from a grumpy dad (except I’m not the dad to those others and I hate that ‘boyish’ line….’not that I know of anyway, ha, ha….’).

It’s a bit legally, but here goes……

Cya, (keep)ing it fun  (see below the line) and still wearing that badge? It’s para 7 (keep reading)

Johnt850, ‘bookish’ and totally untechnical, and destined never to be materially successful, but yet, but yet…..who cares?

So I’m in process of re-drawing my will with the help of top legal eagle Mike. No.  There’s no real reason for it other than the last one was drawn up twenty years or so ago and there are things like para 7 ‘bequeathments and who gets the badge’? Any requests before I leave it all to Son Brian? Serioulsy….music’n’stuff? Books (lots of them) or pictures?

No, it’s a bit of my new will (para 15) I want to quote, viz.,

‘I wish my mortal remains to be cremated in a humanist funeral with the song ‘Anthem’ by The Sensational Alex Harvey Band being played as my coffin is carried in and the entire song ‘Whistling in the Dark’ by They Might Be Giants being played as my body is translated to the flames.’

That is sooooo keeping it fun and sooooooo made me smile when it turned up randomly on that MP3player. I almost wish I was there to lead the conga line.

‘I think I’m going to have to put you back in your cage

Yeah, that’s until you learn to act your age

Back in your cage, your cage, your cage.’

The 1990s

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