And they say that a hero could save us I’m not gonna stand here and wait I’ll hold on to the wings of the eagles Watch as we all fly away

And at one point this week I could have done with a super-hero; someone just to lift me out of this world and let me look down on things. It was just after 5 on Monday night, on a train to Motherwell, to talk prostate cancer to a group of men with what I still call learning difficulties, and in the wake of some good writing news, that I got the call. From the Aviva car engineer. My smashing white ten year old Meganne; that the other driver ran into and taken full liability for……..He told me it was a write-off.

I said, ‘I’ll be off this train in ten minutes. Can we talk then?’ He said, ‘No. I finish at 5.30.’ I thought, ‘You cant. You can’t even wait a few minutes until I can grieve privately and not in front of a carriageload of strangers.’

I thought back to that actual crash and how she seemed more upset than me. ‘Here, let me console you’, I said, grasping her. Firmly. ‘I must phone my boyfriend,’ she said. ‘Console yourself,’ I said. Don’t you hate it when a good looking woman lets herself go to fat like that? Within seconds. Before your very eyes.

I liked Green Lantern but my favourite was always Batman cos he was do-able. He was a real man, who just dressed up and did things. He didn’t need to be from another planet with all kindsa powers including x-ray vision. Even at the age of ten, I realised the power of X-ray vision 😉 and when I saw at the back of the comic you could buy x-ray spex I wanted them but my parents didn’t have dollars (and I suspect that it was then that they realised I was not ‘normal’ for Peterhead…..)

I think I may have mentioned this before but my alter ego was about 42 and was with Son Brian one Saturday morning when he was taken by surprise by Batman in a quiet corner of the MacLellan Galleries. (Doesn’t sound good, jt) But I should explain it was a man dressed up as Batman (Not much better, jt).

I mentioned this to the gorgeous W and she worried about people wandering the streets of Glasgow surprising men in art galleries. I explained that the Vampire Slayer was real and watched over us all and everyone was safe. I didn’t say anything about the Vampire Slayer dressing up. The cold shower is running. Two of my fave women there in one paragraph.

So thanks to the blogmeister for choosing the music (Nickleback); sadness about the death of Michael Gough; Jaymi has left the ASDA for the excitement of a Charing Cross bar across the road from the Hilton; I’ve done nothing yet with that photo rrm; and yes, the BBC has snapped up a script of mine.

It was through a group of like-minded people called Write Camera Action! who meet regularly at the CCA in Glasgow and enter by a door other than the front one and act out other peoples’  fantasies. Mine may well end up going straight to online but I’m quite chuffed. Lots of reasons.

Oh, and on the dramatic action front, check out a drama on BBC Radio Scotland, 1030 Sunday, 20th March called The Special Relationship also on BBC iPlayer. Let’s just say I’ve already heard it and liked it. But also check out the Jazz House on the same station on Wednesday at 8. At night. Shona produced it.

So grasping the horns of the thistle by the bullrushes, my car is dead. In fairness to her insurance company a quick and easy settlement was reached and I think an okay one. So I walked into a shop that sells cars just up the road and asked if they sold any white ones. And they said no. So I wandered around a lot and then I saw it.

Apparently it’s called a Parrot (some kinda bluetooth thing) and I thought I want that. By chance it has a Renault Clio attached to it. Yeah. ‘It’s a 1.2, 100 brake horsepower turbo,’ the salesman said. I asked to look in the boot. Scraped a piece of grass off it and asked him how I opened the petrol cap on my hired Vauxhall Astra. Serioulsy.

So I’ll need to get the road tax thing back and stuff like that and can I say a mega-thanks to those who offered thoughts on car auctions and salvage and stuff. I just need access to a car just now. Just in case.

Now, on the subject of Personal Injury………my thanks to all those who offered their advice. And apparently Catherine down the road got her kitchen done up with hers. I have genuinely been whiplashed. At the busiest time of the year for dissertation editing. When I seem to be spending most of my life either processing words ( or waiting for students to send me those words. My fave tho’ is a Nigerian who sent me money (honest!) and then phoned me to tell me to cash the cheque quick.

I seem to have run into a problem with his Oxford referencing so I may be looking to sub-contract.  

But back to being whipped (or whatever.) I’m on Ibuprofen which I inadvertently mixed with something on the first night and it was really nice. I seemed to have phoned people, all of whom were very polite to me. Some of them I knew. The next day I read the instructions.

And finally, I’ve got to go to the physio. Monday. To get checked out.  So my week in a nutshell. Me. A nutshell.

cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Actually, I wasn’t on Monday night. There’s a lesson to be learnt there.

Johnt850, and I had no idea how to switch off the lights on the Astra either so I just went out when it was dark.

And I was going to use this bit to mention some prostate cancer stuff cos it’s Awareness Month and can I say a big thanks to the Milngavie man who put a twenty pound note in the collecting can? Took me ages and three knives to get it out. I’m in Dobbies Garden Centre in Cumbernauld this Thursday, 24th 1000-1500. I’m Aware.

But instead, this is for my White Meganne W796 RGG. Ignore the opening line and come in on the drums and imagine me, the Meganne and the open (Great Western) road…….every day after the sandblasting was done.


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