Archive for June, 2011

The jiners and hauders-on are marchin’ fae Clydebank, Come on noo and hear him, he’ll be ower thrang tae bide. Turn oot Jock and Jimmie, leave your crane and your muckle gantries, Great John Maclean’s coming back tae the Clyde.

June 25, 2011

John MacLean was a committed republican socialist whose politics were far too socialist for Red Clydesiders such as Jimmy Maxton whose (Maxton’s) body is buried across the road from me and whose (Maxton’s)  autobiography was written by the arch-Tory Gordon Brown….and yes, e, AJ and I visited the new Riverside Museum in downtown Partick on Wednesday afternoon.

(Can I stress that Maxton’s body is not actually buried in the back garden of Angela and Stefan’s at No 6 but in the massif cemetery which is figuratively ‘across the road’ from me?)

And the version of the John MacLean March that I used was sung by me. Often. Drunkenly. So that’s at least four and a half years ago. Wow! Four and a half years. Clean and clear. But still an addict. Albeit recovered.

I still miss it. Alcohol. I was down Byres Road the other night at about 8 o’clock. I miss the ability to wander into a pub, order a quiet pint and not being unhappy when it becomes something more. I like, however, being alive, even if I can’t always get what I want. But I try so hard.

And the Rolling Stones lyric there reminds me it was Father’s Day recently. I think Son Brian would rather I played bands like the Stones and Free rather than a track like Mellefresh vs deadmau5 (Adam K Dirty Remix)’s version of Hey Baby. I said to the rrm that my son (who ultimately has Power of Attorney over me) thinks I’m ‘insane’. The rrm, being a kindly old buffer, said, ‘hypothetically, most sons think their dads are weird’ to which I could only reply, ‘and do most dads talk to Vampire Slayers?’……, set, match and championship to the forty-two year old weirdo in black.

Son Brian’s pressie to me was a laptop cooling pad (black) and no, nobody I’ve mentioned it to, has ever heard of such a thing, but I am happy. With his exam result. As well.

And whilst the Vampire Slayer is there……I bought a couple of black t-shirts recently. Identical. Couldn’t tell them apart. No. No reason.

And I’ve been doing some  nursing (kinda) recently. As has the gorgeous W. Separately. Different people. And I was just considering the significance of this when I dozed off. A jolly interesting dream was then interrupted by the (real) postman. He didn’t even have the decency to ring twice. 

tbh, I’ve been doing more hospital visiting than nursing and I’ve been asked a few times about my own stay in hospital a while back and I’m afraid I can remember very little of it. I was totally jellied out my head all the time I was in. The nurses kept feeding me pills, coated in many colours. The attraction is understandable. The pills. And the nurses.

But I do remember the blue night light, the family of the man in the bed next to me who showed me a photo of him, passed out, on a mobile phone, and the man who worked in the Indian restaurant who got brought pakora at half past eleven at night………and the female ward across the corridor.

Actually speaking of W (as I occasionally do 😀 ) the running schedule did not go too well this week. I must not come into the house, open up e-mails and then go for a run ‘cos all I want to do is run home and answer them. Week Two of the Schedule is a re-run next week. 

And to all those women in Glasgow’s Queen Street Station on Thursday morning picking up their bags from Left Luggage having left them there pre-Take That nite out…….you weren’t that optimistic about meeting Howard, back-stage, were you? All of you?

And if you are a Freeview viewer whose sexuality is off at a tangent (I may have mis-read that mail) can I recommend your new channels Rabbit and its sister, Gay Rabbit, both dating and txting channels? (I have such a deep voice when in masterful mood. With dogs. Canine dogs.)  

I was in someone’s house as the switchover happened and we Rabbit hopped…….and it was so boring…..but the fun is inventing what the Rabbit TLAs might mean b4 u look ’em up in the Urban Dictionary……it could be a drinking game……for those who drink.

And finally, I was talking about the Riverside Museum….we liked it. I had already promised to go with someone else. That will happen. I’m going nowhere. Well. To the Riverside. Obvioulsy. Just say when. Bring a friend. Or a wean.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Attracted more attention down the Riverside than a Mosspark headed 59.

Johnt850, who has met a lot of very pleasant nurses in a cancer ward this week. And would like to say thanks. Down Byres Road. 8 o’clock.

So can I just say a quick word about the anniversary of my Date of Birth on 2nd July? Soon. As most ppl know, it’s not that I want to be ‘young’ for the rest of my life, it’s just that I refuse to be defined by a number and have therefore chosen to remain 42 for the rest of that life (there’s a wee What If….. just wandered thru my neurotic consciousness).

The absurdity of using numbers as a justification was brought home to me when I saw a man on the BBC News channel respond to the question, ‘What is wrong with circuses?’ with the answer, ‘Well, it’s 2011.’

What a f**king stupid answer! (let alone ignoring the beliefs of people with different calendars such as Jews and Jedi Warriors). It was no explanation at all!  We hide behind numbers. We use them as an excuse. They are merely there for purposes of identification. Not definition. I actually like the music I play these days. If I can use that as an example.

And when I’m asked what’s on the ones and twos at home, I can honestly say Daft Punk is playing at my house, my house, except it’s LCD Soundsystem playing Daft Punk is playing at my house, my house. But you’ve gotta set them up.

We’re driving down the highway seven days a week Looking for a number one looking rather bleak Well I’m a roadie, what a job being a roadie…..I’m a roadie B.B. Class Road

June 18, 2011

So in a week when the author of A Gay Girl in Damascus – a really serious blog about Syrian repression – was outed as an American Twat Living in Edinburgh, I would like to re-assure listeners that everything in this show is genuine; the people do exist with pseudonyms and the events do happen, with as much poetic licence as a Shameless super-injunction. I think it may be the number of good-looking women I mentioned last week that provoked the odd eyebrow to be raised. One or two Doubting Thomases out there – et tu, rainforestriverman?

Careful or I will tell that story – yes, the Partickhill one. 

Y’see I stayed in this amazing flat in Glasgow with Jean and Viv in my most recent student days (Wow! What will I write about come September?) and I had a single bed in the front room. No. Not twin beds. Which was my excuse for not going home on a Satyrday night.

Anyway, ’bout this time last year (you can stop worrying, rrm) I was in the Peoples’ Place Museum with the gorgeous W (hey, I know how to give a girl a good time) and I spotted the very bath-cum-shower that had existed in that flat which I stupidly described as like being in ‘a mansion’.

‘And now you’ve got a semi. In Summerston.’, was her reply.

I, and my accountant, invented ‘downwardly mobile’. Hang on. Didn’t I………..? Wasn’t she……..? Now I understand the divorce settlement. 😦

Actually I think Son Brian has done okay out of it all. I have strong views about the rights, roles and responsibilities of estranged dads for all sorts of reasons, but I’ve got to confess that I was incredibly lucky to have the BBC as a back-up babysitter. And so, any time I meet the wunderkind Sanjeev Kohli, guest presenter of this week’s The Hour, he always asks the same question; ‘How’s your son doing?’….Amazingly well is the aswer.

Careful Sanjeev or I will tell that story – yes, the Joe Strummer story.

The opening number, btw, was one of only two songs I could find about being a roadie; the other was Lit Up by Buckcherry, which was more of a eulogy to cocaine. But was rubbish. As a song. Not that the Byrds‘ song earlier was that much better.

Actually I’ve got to be very careful here ‘cos I’m aware of lots of little gems about me that are out there…..and I’ve maybe been saying too much to too many people recently…..not all of them journalists trained by me. And well done Oonagh on graduating with a first class honours from Napier.

Actually Son Brian was across to check out all my new super-dooper IT stuff, including new external hard-drive (black) and sometimes it feels like sitting on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise but no matter the quality of the output leaving me, it all depends on the tekkie stuff at the other end and yes, you know who you are. 

But if you are up ‘all night long’ can I recommend BBC Radio Scotland’s through the night show with the amazing Ravi Sagoo including the imaginatively named Fourplay feature – some music programming is a challenge and yes, I do sometimes listen to it when I’m not watching re-runs of Red Dwarf on Dave. (The CD player on my existing hard drive keeps coming out…why? Certainly more open about it than the thief David Laws)

No. Ravi is produced by Demus Productions Inc, and I would like to thank its Head of Catering, Nick, for the coffee he made me after my recent visit to the Beatson for my latest cancer check up. More on that below the line.

But, yes, I have started a proper running schedule. Monday was my first day. It was a rest day. Actually it wasn’t. I am doing proper run-walk-runs in the graveyard. And can I just say to that Funeral Party……you weren’t there when I ran out…….how the hell did you move in with that coffin and mourners so quickly? Still it could have been worse. I could have been wearing my new Kappas three-quarters running trouser (black) And I turned down the volume on the Wu Tung Clan (black) on the MP3 player (black).

And finally, last week I mentioned that Australian Rock-God Jimmy Barnes was playing The Garage soon, and I got a mail to say I was going! This week I’d like to say the words, Naomi Campbell and my boudoir. Hope. I live in. No. No reason.

And finally finally Son Brian passed that exam. Apparently, all I could say down the phone was, ‘f**king ace, man, well done’. But, boy, did I mean it. 😀

cya, keep(ing) fun and still wearing that badge? Hey, it’s contact and it’s not on the hard drive. 

Johnt850, this time last year I’d have been worried but this time I happily fret. I’m more settled in myself.

So, yes, I did have my latest cancer blood test and there is a small rise but mathematically (he said bravely) it’s nothing. It will just always be a worry.

No, what was more worrying was the Herald (formerly of Glasgow) headline that ‘half of prostate cancer sufferers who die are killed by the disease’ – the word ‘eventually’ after the word ‘die’ was missed out – and that also assumes that I don’t die of something else first. And I know how I’d like to go.

No. I felt it was misleading and some of the stats quoted were pretty out of date as well. I assume the Prostate Cancer Charity contacted the Herald to correct all that. I just never saw it.

I ‘had’ bad cancer. I never ‘suffered’. And whilst we do not talk of cures, as far as I am concerned my treatment has been successful. Everything, I repeat, everything is in working order.

Here, to prove it, especially for me for Father’s Day is Juliette Lewis who is about to turn 38. The song is Sticky Honey (you do not want to know what I typed by mistake there………!) It’s a song about low-cal yogurt.

No one can tell you exactly what you have gotta be; you’ve got to stand your ground and fight to save your life. It may be hard but it’s the only way, Always remembering there ain’t no second place

June 11, 2011

The inspirational Jimmy Barnes there and he’s playing a garage near you soon. And I’d also like to thank the gorgeous W, the equally good looking e (and AJ) and the ruggedly handsome (eh?) BBC Steve (Ruby’s dad) for encouraging me to do something I have not done for a very long time. Consider running. Okay, more than consider it…….I have bought the running shoes. Aisics. From Achilles Heel. I even did the treadmill test. And did not fall off.

I just seem to have been talking to people who do it and I have decided I want to. Now, I could be daft and say I’m going to run in a certain race in September but this week has been about run-walk-run over a measured distance, just getting used to the shoes. They drew blood the first time I wore them, but that’s cos I wasn’t wearing socks. It’s been a fairly socks-free existence at home for some time now…….. 😦

What’s that Skippy? Your Aussie mate Jimmy Barnes is playing at The Garage…….not just any garage……..sorry.

Anyway, maybe I just want to prove something to myself. And some others.

So it’s been a good week to be self-employed. I don’t mean I’ve been earning a lot of money but I’ve been able to spend what came in a few weeks ago. Except, this week, some of the amazing women in my life paid. I didn’t take my hand out of my pocket. Once.

For example, twice this week I’ve been in (the) Starbucks in Sauchiehall Street being treated by a different good looking woman both times. To a large black coffee.  Much to the grudging admiration of the male assistant.

(It’s the Starbucks just along from the Ann Summers shop and I just happen to have a copy of her catalogue in front of me. It had always been a source of wonderment  to me how the humble neck massager of a few years ago, used to relieve stress*, had become a rampant rabbit. Now I see it. The twin** prongs look like a rabbit’s ears. But it looks nothing like my…….Oh, there’s the phone……… And the male blow up doll looks like a young Graeme Souness. The face. On the male blow up doll.  Looks like a young Graeme Souness)

* oooops. A recent conversation has just come back to me. But, hey, I stand by what I said.

** You have no idea what I have just deleted. I have.

And I went to the Science Centre with AJ (and his mum). Where I planked. Extremely dangerously. You need a child to get the best out of the Science Centre. Be careful, however, not to forget that you actually have a child with you. (Note to self….Dear Self, lots of female primary school teachers, Regards Self)

And then we went to the BBC for coffee. Outside this building is the usual smokers’ corner that exists these days, and we were very taken with the highly aromatic smell emineminating from one man’s Rizla. Ah, the green, green grass of PQ.

And then to the X-Men movie with W, who provided half of Gregg’s as a picnic. 😀 Those of you who movie go during the day (or students as you are known on Orange Wednesday) will understand. It also didn’t help that we lost Cineworld – a multi-storey building in Glasgow City Centre. The plot was amazingly difficult to follow. But it was a jolly fine day out. (I would like to apologise to the Cineworld employee mistaken for a cardboard cut-out by the gorgeous W.  I have no idea where the felt-tipped pen came from.)

(Do you think when Spielberg does a focus group for these things he ever thinks of flying in two ppl from the West of Scotland – one to crunch into a ploughman’s pickle roll, and one to eat a tuna’n’onion crunch just at the moment when someone’s head is being severed by a blue scaled woman?)

Can I apologise to a young schoolgirl in Queen St Station? I honestly did think that was a cigarette lighter you’d dropped and not a memory stick? To Missie K, the voiceover queen of Pulse Radio, your hair looked really good, I’m sure your nails did as well and have a good holiday; and to Kenny the Shed Pimp, the reason the shed was not treated properly was not because I drank the Cuprinol* as you suggested but because I never really fancied it……… (I’ll give you a second to think about that gag…..) 

* other leading brands are available but drink responsibly.

And finally, those of you saw the doc The Poor Kids – don’t just give to charity, volunteer for one. And don’t vote Lib-Dem. That’s the ultimate political cop-out. Previously whatever party was in power, you could deny responsibility. Now it’s you, and the thief David Laws, and Judas Cable, former Labour Councillor for (the) Wyndford.

cya, keep(ing) it fun (even after that para!) and still wearing that badge? I was actually asked recently – (the) ASDA – where it was…… dinner jacket, I replied.

Johnt850, who has been described as many things recently but  not yet a ‘groupie’. (The male outfits in the Ann Summers catalogue are rubbish, btw)

So during the week I attended an AGM – the Scottish Drugs Recovery Consortium. It’s a relatively new umbrella organisation for all sorts of addiction groups. I learned a lot and plan to visit some of them before my Post Grad.

One of their messages is that People Can and Do Recover from Drug Problems and Addiction. I describe myself as a Recovered Alcoholic (I think I’ve mentioned that before) but that does not mean I can drink alcohol again. It means that there is a personal line I will not cross.

My attitude towards my addiction may seem at times flippant but it is my way of staying clean and clear. I spent 6/8/10 days in that ward in Gartnavel General. I ain’t going back.  

The music is The Dead Kennedys. The animation is tasteless. But funny.

I’m in distress, oh mistress, I confess, so do it one more time. These handcuffs are too tight. You know I will obey, so please don’t make me beg for blood, sex and booze you give me.

June 4, 2011

Can I just say when Green Day actually sing that lyric, it doesn’t sound quite as bad (or as good, or as interesting) as when you read it in black and white? Obvioulsy it immediately occurred to me when I read the Robbie Williams’s headline in the Sun; ‘Robbie: I inject sex hormone twice a week’. And it reminded me. My own latest prostate cancer test is due in a couple of weeks’ time……so I had to go and get that very specific blood test I talk about. From a nurse. Who has to restrain me before she can do the thing with the needle. My logic is a variation on the Six Steps from Kevin Bacon idea.

So, tell me, jt, what does medical science think might cause a rise in the PSA level other than your cancer returning?……. Well, they do say it might be a rich and varied sex life or too much exercise.

Y’know, there are some sentences I do wish I’d never typed. I’ll be fine. 😦

And the track’s called Blood, Sex and Booze. Now, does it make sense? Except for the booze bit.

Can I say a mega thanks to my sis for an early birthday pressie of a new laptop? For those who want to know what sort it is, it’s a black one. You should see the bag I got as well! It’s has lots of room for pencils. And it’s also black. And can I say mega thanks to Son Brian for installing stuff and doing driving and conning me out of my rainforestriver password? The folder named Kleenex Tissues has since been renamed, btw. No. Don’t ask.

To the Vampire Slayer, interestingly enuff my star sign is Cancer, not Gemini, the heavenly twins. (*bursts out laffing uncontrollably*) Y’know I don’t know long I can keep this up, as I said to…… Oh, there’s the phone……

To the Horror Channel, thank you for bringing to my attention the movie Zombie Women of Satan, and to the emporium formerly run by the rainforestriverman, thanks for selling it to me but I’ll maybe not bother with your recommendation of Bikini Girls on Ice and Sick Nurses. Well. Not just yet.

To my cultural companion, friend and  colleague, the gorgeous W, thanks for your help in parking the other day; I will send away for two app forms; and your support team on my side all think you made the right decision. 😀 and I don’t know why I asked for an ice cream ‘nooga’ rather than a nugget.

To the Bellshill Speaker – I took that pic. Where’s my fee, my credit? (What? She signed the copyright over to you? Okay, well, I’m happy with that, but my alter ego is still owed lineage from the late seventies, you might be interested to know).

To all those involved in the blook, I am digging it out again with a view to possible re-write or update. No. No reason. Obvioulsy. And if you have any tips on saving money in cash-straightened times can I have them but, not, please the one about getting the most out of your Marigolds by turning them inside out………(or is that just a basic prostate cancer test paranoia?)

To e, I may wish to borrow AJ quite soon. Lunchtime Yummy Mummy Alert, with buggies, in Firebird, Argyle Street, all drinking large glasses of red.

To Missie K, I’ll bring the full article with me on Wednesday. Hey, I splet it write!

And finally, to the pigeon who shat on my car this morning (thankfully not Thursday), I have a loyalty card to Anniesland Car Valet Centre, run by Fraggles Green, ‘son of millionaire crime boss, Jamie Daniel’. When Fraggles finds out it was you, you are sooooooo dead meat…..just like your North Lanarkshire cousin. Last Saturday night.

(Apparently I get a free Ultimate Wash on my sixth visit, but I wonder what the car gets)

cya, keep(ing) fun and still wearing that badge? Yes, and it’s now got a bro’. Simultaneous badge giving….is there anything better? Yes, but no answers, please, on a postcard. I live in hope. As Summerston is known. In the Possil.

Johnt850, delighted to have opened the sun roof successfully but only after first switching  the interior lights on and off…….

And so to the serious bit and as an addict and former community worker in Viewpark (Uddingston/Bellshill), Lochend (Easterhouse) and Whisky Valley (Hamilton) I suppose I should pass comment on The Scheme (apart from saying from a broadcasting POV, I didn’t think it was very good).

Naw, problems caused by alcohol, joblessness, single mums who (apparently, in some press) cause all the problems in society, and illiteracy still exist and successive Tory governments of Thatcher, Major, Blair and Brown have done nothing to change it. Throw in the heroin, the ‘smack’ that is so prevalent not that far away from me, and you have a society that it is so easy to turn your back on.   

Unless you run short of dinner party conversation.

But I saw something else in the programmes. I saw a lot of care and love and concern with some of the families filmed, people who didn’t know what to do to help, other than hand over  ten pounds for that day’s fix. An addict needs that fix – smack or alcohol – to stay alive (Asda’s own label whisky is just over £10 for a bottle) but we didn’t see what outside agencies eg social work or AA were doing (altho’ at least two people were Alcoholics’ Anon users – there’s a code)

My fave character was the McMurray daughter (I didn’t catch her name but she wore the Fuc* Me spex. She’d met the film makers when she was in Corton Vale). I loved how protective she was towards her ‘bros’, and how optimistic she was – at times; ‘The McMuzzas are back together’ – aye, but for how long?

This next band is called The Scheme and they were from Easterhouse. (To W, this wasn’t the  clip I was talking about, but then I do witter on at times.) 😉