It’s not that urgent wanting some attention. Our teenage dreams are surely worth a mention. It’s not that easy so it will be heard. A lot less time but a lot more care. So here’s more songs about chocolate and girls.

The Undertones there, one of John Peel’s favourite bands and there is a book but soon, hopefully,…….. and a curiously apposite song given that this week I started at my new school and jolly fine it was too. The nervousness and excitement that I have felt for the last twenty years or so receded into a state of being accepted by my new chums and teachers; some of my chums have already done four years at the school and all seem to have received honourable mentions or something similar.

I’ve got to learn how to use the Blackboard (without chalk….my cookies need enabled. For years I have lived without doing this, but now….) and I’ve already done the real studenty thing of changing my mind about one of the modules after I’d signed up for it.

I arrived in Paisley via the canal. Train. (I once had this title for a book called There Are No Ships on the Paisley Canal. The latest working title for the book which doesn’t exist is something to do with the Potato Collector’s Widow. From Crieff)

And I was not the first to arrive in the Assembly Hall. I had been well warned. And friend and colleague, the gorgeous W*, I will not be adding mystic to your list of considerable attributes 😀 Several others (including e) predicted I would see the same thing. 😉 (Skippy I may have to be careful with this school analogy at times)

*That is brilliant news. The Clio is being fired up even as we speak. (*a roadie speaks*)

Incidentally, the corridor outside the Assembly Hall would be brilliant for growing tomatoes and peppers and exotic herbs.

But no. All went well. A big thanks to the prefects who showed me where everything was, but to the lady prefect with the v. large bosom, I was looking at your name sticker. Honest. And my picture has been taken. And I have an ID card. And Gosh………..I have still to investigate student discount. And cancelling my Council Tax.

Can I also say a big thanks to a first year under grad  called N*****e who I seemed to ‘hook up with’ (Rainforestriverman…it happens…I don’t know how or why) on the way out. She very kindly accompanied me back to the railway station and clued me in on some other stuff as well. Greggs’s basically.

And then the journey home. Now I’ve tried to re-assure some of my new teachers that basically, the blog’s about me. Basically. And some amazingly patient people. E is for exasperation and T is for tenacity…twenty-four to go.

It’s about, for example, what happens to me on the way home…on the train.

So the train was just about to reach Hillington and it stopped. The anno said, ‘Due to an incident on the line the train may be delayed, etc…….’ and then the conductor walked up and down, telling ppl, that a woman had attempted suicide but, apparently she was okay and we should be going soon. Then he walked back up and down going, ‘Except we can’t find her so we’re not sure.’ And everyone leaps to the window to see the driver peering over the edge of the bridge overlooking Hillington Road. And everyone – not me – is txting ppl. Who do you txt at a time like this? Jeremy Kyle’s researchers?

It hadn’t happened at Glasgow Central. It had been that squeal of brakes. Our train.

Anyway, no confused woman walking up and down trying to find a bathroom as recommended by Colin and Justin, the gay decorators, and the train moves on…….

And just to prove I am no Goody Two Shoes, I think I was the only one to look at the front of the engine to see if there was any blood. (Incidentally, is it true that bleach removes all traces of DNA as exclusively revealed on Crimewatch the other night?)

 Could be useful but maybe not as useful as a site called which does exactly what it says.

And finally, another useful piece of information came in the form of a newspaper report which says that on average we (?) get a hangover twice a month. So who’s getting my share? Of hangovers. Have you seen Facebook on a Sunday morning? Suffice to say that the report goes on to say that hangover cures such as fizzy drinks and coffee may ‘exacerbate the symptoms’.

I wish I’d known that five years ago. But I do miss hangovers. Seriously. I hate waking up knowing that’s the best I’m going to feel all day.  There is this myth that ppl like me are supposed to throw off the covers looking ahead to the glorious dawn. But some days I do wake up with a headache. It feels good

Cya, keep(ing) it safe and fluffy, and still wearing that badge? Yes. I did. It’s an ice-breaker, innit?

Johnt850,the epitome of a ladies man with matching socks with the days of the week on them…….to be sure.

So I’ve had lots of good wishes over the last few days, including a brill Moonpig card…..someone knows me soooooooooooo well……and various messages of support including actual conversations. I won’t let you down. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, terrapins tickle me if I lie.

One of the most encouraging conversations was down Byres Road with a music radio producer called Stewart. Amongst other things, we talked about my recent conversion to ‘house’ music, which is of my own making and not through someone else’s influence. At one point, as we discussed Roland 303s, the importance of Kraftwerk, the book written in German that I use as my basic bible and all sorts of things, I realised I can take on board fresh thinking. In detail.  😀

Up yours Wal-Mart! No. No reason.

Therefore the next track is an obvious choice and it’s a house classic. If you get a chance listen to some of the others in the right-hand sidebar. Next week a Youtube vid of Spiders on Drugs and a cat on acid.


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