Rubies and pearls, Treasures of the nights, Staying in a room, Watching figures of ice….You can have them all, You can have them all…..Tell me all about it

iN the various outpourings for Steve Jobs, iDidn’t say anything. iDon’t think iOwn anything Applish; iDidn’t share any obits on Facebook; and iDon’t think iRead any obits. But iDid hear one extract from a speech he did to American college students. Four words;

“Stay Hungry; Stay Foolish.’

Don’t worry, Steve. All the rich sensible people who made lots of money out of you will just iGnore those words. iVe been living them for years.

I didn’t quite share those words with young AJ the other day, tho’ – he is just weeks off the age of two after all – but we did spend a lot of time pondering the fact that shrimps are born male but as they grow older, they turn into females. I did my pondering in a deep voice. It’s the one I use when I park my car in the gay cottagers’ car park at Strathclyde Park.

And for those of you wondering what to get a friend’s two year old for Christmas, a leaf does wonders. When it’s windy (sp) it keeps them quiet for hours. That, and putting stones in their mouths. No. I didn’t do the actual putting in………honest, e …….

He was asking how school in Paisley was going and the answer is very well. It’s possible that some of my new chums may be listening to this for the first time, so can I explain that this is written by Johnt850 and his pal, the invisible bush kangaroo, Skippy, who for about two hours every weekend take over the computer of the guy with the long, but well cut, salt’n’peppa hair whose F/book pic was indeed taken in front of the bar, Mono, in Glasgow’s King Street, altho’ that day’s adventures started later in another bar, Laurie’s, and moved on to Easterhouse and a TV drama about lesbians. In July. This year. Sober.

And a quick word with friend and colleague, the gorgeous W……the thing that I miss, having taken that decision to be a lifelong pescetarian last year, is roast chicken crisps and wine gums (gelatine bovine). There are no good fish alternatives. Prawn crackers are crap.

Why don’t we market herring-crisps?  And mackerel-gums? Hello…………? Okay. No. No hyphen. 😀 W, it should be said, is vegetarian.

And in my current obsession for alphabets – and concerns about the best way to ask a woman out (given that ‘would you like to go out for drink?’ is kinda knocked on the head the minute that I explain why I’m drinking tomato juice with Tabasco and Worcester Sauce in Bar Ten….*) I was drawn to the ‘sex writer’ Flic Everett (author of Red Hot Sex, price £3.70) and his suggestion of Alphabet Dating;

 ‘A is for Afternoon Tea at a classic hotel. It shows you’re not just after one thing. If that fails, try B is for Booze!’

Jeez! AJ’s books carried better ideas and used the entire alphabet! 😉

For me, this week’s two letters are B for Balance, S for Soup, P for Patience and O for the Only Ones whose music opened tonight’s show.

*You never see this problem considered in any Agony Aunt column, do you? Certainly not the Daily Record, more and more an English newspaper printed in Scotland. 

And going back to school for a minute (or nine months in my case) it must be the only course in the world where you can walk into a room and start a conversation with someone you don’t know with the words, ‘Are you doing drink’n’drugs?’ and get the answer, ‘Yes. All morning.’ All very non-judgemental unless you light up a cigarette in the middle of a large piece of green grun in the middle of the school grounds and a man with a shirt and tie and a badge leaps out and says, ‘It’s a No Smoking area.’

There are no signs, dear listener, banning the bevvying of Buckfast. Ah, Happy Daze. Foolish temptation, tho’ 😦

And finally, a quick word (or two) about Scotland’s soaraway victory over Liechtenstein, the other night. (I watched it at home. I never made it to the pub. I was too busy assembling an assignment). Liechtenstein, I’m told, has a population that matches that of Bellshill and Larkhall combined AND last year Spain, by winning the World Cup for the first time ever, made me and W (kinda) a lot of money. I have no high hopes for Tuesday night but, please God, make me more than pleasantly surprised. In sooooooooooo many ways. 

Cya, keep(ing) fun and still wearing that badge? Yes, but, tbh, it’s on the inside of the jacket. Well, you never know.

Johnt850, as yet unrecognised in the company hierarchy.

And this, for any new listeners, is where the serious bit happens. Quite often I used to speak of my own cancer which was why this blog started. The cancer came months after the alcoholic cold turkey. But I feel I’ve recovered from that as well.

So instead, I’m going to quote the words of Michael Palmer of Edinburgh band We Were Promised Jetpacks (last week’s Scotland on Sunday) who has just finished four months of chemotherapy and 17 sessions of radiotherapy.

“That’s the bad side of cancer but there’s an upside that nobody likes to talk about.” He means all the sitting around, watching hypnotically trashy daytime TV and being brought crisp and ice-poles by his mum.

“Great, eh? Discount all the vomiting and it would have been the best time ever.’

iDon’t normally play indie guitar bands but this week iMake an exception. This is they. For everyone who dies of cancer but isn’t as famous as Steve but contributes to the world just the same. And Michael, who obviously wasn’t hungry ‘cos his mum looked after him but remained foolish. And a young man who’s been off nursery for two weeks now. But not cancer. Something else. Take care.

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