Happy happy birthday in a hot bath. To those nice nice nights. I remember always always I got such a fright, seeing them in my dark cupboard with my great big cake

And in case you didn’t recognise that lyric, cos it seems weird, it actually comes from that awfully nice Altered Images track, Happy Birthday, with that awfully nice Claire Grogan and those awfully nice McCluskey Bros…….but it just stands out…….anyway lots of birthdays at the weekend, and they all seemed to be about celebrating the number four.

The big one for me, of course, was study buddies Fi’s now very big boy (j) who had an awesome party…with cakes and sausages rolls and chocolate and games and party bags and ME – every party with only small boys needs at least one grown up aged 42, who they can kick, punch and kick footballs at in the back garden. Me and my legendary AJAX ABN Amro replica shirt. (Wonder what Fred Goodwin would pay for it?)

J is now the proud possessor of a Partick Thistle strip, but I didn’t tell him yesterday’s score. He and Fi are on a promise. When the weather gets good, they get going…..to the field of dreams that is Firhill, where the mighty Maryhill Magyars strut their ever so funky stuff in front of a packed house……Naw, that is dreams. But we’re going.

And well done to the other Number Four in birthday terms. One helluva achievement……

My placement in a community drugs rehab unit out Easterhouse way seems to be going good but all confidences will be respected. However, I’ve started running a writers’ workshop on Friday afternoons, giving folk a wee bit of confidence in writing skills and getting the message across. It’s not teaching bur sharing, with limitations. There’s only so much I can say about my own place on a long journey, but I still think FE lost a f**king good teacher, when they lost me………but, I am scum and I know I am, but I am happy scum (New listeners will have no idea but it’s old news, but, as they say, you do go through life with the same arse you were born with, and they are so right.)

And finally, I’ve mucked up my Blackberry. There’s a wee problem with the e-mail thingy, so in trying to sort it, I pressed the HIDE button and now I can’t find anything. I plan to take it to an Orange shop in the holiday destination of Paisley. So I Googled Orange + Paisley, and got a jolly interesting update on the health of the Reverend Ian……mmmm……wonder if I should ask him? Maybe not.

I did once ask someone of similar persuasion, what he thought of my collection of dried, scented flowers and would he like me to create a similar display at home for him. To which he replied, ‘There’ll be no pot-pourri in my house.’

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Only it was dwarved by badges that said ‘Birthday Boy’.

Johnt850, the spitting image of Johann Cruyff…in the dark

So I had said that this bit would go back to being the serious bit, especially with Prostate Cancer Awareness Month coming up. Well one unfortunate victim of the whole debacle has been the cancellation of Blue Nose Day, when the Prostate Cancer Charity was supposed to team up with the Rangers Charity Foundation to sell blue noses for charity.

Last year I was shouting; ‘Not a penny goes to the taxman!’. This year it ain’t so funny. People will lose jobs and they won’t all be as fortunate as Gordon Smith and get a gig on Sky Sports….sad days for the Teddy Bears. Sad days for charity.

One of the fun things about J’s party was, altho’ I did not get to choose the music (wee boys like Kraftwerk, don’t they?) I did get to play at being deejay for Statues and Musical Chairs. This was one of the tracks that came up and it’s one of those that seems to get dads up ‘dancing’.

To anyone going to a wedding with me in the next two years or so, don’t worry I don’t do ‘dad dancing’…I do ‘big box,little box’…..but this brought back memories. It was in my alter ego’s home town of Peterhead. It was an exchange visit with some French students and she was, well, French.

Happy Daze.

Enjoi, mes amis, enjoi.        

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