Like a record that’s skipping, I’m a modern man, And the clock keeps ticking, I’m a modern man

So last Thursday was the first day in ages when I felt I was at home. As much as I enjoy the delights of North Ayrshire (‘every week a voyage of discovery’), Paisley and Easterhouse, I had a lot to do in the house and its environs. Sleeping in would be good but let’s not get too ambitious.

It was a nice day and I was stood at the back planning what I wanted my gardener to do when he started soon. My revelry was halted by my next door neighbour; ‘do you know your toilet overflow is leaking?’ ‘No but if you whistle it, I’ll hum the rest.’ 🙂 But dear listener, it was. Drip, drip and drip. I felt my nice neighbour was suggesting something so I decided to pretend to be a real man. And went  to investigate.

Water was indeed dripping into the overflow but I could see the problem. That white plasticky thing needed tightened.  To most men, that would be simple….’to most men’….were I to be buried (once dead) ‘needing tightened’ are two of the many words I want tattooed on my gravestone. Five minutes later I had snapped my ballcock and jammed my stopcock. 😦 So I stopped. I know when I’m beat. Alex was phoned. Alex still hasn’t got back to me but he does need to be working on this side of the city before he does that.

So I improvised. A saucepan. And it works but I thought even better. A shower attachment from B & Q. Which along with the petrol station at Morrison’s is now self scan……’s a great way of getting to know the assistant. Except at Morrison’s where this large booming voice called out to me at Pump Twelve and talked me through it. As if I was a cretin. No. No comment.

But I passed the test and came home and fitted the hose only to have it squirt its way away from its mooring and to cascade all over a pair of denims. Which I was wearing. Only for the doorbell to ring (once)and the postman to be standing there with a parcel. ‘It’s the stopcock,’ I said. He smiled that knowing smile, which says. ‘there’s one on every round but never this early in the day…….’

Alex, please phone. Please come and see me. I won’t ask where you’ve been. Nor nothing.

Incidentally someone suggested emptying the contents of the dishes basin into the cistern. I am tempted to leave the fish head in just to worry Alex.

So when Study Buddie Fi told me she had taken Jay the Boy Wonder to the vet and her dog to the opticians, I could say nothing. I’ve been to the Orkney Isles before. Amongst other things I researched a TV doc on an old Englishman who lived on the island of Hoy called Harry Berry. The doc was called ‘The Old Man of Hoy’. Can’t think why. Hoy, itself, was a strangely frightening place, altho’ that could have been because my bed in the former primary school that served as a hotel still had a rubber blanket put there because of a strange nocturnal habit the previous occupant had. Two days before I noticed since you ask. 😦

And finally can I wish a big good luck to the good Doctor W who has taken to the streets of North Lanarkshire in her bid to stop children. I revisited the scene of our Summertime lesbian experience recently. It’ll be coming to the silver screen soon…….. 😉

Cya, keep(ing it fun) and still wearing that badge? The theatre in Easterhouse, where the scenes were recorded, recognised it.

Johnt850, who last week found that the two pubs at each end of the Shandwick Shopping centre are still called Griers and the Centaur. Some things never change. Except I didn’t go in. I went to the library. Instead. But Bingham’s was closed down this week.

Some of you may have noticed a piece in the Herald of Glasgow about this place and the plans for it as outlined by a smashing family friend called Jackie who comes from a smashing family. It’s basically a centre for children with learning difficulties but the site says so much more.

Many, many years ago I took Son Brian to see his first ever football match – Clydebank v Falkirk – which was one of the most emotional days of my life (*eyes misting up as I speak*) and soon time I hope to take Jay and Study Buddie Fi to see a Partick Thistle match. (Fi without a fag for three hours?…..Maryhill you have been warned, but Happy Birthday, this week XX 🙂

Davie died seventeen years ago last week and I was in an office at the BBC when the news came over the radio. I left the office and cried.

I am grateful to Son Brian for many things. Including this

Footie fans and non-footie fans, please watch and mourn a great footballing talent, and a nice guy to spend time with.



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