Recovery should be enjoyed, not endured………

And just minutes after this blog gets posted on Facebook (kinda its official publication) I’m off to an event down Dunbartonshire way which seeks to provide an evening out for many people, like myself, who don’t drink or do drugs. Amongst other highlights, there’s a karaoke disco.

Ask yourselves, dear listeners; have you ever spent the night doing karaoke or disco dancing without a drink in you? Some sober tasks are harder than others. I’ll let you know how I get on. It used to be Summertime Blues but that was a long time ago.

The wee line above is the tagline they have used for the event. It means there will be lots of happy smiling faces tonight 😀 and not people full of doom and gloom, going ‘woe is me’ 😦

For me, I suppose, it’s one way of celebrating one part of the Domination Degree being over. I have now done eight interviews – two of which have still to be transcribed – and then it’s a matter of thematic coding (No. Me neither) and then it’s the writing. I make the point again that soontime I will become more or less a hermit for about five to six weeks (weddings excluded) and that I am keen to catch up with some folk.

(It is at this point, a form of paranoia kicks in where I worry in case I’ve said something not nice to someone by one of the many means of communication I use – or even worse – not said something).

Mind you I’ve been a wee bit remiss. There’s not been a meeting of the High Council for some time. Actually, some people have been saying; Is the Vampire Slayer okay? Watch this space.

But I need to lose weight – kilt wearing or no kilt-wearing. There are at least two pairs of denims where I cannot do the top button. This time last year I was getting into waist size 30 no problem. What is the difference between then and now? Yup. I’m not walking as much; I’m eating too much chocolate and too many crisps: there’s not enuff tuna in my diet 😉 ; and I’m watching too much TV.

Speaking of which….whilst the nation was getting ready for its apoplexy at the sight of John Terry coming on fully-kitted after the game was over, me and the man they call Bean, and newly appointed dad Dougie L, and one or two others were watching a smashing football match on BBC Alba between Alloa and Dunfermline – a gem of a game. Over the years Dunfermline, like many other teams, have spent too much on mediocre players, but one of the sights that will remain with me for ever, after we’d played them in Dunfermline, was all the coke and pie-sellers (aged 16-17 ish) hanging around after the game waiting to get paid.

And I’d like to say a big thanks to young AJ for holding my hand as he walked alone along that big wall. I wasn’t scared that he’d fall – no. not me – I still have panther-like reflexes. At least in Hillhead Librray, but that dear listener is for another day.

And finally, a few months ago, the Good Dr W ran a challenge called Tough Mudder (see http://toughmudder.com/ for a frightening video about what’s involved). The main beneficiary was a charity called Help for Heroes and I had purchased a wrist band in their name. A good friend of mine harrumphed; ‘Hadn’t I seen the Newsnight where the charity was accused of ‘mis-spending funds?’’ No, I hadn’t and continued to wear the band. This week Newsnight apologised. I owe my good friend £15. I’m sure he won’t mind if I give it to Help for Heroes and I’m sure he’ll match it……

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes, but maybe not tonight.

Johnt850, for once not looking at himself in mirrors

So a few days ago a musician friend sent me a copy of his latest CD, which I will plug shamelessly on another occasion.

I’d known him at school and he also sent me a programme from a school performance of Orpheus in the Underworld in which I played Mercury, Messenger of the Gods. I genuinely don’t remember much about it other than I was given aluminium wings for my legs to give the impression of running through the sky.

I did no rehearsals with them and wore them for the first night. They tore my legs to shreds. They still had rough edges. Maybe they were put together by the tech teacher I’d once thrown a block of wood at. The bastard getting his own back.

But even then I had an ego and played it all for sympathy. I kept going much to the adulation of (some of) the female extras in the chorus. But the following night, they were made of light cardboard. These days I might sue for some form of compensation but we were a tougher breed then. Our thoughts were solely on the fact that we would not be able to get to the pub before it shut and hopeful that someone had got some cans in for the dressing room. Happy daze.

Wonder whatever happened to Anne Forman, AndreaTocher, Susan Tait, Gail Summers and Elizabeth Haywood? No. No reason.

This is The Who performing Summertime Blues on a quiet Sunday night in Monterey with no drink or drugs having been partaken obviously. Shows what you can do (the quality’s not bad for 1967);

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