Archive for the ‘Recovery’ Category

We see people brand new people They’re something to see When we’re nightclubbing Bright-white clubbing Oh isn’t it wild? (Iggy Pop)

November 16, 2018

And I managed to get that track into a Radio 5 documentary I once did about what was happening to Glasgow post Year of Culture. 😀

And so dear listener, this may well be a shorter blog again this week.

Various things are happening and occasionally my attention is elsewhere. But that does not mean that good things are not happening. 😉

For example…….

Recently I, and the other member of the book club, read a smashing book called ‘our house’ by Louise Candlish. Now whilst I have Twitter, I’m not the biggest fan of it (JohnTho64114434 since you ask) but I do follow @OrkneyLibrary.

About a week ago, I couldn’t help but notice that their own book club had selected ‘our house’ as their book of the month, so I quickly tweeted how good a book it was and how much I’d enjoyed it. Ten minutes later I got a ‘like’ from @LouiseCandlish…….the author!!!!!!! 😀 😀 😀

I’d not noticed her name in the thread (as we call it). My legs went giddy.

Sometimes there is a reason for social media. 🙂

And the editing’s going well at the moment and people are actually getting back to me and saying how pleased they are with what I’ve done for them…..and they pay pretty quickly…….and there is an Out of Office up on my mail altho’ I’m not but if I can, I will.

And whilst I appreciated much of the coverage by the BBC and other broadcasters of all the Remembrance Day stuff, I am annoyed at one piece.

Brilliant portraits on beaches of people who were involved in conflict and described on the BBC Website as eleven soldiers. At least one was a medical person.

I’m talking about St Andrew’s Beach and the portrait of Dr Elsie Maud Inglis (Aug 16 1864 to November 26 1917). Described as ‘a suffragist and campaogner’ Indian-born Elsie trained as a surgeon and was sent to Serbia and Russia, but died from a terminal illness. At least the Daily Record got it right and I think the Northern Ireland beach portrait was a nurse……..

But then I’ve got a lot of time for medical people just now as, apart from anything else, the nurses at Maryhill Health Centre still ask to see me from time to time. Yes. My blood pressure is still a bit high at the moment but thanks for asking. 🙂

Breaking News: I have an MRI Scan at the Royal at the end of this month.

And I’ve been down the Beatson Cancer Centre quite a lot recently, doing some visiting, and some of you may have seen me post, on Facebook, a wee pic of Bingham’s Pond (to give it its official name) around which I walked before my own successful treatment of about ten years ago and still do a wee bit now as well……..settling, so it is. 🙂

And then I go in and sit for a while and on this occasion I was sat next to a nurse who was wearing a lanyard with the word ‘Catwalk’ on it. So I asked her what it was.

Older listeners, do you remember the Catwalk Rock Lounge at the bottom of Union Street? For that was the Catwalk being referred to.

It was in Union Street and was a sibling of the Cathouse and the Garage. I talked about a place called the Solid Rock Café in Hope Street. She met that with Volcano and a place called Inferno’s – she thought it was called. Was that the converted church in Pitt Street? I threw in Clatty Pat’s and Bonkers Show Bar but I don’t think she was too impressed by Bonkers. And no, there is no payoff or punchline…….I don’t think, but she was called Irene……… 😉

And finally, Doctor Who is doing my head in. I do not watch it for nice wee dramas about the partition of India in 1947. I watch it for running up and down corridors and monster/aliens/whatevers that won’t let me sleep, like the Weeping Angels, not those very nice Demons of the Punjab who look after those who die alone. They were supposed to be assassins, fgs (for goodness sake – it’s a new TLA, I’ve invented)

Tioraidh, still wearing that badge (altho’ I almost lost one) and still keeping it simple

Iaint850, and Joanna’s was just before my time and well before hers.

And just a wee quick word on the PM’s Brexit plan.

It was a plan, wasn’t it? All I’ll say is that, a few weeks after my divorce, I gave back some of the CDs. A wee bit of give, a wee bit of take and a little compromise is all we need and we’re there.

So Irene was more a rock chick and I’m more of a country boy these days so let’s go with the Pretenders – in case there was any misunderstanding.

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My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance (Erma Bombeck)

May 3, 2018

And so dear listener, this week I read The Long Drop by Denise Mina. It’s a fictional account of a strange but true event when a man called William Watt spent an afternoon and evening drinking in the company of a man called Peter Manuel who was later found guilty of murdering the Watt family but not William who happened to be out of the house that night. But what I found fascinating was the insight into a Glasgow that was having difficulty in thinking of changing – when motorways were a doodle on someone’s foolscap pad and when, at times, there was not much to choose between crooks and cops. 😉

And the Daily Record had an amazing character called Pat Roller (say it out loud) who must have been the last man to leave the office as he had to make the final calls round all the police stations for that last story from whoever happened to answer the phone. No press officers then.

All these things happened a long time before I came to university in Glasgow. And stayed. But my family had connections. In the Milton*. And we came down on holiday.

*Maybe, j, that’s where the ‘the’ in the ASDA came from.

Loads of memories;

Possibly, having just attained double figures in years, walking back with my dad through Cowcaddens – a dark and dismal place then – on a Saturday night and buying Sunday’s papers.

And, probably the same age, being on the subway (Glaswegians do not call it the Clockwork Orange) and seeing a young girl of South Asian origin and thinking how beautiful she looked. Where was she from I wondered? She got off at Kelvinbridge.

Ah memories but much more recent was my own (successful) treatment for prostate cancer, so it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I sat down to watch The Cancer Hospital – BBC Scotland’s look at the work of Glasgow’s Beatson Hospital which this week looked at prostate cancer. It was an excellent programme and brought back a lot of memories – most of them good. 😀 😀 😀

As I mentioned on Facebook it is now ten years since I was halfway through my own radiotherapy which was preceded by several months of hormone injections and, yes, as one of the guys said in the programme, it was like the menopause (according to my ex-wife) and I put my current hot flushes and weight gain down to that. ):

But my memories of the actual treatment are still strong; that small sheet which was intended as a modesty cover which we gave up on after two or three days cos, at that point, I couldn’t even raise a smile. And occasionally the radiotheraper had to use a felt pen to highlight the tattoos and as one nurse said, ‘we can’t see the wood for the trees.’ But the trees were zapped out of the way quite quickly and that’s how they’ve stayed. And then the nuclear klaxon would go and the radiotherapers would run out of the room and I’d be left for ten minutes – rigid – to let the machine do its best. It worked. 😀 😀 😀

And then that moment (and I can feel the tears starting now) when, three months after the treatment finished, my son and his kinda step-dad came down with me to the Beatson and met the consultant and I was given the All Clear. 😀 😀 😀

We know that not everyone can be that fortunate but the one thing that everyone (almost) who goes through the cancer experience agrees on is the dedication of the NHS staff who do such a brilliant job. That’s why I get annoyed every time a Health Secretary or Shadow Health Secretary or publicity seeking co*kwomble goes to a hospital looking for a photo-op. I wonder how many lives could be saved if the doctors and nurses could get back on the wards.

Anyway, I cried at some of the stories…..well, all of them..

And finally, Minimum Unit Pricing policy has arrived in Scotland after a long fight against vested interests. It may not be the ‘silver bullet’ which was bandied about this week (I don’t see how increasing the price of Frostie Jack will kill vampires but who knows) but research (for example, University of Sheffield, the Finnish (sp) Government and the World Health Organisation) suggests it will.

What difference would it have made to me? I do know that I was easily getting through a bottle of whisky each day and had started to move to much cheaper brands…….Price does make a difference.

I cried at some of the stories on the news programmes that night. Worthwhile photo-ops I thought

Tioraidh, still wearing that badge and trying hard to keep it simple.

Iaint850, been doing a lot of crying this week. It’s what happens when the prostate cancer menopause finally hits you.

Some listeners may remember a few weeks back that I explained that my sister was treating me to a deep clean of my house as an early birthday present. Since I came out of hospital, I’ve maybe not given it the attention it deserves……and I live on my own (I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that before) and there has been lack of, how can I put it nicely, ‘temporary visitors’ but fostering a dog has been mentioned.

So (oops) I contacted a company and someone came round at the agreed time and looked my house over. OMG! What an unnerving experience! She was good and professional but,

‘we’ll need to see what we can do.’ and ‘when was the cooker last cleaned?’ and ‘do you want the kitchen cupboards cleaned? I think we should.’….I mean she was very pleasant and they bring their own vacuum cleaner (cos mine’s rubbish) and there will be three of them and then – after she’d gone – I’d another wee look around. Surely it’s not that long since I cleaned the shower cubicle, is it? Skippy?

I’ll get that done tonight.

She also asked if I’d had the place deep cleaned before.

When I was in hospital eleven and a bit years ago, the family and friends who were tidying up parts of my life, arranged for some folk to come in to clean and tidy the house. I’ve never asked why. Maybe it was something to do with my fight with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It took place over the entire house. And I won. 🙂

This is Meghan Linsey’s cover version of the One Republic track – Counting Stars – and it’s brilliant.

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water. (Reiner)

March 1, 2018

And so dear listener, I was going to write about this being the tenth anniversary of me starting my radiotherapy and how it worked for me, and prostate cancer. But I’ve calmed down a wee bit since I heard Stephen Fry say this;

‘One (option) was for radiotherapy but that was a really long and difficult process. I mean it’s fine for some people but there are a number of issues with it for me.’

And he did not explain what those issues were. 😦

Jeffery Archer, Michael Parkinson and friend and media academic Ken Garner did explain their reasons this week for not choosing radiotherapy and that’s cool. The trust in your consultant was also important for me. And radiotherapy does take a long time but I was only 52/53 and had plans for my prostate. 🙂

I chose to go NHS (and met a brilliant bunch of men and women) and I chose radiotherapy; Stephen chose a different route and a different treatment.

And incidentally, Stephen, the word is ‘penis’ – not ‘todger’. I had to look that up.

Best wishes, Stephen, and I hope it all goes well for you. And I take great hope from the fact that you married someone thirty years younger than you. Well, I’m not so sure about the marriage bit but other than that, thanks for the encouragement. 🙂

Naw, there are much more interesting people to write about – people who contribute much more to society. 😀

Selfishly, for example, how would the ambulance and paramedics have got to me the other early morning in the conditions we’ve had this week? I suspect they would have managed. 🙂

And my neighbour across the road who is a home help has just walked down the road to join the Cordia cars (an arm’s length organisation from the council who provide peripatetic social care) to see what they can do to help despite the bad weather.

And Carol who works in an old folks home who seems to have just stayed there and continued to look after the folk in her care. 🙂 As did many people in health and social care or who worked in a different project from usual but closer to home.

I used to park my car at the bottom of the hill so at least I could get in. And there was one lovely winter’s morning when I finally got away at 4.30 but the taxi I got couldn’t take me up the hill but it was such a lovely walk – just me and the foxes and the street lamps reflecting in the snow. 😀

And I realised just how bad the weather was on Wednesday when I went out to the blue bin and couldn’t get back to the house. Seriously. I turned round to go to the door and the blizzarding snow hit me full frontal and I could not see through my glasses and I started to bump into other bins amidst snow that was several feet deep cos that was how deep the wind had blown it. I have four. All different colours. 🙂

It was blue bin day on Thursday but none of my neighbours bothered – so I didn’t. The snow in the cul-de-sac was really deep. The wind has nowhere to blow the snow so it’s just piled up.

And I did have an important meeting on Thursday which I had to cancel (well a good friend I hadn’t seen for some time) but I knew it wasn’t going to happen when, on Tuesday afternoon, Scotrail told me they were cancelling Summerston trains on Wednesday and Thursday.

And I think this is where Facebook and other social media have come into their own. I saw people with 4 x 4s offering to help people if they needed to go to hospital; people whose gardens (somehow) backed on to the M80 telling people to come in for cups of tea and pizza; and of course telling the world to tell homeless people where to go for shelter but homeless people – whether they’re in B & Bs which kick them out at nine in the morning, or supported accommodation which doesn’t, or hostels which are dry and safe away from nosey social workers wanting to do good (lol), or rough sleeping – are here all year round.

And finally, a tribute to all those people at Groupon who, no matter what the weather or the time of day, stick to their task of advising me of all their offers.

Tioraidh, still wearing that badge and still keeping it simple

Iaint850, dangerously close to running out of chocolate – where is that ice cream van?

On Friday all the folk in the cul-de-sac where I live got out and started clearing the snow from the actual street and I did join them but wasn’t allowed to do any work. However, I now have a wee path from my front door to the road. So I decided to make use of the path in the afternoon and go for a wee walk with my neighbour and her wee dog who disappeared in the snow.

We had barely made it into the next street when we realised that there was a lot of slithering going on as cars tried to cope with going up and down a treacherous hill. Again I wasn’t allowed to help with pushing (I feel a fraud) but looked after the wee dog.

Later that afternoon a woman in a red anorak, who I do not know, delivered milk, bread, cold meat, soup and home made cakes. The message? ‘Mary told me to get them’ and she did the same for across the road……..What Can I say?

So here’s a wee joke to cheer you up and I’m giving credit to friend Rosie for it.

A weasel walks into a bar. The bartender looks up and says, ‘In all my years of tending bars, I’ve never, ever served a weasel. What can I get you to drink?’

‘Pop’, goes the weasel.

And just to mark how bad the weather was this week, here’s the Beach Boys with White Out

What? Seriously? Well, it’s too late now.

Helping one person might not change the whole world, but it could change the world for one person (anon I think)

February 22, 2018

And so dear listener, I now know what the Tyre Pressure light looks like on my car’s dashboard. And what it does.

And it stays on despite switching the car on and off four times. 😦

It tells me that I have a screw impaled in the tyre on the driver’s side and I ain’t going anywhere. 😦

I phoned the AA (Automobile Association) and they came out and asked if I had a spare tyre and I said no I had a kit (cos new cars don’t have spare tyres) and we just looked at each other and it was a Sunday morning and so he drove me down to a well-known tyre and exhaust centre in Anniesland and they were very good (and you didn’t expect me to say that, did you?).

Now it may have helped that I was their first customer on a Sunday morning and I told them exactly what I wanted and I did not leave the place until it was all done and it only took twenty minutes and it was a wee bit more expensive that I’d like to have paid at the moment but, hey, it’s done. 🙂

And I remained calm and sanguine for the whole morning which I think was good. And that was one of the most pleasing aspects of the whole incident. And went home and ate oat cakes and humous. 😀

But I am quite calm about the whole heart assault affair. I’ve now been to my GP and discussed various aspects of it all and now have an amazing list of repeat prescriptions BUT can I stress it is a very boring list and there are no benzos or opiates amongst them? And the only legal psychoactive drug I take is caffeinated coffee. The other legal psychoactive drugs are alcohol and tobacco and amyl nitrate poppers. It was the Queen who decided. Except she didn’t actually mention amyl nitrate poppers in that particular Queen’s Speech. But they are legal.

And I did see pictures of former Rangers player Nacho Novo who had bad heart attacks and now wears a defibrillator vest in case his heart stops and it can start again. I have a spray which I should maybe explain to people. And start carrying with me.

But I’ve started flyering again for the business side of my life and it’s been good cos I’m making it part of my walking regime and Glasgow is dead hilly. As in the Adam Smith Building is up a hill but I did do Glasgow Caledonian University and it’s not but thought I’d save Strathclyde for another day. But there are two UWSs to do and a lot more of Glasgow University and maybe one day, I’ll daytrip Embra. Anybody want to come with me?

Maybe after the lecturers’ strike when students might see them?

http://www.thewordprocess.net

And finally, I have been and gone and went into the Royal Concert Hall and bought some tickets for Aye Write but I’m not going to say for whom – as in who I am going to go and see.

However, if you have recommended someone to me in any way at all and you attend the event, I intend to sit behind you. You have been warned. 😉

Tioraidh, still wearing that badge and wondering if I am still keeping it simple

Iaint850, and all is subject to the weather as I have no idea what the next day forecasts are these days as the weather forecasters are too busy competing with each other to predict what’s happening next week.

So (and that’s a great broadcasting word), as I’ve already explained, I’m making attempts to get out more but in the meantime I’m watching more TV in the evenings than I normally would and I have to pay full credit to some real TV last Monday.

BBC’s Reporting Scotland led the way with an interview with Neil Lennon who recalled playing for Crewe alongside some of those who had been abused by Barry Bennell and a caravan at the bottom of someone’s garden which seemed to mean more now than it did at the time. Neil had been Andy Woodward’s best man at Andy’s first wedding.

Channel 4’s Despatches put an experienced mental health worker into a private medical facility used by the NHS as they just don’t have enough beds. She lasted just six days; I found it hard to last more than six minutes cos of the screams from the patients as they reacted to their treatment from staff. But I did.

On the other side tho’…..when I worked in social care, if I pressed my alarm button I was not looking for a colleague to come to my aid, but a goodly number of police officers. And they did.

A horrific programme.

And then there was one of these police reality programmes which had been well trailed so it came as no real surprise when the blackmailer turned out to be one of the policemen on the case but the surprise was that the cameras kept rolling. None of the police people objected.

Fascinating TV and a sign of the issues that are out there that are being faced by people who keep saying to each other, ‘I couldn’t do your job.’ But they do their own. And I wouldn’t.

So tonight’s choice of music is for anyone out there in social or health care who had hoped for a quick handover to the next shift but then all hell broke loose or someone’s life was at risk and you’d to stay on and help keep your colleagues safe.

It’s Black Lace and it’s the Christmas night out (or maybe there’s another reason);

I’m sorry. This was up next. The Zombie night at M & Ds! What a pelvic thrust she had!!!!!!!! No. I still don’t know what happened. But you’ll be up dancing! I know I will be! And it was also how Saturday nights finished at Clydebank Football Club Social Club upstairs in the Hampden Lounge

‘A friend is what the heart needs all the time’ (Henry Van Dyke)

February 2, 2018

And so dear listener, this ain’t the usual blog. Apart from anything else it’s not as structured as usual. 🙂

Seriously. I know that in many years from now some literature academic will stumble over these shows and give them the credit they deserve as an exceptional piece of writing.

That and the Facebook postings of 2018 when in a matter of days I charted a journey from antibiotics that I thought I was allergic to but I was actually having a ‘small heart attack’ and back out the other end with more tests ahead of me. Thanks to all who followed the action and responded.

Basically it was a slow heart attack but it can kill and altho’ I’ve been trained to perform CPR and mouth to mouth I don’t know how to do it to myself over a period of time (and I don’t think that sentence says what I wanted it to)

And tonight as I looked at the metaphorical blank sheet of paper in the typewriter I just burst into tears. You forget the emotional side of recovery, don’t you? Here I go again. The physical begins with a walk around the graveyard and the mental, for me, is dealt with by hammering out 1,000 words on a weekly basis and talking (or rambling) to friends. Well it worked for prostate cancer and alcohol dependency.

But this time it’s been a wee bit different. Oh, my 999 call early morning was there again and I slightly surprised the call handler by having the front door open for the ambulance folk and having my prescriptions to hand and, and, and so on and I was driven to the Royal Infirmary after the ambulance folk had done tests and I stayed there for a few days in a ward I can never forget and I’ll tell you about that in a few weeks and then transferred to the Golden Jubilee and then that moment when I was told by the consultant that I could go home (twelve days on) and I kept looking over his shoulder at the nurse who kept nodding assent but with a smile on her face.

So my arteries are fine, the leak in my aortic valve is a mild to moderate risk but the blood pressure needs to be watched. I have a cardiac rehabilitation programme to follow and some outpatienting to do.

But I’m sleeping so much better.

Oh and those sample bottles full of urine and the toast at nine o’clock at night and the blood tests at 6.30 morning and night and those gowns that I had to wear until they no longer needed easy access to my body (eh?) and that mobile tracking device I had to wear even when I went to the loo.

And I think it’s worth saying that it’s been a wee while since I’ve been in the company of mostly women and not fallen in love at least once.

And I told folk I am going to write a Rom Com set in a Coronary Care Unit and fellow blogger Jill came up with a very simple plot which I think would work. And I wrote down some amazing quotes. And I witnessed some amazing patience (and that’s the correct spelling) where incontinence and possible dementia were concerned and I have no criticism of any individual, system or institution – just amazement at how nurses and auxiliaries just wipe things down and get on with it.

I mean I did ten or so days in a detox ward in Gartnavel about eleven years ago and that was pretty scary and the thirty-seven days I did as a Cancer outpatient getting daily radiotherapy were pretty straightforward which is not to diminish cancer treatment but I got to drive home at speed after each treatment. Here I’ve got to wait four weeks before I can drive again. And then I can get a much needed haircut.

So if you’re mobile and in the area – I do need some help with shopping and getting out for walks.

(Yes, I’ve been alcoholically dependent, had bad prostate cancer and now a heart attack……..and I’m still here)

But, yet again, people are helping and yet again I will get on with it because I am young and still have a lot of living to do and a lot to learn. The invites are in the post even as I write.…….and should you ever find yourself in Summerston, please get in touch but bring your own bottle – sample or otherwise.

Tioraidh, so, possibly adding to the badges but so glad I keep it simple.

Iaint850 and much humbled by what I’ve seen.

And after all that there is only one piece of music I can play even if it is badly lip synched. Here’s Feargal Sharkey (and just click on the YouTube bit)

“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!” ― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

December 14, 2017

And so dear listener can I just say a big thanks to all those who commented in some way on last week’s blog. Most people offered some variation of ‘Well done’ and some updated me on their own roads to recovery. I am proud of what I’ve achieved but am never arrogant. Too many people have been involved in my recovery to allow that and I can never forget that. 🙂

Thanks.

And the weather’s been a real pain hasn’t it? Forecasts are too accurate and too fast moving – they change so quickly – so what I do (on either BBC Scotland or STV) is just to stare at the bit that is Glasgow or Paisley and watch while Judith or Gillian or Kawser (or Sean) tells us what’s happening as the clock and the wind move. That’s good enough for me.

But stuff all those people earning money for their opinions on the weather in the papers. None of them can ever replicate or beat the words of the master poet Bud Neil;

Winter’s come, the snow has fell

Wee Josie’s nose is froze as well

Wee Josie’s frozen nose is skintit

Winter’s diabolic, intit?

But it shouldn’t affect me too much should it? After all my current work/lifestyle is based on earnings from the editing I do but that’s been presenting problems. Let’s leave the question of me working in Latex for a moment.

It’s the person who approached me at the weekend with 80,000 words (not all written yet) and who, when I told him what my fee was, suggested reducing it by about 50% because of the number of words and he thought they were good ones. 😦

Aye, but they weren’t in the right order or they were made up or were too complicated AND the second sentence was about nine lines long with an amazing number of clauses. It was appalling and you got a sense that he was not expecting that many changes cos it was ‘a good piece of writing’. Yet this person’s doing a PhD. 😦

I made an excuse and left.

But did I actually want to do a PhD? No. No really (which is still my favourite knockback of all time – well the last eleven years). Actually, I did. I just get annoyed when I see money talking like that. Bitter. And twisted.

But I have started eating a little meat. I had some chicken recently. Somebody told me it was fowl but I thought it tasted okay.;)

But back to the weather. Yup. I miss summer.

This gratuitous piece of music reminds me of summers in my home town of Peterhead when I was much, much younger.

But still talking of the weather, I took a delivery, like many, from the Rainforestriverpeople and thought nothing of going out in the rain to collect it. Ten minutes later I had collected all the wrapping (seriously….. just ten minutes) and went out to the bin and OMG, Son Brian came very close to collecting his inheritance a wee bit before I intended it – it was that icy!

And I hate that Beagle Street advert – the one where the wimp stops sorting out the kitchen in their new flat just cos his girlfriend wants him to sort out life insurance cos Emma (!) says so! Don’t be such a wimp! Finish the kitchen first! Or has she booby-trapped it?

And finally, on behalf of all those doing things to help all those skippering out there, can I just say that numbers actually reduce at this time of year cos of brilliant places like the Glasgow City Mission who run a night shelter from the beginning of December until the end of March, but the homeless are with us fifty-two weeks of the year. Either as rough sleepers, living with their kids in B & Bs, staying in projects like the Blue Triangle where I worked or in hostels and shelters on a nightly basis where, altho’ these places sometimes get a bad press, they feel really safe. Fifty-two weeks of the year.

Tioraidh, still happily and friendlily wearing that badge and keeping it simple.

Iaint850, about to start my revolutions for 2018

So the next two blogs are the special ones for this time of year and I may have to put them out early cos one’s due on Christmas Eve and one’s due on Hogmanay (which, for the first time in four years will not be spent (by me) in a homeless project in Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow).

The first is the annual Christmas Cracker edition of the blog.

For example;

My dad used to be a road worker and had been accused of stealing from his job. Obviously I didn’t believe all the accusers but, when I got home, all the signs were there.

(RIP Keith Chegwin)

And the final one of the year is the Annual Blog Personality of the Year and nominations for all the various prizes are open to anyone and everyone – regardless of how well you know me – but that was a good shout, e.

And many newspapers and broadcasters have been pulling together the best Christmas songs of all time – but it’s all been Slade or Bing Crosby and David Bowie or the Pogues. This is much more traditional and has always been one of my favourites. The tempo change quite early in and reminds me of Steve Earle and Copperhead Road. 🙂

Listeners, this is Annie Lennox, GCU’s first female chancellor.