Saturday, 31 October 2009


Jodie Foster's character (agent Starling?) put it pretty well in Silence of the Lambs (overrated apart fae Foster) when she said, "If you assume, you make an ass of u and me." Or somethin like that. Twas a visionary aphorism, spesh given it was dished in the dim and distant pre-text message era.

I've always assumed that a weed was simply any plant growing where it's not wanted. Well it is that of course, but according to the best English dictionary in the world, it's also "a skinny, feeble or ineffectual man".

During the long, damp summer of underemployment just passed i've no been very skinny but have often felt feeble and ineffectual. In any other recent week, that feeling mighta been reinforced by the other type o weed.

While removing unwanted items from a vast, tangled gravel path i spotted 3 alpine lookin plants which i reckoned would look okay planted up among a few winter pansies, violas and erm....other stuff. So i duly planked them into half an old whisky barrel only to be telt by my horticultural guru that the one pictured above is mos def a weed and the sooner i bin it the better. Part o me thinks sod it, i like it, it should stay but frankly, i'm still a gairdnin learner and it has to go.

So aye, that weed info woulda been a right bummer had it not followed hot on the heels of news that i've earned masel a proper non min wage, part time job. After a ridiculously complicated application form, full on psycho babble interview, drivin test and recommendation fae Cupar Debs (love you, honey) i've been accepted to start as a Customer Deliveries Assistant (delivery driver) for o the big bad supermarket companies.

Probs (def) wouldnae have been ma first choice but the future boss seems sound as a pound, the money's no bad, Debs digs it and the hours'll fit neatly wi the other activities i wanna develop. Oh - and beggars cannae be choosers. So next (first?) time you order groceries on-line get ready for a big Naldo sized chap on yer front door. You nivir know.

By the way, whatever happened to Jodie Foster?

Thursday, 22 October 2009

Cup Cakes

It's been a slow week - virtually naeb'dy wants gardens tended, walls painted, electric cabling replaced or even fish howked oot the sea. And absolutely naeb'dy wants software tested. Ho hum.

Working highlight of the week has been home delivering Chinese meals - always a pleasure to be the bearer of barry scran, but hours are anti-social, pay is keech and the gaps between deliveries are as dull as the SPL.

Social highlight of the week was gettin el reekio on Sunday in the really rather jolly Port O Leith. The Port has a fine selection of competitively priced bevvy, a jukie to die for and lenient yet clued up barstaff, all of which encourage the kinda clientele only a proper misanthrope could fail to love. And they let dugs in. Perfect.

Culinary highlight of the week was baking cup cakes - pictured above just after i'd scoffed yin. These may look like a drunk 2 year old wi a broken arm made them but they were in fact deliciously moist and chocolatey til i stuck them in the fridge for 24 hours (they went all stodgey). Ta very much indeed to Jelly for the inspiration - Jelly, your cakey obsession's a fine one to have and i'll see and keep this weekend's batch ootra fridge.

So here comes another weekend. "Weekend" loses much of its lustre when work's irregular but this one has Ruth and Ming's wedding to jazz things up a bit. Yeeahaar - bring on the ceilidh!

Friday, 16 October 2009

Ibrox Park And A Mystery Solved

Big SHOUT OUT! to Johnny for recognisin the ghosty wee gadge in the top right of the pic above. A version of her/him was sprayed on a wall at La Cala beach (Andalucia) and Johnny pinned it to "He Man And The Masters Of The Universe".

I'm way too old to have watched the telly prog but i've heard of Castle Greyskull. It's where those cuddly Glesca Rangers play their home games.

Can any of my Teddy Bear chums tell me which players are shown in the pic above? There's something bout the boy in the middle reminds me of Fernando Ricksen but i could be mistaken.

Thursday, 15 October 2009

Homage To Caledonia

The post title's pockled straight from the book by Daniel Gray about Scotland and the Spanish Civil War. I first spied it on Tocasaid, whose most recent post is the sorta thing i wish i could write masel. Well worth a peek.

It got right up my substantial hooter that the folks were way too staunch to ever take a family holiday in Spain while Franco ran the show. We hadnae been taught much about fascism at primary school and i couldnae see why a few "lucky" pals came back from summer holidays wi sun tans, sombreros and those big bull fight posters while i got a stick o rock and a Beaver's Club badge fae Butlins. To be fair, family holidays (even in Leven) were barry as a bairn, but i was ay a bit jealous o the crew who got to Spain.

Like my close shave wi private education, i'm now well chuffed (and unjustly smug) that i never went to fascist Spain. 34 years on, private education still puts a brake on equality but Spain's now an apparently shining example of modern, secular democracy (despite, or maybe even because of its King Juan Carlos). Nae doots, many citizens of Basque and elsewhere in Spain would argue that point.

But enough o that stuff.

We took our freebie in Spain last week to eat, drink, swim, read and run (a wee bit). The scran was ace, the wine was €1.85 a bottle, the sea and pool were refreshingly cool, i finished James Robertson's fantastic Fanatic and knackered ma good knee in the hilly terrain around La Cala de Mijas. We also took road trips to Ronda (pic'd above, looks no bad if ye click and enlarge) and to Nerja and we saw wheens o great graffiti, a wee selection of which is shown below.

Al and Mel D reckon this dude was on telly in the 80's but i've nae idea:

I like this even if my picture's a bit pish:

this is good anaw:

and finally, tis guid to note that the bullfighters arenae as macho as they mibby like to think they are:

Hats off to Enrique!

Saturday, 3 October 2009

Espania Porfavor

Today's been a guid yin (depsite ma team bein pish and gettin beat off St Mirren). All summer long, thanks to my rather wonderful mates (in collusion wi they econmy wreckin, pensioned up, bank chief fuckwits), i've done all kindsa crazy ass jobs that no middle aged office boy ever expects to get a crack at. I've been indulged by my skilled chums as labourer, learner, tea boy, driver and some time sad sack dead weight.

Today i struck out on ma ain and did my first coupla real jobs on behalf o " Naldo Gardening Services" (aka summat else). I cut grass, sheared privets, trimmed shrubs, snipped edges, shifted trampolines, hoed off moss, sawed out pampas, dead headed roses, swept up clippings and even advised on composting techniques. The punter cats seemed impressed. They made me coffee, offered biscuits, told me bout their D Day experiences and asked me back. I'll be back (a week on Monday).

And in the meantime, me, Mand, Meljo and Al are off to Andalucia for a free week's hol. Really. Meljo won it in a tombola at last year's Embra Tree Fest. So we'll be brushin up our Flamenco, whackin back the cervezas and guzzlin doon the tapas.

Naekunt digs a gloater and i do love yiz aw, but for a week at least, "consígalo bien arriba usted". In a nice way natch.

Gouranga, kiddywinks.