Headspin

From a week past Sunday to Saturday just passed i worked 62 hours, all manual, all pretty flippin tiring. So i was knackered and ready for a quiet night in front o a good film and maybe a glass or two o the vino. What my body really didnae need was to hook wi Giz an Mand in the Nix then head on up to Headspin at the Bongo Club.

But bugger ma body (no really), a proper night out was what the soul craved and that's precisely what it got. I used to be a bit o a Headspin regular but frequent long trips to Goa, the erm...ageing process and a distinct shortage o funds of late meant i hadnae darkened the Bongo's door since Halloween. I'd clearly forgotten how much fun you can have in a dark, sweaty room wi a friendly bunch o like minded groovers.

Like most o ma pals, my favourite Headspin nights have tended to be when the residents hold court - big name guests often disappoint and, while it's ay good to meet a different crowd o punters, sometimes the star gazing types dinnae really engage wi the ethos and detract a bit fae the barry random vibe. (Or maybe i'm just an elitist ersepiece who envies students their youth and vitality.)

Anyway, Saturday was a different kettle o coconuts cos the guest in toon was DJ Format. Not only is he a right decent gadge who supports his home team even though they're gash, he also spun some well tasty choons in the right order and segued supremely. In my no too humble opinion, Format was the best guest at Headpsin in living memory. Clearly my memory's been shredded by too many nights in clubs and no enough kip but hey, i have no higher accolade to offer.

The truly keech pic above was taken on my mobie and does nae justice whatsoever to what was really goin on.

Twas great to let ma suede headed hair doon, dance my skinny ass off and talk pish to peeps i hadnae seen in ages plus a few i'd never met. Though work yesterday was a bitto a struggle (too may kg's to too many top floor flats), my soul was refreshed by a wee wash in the Headspin waters and i'll try no to leave it as long til i'm back next time.

No really sure what soul is by the way, but i ken i've got it.

The Heelans

Last week i was lucky enough to be driven round bits of the Highlands as part of an assessment for the tour guide/bus driver job thingy. We had 3 sparklingly still, blue-skied days to keek at frozen lochs and snow topped peaks and it all looked flippin beautiful. Our driver guide was funny, informative and sympathetic to the demands of a varied group of youngish singles and middle youth couples from Australia, USA, India, China and Sooth Efrikay.

I right wanna do the same job as her but the bams (groovy peeps really) who run the outfit are draggin matters out to the point that i'm braced firra knock back. Reckon they're all too damn nice to gimme the kb and imagine them all huddled round a phone givin it "Aw goan you phone and let him down gently. Goan. Please." Or mibbies they sussed me for a fud and binned my application as soon as the bus got back to Embra.

Hmm...i dinnae do patience well and hate when matters are out my own hands.

In the meantime, the pic at the top is of Buachaille Etive Mor (the Bookle) as seen through the front bus windae - better than the view from every office i've ever worked in.

Below's the view west from Rannoch Moor. Chilly but cool and proof that it's no always shite being Scottish.

This next yin's how Eilan Donan looked. It's probs the corniest castle in Scotland, i could almost smell the shortbread but hey, you've gotta love it.

Here are the Black Cuilins from Slighachan where we had a wee picnic and lobbed lumps of frozen ice at each other (in a friendly way, natch).

And finally, a wee view sorta north towards the Old Man of Storr.

So come on phone - ring now, ya bugger ye!

H.A.P.P.Y.

Despite bein a generally dour fecker, i can be annoyingly chirpy at times and right now's one o them. Winter's clearly essential in the big scheme o stuff but when you've been skint in the dark and cold since the end of October, it seems only fair that things should change a bit come March. And change appears to be happenin.

Yesterday i went wi the cool gardenin crew from Dr Neil's to Cambo Gardens firra gawp at their world class woodland snowdrop collection (some of which is shown above). In my ignorance, i didnae realise how many thoosands of snowdrop varieties there are or how spectacular they can look mixed in woods wi crocuses and other early risers. Cambo's a groovy wee spot on the East Neuk and i'll def make the effort to get back there in summer to check the roses and prairie grasses in its walled garden. 

On the way back we grabbed a bit strollin action in Anstruther and Pittenweem. Flippin barry and the chips were nane too shabby anaw (tho slightly let doon by overly broon chippy sauce).

So, filled wi the joys o Spring and Fife and that, i also scheduled in a coupla def gardenin jobs for Thursday and Friday this week, a very probable 2 day gardenin makeover for the tail end o next week and a definite 3 day assessment trip wi backpackers to Glencoe, Inverness and Skye for the start o next week. If i like them (i love awkunt) and they like me (who wouldnae?) i might well be doin the tours thing as a proper job in the very near future.

I'm jumpin aroon like a bairn on chrimbo eve right noo. Things are so damn fab, i've even just been called by ma supermarket boss to say i can have an unexpected night off the night. This means me an ma lovely lemon curd can use the voucher we won at an LGBT fundraiser last Sat for a free meal fir 2 wi wine chucked in anaw.

Tasty weather, mair work than i can shake a stick at and now free scran and wine? Sometimes i feel like throwin ma hands up in the air....

Bummer footnoote: things woulda been so very much better if Michael Foot had beaten Thatcher in the 1983 general election and i've just read this. At least Mikey got to have a decent kick at the baw so i'm still happy.