No Bad Bein a Scot

Ah've just come doon fae the Isle o Skye....It's late May and i didnae expect closed bridges, broken trees and a big fat lorry lyin on its side but shit like that happens when it blows a proper hoolie. Late May fir fuck sake and the scariest drive i've ever had. Aaaargh!

So ma hands and peepers were strugglin furiously to keep the bus on the road and ma mind wiz thinkin stuff this firra game o sodjers, i wanna move tae Goa. Made it back to base though to hook wi Mand an the Axminster firra coupla pints and as the beer slipped doon and the spraff flowed i slowly minded that it's really nane too shabby bein a Scot. And by 'Scot' i mean anyone livin in this wee spit o land in the north o Britain - many o the best yins mos def werenae born here.

Aye the weather's a challenge, the fitba's pish and there are societal challenges associated wi the politics o greed and religion. But maist cats i ken are cool as milk, we've got mair soul soothin scenery than you can shake a shitey stick at and we get the odd bit o barry news.

Like this pair:

Religion: the crusty auld Church o Scotland edges further and faster than many to the blindingly obvious realisation that it doesnae matter how consenting adults rub their rude bits the gither, if they wanna spread thon gospel pish that's good enough fir the Kirk. Check dis oot.

Whisky: not just the water of life, not just a massive earner for the (soon to be defunct) UK treasury, not just a means of employment for barley farmers, distillers, coopers, blenders, bottlers, drivers and erm tour guides but now also a potential source of biomass energy generation. Check oot dis. And that comes on top o dis from a year ago.

Aw guid i reckon.

PS time tae get ma camera back oot and chuck some snaps up here.

Kevin Keegan

It's a shite state of affairs that Scotland arenae in the World Cup (Tommy) and all the fresh air in the world in the world, etc.....but every cloud.....

I'd almost forgotten how much of a clown Kevin Keegan is til up he popped on Saturday with his pre-match prediction of a 4-1 win for England. I'd been lyin on the settee, feelin sorry for masel wi slightly dodgy guts when i heard that pish and near fell off said couch guffawin.

And Kev's got form when it comes to giein me a titter.

His rant against Ferguson was kinda tasty. But back in 1976, Superstars was the best thing on tv and when KK fell aff his bike and blew any chance o winnin, i'd truly learned the meaning of schadenfreude (tho i didnae ken it yet).

Thank you to that rude boy at De-evolving for mindin me o this. He's got a mucky mouth but i'm sure his heart's in the right place.

Last week i'd been gonna avoid this World Cup as far as poss. Now i'll be tunin in as oft as poss in the hope that Mr K's gob is unleashed on us once again. Or mibbies he'll fall off his seat - ye cannae whack a pratfall.

And if cuddly Kevin does come up trumps, i won't have felt that good since Archie Gemmil scored against Holland in 1978. (That's no quite true.)

Here Comes The Summer of Love

It's been months since i wrote anyfink in this blog. Been busy learnin to spraff about Scotland to backpackers and sometimes to posher b&b types. It's been stressful, tiring and frankly no good for my close relationships but there's nae denyin it's been hugely educational, barry fun and erm....a bit o an ego boost anaw.

While i've been away i've missed Mand (boo!), the shitey election (yay!), the Embra snickers (boo!), crap on the tellybox (yay!) Gil Scott Heron, LCD Soundsystem and the Charlatans (boo!) But the long, deep winter has deffo gone and my cactus has sprung the huge red flower shown above so i'm convinced we're on the verge o a long hot summer of love.

Shit i'm even gonna miss mosta the World Cup. How barry is that?

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.

Holidays In The Sun

"I don't want a holiday in the sun".....hmmmm.....easy for the Pistols to say.

Despite no long havin had a 3 weeker in Goa, i'd love a holiday in the sun right now. I'd happily settle for a holiday in the rain as it happens (greedy, i ken). The diary of my time in Goa's all about swimmin the bay, gently joggin the beaches, munchin barry scran, sippin gin, hangin wi mates and walkin the dog (ahhhh.....wee Roxy, ah pure miss you, hen).

My diary since returnin's all about humfin tonnes o concrete (Giz's garden project), deliverin supermarket messages to gadgies who recognise me from youth club days (scary) and whingein bout the cold. Despite a few brave bulbs pokin green shoots above ground and a tangible lengthenin of daylight hours, it still feels awfy like winter and it's startin to do my nut in.

Still no sign of the IT game pickin up so i've applied to do a full time course in horticulture, landscaping and garden design, i'm def on a grow yer own veg course in March and tomorrow i start voluntary work at the very special Dr Neil's Garden in Duddingston. Also had an interview on Friday for a job as coach driver/tour guide for backpackin travellers to Scotland so time will tell on that front.

On Sat me, ma burd and Chipster went on the Scotland United anti-fascist demo in town. Twas most gratifying that there were so may more of us than there were the so called scottish defence league (sdl) - a bussed in crew of mainly English fitba casuals intent on terrorising Muslims. The thugs weren't allowed to march so cowered in a coupla city centre boozers afore scurrying homeward tae think again. (I like to think they have quieter moments when they do actually think.)

My view is that many peeps attracted to neo-fascist groups are daft wee, frustrated lads and lassies who cannae come to terms wi their own homosexuality (Griffin's Question Time description of 2 men kissing as "creepy" looked highly hypocritical to me). It's time these radges lightened up and had a good shag - twould be good for them and very good for the minorities on whom they take out their frustrations.

Apart from that, Hearts have just won 2 games in a row, Hibs have just lost 3 and i've just read this about Embra's Central Mosque Cafe. Maybe Spring is on its way.