Man the barricades, sisters, we’re talkin’ ‘bout a revolution round here. Never one to shy away from a righteous cause, or the advancement of womankind, I’m volunteering my services as a fully-paid up revolutionary. This will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows the paternal background of this particular sole trading adventurer and
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The Last Word blog comes straight from the heart of WORD UP.
In our irregular online offering, we aim to please, entertain, and be brutally honest in our musings on small biz, the ageing process, and life. But we sometimes raise hackles and spark off debate, so feel free to join in, or fire back if you don’t like what you read.
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The Blog
Hate to say it, but hot flushes and hormonal heeby jeebies are happening ’round my house. (And BTW, I realise it’s a bit off the beaten path of small business chat to discuss an SME owning mother’s mid life matters. But if you’ve not got the biz balls for women’s troubles, you’d better shape up,
Pop the corks, hang the bunting high and hoist the mainsail, it’s my birthday! Well, not my birthday, dear knows I’ve banged on enough about my recent half century coming of age – at this rate I’ll need to join the ranks of the right royal, and have an official birthday as well as one
Forgive me fashionistas, but I’m all of a fankle. Being bang on trend just ain’t my bag, baby. Unless you count being hopelessly and happily stuck in some strange late 70s vortex where Fred Perry polos and Bass Weejun loafers are de rigeur, that is. See, for me, getting all dressed up just don’t feel
It’s no laughing matter. Getting sick when you’re running your own business, that is. Touch wood, cross fingers and rub a rabbit’s foot but in the year since embarking on the insanity that is self-employment I have been tickety-boo healthwise. In fact, I have been feeling a whole lot better in body and mind since
Getting on a bit is bobbins, intit? You’d think this much would be obvs, given the amount of coverage devoted on these here pages for my 50th birthday just a few short weeks ago. But even I, in my full-on in denial mode, am forced to admit, that technically, I am no longer in the
Expert? Who, me? Expert in heehaw. Or at least that’s what my instant reaction was when introduced recently at a client’s board meeting as a “media expert”. S’funny being called an expert, and brings the self-effacing Scot in me rushing right up to the surface, but expertise is all relative, innit? Compared to the good people
The mercury’s soaring in Scotland, and my brain is fried. Actually, it’s not fried, it’s just slowed right down to a gentle simmer while Word Up is having some time off to enjoy a few rays and some R&R. But fear not, as the well suntan-oiled muscle machine that is Arnie Schwarzenegger, would say, I’ll
It’s Glasgow. It’s 2014. Very soon some fabulously fit people are going to be doing their damnedest to take to the top step of a podium to be decorated with a golden gong. Medals, trophies, cups, statuettes, glittery baubles – we sure do place a lot of stock in the symbols of mighty endeavour on
Sole trading? It’s enough to make me sick. Picture the scene. It’s half an hour before you’re due to head off to deliver some work for a client, when the words that strike fear and loathing into the very soul of every sole trader or small business come calling. No, not “hello, this is HMRC,
