I am the enemy. Or at least I used to be. Once upon a time, I was one of the bad guys. Back in the day, I earned a crust as a member of the Fourth Estate, Oh yes, dahlings, for a great big chunk of my adult life, I worked in the media. Yep,
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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
Taking sides. We all do it. And we Scots have got our side-taking skills down to a fine art. Fence-sitters we ain’t. We love a good rammy, a ding-dong, and a heated debate. We’ll argue ’til we’re blue (or indeed, green) in the fizzog, and stick to our side of the story long after the
As the year end approaches, I’m feeling quite low I’ve been under the weather and business is slow Try as I might, there’s been scant seasonal cheer (But that’s partly because of Trump’s odious leer) The weather’s gone mental and the daffs are in bud The rain keeps on rainin’ and there’s mud, copious mud
Business, it’s like childbirth. Well alright then, commerce is heehaw like childbirth, but there certainly are a couple of uncomfortable parallels. Firstly, if you knew the truth about what running a business is really like you’d have to think very seriously indeed about whether you’d go through it or not. And then, of course, there’s the exhaustion.
I’m a nasty, bitchy old hag. Official. Aye. I’ve come over all evil this October, and that’s without the benefit of facepaint and fancy dress. But if you cannae sharpen your talons, bare your fangs and be a wicked auld witch in Hallowe’en week, then you might as well hang up your broomstick for good. Bitchy behaviour’s
Cut the crap. Basically, that’s been my commercial mantra since setting out on this sole trading malarkey two years ago (two whole years and not bankrupt yet, whew). Tell it like it really is in small business – highs and lows, warts and all – that was the simple objective for this commerce confessional. I
Who am I, exactly? What the hell am I doing? Nope, I’m not in the grip of some mind-bending existential crisis, no time for that, but I’ve been doing something of an entrepreneurial stocktake these last few weeks. And the bottom line is this. I’ve been kidding myself on, big style. Aye, it makes uncomfortable writing,
Photo courtesy Elaine Livingstone Photography Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the feministest of them all? Sorry sistas, but it’s certainly not me. Not this month, anyway. It pains and shames me to ‘fess up, but it looks like I might not register quite as highly on the sisterhood solidarity scale as I’d always
Teachers need some education. And I’m not talking the 3 Rs. I’m talking talking. Please Miss, and Mister, gonnae no’ keep talking to parents like they are single celled amoeba. Gonna please not bother with the hectoring, the condescension, the superiority syndrome and the preachy patter. It’s not big, and it certainly ain’t clever coming
