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
Lost for words? Just get in touch:
Category Archives: Business beginnings
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 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
Only kidding. Kidding myself, and everyone else, on. Because, you see, I’ve been telling fibs. Not wee white lies, but great big porkies. Not the kind of lies that are going to get me hauled up by the polis, or land me in the dock – I’m not a politician, a tabloid editor, a banker,
Annoy Your Kids. Surely one of the most important inclusions on any parent’s job description? However, it’s a bit rich for me to cast aspersions on anyone else’s parenting skills, seeing as I often rate pretty damn low on the Word Up Wean’s goodwill to all mumkind scale. So please forgive me when I moan
I wandered, lonely as a cloud. Well actually, I wasn’t wandering, I was running. Running through the monsoon conditions that have been sweeping in over the wilds of west Glasgow at regular (nay, incessant) intervals lately. And I wasn’t lonely, though there were clouds – great big black bruisers of nasty nimbostratus. But I was
A wise businessman and fellow sole trader once told me that clients often don’t really know what they need. They just know they need something. This fellow traveller in the field of communications, training and confidence building, has had a few more years under his business belt than me to recognise the early warning symptoms. He’s
I’ve always cast myself as a free spirit. A creative thinker brimming with alternative ideas and approaches, someone prepared to challenge the status quo and swim against the tide of rules and regs. I’ve always felt fine about sticking it to The Man. But a recent stint back at the BBC has made me wonder if
