Don’t look back in anger. Or so goes the Oasis song. And they’ve got a point. For the sake of our our mental health it’s probably not a good idea to dwell on the past. Maybe more of us should open those cupboards and let the skeletons loose. Maybe we ought to find ways to forgive those
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Category Archives: Entrepreneurial emotions
Sole trading soulsters will know exactly where I’m coming from when I borrow a line from the Reverend Al Green. Basically, folks, I’m so tired of being alone. Apologies for hackneyed plagiarism of a simply stunning and much-loved song, but it turns out that the quiet contentment of ploughing one’s own furrow was wearing a bit thin. It’s
Dolly Parton’s been on my mind a lot lately. And why not? Not only is the diminutive Dolly a global superstar and miracle of modern cosmetic science, but she’s a champion of children’s literacy and a damn fine songstress to boot. Not that she needs any help in the production department (musical variety), but I
Here at Word Up HQ, the boss lady has been in a mood. Aye, there’s been much sulking and petting of lips. This recent emotional discombobulation is partly due to the seasonal shift – autumn’s settling its cloak of many colours over central Scotland, and that covering includes the steely skies of a rain-drenched September, signalling some
Peak scaling, ladder climbing, podium mounting. Hell, even ruling the world. Must be brilliant being a young person in these heady ain’t-no-mountain-high-enough times. Apparently, each and every bairn, tween and teen has it in them to bulldoze barriers of class, circumstance and even apathy to reach for the stars when it comes to fulfilling their inbuilt potential. Good
My closest relationship involves a never-ending battle of wills. Don’t worry, this ain’t no agony aunt stuff. This month’s wordy shizzle is all about the struggle to achieve, and maintain, a firm sense of self despite a ceaseless egotistical ebb and flow. You know how it goes. One day you’re a world conqueror, the next you’re
Go on, I dare you. Cock a snook. Flick the V. Slap a stern look on. Cross your arms firmly over your chest, plant your feet and jut your chin out. Then round it all off by refusing to budge. There now, doesn’t that solid defiance stance feel good? Bloody good, I’d say, if a
There’s nothing weird about me. My transport of choice would hardly rank me high on the slightly strange register. Would it? Apparently, yes. Judging by the perplexed/”you’re kidding?” reaction I regularly witness, you’d think I’d done something very distasteful or outré indeed, but the social faux pas in question is using the bus. Seems that the very thought
You’d think I’d know better. After more than half a century of this mortal coil, anyone might think that I, a middle aged, middle class proper professional person of the female persuasion, am far too grown up and sensible to still be flicking the V to certain parts of society. Well, d’you know what? Bugger that.
