Nah, I’m not gonnae bother with new year resolutions. Never do. I spend quite enough time throughout the average annual cycle procrastinating about the need to lose a stone or two as it is. But I never get round to it, ‘cos actually putting the effort in doesn’t feel like it will be any fun
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Category Archives: What’s the Word
I’m a bolshie wee bugger and no mistake. But it wasn’t always like this, I was a right fearty when I was wee. In fact, the inner scaredy cat in me hung around for a long, long time – well into adulthood. Occasionally, that uncertain, unconfident, shy wee girl still makes her trembling presence felt
Makes me feel physically sick. The unspoken dread, the elevated heart rate, stomach flips and tense, nervous headache. No, not the menopausal migraines which plagued my very existence for so many years. Nope, this current state of jitters has been brought on by work. Or, more accurately, lack of work. And that, my friends, is
I’m most def not a horoscope kinda gal, but it’s always entertained me that I share a birthday with Barbara Cartland. We don’t have a helluva lot in common (as far as I know, she wasn’t that keen on The Clash), but Barbara was a trailblazer for extreme eyelashes, and I do a like a
All we need now is the dawning of the zombie apocalypse to complete the collective sense that the world’s going to hell in a handcart. I say “collective” because I’ve not met anyone, not even the most determined optimists, who’s managing to stay emotionally buoyant during these soul crushing times. Even the old “things can
This spring has been a biggie chez nous. As the daffodils tentatively turned their golden trumpets to the (occasional) sun, I was marking 10 years since leaving a long career at the BBC. And as is always the case with the passage of time, it’s been hard to believe that a whole decade has flown
2022? Can’t wait to see to the back if it. For all sorts of reasons it’s been a right royal pain in the arse. The year didn’t start all that well, the omens were bad even before January shuffled off it’s dreich days – I definitely felt a bad moon rising. But some years are
Hairy Mary
Taps aff. As soon as the sun cracks the sky here in the frozen north (Glasgow), our citizens shed as many clothes as is legally possible to blast their wan, celtic bodies with warmth and vitamin D. And given that we had several days of splendid spring sunshine recently, acres of snowy white Scottish skin