Wonga, dosh, moolah and wedge. Money has been much on my mind this month and not just because Christmas is starting to exert its ruinous grip. In fact, the economic devastation begins early chez nous thanks to the Word Up Wean’s insistence on having his birthday in November. Inconsiderate wee blighter. However, there’s nothing like the annual
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Tag Archives: Scots
Scotland the brave, beautiful and about-to-be-invaded. Again. This time tho’, it’s not the Vikings, the aristocracy, or even the Romans who are threatening to take our territory by force, or horned helmets. Naw, looks like the latest phalanx of alien invaders are likely to be our nearest neighbours. Seems like quite a few Anglo-Saxons (and other
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
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
The fairy dust was sprinkled about liberally. As was the laughter. Yup, greasepaint, bright lights and the roar of the crowd were much in evidence at The Word Up Wean’s place of learning this week. We watched on in admiration as the brave souls of P6 & 7 wowed us, their adoring audience, with their
Belief breaks my heart. Or, more accurately, the lack of it. In one week alone I have witnessed two smashing specimens of Scottishness show a really saddening lack of self-belief. One didn’t even want to big up his business. A business, by the way, which is well worth shouting about. I’m far from the full
