L to the Tizzle

The latest contributor to my glorious cause is wee Lizzi Thomson (or "vodka Betty" as she prefers to be known), wan 'a me oldest and bestest pals. She's from the metropolis of Forth in Lanarkshire, but I'm pretty sure we originally met at a D-Karts gig in Strathclyde Union back in '98.... God, back then anything seemed possible - even that D-Karts might win the battle of the bands they were entered in.

A former champion Scottish dancer and Head something-in-Latin-I-can't-remember of her school, Lizzi is another Psychology graduate successfully using her degree as..... the Operations Manager of a media company. This seems to entail rocking up to work whenever she feels like it and spending most of the day on MSN Messenger. Much like, well, everyone else I know who works in that industry.

Lizzi is currently flirting with the idea of returning to the land of grey skies, pissing rain and deep fried rusk, as 5 years in the nation's capital has enhanced the rose-coloured effect of her specs and she wants to get back to Glasgow. I think the main reason is that all the men up there are around 5 foot 3 on average, and therefore about the right height for her. I don't want her to go of course, and may resort to locking her up in a small box and carrying her around in my pocket to prevent it happening. Only problem being I'd probably get pissed and leave in on a pub toilet cistern or something.

So once my run london blog finishes, 'See That Tattie Run' shall metamorphose into 'Keep That Lizzi in London', as I attempt to raise enough signatures on a petition to stop her from leaving. Who else would have been willing to give up her Monday to come and watch me jump about like a twat at the Fratellis last night. And she does a mean chilli soup thing and has a very lovely flat all to herself in Zone 1 and is great to meet up in Cla'm for drinks with and likes doner meat and chips (like I say, she's from Lanarkshire - I think that's classed as continental cuisine round there) and has a mean sofa bed. Just don't find yourself as compelled to pat her on the head as I do. Or snore in her presence. Both result in a sharp stabbing pain in the kidney.

PS - chaps, not only is Lizzi insufferably cute, wildly successful and a great cook, she's also single!!!! Form an orderly queue.

Thanks for your support Lizzi, you'd better still be here to watch my run. London will suck that little bit more without you.

xx