A bit of German pop for you....

This is Wir Sind Helden, who I saw at the ICA last night. Am guessing you won't really get a feel for it via the 2 megapixel brilliance of my camera phone (or my position right at the back of the crowd) but seeing as they're my first ever uploads to You Tube, I thought I'd share them.

Hello again

It's been a while again, hasn't it? I entirely blame Facebook for my lack of action - I don't actually do anything on it, but just spend hours seemingly refreshing the browser to see if anyone else has done something. I'm sure it's not the most productive way of spending my fast-disappearing youth.

Recently I've also been up to a fair bit - went to see my favourite German pop band last night at the iTunes festival at the ICA which was a nice and unexpected way to spend a Monday evening, when I was still feeling the effects of a night of horrible debauchery on Saturday. It was quite a small gig with only about 350 people there, but there were enough actual fans there to have the place jumping and demand a second encore.

Previously on Saturday we braved the rain to visit Lambeth Country show, the highlight of which was the small children on motorbikes jumping through hoops of fire. They were only about 6 years old - I was sure there must be laws against stuff like that. Unfortunately the awful weather drove us back to my flat and then to the pub, upon which the drunkenness began. Somehow remained unconscious until 3pm on Sunday and spent the rest of the day with my head down the toilet. You know when you wake up still drunk at that time of the day that the hangover, when it hits, ain't gonna be pretty.

But I'm almost back to normal now and have spent a lovely evening cleaning my flat in preparation for the return from Poland of Justyna. I even cleaned my rug. And no, that's not a euphemism. I now have a completely clean bedroom which seems about twice the size it was earlier on, not that it'll last.

Mum is now back from Kenya, and had an amazing time by all accounts. Unfortunately her camera sneakily broke just as she arrived in Nairobi but she didn't realise, so returned with 3 films worth of nothingness as a record of her trip. Pretty gutting - she has got a copy of other people's, but it's not really the same.

Went to the Tour de France first stage in Greenwich a couple of weeks back - was a very exciting 20 seconds, as we were stood right at the start line. Of course, by now the whole thing has descended into drug-fuelled farce yet again, with the favourite testing positive for blood-doping and his whole bloody team withdrawing from the event. What's the point? Surely these people realise they'll get busted by now? Being from Kazakhstan is not an excuse.

Anyway, I'd best be off, as I was using bleach in the bathroom earlier and judging by the burning sensation on my hand and my face may have failed to wash my hands correctly afterwards. Still, if I got some on my hair it might give me an attractive skunk-esque streak to cover the new grey hair that has appeared right in the middle of my fringe. Bloody Mother Nature and her sense of humour....

Intelligent humour

I'm trying to clean a variety of stains from our sofa at the moment in preparation for the landlord finally bringing round a sofa cover, and noticed that this has appeared due to the way I've tried to get the (rather nasty) fag burn cleaned up a bit. Not quite the same as seeing Jesus' likeness in a Kumquat, but a phenomenon nonetheless. Or at least a mildly amusing accident.

Kenyaaa.....Ohhh Kenyaaaa.....

.....where the giraffes are..... and the zebraaaaaa!

Yes, as I write, Mother tattie (on the left in the photo) has been in Kenya for 5 days and her trek is, amazingly, almost over. In the past few days, she has seen giraffes, buffalo and gazelles, abseiled down a 25 metre cliff and climbed 550m up the side of a volcano... and these are just the things she has told me about.

She'll never realise how proud I am of her for doing it and taking the plunge - those of you who sponsored her will have received a very nice email from her before she set off which outlines how determined she is to use it as the start of a new chapter in her life. It was so nice to be there at Heathrow to wave her off last Saturday (almost, but that's another story) - although she was so excited about the trip she barely spoke to me the entire time I was there!

Go on that mum.

Glasgow's a tough city...

Just look at this piece of evidence. Unfortunately You Tube have disabled the embed function but if you clik on the link you should be transported back to another era, when men were men and wore moustaches with pride....

Glasgow Diamonds Football Team

"Dreamt" is the only word in the English language ending with "-mt"

Amazing what you can learn from the back of a Penguin wrapper

I take it all back

Thanks to Helen for making me feel a whole hell of a lot better about missing Roskilde this year.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/6283822.stm

This brightened up my Monday morning

A public service announcement

Courtesy of Mr Murray Gordon.

Psycho cabbie

The latest satirical news website on the internet

At least, I hope to God it is. I mean, they can't actually be serious with headline likes this can they?

Headline 1

Headline 2

The John McClane of Glasgow

Those north of the border will no doubt already be familiar with Mr John Smeaton, or "the Smeatonator" as he's now known. This is the guy who - irritated at having his fag break interrupted - single-handedly took on the terrorists at Glasgow Airport last Saturday. As the wonderful article today in local rag "The Daily Record" quoted him as saying:

"This man went straight for the policeman and started attacking the policeman. You're not hitting the polis mate, no chance.

"I ran straight down towards him, hundreds of members of the public did exactly the same thing, we all ran towards the guy and tried to get a kick in, get a boot in.

"Just to subdue the guy."

Or to put it another way:

"This is Glasgow and we'll no accept this. You try this and we'll set about ye."

Understandably, the man has acquired legend status and his own fan club:
John Smeaton.com

I love summer

This evening it felt like the apocalypse was nigh....

Freaky Storminess

Pics of said freaky storminess

very odd. I would have my own photo but had to put my camera out the window to take it and it got soaked and blurry.

Bloody summer.

Lorna Hunter

The day many never thought would happen is finally here - my thank you post to Lorna.

The official reason (not excuse) for not writing one sooner is that I didn't have a photo of her to accompany the glorious tribute, but some handiwork with my scanner a few minutes ago means I now have one at my disposal. Erm, this one. I did have another one but I gave it to Andy about 2 years ago to scan for me and never saw it again. I shudder to think what's happened to it....

But I digress. "Who is Lorna Hunter?", I hear you cry. Well, at least those of you who haven't been fortunate enough to meet the young lady yet. The photo is actually from Optimo about 2 and a half years ago, although it's debatable that anyone else who was there at the time remembers much of the evening whatsoever.

I first met Lorna on July the 10th, 2000. Which by now is a long, long time ago. Fresh from my graduation the previous Friday, I was taking my first faltering steps into the world of full-time work. The time and effort I had spent applying for countless graduate positions had paid off handsomely, and I had secured a coveted place with Lloyds TSB, working in their call centre for £5.50 an hour. Thankfully there were other normal people who were equally blase about getting a job (about 4 of us - the rest were all a bit weird - Lorna, this will only mean something to you, but Stef? Jeez.)

I didn't actually become friendly with Lorna straight away, as she had begun the job along with three of her uni mates (they were all planning on ditching it after a few months to go travelling), so I hung out with Mhairi the first few days - an equally lovely girl but one who hasn't sponsored me.

Lorna and I were put on the same team when we started, and it was through the long boring hours of Sunday shifts that we became friends. I think I would have gone completely crazy during those days, listening to Grannies trying to access the internet via their kettle whilst knowing my mates were still going from the night before, had it not been for the serene presence of Ms Hunter. She also had the coolest car imaginable - a purple restored VW Beetle - and I still remember when my heart leapt when she first offered me a lift home in it. As we chugged up the 45 degree incline of Gardner Street that first evening, I felt my chest swell with pride as neighbours' curtains twitched frantically....

"Shug! Shug! Cum'ere! That lanky Irish streak of pish fae nummer ferty six is in a car! Wae a bonnie lassie! Ah always thought he wis buftie, no?"

Thank God for Glasgow's antiquated public transport, which closed at 5pm on a Sunday.

Alas, Lorna pissed off to Australia after a mere few months, returning just before I myself made good my escape to the other side of the world; this combined with me not moving back to Glasgow means that inevitably we haven't seen much of each other over the last few years. Very pleasing, however, to see that she got rid of that bloke with the flouncy barnet and fake tan and is now living a life of blissful domestic contentment with Donny, whilst spreading her own personal rays of sunshine to the less fortunate members of Glasgow's community through her work as an Occupational Therapist. I'm sure some of the "less mentally firm" of her congregation must mistake her for an angel as she floats into their lives - I am marginally less insane but would concur fully with their deduction.

She is one of the people on "the list" when I return to Glasgow - one of those who, if I don't get a chance to catch up with them, it'll cloud the rest of the trip. She is even more guaranteed to have me harranguing her to meet for a pint from now on, as she has joined an elite group in my heart - she has sponsored both me, for my 10K last year, and my mum, for her impending trip to Kenya (she leaves on bloody Saturday! How did that happen?!).

Your generosity and loveliness know no bounds and I am glad I got a shit job straight from uni.

Toaster* x.

*before you ask - I have no idea.

Cigars. Rubbish.

Adieu

Ban? What ban?