Tag: Stag Day

Can't Cook, Watch Cook

Weekends roll around and, these days, start in the same manner. Breakfast, coffee and whatever cooking show is on that day, Saturday Kitchen or Something for the Weekend.

Rarely do I awake at noon, hungover and with little thought for much else other than Irn Bru and a bacon roll. Even as I type this, Saturday Kitchen is on and the Two Fat Ladies are baking cakes. How very middle-age of me!

It’s not that I do much in the way of cooking or baking myself. I should, I can, but I don’t. It’s yet another item on the list of Things Wot I Should Do More.

However, tomorrow morning I will be challenging this perception. No, I won’t be doing any cooking, I’ll be hungover as I’m off out for a Stag Day; paintballing this afternoon then vodka bar later on.

If I’m still alive tomorrow that is…

Hazy Shades

What a lovely morning. Still, calm and cool with a light fog sitting on the rooftops. The light seems to be slow and thick, and giving the buildings a certain murky foreboding as they loom out of the haze.

Hopefully it will hang about until lunchtime so I can enjoy it again when I walk up to the bank. Ohh yes, forgot to mention, came home last night. Picked up the mail and found it contained a cheque for £100. Yay! I knew it was coming but had completely forgotten about it.

It’s part of a government incentive to get people to upgrade their boilers to more efficient models – tied to the Kyoto Treaty – and will invested in .. er.. the Stag Day on Saturday probably. Yes this Saturday I will be running around a muddy field, shooting people with paint pellets, driving one of the quad bike thingies round a different muddy field and attempting to blast some clay pigeons from the sky with a shotgun. Then it’ll be home for a quick shower, out for dinner and then into Glasgow for drinks, drinks and more drinks. Rumour has it that Glasgow also has a lap-dancing bar or three and I’m guessing they are on the agenda.

And therein lies the quandry. Is it alright to go to that kind of ‘establishment’? I’m stuck between wondering if they are degrading, exploitative and sexist, and knowing full well that, once several beers have been sunk, the thought of watching some lithe young ladies in skimpy clothes dancing will be most appealing. It’s the eternal conflict between head and groin I guess. Or head and head I guess… which will win?

Am I fuelling an evil industry or are there acceptable limits to these things? Can being ‘politically correct’ be taken too far?

By the friends you keep

Dinner at the Salty Dog this evening means I’ll miss seeing my ‘Aunt’ Doris who is over from Canada (she’s a school friend of my Mum, that kind of Aunt).

Stag Day on 16th October means I’ll be hungover on my birthday (it’s a “clay pigeon, quad biking, paintballing day, beers and lapdances at night” kinda day).

Wedding on November 5th means I’ll miss the fireworks (but I wouldn’t miss it for the world and besides, Louise is chief bridesmaid).

Sometimes being too popular IS a good thing.

And I’ve just realised I’ve left my camera at home, just as well my replacement mobile has turned up.