bookmark_borderToo early


It’s really not fair you know, the least we could get is a warming or quiet word to let us know it’s gonna happen but noooooooooooooo.

One day I’m perfectly able to sleep until 10am on a Saturday morning, the next and I’m lucky if it’s 8am.

I’m sure this is an ‘age’ thing.

With apologies to my olde wiser readers, whilst these things may be common knowledge to you (and if it is, could you PLEASE update the life user manual please, ta) it’s a recent discovery for me, and not really a pleasant one.

Along with the realisation that the hairs growing in my ears are longer than those on my head, this new desire to be awake before 8am at the weekend seems unnatural, unfair and entirely pointless.

Can’t I revoke this, or at least appeal on the grounds of IT’SNOTFAIR?

Worst still is that this newly found desire is worsened by the intake of alcohol. A couple of weeks ago, after one too many (or three too many, I lost count after the first Jägerbomb) I awoke, and please bear in mind this is after getting to bed at around 1.30am and that I was very drunk, not only before 8am but before 7am!

In that instance I can only conclude that my brain had been enjoy my drunken state so much it decided, after all about 4.5 hours sleep, that I should wake up again.

Seriously. What the fuck?

In saying that, it does mean that I’m starting to develop a very nice mid-afternoon napping habit…

bookmark_borderBeing prepared

It is most definitely Monday. Let me rewind the opening part of my morning for you, to offer you proof that it is most definitely Monday.

~ wibblywobbly wibblywobbly wibblywobbly ~

I’m lying in bed and somewhere in the distance, through the murk of a lie-in I hear the radio. Voices, a rabble, some music, and then the pips. I open my eyes to hear the announcement of the time.

9 AM.

As my eyes close once more my brain reminds me, in somewhat hurried tones, that I have a meeting in Glasgow at 10.30AM and perhaps, you know, maybe, it might be an idea if I got up.

I tell my brain to shut up.

It responds by sending a large jolt of recognition through my body.

SHIT!!! I need to get the 9.50AM train. Shit shit shit!

I leap out of bed, rush through my morning ablutions, haul on my clothes, hurriedly pack a bag (headphones, book, notepad, pen) and check the time. 9.24AM.

The station is a 30 minute walk from the house. I could rush and make it, probably, or I could get a taxi. As it is I’m still half asleep so decide a taxi is the best option.

Having just ‘won’ 10 minutes I decide to boil the kettle for a quick cup of coffee. Whilst it’s boiling I double-check the details of the meeting. The name of the guy I’m meeting, his phone number, the time 10.30AM, the location (big hotel in Glasgow), and yup, it’s happening on Tuesday the 1st of December.


I hate Mondays.

bookmark_borderI AM A WINNER!

In January 2007 a website I designed was launched. The mission of the website was to highlight great writing on personal blogs; to draw attention to blogs that you might not have heard of before; and to point you to one absolute guaranteed humdinger of a blog post, once a week, every week.

One year and several months later, I’ve been honoured to be the Post of the Week. I’m hugely flattered given the quality of the other nominations, although there is part of me that wonders what took so long!

I highly recommend you head over to the Post of the Week website to check out the other nominations from last week and all of the previous winners, the quality of writing continues to amaze and I’m humbled to included.

bookmark_borderNo read-ey, no write-y!

Dearest Reader,

(Yes, that’s you)

I’ll keep this as simple as I can.

In my previous post I stated, quite clearly, that I would be taking “the opportunity to confirm that I will not be starting to write a novel (or even a novella)”. I realise my mixing of positive and negative actions in the same sentence may have confused your simple mind, for that I am sorry. I am certain you already have enough difficulty and confusion in your life and I apologise for rendering your simple mind asunder with my badly crafted sentence.

I realise my education places me at an advantage, how quickly it is that I forget that not everyone can read whilst sitting on the loo, I can skim through a magazine in no time, picking out all the best bits with ease. I occasionally read the words too. Yes I should remember that you may not be as smart as I, and that not only do you have to remember how to tie your shoelaces every morning but that it takes you several minutes beyond that to realise that you are wearing slip-ons.

So please let me clarify my statement, and allow me to re-iterate for those of you who apparently cannot read. The statement I made is thus, clearly and unequivocally, I AM NOT GOING TO WRITE A NOVEL (OR EVEN A NOVELLA).



I’m ashamed to admit that even my own parents (who are teachers for godssake!!) failed to properly read that announcement and continue to encourage me to do something I have stated, repeatedly, that I am not interested in doing. These are the types of parents you see in documentaries on Channel 5, and if I let them have their own way they’d no doubt have me attending some horrid pageant for 30-something sons, reciting my own paltry and pathetic attempts at poetry.

You may now be considering pointing an accusatory finger in my general direction, so I will concede that, maybe, perhaps, I could have emphasised my point a little better but the underlying lesson that I will take from this sorry debacle is that my faith in you (yes YOU) dear reader has been mis-guided. I have been presuming all along that you can read and, alas, it seems you cannot.

It makes me wonder what the hell you’ve been commenting on these past nine years, if you’ve been unable to properly parse and process the eloquently crafted prose laid before you. What kind of imbecile are you?

This entire sorrry episode convinces me that I am correct (I usually am) and so I will be sticking to my aforementioned, and since clarified, announcement which I shall repeat here in one final attempt to get the message across.


After all, if you lot can’t even be bothered to read things on my blog properly, why the hell should I write a bloody book!

Yours condescendingly,


P.S. There are several grammatical and spelling errors throughout this post, but I’m not expecting you heathens to spot them.

bookmark_borderMorning World

Time moves on and these days I tend to watch Saturday Kitchen as opposed to Soccer AM (blame the new Soccer AM bloke, he’s rubbish). So whilst I sup on my coffee, Ken Hom is stirring up some Pork and Pineapple dish and I’m salivating.

Anyway, today I’m doing a little research after an interesting phone call yesterday, I’m updating my iPhone with the new software update (and filling it with a little more music), and then I’ll sit down with lunch and watch the Man Utd vs Liverpool game. Then it’s a few little chores, and deciding what to do for dinner before I head out to lose money playing Poker. OK, not really, I’m still learning so I’m allowed to play for free. Should be fun!

Tomorrow? Well that depends when I get home, when I get up and whether the couch decides that it would like some company or not.

Although I have been toying with resurrecting Scottish Blogs… maybe. Don’t get yer hopes up!

bookmark_borderPsychological Music

I have a LOT of music. I buy a lot, borrow some, obtain others (hey, would you pass up a 4GB download of every “Now” album.. yeah I know, I should’ve too). The one thing I’ve always had a problem with is tracking my short-term listening habits.

I tend to buy music in spurts. I’ll purchase several albums at one time and listen to them when I get a chance, which is where my problem begins. Because I don’t ever sit down to listen to music, it’s always on in the background) then it can take a while for an album to wheedle it’s way into my affections.

I guess I should learn my lesson and cut back on my musical purchases but there is still that part of me that wonders if I’m about to miss the next big thing (when, in reality, I ALWAYS miss it.. ).

Anyway, what usually happens is that one or two albums instantly take root in my brain and remain there for some time. I generally have 5 or 6 albums on rotation but even then some albums slip through the cracks and fall into the depths of my music library (I AM trying to cut back though, I know that 106GB of music isn’t really practical to manage… ahem).

However, having recently purchased a 250GB external hard drive (a Western Digital passport) and backing up all my music there I decided to take it into work as I had a quiet couple of days ahead. Rather than copy the music to my PC, I left it on there and decided to create a new iTunes library. It took about 20 mins to scan it all and then I had a pristine library to browse.

And you know what? All of a sudden I’m actually browsing it rather than relying on various smart lists to filter the new from the old. Without any metadata bogging me down I’m suddenly free to go and find whatever music I stumble across. Yes, I know I could’ve done that before but I guess not having any way to manipulate the tracks, or at least not having my usual methods available to me (smartlists for recently added and recently played) I’ve ended up just randomly scrolling through the library and picking whatever takes my fancy.

It’s been hugely liberating. So much so I’m almost considering doing the same at home.