bookmark_borderChocolate Deity

I lay no claim to have created any of this, it was snagged from a round of emails at work. Names withheld to protect the innocent (well to provide anonymity, innocence is the LAST thing these guys and gals can claim!):

A list of sweeties based on religious leaders :

  • Lollipope
  • Dalai La-marshmallows
  • Popal Fruits
  • Ayatollipops
  • Hubba Budha
  • L Ron Hubba Bubba

“Of course, this would easier in America. They don’t have “chocolate” over there – they have Gandhi bars.”

Hey, it gets us through the day.


(One of the dangers of writing posts when you are zombie-tired is making mistakes. Lyle has pointed one out, and I’ve subtly corrected it… read on)

Been a bit of a funny day. I’ve romped through some work, in particular one document that has been giving me a real headache suddenly *CLICKED* into place, THEN I tidied up a little, and cut the grass.

Well that’s a lie. I didn’t cut ALL of the grass.

As you should know by now I have a hate/hate relationship with my grass and my lawnmower. Whoever said Flymos were great was lying. They are the spawn of Titchmarsh.

Now, the big selling point of the Flymo is that they provide “light and easy mowing on a cushion of air”. And what happens if the surface isn’t exactly as smooth as a bowling green? Well the air gets deflected to one side, simple. Ahh but what else is going on at the same time? That’s right, grass cuttings are whirling around, trying to make their way up into the collection basket. Except, if you divert the airflow, and then they can do nothing but follow it.

Usually this is straight into the border or out onto the pavement. So it’s not the cutting of the grass that I mind, it’s the tidying up AFTER cutting the grass the narks me. Typically I can cut the grass (two lawns at the front, one at the back, none are huge) in about 45mins or so. However when you add in the edging, the sweeping up, raking, brushing and so on, then it can take up to two and a half hours.

So, at 4pm today I stopped what I was working on, and headed out to cut the grass. It was the first time it hadn’t rained all day for about three weeks I think. Or so I thought.

Yup, that’s right, no sooner had I finished cutting the main front lawn than it started raining. I cursed several times then put the lawnmower away. But, as all I had done was CUT the grass I still had about an hour of clearing up to do. In the rain. Whilst all the neighbours came home from work, most making some smart remark or another about how “that’s dedication!” and “you can start on mine after that”.

Ohh how I laughed. Falsely of course as I stood there, slightly damp and gripping the rake just that little bit harder. Bloody comedians.

And now, having been up most of LAST night, I find myself still wide awake at 1.15am and rambling on about cutting the grass.

Note to self: Get a life.


What’s the LAST thing you want to hear when you’ve gone to the loo, just sat down and … er … started…

The bloody fire alarm!!

(Certainly speeds up the process mind you!)

bookmark_borderReady for my closeup

How this came about.

An email pops into my inbox. A lady at the BBC would like to speak to me about an upcoming item for Radio Scotland. Me? Really? Finally! I’ve been found, plucked from the masses to be elevated to the higher echelons of society. It’s art you see, well the “Arts Show” sweetie, darling, mwah mwah (sorry J Mo!)

So I call Vivienne from the BBC and she tells me she’s a researcher and wants me to talk about influences, Scottish Blogs and read a few snippets from my site. Excitedly I say “Yes of course!” whilst leaping up and down like a demented Jack Russell. Fame! Infamy? (they’ve all got it…).

We chat a bit about Rebecca Blood, Scottish Blogs and why I started. She’s delighted and says she’d love me to come into the studio to record a few bits and bobs for the ‘piece’ (unlike American movies this is not a gun, nor like Scottish lunchtimes is this a sandwich, it is a radio term for filler content… I think…). We agree times and she says she’ll confirm by email.

A couple of days later another email from Vivienne at the BBC arrives. Alas my inner gadget freak is to be disappointed, I’m not required to come to the studio, I can just phone her and she’ll record it that way. Slight disappointment is replaced with a small knot of anxiety… What if I sound terrible? What if I muck it all up and they can’t use any of it? Deep breaths now. Relax. You’ve done this before, admittedly on a smaller scale but it’s hardly a life altering event. There, you look much better now you’ve stopped dragging air in and out of that paper bag.

The day arrives. I’m surprisingly calm. I’ve read (ok, AND edited) the posts to be recorded. I’ve a rough idea what to say having gone over some of the other questions we chatted about. Everything will be fine. The phone rings. I pause, letting it ring twice then answering on the third ring (no I dunno why either but I do remember making a conscious decision to let it start it’s third ring.. weird, no?).

And it starts, everything goes well, I only stutter once, and know to pause before restarting to make it easier to be edited (old pro that I am). The main pieces done, the ‘interview’ bit starts and I talk about Scottish Blogs, why I started and a couple of other things that weren’t broadcast.

Then she asks “And does your wife read the site?”. Unrehearsed! Cold panic.

Hearing it back it should be fairly obvious that I stumbled through that part, it sounds clumsy to my ears anyway, but then everyone is their own worse critic. I’ll clarify what I was trying to say at a later date I think… someone remind me.

Then all of a sudden, well twenty minutes later, it was all over. Done. Finished. In the can.

“Ohh that was brilliant!” she enthuses. I blush slightly, but it was nice of her to say it (now if she’d only remembered to tell me that it would definitely be broadcast LAST Tuesday but she was on holiday so I’ll forgive her – hey, I’m a sucker for a cute voice..).

Note – in case you can’t be bothered listening to my drone – this is an ongoing ‘series’ of pieces about blogging, Tom Watson MP will feature and you’ve already missed a blogger from Chicago.

Impressions? Well I’m not sure how interesting it is to people who don’t have a blog and don’t ‘get’ why people would even want one (my wife half falls into that category – tolerant understanding I call it) but it’s good to see the phenomenon noted and given some space. Only suggestion would be to allow the blogger to choose the pieces to be broadcast, within agreed limits or something, or at least allow them to put forward 3 or 4 to be considered, if you are having an unusually bad, or good, week then it almost seems like cheating as people may visit your website expecting one thing and getting the other… but then what do I care? It’s my website… right?

Still, it was fun while it lasted but now the spotlight is swivelling away, searching out the next shining star to highlight. So what next? I’ve been in a magazine, in a book, and on the radio… TV is the last bastion of blog-related fame left to me!

I’m off to call my agent.

bookmark_borderTit on the radio

Radio Scotland Arts Show

So yes, I was on the radio. LAST Tuesday.

I only found this out today after emailing the researcher who had neglected to tell me when it would be broadcast. So, apologies to any new visitors who have come and expected me to be talking about ‘being on the radio’.

It’s a bit weird to hear it all edited together… it’s easy to tell when I’m ‘chatting’ and when I’m reading from my site, just as it is easy to hear that I was put on the spot a bit and managed to make up a couple of words… farmship? What?

My moment of fame, captured forever.

Digest away people! (Ohh and I’ll edit it later as I’m not that fussed about how to deal with a wilful teenager…)

bookmark_borderIt's just not cricket!

So the Beeb have tracked down the man who made Rusedski swear (and gone to some trouble to do it as well).

Mr. Zilionis (for it was he) has been living in the UK for 10 years. Obviously he hasn’t quite grasped the culture properly. Every good Englishman knows (so I’m told) that if you do something as heinous as destroy the sporting chances of one of ‘the lads’, the LAST thing you do is own up to it. You skulk off in shame.

However, in the celebrity society of today, it’s not really a surprise to see him come forward is it? Right, which tabloid is gonna give him £10,000 for ‘his story’…