Tag: <span>Radio Clyde</span>

Radio and I have never really gotten along. It’s mostly my fault. I don’t listen.

badum tish!

Actually, that’s not all that far from the truth. I don’t listen to the radio all that much, it’s just never been a part of any routine. Radio wasn’t a big part of my childhood as it never occurred to me that there might be stations other than those my parents listened to, so for the most part I grew up listening to albums.

The one time I do listen to the radio is in the car on my commute which brings me to my quandary.

What, or more exactly who, should I listen to?

Music wise my tastes lie somewhere between Radio 1 and Radio 2, with Radio Clyde (West of Scotland only) being the closest match (where closest equals “if I have to suffer a mix of chart music”). I’m not a fan of talk shows on the radio, so Radio 4 is out, and Radio Scotland has a jack of all trades approach which just annoys me.

Of course we are only talking about when I’m driving to and from work so I need to find a breakfast show and a drivetime show that I can tolerate.

With Chris Evans moving to the breakfast slot on Radio 2, it seems like there will finally be something decent to listen to of a morning in the car. His evening show was pretty interesting and musically a reasonable fit to my tastes. He’s much less grating on the radio than on TV and as the alternatives are Chris Moyles (Radio 1) or George Bowie (on Radio Clyde), well it’s a no-brainer.

But what of drivetime? Simon Mayo on Radio 2? Puhleeze, there is more personality in a toe-nail clipping. Scott Mills on Radio 1, inane chatter, that whole “off of” bollocks and his playlists always seem to favour the current, most annoying, manufactured tripe. Radio Clyde seems to be where this is heading, which at least gives me local traffic reports but means I have to endure the latest greatest Scottish slang… ohh yeah, and adverts.

And yes, I could just chuck in a CD, but my other half and I don’t share musical tastes, so perhaps the ultimate option is just to switch it off.

What do you do?


I’m SURE there was a weekend just there, right? There WAS, wasn’t there? I’m not going mad(der)?

Friday night and I felt well enough to go the pub, and well enough to stay there from 5.30 to midnight drinking Guinness.

What else? Ohh yes, how could I forget! The Christmas tree is now up and decorated and the rest of the house has been given that special festive treatment. Having two nieces over for the night helped mind you, and I’ll fully admit that they were used as slave labour (although slave labour is astonishingly cheap these days, all it took was one spicy chicken and one mushroom and pepperoni pizza!). The only downside is that with the new fireplace, we used a few more bits and bobs decorating it than we had before and so, of course, that means we will need to buy more to fill in some gaps. Mind you, even I have to admit that the dining half of the room is a tad bare.

And I’ve just been accused of being overly ‘jolly’ because I have my Christmas tree up on my desk at work. Humbug to the lot of you!

You see that’s the thing. I don’t mind now. It’s December. I’m quite willing to address Christmas during the month in which it lands. Until that point, though, I’m as humbug as.. ohh I don’t know.. Lyle say.

Sunday and we dumped.. er.. made sure our nieces got the right train (we are presuming as we haven’t heard from their mother that they made it home safely) and then went to see our recently married, and sickeningly tanned, friend. They had a great honeymoon, and even got to attend a wedding whilst they were there.

Home for a light dinner with my parents, who informed us that my sister won an Oscar at her company night out (it was an Oscar themed night, you know the type of thing, Marilyn Monroe handing out champagne, paparazzi waiting at the door and.. em.. Suzi McGuire from Radio Clyde handing out the awards). She won it for “most happy to help” although I think that equates to “biggest suckup” but, hey I could be wrong (it happened once in 1987 I think). Ohh and Jen, Dad sent me a photo of your outfit, very classy (who knew!).

And then, all of a sudden, my alarm is going off and it’s Monday morning.

How was your weekend?

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