I have now, seen it all!! Let me tell ye. Popped intae the local peice shoppe for a roll n’ gammon. Now this is a shop I visit a couple of times a fortnight, which makes it a firm favourite. The couple that run it are smashin, Jeanie a nice gentle soul, aye wi a ready smile and a bit oh crack while servin ye. Then there is her man, Teapot Tam, whit a case he is. A few months ago, only moments after the ‘yur dyin convo wi the cariologist on the phone’ I walked inate the shop, still as you can imagine incandesant wi rage, spilled ma story tae Tam an Jeanie. Suffice to say, by the time I left the shop, wi a bacon an tattie scone roll on that ocassion if I remember, I had got things into perspective and wis laughin ma socks at the numptie cardiologist and her stupit ideas, pfft, whitt can ah say, doctors!!! Anyway, suffice tae say everytime I now set fitt ower the door Teapot Tam dis the grand welcome wi ‘Jasus, its a miracle, she’s still no deid, still defyin the doctors predictions I see’. Its one oh thon ‘in’ jokes that always gets a chorttle.
Anyway, as usual I digress. Was in the shop during the week an Tam wis burstin tae tell me his latest news. The day before his hardware shop neighbour had came tae the door an hovvered aboot, lookin somewhat distressed. ‘Whits up Abdul?’ Tam enquires. Now he notices that Abdul is even more distressed than he first appeared, his eyes are moist and he is obviously shakin, Tam moves fae the back oh the counter tae the doorstep tae offer assistance.
‘Jeanie mind the counter, am jist seenin tae Abdul’ he shouts through the back.
‘Whits up Abdul?’ Tam enquires.
‘Tam’ says Abdul, ‘ah cannae believe it, ah cannae beleive whit a jist saw, light me a fag mate wid ye’
.’Whits up Abdul?’ asks Tam.
‘Fecksake man, are you awright, dae ye need a seat?’Tam enquires.
‘Naw the fags fine ta Tam’
‘Well’, starts Abdul, after a long exhilation on his fag.
‘There ah wis, staunin in the shop listenin tae the rerunn oh the cricket on radio5 an in comes this couple’
Abdul takes another deep drag on his Richmond Superking.
‘In they come, the usual, you know, the junkie set’.
Tam nodds his acknowledgement, the traders oh shittleston know the junkies only too well.
‘Obviously in for a wee shopliftin spree. The wummin dis aw the chattin, like 200 tae the dozen, while he dis the skulkin bit near the paint. But this two have brought their dug in, an there is a sign on the door sayin nae dugs. So ah manage tae stop her spoutin her verbal diohhrea long enough tae point this oot’.
Tam notices noo that Abdul has tears in his eyes.
‘ah knew there wis somthin comin’ Abdul continues,
‘when they both went quiet. Next thing the guy clicks his fingers, and before ye could say Crufts the dug picks up two oh ma £10 sheepskin paint rollers an’ runns oota the shop wi the two eejit junkies followin it faster than Jenson Button at the start oh the Grand Prix’.
By this time Teapot Tam is doubled in two wi laughter tears also streamin doon his face.
‘Fucksake Tam, whit is this palce commin tae, its shop liftin dugs we need tae watch oot fir’.
So, there you have it, gone are the days when local schools produced the good and the great, no more emminent plastic sugeons, politicians and journalists of high regard. Now, now its the weegie version of Cesar Millan dog trainer, wonder what he would make of this. Anyone think that Channel four would be intrested in
in making a new dug trainin programme. What could they call it? the mind boggles, and before you ask, naw, Dekwan isnt up for it, he says it might involve him havin’ tae get up before 11am and thats not for him.
This hideous disease has now hit the family. Sweet pea, my youngest, aged 19 was diagnosed yesterday. Her symptoms are very mild so far and she has started Tami flu. She will now spend the next five days in quarantine. And of course I can’t go near her. She is not a happy bunny, come to think of it neither am I. Because she doesn’t have any bad symptoms she is not pleased at having to take this medication and worse. not go out for the next five days. I on the other hand am utterly livid. A very good friend of mine died form this hideous disease a couple of weeks ago in the US. How I miss my dear pal Abby, a delightful lady who I spent many happy hours on the internet chatting with. All I’ll say is we had discussed this subject at great length, especially when it first started and we both knew the score. We were also determined that people wouldn’t treat this condition lightly. To this end I begged, yes, BEGGED, sweet pea to go to the local health centre and get immunised. You see the village she is now living in seems to have enough vaccine to cover the entire population. This is to such an extent that they now have a sign up in the window telling ANYONE just to pop along. So, supply is not a problem. Then there is the fact that sweet pea has brittle asthma, basically most of the time her asthma is fine and she needs very little in the way of treatment. But if she gets so much as the sniffles she can go from fine to needing hospital treatment with every medication in the book thrown at her within a matter of hours. No doubt by now you will have worked out that my begging was in vain.. why do kids do that? The bhoy, who works in the NHS at the coalface, so to speak also refuses to have the vaccination. Then there are the other kids, star, who is basically my carer when I’m ill and pixie polis, her daughter and my grand daughter, both of whom have mild asthma, they haven’t got a snowballs chance in hell of getting a vaccination. To add to this neither me nor mither, an 83yr old diabetic, can get it, despite the fact that we would all take it if we could. I’ve got no idea what the hell NHS Scotland are playing at to be honest they and my errant two children should get together and buy me a straightjacket.
Its Remembrance Day. To some a controversial subject. Many brave men went to do their duty, many didnt return, and of those who did return many were never the same again. Both my Grandfathers fought in World War I. Sanny went to France and was gassed, but he survived. He also somehow made it to Paris at some point. My maternal Grandfather, Gaggie went to Galipolli. He was a born soldier, yet even he was horrified by what he saw. He was so moved he used the notebook the army gave him to right down what he saw. He tells of sitting on the beach, shells raining down around him, while he held a young officer as he lay on the beach dying. Powerful stuff. I adored both these men in equal measure. They were very different characters and the effect the war had on them was quite different. Sanny, he hated war, he hated the army, he hated anyone in authority. To the point where he bitterly complained when I joined the Guides, ‘Never put a uniform on hen’ he told me ‘It’ll lead to nothing but grief’. He was a strange character wis Sany, smoked like a chimney, wi a cough that sounded like his lungs were rasped wi sandpaper. He drank like a fish, many a time me and my cousin were sent to the off liscence at ‘Tates’ to ask the man behind the bar ‘gawnie tell ma Granda ma Granny says his dinners goin in the fire if he disnae come up the stairs the noo’. He was downtrodden at home, Bella was a formidable wummin. But he stuck firm to his beliefs, there is no such thing as a good war.
Gaggie was different, a seargent major of a man, with cotton wool for heart. He continued to be in the TA until the end of the second world war. He loved all the pomp and ceremony. He also loved a ‘position’ in life. To such an extent that he stole the job as ‘air raid warden’ when the family moved from the Gallowgate to Sandyhills. The reason being that the man who had volunteered wasnt up to the job as he found him in the street one night incorrectly dressed. Aye, Wee Cruikshank had the cheek to be out on patrol without his ARP Helmet, sheese, he gave him a roastin, and then pinched the job. (To be honest I hear Cruikshank was quite glad to relinquish, it being November and the frosts comin in) Gaggie relished my exploits in the uniformed organisations and proudly boasted in the 70’s, to his pals on the Isle of Man where he then lived if I was in parade.
Then there was the love of my life, Daddy. He, like his two brothers joined the Navy in World War II. And hated every moment of it. My father was a boxer, an incredible character, but deep down as soft as candy floss. Too soft. A character I have inherited from him. The war brutalised him, there is no other way about it. He returned with stomach ulcers which were never healed until the 80’s by which time he had the same heart condition as me.
Despite all these different men, with their different opinions of war and the services, they all encouraged us to be part of the Remembrance. So, today I will Remember…those men I know of and those I dont. For those of today and those of the past. No matter political opinion, or leanings towards pacifism, they did not ask to go, but went they did anyway. We owe it to them and the future generations, if we dont the consequences of forgetting are unthinkable. LEST WE FORGET.
Hello readers, many apology’s for my silence in recent weeks. No biggie really, just the cough got kinda bad causing me brain cells to rattle aboot appraise ra heid which we all know means Granny wis beffluddled. Anyhoo, antibiotics, 2 cough bottles and a course of steroids later I do be back. Nowt much happening really as you can imagine, however, re the prolapse, thought I’d get this outa the road early, I have indeed decided to set up another blog so you guys can rest easy as I will return to talking mince instead of pish on here. A link shall appear shortly.
Just to give you some background. I have suffered from a mystery illness for a number of years. Basically I was diagnosed with just about everything until two years ago we got to the crux of the matter, i.e. I had the old heart attack, case solved I do believe. I then had angioplasty and stents fitted in an emergency procedure in August 2007.(Did I mention I wis 43 at the time, ah mean c’mon, 43 ffsake, pfft, ye cannae beat yur genes it seems1!) Unfortunatly part of my right coronary artery couldn’t be stented and remains kinda blocked, which in turn leads to Angina. Most of the time its okay, and trust me on the unfortunate occasions I have been hospitalised with this you would have heard me. Let’s just say I aint been exactly complementary about the NHS at times. Now, this, coupled with the Breast cancer I had in 2001 means that times have been rough and basically I aint worked in, pfft, feels like forever. Last year I got scunered wi this and took the bull by the horns and told the buggars at the job centre I WANT A JOAB!!!! Yes dear reader, I was the only diddie in the village to be on incapacity and voluntarily looking for work, they call it actively looking for employment; I call it a full time job. You name it I applied for it, desperate wisnae in it. Unfortunately it seems the avenues open to retired madwive’s are.. Well let’s just say not forthcoming. Thousands of applications later, yes I did say thousands, I’ve had the sum total of three interviews and as we all know nae joab!!! I was not/am not despondent. Due to present circumstances, aye, that bloody prolapse again I have now been abandoned by the system. Well to be truthful I have been very fortunate and had a return to work officer who was just plain nice and encouraging whom I would name here but the poor sod has enough on his plate so ‘Tigs’ ta anyway. But even he has to draw the line somewhere and admit present circumstances mean its time for a holiday fae the job hunt. So, what to do, well I suspect its time I got back to the writing, be that on these here blogs or finishing those bleedin books my pals like to nag me about, you guys know who you are and I am grateful, honest. So, there you are be warmed, Granny ain got nowt else to do with her time so you lot are bein inflicted wi her utterins again. Now just to see if me an Jimmy Bastard could become the weegie writing phenomenon of the decade. Fancy writin a play big man?
Just tae think, a work life spent guidin’ foreigners through the poetic dialect that is my mither tongue, Weegie. Ahh the bliss, now thats what I call working balance. Could just picture the faces at the brew, ‘ah’m aff, £140 an ooer ya bam, stick that at the end oh ma return tae work chitty.’ I ofcourse have the advantage of the ability to skip seemlessly betwwen broad Weegie and bestest Kelvinside. Thirty applicant so far, so 31 wont make much diffrence. However, cant help thinkin we should really be keeping this in hoose so tae speak. I’m just wonderin if Scottish Enterprise would be intrested in funding such an enterprise locally. I’ll keep yous posted.
And now to other news. Looks like King Henrik is making his way over to complete his coach permits. The view is that eventually he will take over as manager at Celtic..sheese, me likie. This sounds like its time to start thinkin aboot savin for a season ticket again. Mind you, savin coppers in jam jars it might take a while anyway, but on the positive front, by the time Hen takes up the baton the effin cardiologist might have lifted the ban on me watchin ma beloved ‘Tic, pfft.
Ps Still quiet, so far
For a whole year now I have herranged various people in the NHS to complete an application to see a fitness councillor. the principal protagonist being Ditsy, the practise nurse, and trust me folks, she needs lots more practise. FFsake, its just a bloody form hen, how can you get that wrong, five bloody times. Then when she finally gets her act together she runs to shifty, one of our GP’s who has a problem with eye contact. So Ditsy flutters her eyelashes and says in her southern droll, (hand to brow for effect), ‘Doctor, Doctor..I cannot tell a lie, this patient wants to go to the gym,,I feel it may kill her’, and then the dumplin that is shifty says..’send her for mair tests’.
Three weeks later I have an appointment for yet another ECG. On arriving at HMPGRI I was delighted to see it was ma auld pal Hooker (she hooks you up to the ECG, no other slur intended), We have a wee gab, as is our want, and I explain my position. ‘aw naw hen, were no hivin any oh this nonsense’ Hooker assures me, ‘its just five months since you were last hooked up and zapped wi radium too, they can have these results and a letter fae me tellin them no tae waste oor time again’ Result. At last someone uses their brain, well done Hooker. A couple of weeks later a visit to the current ticker meister I am informed that everything is hunky dory, fab!! Then two days later get a phone call fae cardiac rehab..ye whit??? Cut a long story short on meeting Adolf, not her real name, and strict but fair would be nearer the mark, she is a lovely wummin, she gives me a rough idea of how much exercise I’m allowed to do. Basically not a lot to be honest, and the Kintyre Way is off the horizon, perminently, but but, I CAN now go to a NORMAL gym, yeeeha. Watchout normal people, I’m comin tae get ye.
Ahh, but then I go and get a bloody cold and canne go to the appointment today,, pfft, back to the drawing board, its now rescheduled for early November.
Well I still have the cold, but I feel better getting that off my chist fanks very much. By the By, all quiet on the eastern front this weekend, long may it last.
Im keepin this short and sweet on two counts, well three really but who the hell is countin. First my utter shock and delight at having bloggin royalty pop by to this my humble wee but n ben, would you adam and eve it folks let me introduce..drum roll please..THE ONE AND ONLY JIMMY BASTARD. Swoon, faint, greet wi relief, you name it it happened in this flat the day. I am utterly utterly honoured sir!! And delighted to see you recovered sufficiently to grace us with your calming influence. Sorry folks I’m utterly agog here and gibberin like an eejit.
So, thats two, now the third oh and fourth. Third I have the cauld, okay okay, not exactly big news, but its interuptin ma medimacation and makin one oh the ticker potions gi me the shakes..nae possibly even the shuggles. But think on, it is just the cauld, not flu or anything to do with farmyard animals.
Finally, back to code, re the previouse post, lets just say I have battoned down the hatches on my return from the co this afternoon, the signs are there and they dont look posative. Suffice to say the dug will just have to cross his legs till the morn and if you want in here youll need expolosives! I suspect a very very long night ahead.
Those of you who have read my various blogs over the years will know how complex living in my area can be. Sometimes there are things that happen so close to the doors of me or my family which are so evil and depraved I would be in utter mortal danger should I discuss them in a public forum. Unfortunatly when these incidents happen they often take up a large proportion of time and energy, thus leaving me little time to attend to blogging or any other internet forum. I hope you will all excuse me, I feel like I speak to you in a similar manner I used when discussing grown up subjects in front of children, ie code. As I said elsewhere, some things just aint worth having your facial features rearranged..after all Ive become quite attatched to this coupin. Prayers, kind thoughts or whatever takes your fancy would be greatfully appreciated at this time, for all those involved resolution. and to quote the blessed Jimmy Bastard ‘in glasgow nobody hears your screams’…literally!!!
Okay, this week got off to a slow start due to the holiday weekend, and a somewhat diusturbed weekend thanks the neebour et al. Oh and the fact that I borrowed daughters lappy and became absorbed by my obession with Farm Town on Face Book. Less said about that the better I think. Tuesday, met up with the Fifer cousin at Bridgeton Library to see if we could track down some local history, unfortunatly not a lot of info was gleamed, but he and mither did seem to enjoy meeting up in an old haunt. We retired to the Peoples Palace for coffee, actually 2 coffee’s a tea and a scone for £7.90, bloody rip aff. We headed upstairs to the first floor to have a look round the dairy, steamie, anderson shelter and numerous other goodies from the second world war. Suffice to say I think they had a ball, and I wasnt far behind them.
Last night checked up on some of the blogs on my roll I havent had the chance to check out recently. There is unfortunate news on one, Jimmys blog, he hasnt been well. I had a look at the comments and have to say I’m utterly shocked. Some bigoted tit, surprise surprise anonymous, has left some truly vile comments. Another commentator has tracked down the info, a female from Cumbernauld ..sayin nowt LL, but we aint surprised. Just wish the guy would name and shame her. Just reminds you that evil bastards will out and maybe even more so on the internet. Hopein for a speedy and full recovery Jimmy. Just as a matter of intrest what would you do as an individual if you got really vile comments on yur blog?
Had someone at the door this morn, I was in the bath at the time so didnt answer it. When I left to go to mithers there is a notice left on the couch that has been on the landin for the last 6 months while the neebour was on perminent holiday. It reads ‘This item has bee reported..we are on the case.’ Aye right, just six months late then ya eejits. and now I have to track down the neebour and explain ‘it wisnae meeee’, cause I have grown kinda attached tae ma facial features thanks very much.
After the mornings blood tests at the nurse I descided to go on the hunt of an ECDL course in the area. I am getting to the point where I am thinking of claiming disability on the grounds of repetitive strain injury from filling in application forms. All this work however doesnt seem to get me anywhere. So I have decided that perhaps this qualification is what I’m lacking, nearly every job I apply for asks for it. Now dont get me wrong, I’m hardly a muppet in the computer stakes, I did after all study it for 6 months while at university, but they still want this ECDL, pfft. First place I went was Eastbank Health Promotion Centre, which is frankly awash with computers..but they dont use them, except for basic literacy..is it just me or does that sound like nonsense to anyone else? Next GEAR, an organisation which is supposed to assist locals find employment who run an Academy in the area for this purpose. Now, there were at least four members of staff in this office, and one client. So you can imagine my being a bit miffed when on explaining what I was looking for was told to come back for an appointment in a weeks time, with identification, a household bill and proof of benefits. Am I being cynical here or does this just sound like a money making excercise. I bombed out a similar organisation a few months ago when I ended up telling the advisor about jobs that were availabe, not the other way round. Finally I took a jaunt along to John Wheatly College.. they only enrol on a Tuesday, the place to be honest looked like some borstel outing, but I might pop along and give it a go next week, lets be honest what choice do I have.
I’m contemplating returning to my writing, at least that way I wont be completly wasting my time. And lets be honest hangin about in such establishments might give me some ideas for my writing. Off now, catch you folks later.
Hmm, sorry bout that last post, w/p stole half the screen and where the hell has the spellcheck gone, ah mean c’mon guys, how can a dyspepsic do this bloggy thingy without a spell check…and its done it again, pfft. Anyhoo, Kintyre was great, middle kid and co are working towards moving down there perminently..eeek, ‘citing. A few wee pointers however, the lavvies, none, not in the whole of Campbeltown, seems the person responsible had broke a leg and in their wisdom instead of getting in emergency cover A&B cooncil shut them all down, ridiculous. Also, tearoom in Campbeltown, nae chance…couldnt find one anywhere. But there is a very nice sandwich takeaway were they made tea specially cooled for mither. Carradale was a bit of a disappointment, lovely, but not quite as welcoming as we would have expected. THEN, THEN, oh the joys, in fact I cant believe I’d never explored this place in all the years I’d been going here..SOUTHEND, wow, mega wow. I’m in love. The place is beautiful, a small village, brilliant beach, lots of things to see and do, fantastic people, who actually speak to you. Then the Tearoom, wow, this has to be the best tearoom I have been in for decades. Great food, excellent service, and the tearoom itself, stuffed with nick nacks a plenty, old teapots, rashion books, Beatles posters the place is just fabulous. So good infact we went back 3 times that week, and then had lunch on the Friday when mither departed on the plane, well you know mither, she does like to travel in style. We left on the Saturday by car at 10am, and got home at midnight that night, who knew you could stretch that journey out so long….lets just say we weren’t keen to get home. We all ong to be back, and one day we will, one way or another.l
The rest of the summer has been spent on the job hunt to nowt, there are few suitable jobs out there and even for those that do exist dont seem to be in a rush to employ a retired, claptoot madwife..onwards and upwards. I have got a new car however. The 19 eventually gave up the will to live just over a week ago. I have now fallen over to my youngests Clio, which is much easier to drive than the tank. . Oh, and the ‘neighbour’ is oota the jail as of Friday, so that should offer intresting reading for you over the next however long he is at liberty. Sorry but this thing is driving me nuts now so I’ll post more later, cheery.