Train Stories – Blondes?

I’m at Bathgate on the way to Edinburgh.

The train door opens and 6 women get on and fill the seats around me. 

All of the women are attractive, ranging from fairly to very.  

I summed that up in half a nano-second, my brain putting them in some sort of order.

Wid ye?


It’s a guy thing. 

It happens without even thinking about it. 

If you have any questions,  just ask the man in your life!

The women are not together,  travelling separately but what’s interesting is that although they don’t look alike,  they do look like clones made from a pattern. 

Each of them is in their early 40s to early 50s,  has dyed dark brown hair of varying shades, some are professionally done and some look like home kits

Having two daughters,  one of whom recently had an estimate from a quality salon of 150 pounds for a cut and colour I have some idea of how much women are charged these days,  

Pretty outrageous if you’re having to pay that amount of cash every few months.

No wonder some of the gals are using home-kits .. Even for just the occasional root touch up.

I’d imagine that this variety in hairstyles  is related to their individual income and circumstances. 

Their dress styles reflect that presumption,  even although they are all wearing similar business wear,  the quality and newness of their garb is in keeping with their hair style. 

Two are pretty mumsie, one in particular is pretty hot,  tall, slim, shapely,  but probably too thin .. If you’re asking!

It would be fair to say that they’d all fit into that dubious category of MILF.

If you pardon the expression!  

Not something I’d ever say,  but it’s an an honest compliment even if it is somewhat basic and animalistic.

But looking at the gals,  a thought crossed my mind .. Where are all the blondes?

There just doesn’t seem to be as many around as there used to be.

At work,  there are a few blondes,  girls who look like they have that natural colouring are staying blonde,  but the rest,  instead of faking the blonde are sticking with their natural brunette.

Even if that’s artificially enhanced.

With the number of girls dyeing their hair blonde decreasing,  I wonder do blondes still have more fun?

Personally, I’ve never thought hair colour was important to the amount of fun you have.

Sharon Stone  vs Kelly Brook

Err .. Both!


Blonde or brunette?

Girls just wanna have fun!

Train Stories – Fa-Fa-Fashionably Uncool!

She’s sitting directly in front of me now ..

This young woman, mid 20s,  fat faced, her thighs popping out of her deliberately ripped leggings.

She’s wearing black from top to toe.

Of course she is … because don’t you know that it makes her look thinner?

Only it’s fooling nobody.

With her dyed metallic green hair and her thick foundation plastered across her face this girl is the something of fashion,

The what?

Substitute you’re choice of adjective as necessary – epitome, height, opposite ..

Personally I really don’t give a fuck how she looks.

She’s sitting there now,  her currently trendy high heeled sneakered foot on the seat beside me,  her makeup bag spread across her thighs,  applying blusher, mascara, lip liner etc ignoring the people standing in the aisle.

She’s been doing this for the past 20 minutes and making a real big show of it.

The train’s busy in the rush hour, so putting your bag on a seat to maintain some personal space is selfish,  but putting your feet up is arrogant and inconsiderate.

All that attitude,  all that effort to look fashionable and cool.

But it just isn’t working.

Always loved the guitar in this song by Bowie

Train Stories – What Crisis?

This new job of mine in one of Scotland’s biggest,  most well known banks is an insight into the banking crisis and how well paid people still don’t pay what they are due.

There is no shortage of well paid, well dressed, well fed people here,  the staff restaurant takes care of the latter,  to call this a canteen would be an insult.  

It’s the exact opposite of a greasy spoon,  where for example you can select the ingredients and have your own stir-fry made for a few pounds by the in-house chefs.

As for the former 2,   did someone say something about a banking crisis?

It’s not reallty apparent here were most of the staff seem to be content and prosperous.

That may be because most of them are contractors like myself,  their red-lined badges vastly overwhelming the number of actual staff with the blue lines.

Contracting,  most people in staff jobs paying PAYE haven’t heard of it.

Consultants,  yes,  makes you sound like a doctor,  but not in IT or business.    These are knowledge based positions where you take the gamble of going out on a  limb being self-employed to make twice as much money as you would in a staff job.  The risk being that you don’t get the work,  but even if you miss a month or two in a year,  the other 10 months at twice the pay .. Or more .. More than compensates.

If you have the skills or knowledge then why wouldn’t you?

Let me spell it out for you … Continue reading “Train Stories – What Crisis?”

Train Stories – Different Track?

I started my new job yesterday,  back in Edinburgh. But out in a business park rather than the city centre. 

Sometimes I wonder why I bother but the hard reality is it pays too well. 

Besides there just isn’t the same amount of work in Glasgow and the contracts on offer have reduced rates accordingly. 

A couple of mates are out of work just now,  one for 3 months and one for a month.  It’s not easy out there. 

First day yesterday,  spent reading documents,  the Functional Requirements written by someone purporting to be a Business Analyst was the most jargon filled piece of meaningless over-complicated bullshit I’ve ever seen. 

People trying to dazzle with pseudo technology,  doing what they need to hold on to their jobs,  producing documents of crap to justify their position. The senior management incapable of seeing through it. 

It’s a game,  It’s about letting them have their position then cutting through the bullshit and doing what really needs done. 

We all need to make a buck. 

So I’m back in the rat-race,  the daily commute of shortcuts, road rage and an ambling train journey with different faces and different stories. 

It’s the same race on a different track. 

But at least on this one I can leave at a reasonable time and work from home on Fridays. 

No bad. 

The sun’s in the sky …

My last day of freedom ..  Back to work in Edinburgh on Monday.

Been a great few weeks of sunshine, holidays,  hillwalking, pretending that I’m training but mainly sitting in the garden while I wait on the security clearance.

They say that the weathers going to break this weekend,  so today I’m getting the roof down on the car,  heading north and climbing a mountain.

Just cos it’s there.

Nothing too strenuous …   Got some dancing to do at a 50th later.

It’s Friday and I’m feeling good!

Feel good tunes

Music from the blog

The sun’s in the sky .. You know how I feel …




Meet me at the Mad Parade .

Her communique arrived with its expression of her feeling
I swear I had no idea she’d been holding and concealing 
Such a storm of words unsaid
Though absurd as it appears
Had been blowing in her head
For twenty-seven years
I knew I had to face her so I grabbed my Davey Crocket
Threw a scarf around my neck
And twenty Dollars in my pocket
Found her in the same old place
Pamphlet in her fist
When she saw my windblown face
She said .. Well look at who it is

Meet me on the mad parade
When the midnight bells are chiming
We’ll dress up as the harlequin and the clown
Pile up all the wonders that we’ve made
In a tower too tall for climbing
And we’ll burn the damn thing down

Read more:

I just love that song,   November tale by The Waterboys.

They’re playing Magners Summer Nights in Edinburgh in August,   I’ve already got tickets for James and Roddy Frame on separate nighs in Edinburgh and Glasgow.

I don’t know if I can justify it .. but what the hell!!  🙂



How many sons does it take?

“I love this place at night …  The stars … There’s no right or wrong in them.   They’re just there.”

5am, wide awake, watching Platoon, Vietnam 1967, such a good movie on the pointlessness of war and the impact on the individuals involved. 

Generally signed up from poor backgrounds,  wondering why they are there and just hoping to make it home again. 

By coincidence,  my friends son is back from Iraq or Afghanistan or some other God awful place that you or I wouldn’t want to go. 

He was and is a gorgeous handsome boy.   Smart, funny, caring from a loving family. 

He’s posting pics of his mates blacked out faces,  guns slung over shoulders. 

Last week,  he was posting pics of the deep sadness in the loss of a fallen comrade. 

Someone’s else’s beautiful son. 

And I wonder have we learned nothing?

How many sons does it take?

By Yon Bonnie Banks …

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond

I love that song, it reminds be of my childhood and singing it at family parties …

But please please please save me from that Runrig version that often gets played at weddings .. it’s absolutely awful.

Kind of ironic that its played at weddings ,  when the full premise of the song is that “me and my true love will never meet again”

So there’s the blushing bride and handsome groom in the middle of a circle formed of all their family and friends belting it out .. missing the point completely.

Bit of a bad start to the old wedding nuptials if you ask me!

The song was written in 1746 by McGregor of Glen Endrick while in Carlisle prison awaiting the death penalty for his support of Bonnie Prince Charlie during the Jacobite Uprising.

The message of the song is that his spirit will get home by the spiritual road,  the low road as he tells his friend to take the physical high road and he’ll be back in Scotland afore ye.

Last night,  with the sun shining over Glasgow it was too good an opportunity not to head up to Loch Lomond and the place that sets my spirit free. Continue reading “By Yon Bonnie Banks …”

Not Nightswimming!

I am the smile on your face
And the sparkle in your eyes
I am that tingle down below

I am the whisper in the darkness
And the warmth in the night
I am the one who makes it slow

You are the passion in my thrust
And the pleasure on my lips
As we snuggle in the afterglow

You are the fire in my breast
And the pride in my chest
And where you are, I will surely go


Deserves a quiet night.

Love this tune ..

Near Death Perspective …

Isn’t it strange how people react to grief?

A couple who hated each other and were determined to cause each other as much pain as possible only a week ago,  have now let that go and called a truce in the interim,  wrapping their arms around each other,  consoling themselves in each others heart and hugs rather than trying to score points and playing pointless mind games.

It’s all about perspective,   it’s easily lost but something as sad as losing your child tends to give you clarity and the old wounds don’t really matter.

I’ll spare the details as that’s someone else s privacy.

But I was pleased to see my friends comfort each other and put their differences behind them,  even if it turns out only to be temporary.

Sometimes when death comes calling,  you need the human touch to feel alive.

I kind of figured there was a renewed closeness at the funeral mass,   each of them within the others personal space,  the stolen glances,  the joint public face, their warmth masked but obvious.

Later,  after everyone else was away,  running them back to the hospice, chatting, having dinner and getting drunk,  cos what else are you gonna do on a day like this?

I was pleased to see them wrapped around each other,   reminding themselves of the love they shared,  their shared loss and the love for their other kids they have to cherish.

But it’s not only direct involvement in death that lends a sense of perspective,  It’s being close to it that reminds us what’s important in life.

My daughter Claire is currently busy with her exams for her final year at high school.   She’s a manky wee so-and-so and at this moment her room is a bit of a disaster.    She uses her studies as an excuse,  even although I know full well that she’s on the web chatting to her friends.

Last week, I gave her a bit of a telling off,  because of the state of her room.

This week,  I couldn’t really care less as long as it gets sorted.

Don’t get me wrong,  the mess isn’t being tolerated,   words will still be spoken,  but I’d rather have my girl and her little bit of mess than not at all … perspective.

Yesterday when Claire arrived home from her mums,  my hugs were just a little bit longer.