A Prayer For The Living? #Oasis


I’m sure like me,  you have many songs that take you back to people and places in your life,  happy times,  sad times,  the best and worst of times.   Moments that we treasure and wish that we could live again and moments that we wish we could forget.

Sometimes,  years after the event,  we are getting on with our day,  the radio on in the background and a song comes on that reminds us of happy times,  it makes us feel good and we smile at the memories that come flooding back.

Sometimes,  it’s the opposite,  a song that reminds us of sad times.  That takes our breath away and puts a tear in our eyes. Continue reading “A Prayer For The Living? #Oasis”

I Hate Cyclists!


I hate cyclists.

No really,  I absolutely hate them.

Now you know that if you’ve read any of my gibbering’s that I don’t tend to hate people and it’s not a word that I used very often.

But cyclists?

They are a torn face bunch of moany bastards and always complaining about X, Y or Z.

Their latest offering is because of the number of cyclist killed on the roads because car drivers or passengers have opened their doors.

In the few cases that I’ve heard discussed,  notably on Radio 2,  it’s not the door opening that kills the driver,   it’s the collision with the door causing the cyclist to fall into the path of another vehicle which then causes the fatal injury.


Now that’s obviously it’s a tragic accident. Continue reading “I Hate Cyclists!”

Wolf – 8 – Whodunnit?

How do you go about killing someone?

Well that kinda depends if you want to get caught or not.

Let’s imagine for a moment .. or as long as it takes to read this .. that you wanted to murder your ex wife or former partner.  


We aren’t talking reasons. .. that’s up to you .. let’s talk practicalities. 

Statistically most murders of women are stabbings committed by their partner or former partner in the women’s home or partners home.

So in most cases Miss Scarlet does gets murdered by Mr Green in the Living Room with the dagger.

The implication of these statistics is that regardless if you consciously plan to murder or in a moment of passion react violently and kill your partner then no matter how you try and hide it, Inspector Cluedo will already have a good inkling that it was you and it’s just a matter of collating the evidence.

Do you remember all those old episodes of Colombo, still being broadcast on satellite channels?

Typically some woman is killed, usually in glamorous locations in unglamorous circumstances.

The inspector turns up like a bad smell in his grubby raincoat. He’s the little guy, the underrated underdog that nobody wants hanging around embarrassing them in their perfectly imperfect lifestyles.

He takes one look at the scene, It’s not obvious who killed the poor woman but Colombo knows a liar when he sees one.

Continue reading “Wolf – 8 – Whodunnit?”

Losing your marbles?



Getting old is awful, watching the people that you love lose their mental or physical faculties and suffer has to be one of the hardest things to take, the only exception that I can think of is the death of a child.

I was over at my wee dads last night, 81 years young and sharp as a tack, but he suffers paralysis on one-side due the stroke he had 10 years ago.

It doesn’t stop him tho,  he’s at his bowling club most days organising things.

He’s got this never-give-up attitude like a lot of people from his generation,  who have faced much more hardship than we our children ever will.

I love and find him inspirational.

I consider myself lucky that he’s still with us, particularly as over the past few days a friend has lost their dad and another family member is badly losing their physical faculties whilst still all there mentally.

It brings our own mortality closer to home and I can empathise as my mum had went through a similar experience before she passed away a few years ago.

Either case is awful for the people left behind.

God knows that no-one wants to be that person sitting in a chair by the window defecating yourself unable to walk to the loo or clean yourself up.

It’s degrading for the individual involved, they lose their dignity and its awful for the people who love them as they don’t deserve to see their parent or loved one in that state.

In that situation, of course you love them, you do what you can, even although you both feel embarrassed by the situation.

Getting old, your body failing is a horrible situation.

You’re mind failing is worse, when you are no longer you and you can’t remember your loved ones.

Mind or Body failing .. which would you choose?

Continue reading “Losing your marbles?”

Bowie Perspective.

“Pushing through the market square
So many mothers sighing
News had just came over
We had 5 years left to die in”

5 Years – David Bowie

I’ve always loved that song,  the opening track from Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album.

The album is best listened to from end to end in entirety from 5 Years to Rock’n’Roll Suicide,  it paints a nightmare vision, the time-limited existence of earth in parallel with the rise and fall of Ziggy culminating in his death.

I love the full album with rare exception, Starman, Suffragette, Moonage Daydream and Ziggy being the highs,  the lows .. because you need lows to make highs .. being It Aint Easy … not that its a bad song .. just doesn’t have the buzz of the rest.

Ziggy,   an ambiguous androgynous ethereal being,   definitely male but with hints of mixed gender particularly on Lady Stardust.

TV and Social Media were full of Bowie tributes and plaudits last night.   Many people posting what Bowie meant to them or extracts from his concerts or acting performances,  I particularly enjoyed the Ricky Gervias extract and all credit to Ricky for allowing himself to be the butt of the joke.

As detailed in yesterdays blog,  I’ve always been a Bowie fan,   always will.

It was strange reading posts from friends and acquaintances professing to be fans,  knowing full well that they have never been to a Bowie gig and if they do have one of his albums then its probably his greatest hits.

Does that matter?   Continue reading “Bowie Perspective.”

The Lion, the Judge and the Dentist! #humour #perspective

it’s curious how people react isn’t it?

The distinction between being legally right and morally wrong is sometimes blurred,  but as a person you generally know when you are doing wrong and what other people would find unacceptable.

Take this dentist  Walter Palmer who killed Cecil the friendly Lion and gets a deserved roasting ( in my opinion ) after he and his fellow poachers lured the animal outwith its National Park home.

Where’s the crime here?

Apparently the crime isn’t that he killed the lion,  its that they deliberately lured it from its place of safety and then killed it.

Does that make it any less reprehensible?

Should the crime not be wanting to kill such a beautiful creature at all?

What I struggle to believe is why would anyone pay 50 grand to kill a lion?

What kind of rich psycho are you Walter?

Too much money,  not enough morals,  what else does this fucker get up to?

Heres a question .. so Walter shot a lion, what difference would it make if he shot a cow or sheep?

Are we discrimating?   Of course we are.

So if there are lesser animals .. are there lesser people too?   ( whole other story there!! )

On social media,  Walter is being “slaughtered” forcing his dental practice to close.

Which I’m personally delighted about,   a small penalty in my opinion,  some people,  usually arrogant wealthy dicks like him just need a right good kicking to show them how the world works and what is not acceptable to the majority of society.

But that would be legally and morally wrong  .. right?

Compare and contrast with the offences of Lord Sewel,  allegedly caught with hookers and snortng cocaine.

Both legally and morally wrong?

Most people including myself would probably agree

This opens a few questions ..

Continue reading “The Lion, the Judge and the Dentist! #humour #perspective”

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.