The present swine flu pandemic is a concern for many. My pregnant daughter Laura recently contracted it but seems to have recovered. I suspected I caught it as well although it was never confirmed - but I'm over the worst now. However, here's my real concern.
Three years ago, it was the Chinese calendar year of the cow - and there was an outbreak of Mad Cow disease.
Two years ago, it was the Chinese calendar year of the bird - and Avian flu was rife.
This year, it was the Chinese calendar year of the pig . . . and from being little heard of six months ago there is now a Swine flu pandemic.
Next year is the Chinese calendar year of the cock . . . anybody else worried?
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Thursday, 19 November 2009
I'm Off to the Pub
Drinking alcohol every day cuts the risk of heart disease in men by more than a third, a major study suggests. Research involving more than 15,500 men and 26,000 women found large quantities of alcohol could be even more beneficial for men. Female drinkers did not benefit to the same extent, the study in 'Heart' found.
Experts are critical, warning heavy drinking can increase the risk of other diseases, with alcohol responsible for 1.8 million deaths globally per year. The study was conducted in Spain, a country with relatively high rates of alcohol consumption and low rates of coronary heart disease.
From the BBC News Website.
A couple of pints of Belhaven Best, please barman. Purely for medicinal reasons, mind...
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
The Pain of Divorce
There was a programme on BBC Radio the other day about divorce and the impact this has on children. For some children a separation of their mum and dad can be a blessing, especially if - as is so often the case - violence is used and fierce rows make living at home unbearable. For others, the break of their parents relationship can have a devastating affect and can inflict long-term and even permanent damage to their mental health.
It's forty years ago today since my mother and father went their separate ways. They thought that, as a seven year old, I was too young to understand. Believe me, I wasn't.
We were living in Cumbernauld, just outside Glasgow at the time. People talk about a seven year itch in marriage. In my parent’s case it wasn’t so much a seven year itch as a full bodied rash which no amount of calamine lotion could ease. The rows between my mother and father would become more frequent and louder with each passing week. They did their best not to row in front of their only child but I sensed the tension. I heard it too as I lay in bed at night and listened to the incessant rowing, the accusations, the shouting and then the eerie, spine-tingling silence as my father slammed the outside door and headed to God knows where leaving mother sobbing downstairs.
On far more than one occasion I crept downstairs after Dad had stormed out and caught a glimpse of my mother’s heartbreak from halfway up the stairs. Often, I would head into the kitchen or the living room where my mother would be holding her head with her hands and put a consoling arm around her. My innocent actions naturally increased the tears to near flood levels and my mother, heart-breakingly grateful that at least her son cared for her, made a determined effort to remain behind the emotional barrier to try to convince me everything was all right and that grown-ups often had arguments, something I would learn when was older. That she was proved right was illustrated with alarming frequency as I made the treacherous journey to adulthood…
The rows were bad enough. The simmering resentment that was all too apparent whilst I was still around during the day was equally soul destroying. My mother’s moods, my father’s sullen imposition - when he actually bothered to be at home when I was there - seeped despair into a young child’s heart and mind. My pals would eagerly ask me at school on Monday mornings what I had done at the weekend. Other than the occasional trip with Dad to Brockville - and these became more infrequent as the marriage rapidly disintegrated - there was nothing. Either I went out with mother - which inevitably was shopping in Glasgow - or to a football game I cared little about with Dad. I really wanted to go and watch Hearts play in Edinburgh but there was no chance of Dad taking me to Scotland’s capital city. Not when he had ‘the other woman’ to see - to my mother’s obvious chagrin she turned out to be my babysitter’ (I often pondered the term babysitter when ‘the other woman’ came round, particularly as I was seven years old at the time. I half expected her to appear armed with some nappies and a packet of rusks)
As the final year of the 1960s began the only time I spent with both my parents at the same time was on the arduous car journey to see Mum’s mother and father in Aberdeen. This was in the days before the road north was turned into a motorway/dual carriageway and involved a long journey on a long and winding road. One wonders if Paul McCartney made this trip north the inspiration behind his song of the same name. That car journey was usually spent in silence with me desperately trying to amuse myself in the back seat with a cows versus sheep counting contest while Dad kept his eyes on the road, steadfastly avoiding the daggers from Mum. In front of my mother’s family my parents at least seemed to present an united front, particularly in front of me. But while I was off playing with cousins I saw once barely once a year I could still hear the Aberdeen inquisition into what the hell my parents were playing at.
As 1969 entered its final stages, my parents marriage found itself in a similar impasse. They had married in 1959 and as the 1960s dawned it was a brave new era with their lives full of vitality, hope and passion. In the decade that followed all those things suffered a long, painful demise. In November 1969 they had reached the point of no return. My first feeling of heartbreak, the first time I felt a knot in my stomach was when Dad drove Mum and me to a bus stop in Cumbernauld on a cold November afternoon. He unloaded two suitcases from the boot of his car and placed them at the side of the road. He ruffled my hair and said he would see me soon. His attempt to say goodbye to his wife was greeted by her literally turning the other cheek.. And with that he went back in his car and headed back home. Back to his home. It was no longer my home nor Mum‘s. We stood at the bus stop waiting for the next bus to Glasgow. To Glasgow Queen Street railway station. For the train to Aberdeen. And a new life that, no matter how hard Mum tried to dress it up, would be far, far worse than the one I had in Cumbernauld.
For a seven year old the pain was acute - but four decades ago there were no help groups to contact, no websites to log on to - and precious little help on offer. It was a case of survive or crumble.
When I reached adulthood, married and had my own children I vowed they would not endure the same pain and anguish. While Laura and Michaela have had their ups and downs they know they have the unstinting love of both their mother and father. Something I would have given anything for four decades ago...
It's forty years ago today since my mother and father went their separate ways. They thought that, as a seven year old, I was too young to understand. Believe me, I wasn't.
We were living in Cumbernauld, just outside Glasgow at the time. People talk about a seven year itch in marriage. In my parent’s case it wasn’t so much a seven year itch as a full bodied rash which no amount of calamine lotion could ease. The rows between my mother and father would become more frequent and louder with each passing week. They did their best not to row in front of their only child but I sensed the tension. I heard it too as I lay in bed at night and listened to the incessant rowing, the accusations, the shouting and then the eerie, spine-tingling silence as my father slammed the outside door and headed to God knows where leaving mother sobbing downstairs.
On far more than one occasion I crept downstairs after Dad had stormed out and caught a glimpse of my mother’s heartbreak from halfway up the stairs. Often, I would head into the kitchen or the living room where my mother would be holding her head with her hands and put a consoling arm around her. My innocent actions naturally increased the tears to near flood levels and my mother, heart-breakingly grateful that at least her son cared for her, made a determined effort to remain behind the emotional barrier to try to convince me everything was all right and that grown-ups often had arguments, something I would learn when was older. That she was proved right was illustrated with alarming frequency as I made the treacherous journey to adulthood…
The rows were bad enough. The simmering resentment that was all too apparent whilst I was still around during the day was equally soul destroying. My mother’s moods, my father’s sullen imposition - when he actually bothered to be at home when I was there - seeped despair into a young child’s heart and mind. My pals would eagerly ask me at school on Monday mornings what I had done at the weekend. Other than the occasional trip with Dad to Brockville - and these became more infrequent as the marriage rapidly disintegrated - there was nothing. Either I went out with mother - which inevitably was shopping in Glasgow - or to a football game I cared little about with Dad. I really wanted to go and watch Hearts play in Edinburgh but there was no chance of Dad taking me to Scotland’s capital city. Not when he had ‘the other woman’ to see - to my mother’s obvious chagrin she turned out to be my babysitter’ (I often pondered the term babysitter when ‘the other woman’ came round, particularly as I was seven years old at the time. I half expected her to appear armed with some nappies and a packet of rusks)
As the final year of the 1960s began the only time I spent with both my parents at the same time was on the arduous car journey to see Mum’s mother and father in Aberdeen. This was in the days before the road north was turned into a motorway/dual carriageway and involved a long journey on a long and winding road. One wonders if Paul McCartney made this trip north the inspiration behind his song of the same name. That car journey was usually spent in silence with me desperately trying to amuse myself in the back seat with a cows versus sheep counting contest while Dad kept his eyes on the road, steadfastly avoiding the daggers from Mum. In front of my mother’s family my parents at least seemed to present an united front, particularly in front of me. But while I was off playing with cousins I saw once barely once a year I could still hear the Aberdeen inquisition into what the hell my parents were playing at.
As 1969 entered its final stages, my parents marriage found itself in a similar impasse. They had married in 1959 and as the 1960s dawned it was a brave new era with their lives full of vitality, hope and passion. In the decade that followed all those things suffered a long, painful demise. In November 1969 they had reached the point of no return. My first feeling of heartbreak, the first time I felt a knot in my stomach was when Dad drove Mum and me to a bus stop in Cumbernauld on a cold November afternoon. He unloaded two suitcases from the boot of his car and placed them at the side of the road. He ruffled my hair and said he would see me soon. His attempt to say goodbye to his wife was greeted by her literally turning the other cheek.. And with that he went back in his car and headed back home. Back to his home. It was no longer my home nor Mum‘s. We stood at the bus stop waiting for the next bus to Glasgow. To Glasgow Queen Street railway station. For the train to Aberdeen. And a new life that, no matter how hard Mum tried to dress it up, would be far, far worse than the one I had in Cumbernauld.
For a seven year old the pain was acute - but four decades ago there were no help groups to contact, no websites to log on to - and precious little help on offer. It was a case of survive or crumble.
When I reached adulthood, married and had my own children I vowed they would not endure the same pain and anguish. While Laura and Michaela have had their ups and downs they know they have the unstinting love of both their mother and father. Something I would have given anything for four decades ago...
Monday, 16 November 2009
At a Golf Club in Scotland...
Here is an actual sign posted at a golf club in Scotland...
1. BACK STRAIGHT, KNEES BENT, FEET SHOULDER WIDTH APART.
2. FORM A LOOSE GRIP.
3. KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!
4. AVOID A QUICK BACK SWING.
5. STAY OUT OF THE WATER.
6. TRY NOT TO HIT ANYONE.
7. IF YOU ARE TAKING TOO LONG, LET OTHERS GO AHEAD OF YOU.
8. DON'T STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF OTHERS.
9. QUIET PLEASE...WHILE OTHERS ARE PREPARING.
10. DON'T TAKE EXTRA STROKES.
WELL DONE... NOW, FLUSH THE URINAL, WASH YOUR HANDS AND GO OUTSIDE, AND TEE OFF.
1. BACK STRAIGHT, KNEES BENT, FEET SHOULDER WIDTH APART.
2. FORM A LOOSE GRIP.
3. KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!
4. AVOID A QUICK BACK SWING.
5. STAY OUT OF THE WATER.
6. TRY NOT TO HIT ANYONE.
7. IF YOU ARE TAKING TOO LONG, LET OTHERS GO AHEAD OF YOU.
8. DON'T STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF OTHERS.
9. QUIET PLEASE...WHILE OTHERS ARE PREPARING.
10. DON'T TAKE EXTRA STROKES.
WELL DONE... NOW, FLUSH THE URINAL, WASH YOUR HANDS AND GO OUTSIDE, AND TEE OFF.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
The Skababs
It's been a Ska weekend for the Auld Reekie Ranter. After watching the legends that are The Specials at the Corn Exchange on Thursday night, I headed for the somewhat less salubrious surroundings of the Black Bull in Dalkeith to see Edinburgh's very own The Skababs.
It was an excellent gig and 'Skaliwag' and the boys created a hugely enjoyable night for fans of ska as they belted out cover versions of many old ska classics. Adding on The Undertones Teenage Kicks was a master stroke!
If you get the chance to see the band grab it with both hands. Click on the title of this post for a link to the band's website. They are not to be missed!
Friday, 13 November 2009
The Specials in Edinburgh
I had the pleasure of seeing The Specials in Edinburgh on Thursday night as part of their 30th Anniversary Tour. I can scarcely believe three decades have passed since Terry Hall, Neville Staples et al first started with their two-tone style making them the stuff of legend.
The sell-out crowd at Edinburgh's Corn Exchange were ecstatic to see their heroes and the band were as brilliant as ever. They performed all the old favourites - Gangsters, Rat Race, Saturday Night Sunday Morning and topped off a sublime performance with the iconic Ghost Town.
I was also highly impressed with the support band Pama International, a reggae/ska band who performed brilliantly before the main event.
It's not often I get the opportunity to see legends in action. Last night I was privileged to do so.
May I thank Susan, who reads my inane ramblings, for advising me of the additional tickets which went on sale. In fact, I can't thank you enough.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Monday, 9 November 2009
His and Hers Diaries
HER DIARY
Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet at a bar to have a drink. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no comment on it. Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk. He agreed, but he didn't say much.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, 'Nothing.' I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset. He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it. On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept driving.
I can't explain his behaviour. I don't know why he didn't say, 'I love you, too.' When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent. Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed. About 15 minutes later, he came to bed. To my surprise, he responded to my caress, and we made love. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep -I cried. I don't know what to do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster
HIS DIARY
The new car I bought yesterday wouldn't start today - but at least I got laid......
Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet at a bar to have a drink. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no comment on it. Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk. He agreed, but he didn't say much.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, 'Nothing.' I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset. He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it. On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept driving.
I can't explain his behaviour. I don't know why he didn't say, 'I love you, too.' When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent. Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed. About 15 minutes later, he came to bed. To my surprise, he responded to my caress, and we made love. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep -I cried. I don't know what to do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster
HIS DIARY
The new car I bought yesterday wouldn't start today - but at least I got laid......
Sunday, 8 November 2009
A Time to Remember
Remembrance Sunday is a paradox of emotion. On the one hand, the loss of millions of lives in conflicts dating back nearly a century seems such a waste of human life; soldiers young and old having their lives taken from them on some far away place, leaving a trail of devastation for those loved ones left behind. On the other, today is a day we remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country, who gave their lives in order that the rest of us can live the way we do today. Across the world millions of people will fall silent today as a mark of respect for those who died for their countries.None of my family were killed in action. However, as I remember those heroic people who did, I also think about those in my family who are no longer with us. My grandmother, who passed away in 1986 aged 76 and just three months short of the birth of my first daughter Laura; my father who passed away so suddenly in 1997 aged 58 and who never saw his grandchildren grow up to be the fine young adults they are today; and my youngest daughter Michaela's fiance who was taken away from her so tragically earlier this year, aged just 21.
Today is a time for reflection across the world. For those affected by seemingly ceaseless conflict. And for those who aren't but have suffered loss nonetheless.
Lest we forget.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Letters of Complaint to the Council...
1.. It's the dogs' mess that I find hard to swallow
2.. I want some repairs done to my cooker as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.
3.. I wish to complain that my father broke his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage..
4.. And their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.
5.. I wish to report that tiles are missing from the outside toilet roof. I think it was bad wind the other day that blew them off.
6..My lavatory seat is cracked, where do I stand?
7.. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.
8... Will you please send someone to mend the garden path. My wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant.
9.. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.
10.. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster, and 50% are plain filthy.
11.. I am still having problems with smoke in my new drawers.
12.. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is cleared.
13..Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny colour and not fit to drink.
14..Our lavatory seat is broken in half and now is in three pieces.
15..I want to complain about the farmer across the road. Every morning at 6am his cock wakes me up and it's now getting too much for me.
16..The man next door has a large erection in the back garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.
17...Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two children and would like a third so please send someone round to do something about it.
18..I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man on top of me every night.
19..Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.
20.. I have had the clerk of works down on the floor six times but I still have no satisfaction.
21.. This is to let you know that our lavatory seat is broke and we can't get BBC2.
22.. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus growing in it.
23..He's got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can't take it anymore.
2.. I want some repairs done to my cooker as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.
3.. I wish to complain that my father broke his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage..
4.. And their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.
5.. I wish to report that tiles are missing from the outside toilet roof. I think it was bad wind the other day that blew them off.
6..My lavatory seat is cracked, where do I stand?
7.. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.
8... Will you please send someone to mend the garden path. My wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant.
9.. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.
10.. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster, and 50% are plain filthy.
11.. I am still having problems with smoke in my new drawers.
12.. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is cleared.
13..Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny colour and not fit to drink.
14..Our lavatory seat is broken in half and now is in three pieces.
15..I want to complain about the farmer across the road. Every morning at 6am his cock wakes me up and it's now getting too much for me.
16..The man next door has a large erection in the back garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.
17...Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two children and would like a third so please send someone round to do something about it.
18..I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man on top of me every night.
19..Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.
20.. I have had the clerk of works down on the floor six times but I still have no satisfaction.
21.. This is to let you know that our lavatory seat is broke and we can't get BBC2.
22.. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus growing in it.
23..He's got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can't take it anymore.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Misery - The Key to Happiness. It's Official!
Feeling grumpy 'is good for you'
An attack of the grumps can make you communicate better, it is suggested
In a bad mood? Don't worry - according to research, it's good for you. An Australian psychology expert who has been studying emotions has found being grumpy makes us think more clearly.
In contrast to those annoying happy types, miserable people are better at decision-making and less gullible, his experiments showed.
While cheerfulness fosters creativity, gloominess breeds attentiveness and careful thinking, Professor Joe Forgas told Australian Science Magazine. The University of New South Wales researcher says a grumpy person can cope with more demanding situations than a happy one because of the way the brain "promotes information processing strategies".
Negative moods trigger more attentive, careful thinking, paying greater attention to the external world Professor Joe Forgas. He asked volunteers to watch different films and dwell on positive or negative events in their life, designed to put them in either a good or bad mood. Next he asked them to take part in a series of tasks, including judging the truth of urban myths and providing eyewitness accounts of events.
Those in a bad mood outperformed those who were jolly - they made fewer mistakes and were better communicators.
Professor Forgas said: "Whereas positive mood seems to promote creativity, flexibility, co-operation and reliance on mental shortcuts, negative moods trigger more attentive, careful thinking, paying greater attention to the external world."
The study also found that sad people were better at stating their case through written arguments, which Forgas said showed that a "mildly negative mood may actually promote a more concrete, accommodative and ultimately more successful communication style".
His earlier work shows the weather has a similar impact on us - wet, dreary days sharpened memory, while bright sunny spells make people forgetful.
From the BBC News Website
An attack of the grumps can make you communicate better, it is suggested
In a bad mood? Don't worry - according to research, it's good for you. An Australian psychology expert who has been studying emotions has found being grumpy makes us think more clearly.
In contrast to those annoying happy types, miserable people are better at decision-making and less gullible, his experiments showed.
While cheerfulness fosters creativity, gloominess breeds attentiveness and careful thinking, Professor Joe Forgas told Australian Science Magazine. The University of New South Wales researcher says a grumpy person can cope with more demanding situations than a happy one because of the way the brain "promotes information processing strategies".
Negative moods trigger more attentive, careful thinking, paying greater attention to the external world Professor Joe Forgas. He asked volunteers to watch different films and dwell on positive or negative events in their life, designed to put them in either a good or bad mood. Next he asked them to take part in a series of tasks, including judging the truth of urban myths and providing eyewitness accounts of events.
Those in a bad mood outperformed those who were jolly - they made fewer mistakes and were better communicators.
Professor Forgas said: "Whereas positive mood seems to promote creativity, flexibility, co-operation and reliance on mental shortcuts, negative moods trigger more attentive, careful thinking, paying greater attention to the external world."
The study also found that sad people were better at stating their case through written arguments, which Forgas said showed that a "mildly negative mood may actually promote a more concrete, accommodative and ultimately more successful communication style".
His earlier work shows the weather has a similar impact on us - wet, dreary days sharpened memory, while bright sunny spells make people forgetful.
From the BBC News Website
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