Insomnia Therapy? I'll Sleep on it...

According to one of those countless research studies, one out of 10 Britons can't fall asleep at night. This surprises me as the amount of people I speak to who tell me they can't sleep at night is considerable.

I don't sleep well myself. I put this down to several things. A stressful job. A stressful family. Daughters who give me grief. Grandchildren who give me even more grief. A stressful football team to support - they've given me grief for more than forty years, a couple of Scottish Cup triumphs apart (I do give thanks I don't follow Edinburgh's lesser team, Hibernian) And the fact that I'm not a well man, something that may surprise a lot of people reading this. I don't like to complain about my ailments as most people will testify. All of these factors contribute to my lack of sleep of a night.

Those of us who have trouble sleeping know about the traditional remedies. Drink warm milk, take a hot bath, sip herbal tea, or count sheep. Now, a US study - where else? - claims that on-screen therapy may be an effective solution to arriving in the land of nod. Rather than waiting months for a referral to a cognitive behavioural therapist, there is now an on-line service.

This includes a five-lesson, five-week course teaching patients about insomnia and then offers goals for each week ahead. Patients learn to keep to a sleep schedule, reduce negative thoughts about sleep and practise relaxation techniques for day and for night.

Apparently this treatment has proved to be a great success. I wonder, however, how many of those who have undergone this on-line treatment have to live in a city resembling a demolition site in the name of trams, can't get from A to B without being plagued by bloody tourists, follow a football team whose strikers can't hit a barn door from six feet, have children who think their father is a mobile bank and grandchildren who think their grandfather is a walking assault course.

As I said, I'm not one to complain. And a quick look at this sleep therapy website has impressed me. In fact I would go as far to say.....zzzzzzzzzzzz....

The Stimulus Package Explained

It is the month of August, on the shores of the Black Sea. It is raining, and the little town looks totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.

Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town. He enters the only hotel, lays a 100 Euro note on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one. The hotel proprietor takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the pig grower. The pig grower takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of his feed and fuel. The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the town's prostitute that in these hard times, gave her "services" on credit.

The hooker runs to the hotel, and pays off her debt with the 100 Euro note to the hotel proprietor to pay for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there. The hotel proprietor then lays the 100 Euro note back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.

At that moment, the rich tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes his 100 Euro note, after saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town. No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism.....

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the United Kingdom Government is doing business today....

Pride and Compassion

Nearly twenty-one years after the atrocity that will forever be associated with the Scottish border town of Lockerbie, old wounds have be re-opened with the release from Greenock prison of the sole person convicted of planting the bomb which blew apart Pan-Am Flight 103 just before Christmas 1988 - Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed al Megrahi. His release after serving just eight years has inevitably caused a huge reaction around the world. There has always been nagging doubts about his release. But, under Scots law, he was properly investigated, lawfully convicted and duly sentenced.

270 people perished that fateful night in the Scottish borders. One can only try to imagine what their families and friends went through - and are still going through. Losing a loved one is traumatic enough; to do so in such an unexpected and highly public manner is unthinkable for most of us. I can understand the anger of the relatives of those who died at Mr Megrahi's release. His release on compassionate grounds - it's been said he only has months to live as a result of terminal cancer - sticks in the throat of those who say no compassion has been shown to those who died that night. Not for them, the chance to say their goodbyes to the people they loved.

But whether one agrees with the decision or not, there is one thing that makes me proud of my country. Scottish Justice Secretary Kenny MacAskill has taken a decision he knew would be unpopular in the UK and more particularly, the USA. But he has refused to bow to American pressure; refused to be bullied by the powers that be in the States. The decision to release Mr Megrahi was made in Scotland. Our country. Scotland's decision. No one else's. The USA may think it has the right to police any country it chooses and its condemnation of the decision smacks of 'what the hell do you think you're doing?' But Scotland is no longer cow-towing to a London government which itself doffs its cap to America more times than is necessary. President Obama and the American people may disagree with the decision but they should respect it.

Yes,the homecoming that greeted Mr Megrahi when he arrived back in Libya was unnecessary. He is a convicted criminal after all, responsible for the deaths of 270 people. At the same time, there is a school of thought, particularly in Libya, that he was nothing more than a scapegoat. The full story of that night in 1988 is unlikely ever to be told.

Meanwhile, Scotland has bared its teeth to the world. UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown and his predecessor Tony Blair have sucked up to the USA for far too long. When Scotland hopefully gains its independence many people will remember this decision.

And will respect a nation for its courage in standing up to the so-called super powers...

Hearts in Europe

From the BBC Website as the full-time whistle blew in Croatia following Hearts latest foray into European competition:

2148: Dinamo Zagreb have had 21 shots, Hearts have had one, say the stats. And you know what they say: the stats don't lie. (Except on those occasions when they do.)

It ended Dinamo Zagreb 4 Hearts 0.

A plea to the marketing people at Tynecastle. Please don't start the 'we're not out yet' p*sh for next week's return match. Tonight's display was an embarrassment and it's very likely we'll get horsed next week too.

So, don't. Just don't...

The Coastal Town They Forgot to Close Down

Such is the emotional power of music that certain songs remain etched in the memory and remind you of places and people, some you remember fondly, some you may try to forget. Whenever I hear The Four Tops classic number 'Reach Out I'll be There' for example, I'm instantly transported back to Cumbernauld, just outside Glasgow in the late 1960s. As a child in my formative years, for me, this song is forever linked with the new town. To this day when I hear the song I close my eyes and for a couple of minutes I'm back in simpler times when there were no personal computers, no internet, no mobile phones, I would be out playing with my pals - and my mother and father would be in the house keeping a beady eye on me.

Similarly, years later when I lived in Aberdeen there were a couple of songs that summed up my less than happy time in the Granite City. The Proclaimers burst on to the scene in the late 1980s and penned a few memorable ditties, none more so than 'I'm on My Way' (from misery to happiness today) This was a song I never tired of hearing - for obvious reasons - when I left Aberdeen for Edinburgh nearly twenty years ago. But I heard the other song a a few days ago for the first time in years - Morrissey's Every Day is Like Sunday. I had forgotten what a wonderful song this is and it's hard to believe it's twenty-one years since he wrote it. Living in misery in Aberdeen at the time, the lyrics hit a resonance with me which few other songs do:

Trudging slowly over wet sand

Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen

This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down

Armageddon - come Armageddon! Come Armageddon! Come!

Everyday is like Sunday

Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade scratch out a postcard

How I dearly wish I was not here

In the seaside town...that they forgot to bomb Come! Come! Come - nuclear bomb!

Morrissey was,of course, the lead singer with The Smiths back in the early 1980s before he embarked on a solo career. The Smiths were one of the best bands around in a decade which taste forgot and blandness and greed took over. You may try to imagine how wonderful it felt hearing that song - living, as I did, in the coastal town they forgot to close down...

ESPN

Following the demise of Setanta Sports, I thought I would register with ESPN, the sports network that has picked up the wreckage from Shitanta to televise live football in Scotland. I phoned last night in the hope of getting some half decent football for £10 per month. They're offering SPL and English Premiership games every week although Sky have the pick of the games. That said, the Dundee United-Hearts game is being covered on Monday night - not that that influenced my thinking...

However, my attempts at getting subscribed to the channel were akin to negotiating the MaastrictTreaty. On Friday evening around 6.45, I spoke to some young lass over the phone who took my details...

Name?

Mike Smith

Smith? Can you spell that for me?

S-M-I-T-H.

Thanks. Do you have a date of birth?

Yes, thanks.

What is it?

26-02-62

1962?

Hmm. Let me think for a minute.

If you could be quick, sir, we have a lot of callers waiting to get through.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Now, Henry Allingham was born in 1896 and had just passed away. As he was Britain's oldest man, that would mean I must have been born in NINETEEN sixty-two as I'm not quite 147 years old. Do you want me to spell that for you?

That won't be necessary sir...

I do apologise. I thought I had phoned ESPN, the sports network but it seems I've got through to an organisation dealing with ESP instead...

She duly took my payment details and informed me she wouldn't be able to take my credit card details and asked if I had a debit card. I gave her the details, she thanked me and told me to keep my television on Channel 16 for the next couple of hours. Channel 16, I asked? That's the QVC Shopping channel. Yes, she affirmed, this would be necessary for the signal to decode (whatever that meant)

Three hours later - and having muted the television to avoid the incessant cackling of middle aged women selling shoes - there was still no ESPN on my television. Cue another thirty minutes on the phone to customer services and receiving irritating reminders that my call may not be answered immediately due to the high level of people wishing to join the new service. Eventually another young lass answered my call. She informed me there was no record of my details. But, I protested with more than an air of irritation, I had spoken to someone three hours earlier. This cut no ice. Rather than go through the whole damn process again I snapped at the girl on the other end of the phone, slammed down the receiver and headed for bed in a foul mood. Despite the huge advance in technology in recent years it seems the relatively straightforward process of subscribing to a television service over the telephone is still a step too far. Especially when they employ snotty-nosed teenagers who don't have a clue what they're meant to be doing.

This morning I skipped the idea of phoning again and instead registered by the website. Why I didn't do this before I really don't know. This time my credit card details were accepted and the sports station was active a couple of hours later. And tonight I watched Arsenal destroy Everton 6-1. Without wishing to concern my good friend Lizzy in the Hei'lands - she is an avid Celtic supporter and her side face Arsenal on Tuesday - The Arse were quite magnificent. It might be an idea for Gary Caldwell and co. to wear brown shorts on Tuesday evening...

To cut a long rant short - if you fancy subscribing to ESPN don't bother phoning the school leavers with attitude. Go to the website instead - at least it won't ask you which century you were born in...

Daffynitions

1. ARBITRATOR: A cook that leaves Arby's to work at McDonalds.

2. AVOIDABLE: What a bullfighter tried to do.

3. BERNADETTE: The act of torching a mortgage.

4. BURGLARIZE: What a crook sees with.

5. CONTROL: A short, ugly inmate.

6. COUNTERFEITERS: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.

7. ECLIPSE: What an English barber does for a living.

8. EYEDROPPER: A clumsy ophthalmologist.

9. HEROES: What a guy in a boat does.

10. LEFTBANK: What the robber did when his bag was full of money.

11. MISTY: How golfers create divots.

12. PARADOX: Two physicians

13. PARASITES: What you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower

14. PHARMACIST: a helper on the farm

15. POLARIZE: What penguins see with.

16. PRIMATE: Removing your spouse from in front of the TV.

17. RELIEF: What trees do in the spring.

18. RUBBERNECK: What you do to relax your wife.

19. SELFISH: What the owner of a seafood store does.

20. SUDAFED: Brought litigation against a government official