It's That Time of Year Again

Excuse me, sonny, what time does the One o'Clock gun go off?

Can I buy whisky fresh rather than this matured stuff?

Is that your Edinborogh Castle?

What time is the midnight train out of Edinburgh?

Gee, that's swell. Let's get the five o'clock bus back to our hotel, it should be quiet at that time...

Yes, for the next three weeks it's the Edinburgh Festival. I think I'll head for the hills once I find out what time the midnight express leaves....

Bloody Windows Vista

I treated myself to a new laptop a few weeks ago as the previous one was over three years old - and in computing terms that's almost as old as I am. I sold the old one to my daughter Michaela but I'm now beginning to wish I hadn't. This new shiny laptop has several new features - most of them damn annoying. Take bloody Windows Vista for instance...

My old laptop had all my old documents - dozens of football articles, the draft of my last book Hearts - The Diary of an Incredible Season (still available from all good bookshops etc. etc.) bits of correspondence and other stuff all neatly filed in an easy, accessible format. I quite liked Windows XP, it was easy to use - and I knew where everything was. But those smart people at Microsoft clearly think Windows Vista is far advanced. It may well be but for my ageing brain, it isn't! And it's bloody slow! (Windows Vista, not my brain. Well, okay, I take your point...) Perhaps I'm doing something incredibly stupid (and I don't need any snide remarks here) but Windows XP just seemed so much quicker. Perhaps the fact my new laptop has a dyslexic keyboard doesn't help - I type the letters in the correct order but on the screen they come out all gobbledygook.

On Monday I e-mailed my article for the programme for Hearts first league game of the season on Saturday week. Only, the good people at Tynecastle can't open the bloody thing! Can you re-send it as a Word document they asked. Sure - only I was certain I had sent it as a Word document in the first place. So I've re-sent it tonight as a Word 97-2003 document and also as a text file in case all else fails. I now have three versions of the same document in my folder and it's the first game of the season.

My laptop also has McAfee as a virus checker. My old machine had AVG which worked perfectly. McAfee works too well - it thinks many of the e-mails sent to me are 'spam' when they're not. McAfee now tell me my month's free trial is over and I should sign up for at least a year at the cost of forty odd pounds. Except I don't want to - I'd rather have AVG. Someone told me I should uninstall McAfee from my machine and install AVG - this should fix the problem. But I'm loathe to do this as I fear AVG may not work with Bloody Windows Vista and I'll be at the mercy of the thousands of viruses which may destroy my machine.

That is, if I don't do it first by sticking my right foot through it. A inadvisable way of 're-booting' my machine....

Light at the End of the Tunnel?

UK scientists have developed a drug which may halt the progression of Alzheimer's disease.
Trials of the drug, known as rember, in 321 patients showed an 81% difference in rate of mental decline compared with those not taking the treatment. The Aberdeen University researchers said the drug targeted the build-up of a specific protein in the brain.

Alzheimer's experts were optimistic about the results, but said larger trials were now needed.
Presenting the results at the International Conference on Alzheimer's Disease, Professor Claude Wischik said the drug may be on the market by 2012.

From the BBC News Website (for full story click on the blog title)

Alzheimer's is a soul destroying - as well as mind destroying - illness. I had close hand experience of it a few years ago when two elderly relatives took it. The couple had been married for over sixty years but age took its toll and the old man died after a long illness. His wife had been struggling with the onset of Alzheimer's for some time but the traumatic effect of losing her beloved seemed to intensify her illness. She stood motionless at his funeral and asked me the heartbreaking question - 'who has died, son?'

A couple of years ago there was a television documentary about former Scotland football manager Ally McLeod, famous - perhaps some might say infamous - for leading Scotland to the ill-fated World Cup Finals in 1978. In his twilight years, Ally was affected by Alzheimers and the documentary showed an ailing Ally sitting at home with his wife watching old videos of Scotland losing to Peru. Strikingly, Ally could not recall what had happened. He has now since passed away.

A very dear friend of mine in Seattle is anxious about her mother who has recently been diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer's. I hope this news item will give June and millions of other people in her situation some hope.

Perhaps there is a light at the end of the tunnel...

Farewell to The King of Scottish Broadcasters

I was saddened to hear that one of Scotland's best writers and broadcasters, Bob Crampsey, has died after a long illness. He was 78.

Over many years, he contributed to sports programmes on BBC Scotland, Scottish Television and Radio Clyde. Football commentators and pundits are often ridiculed for their perceived bias towards the Old Firm in particular and, in some cases, just being nothing more than a comic figure (you know who I'm talking about here...)

But Bob Crampsey was a hugely respected figure. His dulcet tones were an integral part of BBC Radio Scotland's Sportsound programme for years and, unlike many of his colleagues, when Bob spoke you listened. His knowledge of Scottish football was second to none but his knowledge in general was impressive - he won the BBC's Brain of Britain in 1965.

Those of use who fondly remember Scottish Television's Scotsport from three decades ago - when the show was ran on a professional basis - recall the gentle tones of two gentlemen in sports jackets. The legendary Arthur Montford and Bob Crampsey, whose monologue at the end of each programme was often interesting and always heartfelt.

Crampsey joined BBC Radio Scotland's Sportsound in 1987 and retired in 2001. It's fair to say the show lost a certain kudos after his retirement.

Farewell to a broadcasting legend. There'll never be another Bob Crampsey.

The Story of the Blues

"...well that's my story and I'm sticking to that. So let's have another drink and let's talk about the blues.

Blues is about dignity, it's about self-respect, and no matter what they take away from you - that's yours for keeps.

I remember how it was, how every medium - T.V. and papers and radio and all those people were saying: 'you're on the scrap-heap, you're useless', and I remember how easy it was to start believing that. I remember how you'd hear people take it for granted that it was true - just 'cause someone with an ounce of power said so.

And that's a problem now, too many oddballs, too many pocketbook psychologists and would-be philosophers with an axe to grind. But there's a solution, it's not easy, but it's a matter of coming to terms in your heart with situation you're in, a matter of choosing how things go for you and not having things forced upon you.

There are plenty of forces against you, forcing you against your will, your ideals - you've got to hope for the best, and that's the best you can hope for - you've got to hope against hope...

I remember something Sal Paradise said, he said: 'the city intellectuals of the world are debauched from the full body blood-of-the-land and are just rootless fools'.

So listen, when the smile, the condescending pat-on-the-back comes and says: 'we're sorry, but you're nothing, you've got nothing for us and we've got nothing for you', you say: 'No', and say it loud: "NO!", and remember, people who talk about revolution and a class-struggle without referring explicitly to everyday life, without understanding what is subversive about love, and what is positive in the refusal and constraint......"

One of the best songs ever written. The sublime Pete Wylie.

Countdown to....

It seemed a tad ironical that I had trouble sleeping last night. Having been affected by Man Flu, I have been struggling for much of this week to keep my eyes open. Not that I expect sympathy, mind. Although I'm grateful for the hundreds of comments from people on this blog who have been wishing me well....

But last night I just couldn't get to sleep. Perhaps it had something to do with the fits of hysterics that afflicted me as Edinburgh's Talk 107 radio station gave regular updates of Hibernian's attempts to provide some sort of opposition to Barcelona at Murrayfield. Congratulations to the wee team who managed to keep the score down to 6-0.

So, at 1.30am I headed downstairs and switched on the telly. BBC2 was trying manfully to fill the gap that resulted from a recount from the Glasgow East Parliamentary by-election. A superb win for the Scottish National Party - I've never felt independence so close for my country as I do now. But flicking through the plethora of brainless television channels provided courtesy of Freeview, I was gobsmacked to discover what was happening on QVC - The Shopping Channel. The early hours of 25th July it may have been but QVC were a full five months ahead - it was Countdown to Christmas.

I kid you not, dear reader, QVC's studio was decorated with Christmas trees, tinsel, holly, the lot. I thought they were bad last year when I caught glimpse of a similar show in August. But with temperatures yesterday in Edinburgh in the seventies and scarcely a breath of air to be had in the stifling heat of the night, QVC were digging out the Santa Claus outfits.

Many of us are already convinced Christmas is increasingly a commercial festival instead of a religious one. But there's a time. And July just isn't it.

Someone, please, stop the world. I want to get off....

Not a Well Man

Now, I'm not one to complain. But despite my youngest daughter Michaela's assertion that I have a 'bit of a sniffle', I'm more inclined to think I've succumbed once again to Man flu. So as I'm not a well man, I thought rather than waste important energy on another rant, I would offer this story...

This fella, having split from his latest girlfriend, decided to take a holiday. He booked himself on a cruise and proceeded to have the time of his life, that is, until the ship sank.He found himself on an island with no other people, no supplies,nothing, only bananas and coconuts.

After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to the shore. In disbelief, he asks, 'Where did you come from? How did you get here?'

She replies, 'I rowed from the other side of the island. I landed here when my cruise ship sank.''

'Amazing,' he notes. 'You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you.'

'Oh, this thing?' explains the woman. 'I made the boat out of raw material I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm branches, and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree.

'But, where did you get the tools?'

'Oh, that was no problem,' replied the woman. 'On the south side of the island, a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock is exposed. I found if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into ductile iron. I used that for tools and used the tools to make the hardware.'

The guy is stunned.

'Let's row over to my place,' she says. After a few minutes of rowing, she docks the boat at a small wharf. As the man looks to shore, he nearly falls off the boat. Before him is stone walk leading to an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white.While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope,the man can only stare ahead, dumb struck.

As they walk into the house, she says casually, 'It's not much but I call it home. Sit down, please. Would you like a drink?''

'No! No thank you,' he blurts out, still dazed.'I can't take another drop of coconut juice.'

'It's not coconut juice,' winks the woman. 'I have a still. How would you like a Pina Colada?'

Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk. After they have exchanged their stories, the woman announces, 'I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor upstairs in the bathroom cabinet.'

No longer questioning anything, the man goes into the bathroom. There, in the cabinet, a razor made from a piece of tortoise bone. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge are fastened on to its end inside a swivel mechanism.

'This woman is amazing,' he muses. 'What next?'When he returns, she greets him wearing nothing but vines, strategically positioned, and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckons for him to sit down next to her.

'Tell me,' she begins suggestively, slithering closer to him, 'You've been out here for many months. You've been lonely. There's something I'm sure you really feel like doing right now, something you've been longing for?' She stares into his eyes .

He swallows excitedly and tears start to form in his eyes.....





'Bloody hell, don't tell me you've got Sky Sports?'