Beware the Glory Hunter So boots are quaking in constituencies all across the land as polls arrive suggesting a few upsets at the General Election in May. The squirming anger of the entitled is painfully plain to see. If it happens as predicted (but let’s be honest, the SNP gaining even thirty seats from the opposition would be an amazing success) I, for one, will be only too glad to see the back quite a few of this current generation of career politicians.
Scare-Emo I had a bairns’ weekend this week, so I finally got around to getting the much promised Swiss Army Knife for my son. The one I’d told him I’d get him when he left the cubs and joined the scouts. We went into Aberdeen to find one. As usual, I parked in Union Square, because with a van like mine it’s the easiest and most convenient place to park in the city centre.
A Drink For The Sewer Rats Today I did something that, if I’d done it even a year or two back, I’d have considered sacrilegious to my own principles. Something that if I’d seen or heard of anyone else doing, would have outraged and saddened me to the core of my very being. I poured twenty four cans of Tennent’s lager down the plughole of my kitchen sink. Granted, it was out of date (I’d bought it in January when I moved to this house), but that didn’t make it seem any less weird when I did it.