I don’t know many people who’ve not heard about my new flat.  I love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it….

Just me and the boy – we get to watch all manner of trash TV and The Wire.  We have a garden, although already I came a cropper down the stairs and broke open my arm.  Whoopsie.   Still, it’s a talking point, eh?  Although do you really want folk to start a conversation with you that begins ‘Ugh, what happened!?!’

In this flat I everything I want and need, except perhaps a pony.  I even got cable, which Dave was dead set against – woohoo, another war won by myself. 

  No one will ever know the extent of despair that reached me in the old flat of brown, weed-smelling and dank, small kitchen, many bodies, lack of space.  Here I have an expanse of wooden floor, a garden out front AND back and a bathroom only for two. 

Pics to follow when I find my camera in the boxes that I’ve not got around to unpacking…

The last thing you expect when you go for a temp job is a run-in with Spam. 

I’ll roll back a little…

Uni’s a distant memory once again and it’s staying that way (yes I know I’ve said that before but this time i’m swearing by it!).  I’m a qualified Broadcast Journalist with a few shifts coming my way from various quarters and a couple of interesting roads to take.  

  Just now though Im concentrating on getting some dosh to get back on track.  Oh and I need new shoes after my repair job bought me a couple of months, but no more than that.  So as well as the usual barwork I do shaking my guns on the bar of the Lily (and what guns they are now!), I went for an admin temp job.  Easy work – 4.5 hours a day for just over seven squid and not exactly rocket science.

However on my arrival I found something rather nasty lurking in the fridge…

Now, i’m of the opinion that people should be free to eat what they want but surely an unexpected Spam in the fridge is pushing the boundaries a little?

Occasionally my blog’s a whingeing tool.   Today this is the case.

I’m tired of revising.  I have my exam tomorrow morning and I can’t do anything more because my brain hurts.  It’s not even full.  I quite clearly haven’t done enough yet for this exam, but I’ve got a mental block.  I just don’t care anymore.  But to not revise is to throw away an entire year’s work.

Dilemma.

The subject: Public Affairs.  The Barnett Formula, Scottish voting systems, blah blah.  It’s not even that it’s completely uninteresting.  Some of it is. 

It’s sunny outside; what I wouldn’t give to be lying on the grass drinking a Corona.  Ahhhh….

Isn’t it a little bit sad that you study so much supposedly to give yourself a better future, when you’re just missing out on life as it’s happening in the now?  Maybe i’ve been studying too long.  Well it has been seven years.  With a wee break in the middle.

I really hope this is worth the effort.

Meanwhile I feel sad and weird, like a deflated balloon.

There’s a new author on the shelf.

M. Trevelean writes ‘Tartare’, a sartorical black comedy about the hells of giving up smoking and the lengths it drives you to.

This comes highly recommended.  Please read and let me know what you think.

In this time of recession everyone’s making do.

So here’s the step by step guide to making do by me.

1. Buy boots when you once earned a living and had money, as opposed to being a scabby student-type.

2. Wear said boots to every gig, night out and field visit for at least 2 years.

3. Put foot in boot one day during summer and rip lining.

4. Put foot in other boot a month later and rip lining.

5. Realise boots have got to disgusting tatty point and are putting people off food, so appeal to mother to buy new shoes for Christmas.

6. Wear new shoes in rain every day for 3 months on commute to Hamilton from Edinburgh (see exhibit A)

7. Find parts of new shoes lying all over flat and realise no choice but to revert to boots

8. Examine boots for possibilities of improvement

9. Break out the trusty needle and thread – thank you convent education

10. et Voila! 

Anyone able to make it this Friday, head down to Sneaky Pete’s or The Bowery for This Is Music’s 3rd Birthday celebration.

Click here for the myspace page of This Is Music.  It’s run by Jim, HP and Tallah and features bands and DJ’s from the indie scene.

The jury’s out for this blogger on Cold War Kids.  I have to say, I absolutely love the opening to Hang Me Up to Dry – the lazy riff sounding like it comes from within a cave.  But I’ve not heard all that much to be blown away by, so I’ve just acquired the new album and, when I’m not working or job hunting, will devote some quality time to it.

 Meanwhile, see my preview in The Skinny here

The earlier post has confusled some. 

So, for clarification, in my earlier post check who the author is!

Or if you can’t be arsed with clicking two clicks, just click here

More to come – try and pick up a copy of the magazine if you can

Out.

Alarm, snooze, alarm, off, up, towel, shower, toothpaste, dry, makeup, clothes, hair, earrings, phone, bag, folder, kiss, door, light, door, stairs, road, bus, metro, street, steps, platform, ticket, platform, coffee, barrier, train, seat, coffee, mmm, metro, snooze, squished, late, glasgow, platform, barrier, buchanan, central, escalator, stairs, 17, slippy, train, seat, conductor, text, hamilton, street, uws, studio, hello, computer, news, bbc, phone, record, wrap, actuality, write, bulletin, lunch, write, record, bye, door, street, safe? cross, station, wait, neds, train, text, argyll, walk, station, newspaper, chocolate, yum, timetable, barrier, ticket, platform, train, seat, read, sleep, drool, waverley, barrier, platform, stairs, street, omni, walk, door, keys, stairs, door, home, slippers, fridge, beer, couch.  Ahh.