Had a bit of Blogger's Block this past wee while ,.,.,.
My mind has been on other, much more important things ,,
My poor wee darlin' wuman has no' been hersel for the past few months.
It started with a cold that then went into her chest giving her a cough ,,, naw, mair like a bark !That went on and on and developed into a bad chest infection ,,,, needing multiple dozes of anti -biotics to shift it.
At the same time she got something else from one of our grandwe'ans ?,,, a bug ? ,.,. sickness, diarrheoa, horse sweats, freezing cold one minute, burning hot the next ,,, no appetite, squeamish at the mere mention of food ,.,.,. all in all, not a happy camper !
The Doc was working on all this ,,,
But now she confuses him ,.,. she's been slowly but surely developing this "tremor" in her hand, over the past year maybe ,,, so she asked the good ( but simple ) medic what he could do for this at the same time !!
** BELLS RINGING ** ** MISTAKE **
He did what all these battery produced Gp's do these days ,.,. he issued her with the standard prescription ,.,.,. these are your new "calm-you-down Diazapalm pills missus."
Mmmmmm, now for my money that's when her troubles really started !
This dope ( and I don't mean the Doc this time ! ) wreaks havoc with people's insides ,..,
For starters the side effects have to be read to be believed !
These things, given out by Docs to help their patients, reputedly can cause, wait for it ,,, sickness, diarrheoa, severe headaches, sweats, loss of appetite ,,, getting the picture here ?
They can give her all the stuff she had to begin with ,, and this to "cure" her tremor ???
They can also introduce a few new nasties of their own ,,, eg, forgetfulness, rages, mood swings extraordinaire !!
In other words ,, the bloody " cure" is actually worse than the original illness ever was !
So, this is Doctoring in the 21st century ?? Well, God save us from the so called NHS.
So you go back ,,, you explain the new symptoms are now worse,, I mean much worse, than the original complaint and ask what else he can do for you ??
Well nothing really missus, you're a "Shaker" and there's not a lot we can do about that other than dope you up to the eyeballs ( there are different pills but they all do the same thing !! ) and change your normally pleasant personality to that of an angry Zombie !!
But, now that the "Zombie pills" have proved to be a disaster ( surprise, surprise ,, do these things actually work for ANYONE ?? ) we'll now try taking some blood samples and check if you have any problems with your kidneys, thyroid, liver, blood count ,,, etc ,,,
Now forgive me trying to teach the medical profession how to sook eggs, but shouldn't this have been the first thing tried rather than the last ,,, doping patients into oblivion surely isn't the NHS's 1st option is it ??,,,
Or are doped patients just easier options for our "hard worked, 9 to 5, no weekends, £140K a year " GP's ??
Bloody old cynic ,.,. Moi ??? !!!
Anyway, welcome back my pill-less sweetheart ,.,.,.
Now let's you and I get you well again in spite of the Doc's best efforts ?
How about some home made Chicken Soup ??
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
It wis they bloody Maroon strips !
So, here we go again ,,, Typical bloody Scotland ,,
Get us aw worked up for a brammer o' a perfermance and then play like shite !
But of course the ref. did us no favours .,,. Yon wis an absolute stone-wall penalty, that block on Faddy ,.,. Aye it bloody wis !
And Fletcher just wisnae match fit ,, say whit ye like, the bhoy kin play a bit ,.,.,. normally !
We definitely missed some o' oor "stars" ,.,. Big Lee (McCulloch), Wee beardy Paul (Hartley) wi' the mad eyes, and Scotty ( it's a grand auld team tae play fur Brown. )
But as Big Eck says ,.,. noo there's nae decision to make aboot how we play the Ities ,..,
We jist huv tae go oot an' WIN ,,, nae problem then ,, We ur always betur agin' betur opposition onywae ,..,,.
However I really wid like tae know ,.,.,.
Whit bampot pit us oot in Jambo maroon strips fur Christ's sake ???
As they say ,,,, dress like Jambos and ye'll play like bloody Jambos ,,,
I bet ye that wee Russian bastard at Tynecastle is laughin' his heid off the day !
Well come tae Hampden on Nov.17th ya wee shite, and start yer greetin' a' ower again ,.,.
We arra Peepell !!
Get us aw worked up for a brammer o' a perfermance and then play like shite !
But of course the ref. did us no favours .,,. Yon wis an absolute stone-wall penalty, that block on Faddy ,.,. Aye it bloody wis !
And Fletcher just wisnae match fit ,, say whit ye like, the bhoy kin play a bit ,.,.,. normally !
We definitely missed some o' oor "stars" ,.,. Big Lee (McCulloch), Wee beardy Paul (Hartley) wi' the mad eyes, and Scotty ( it's a grand auld team tae play fur Brown. )
But as Big Eck says ,.,. noo there's nae decision to make aboot how we play the Ities ,..,
We jist huv tae go oot an' WIN ,,, nae problem then ,, We ur always betur agin' betur opposition onywae ,..,,.
However I really wid like tae know ,.,.,.
Whit bampot pit us oot in Jambo maroon strips fur Christ's sake ???
As they say ,,,, dress like Jambos and ye'll play like bloody Jambos ,,,
I bet ye that wee Russian bastard at Tynecastle is laughin' his heid off the day !
Well come tae Hampden on Nov.17th ya wee shite, and start yer greetin' a' ower again ,.,.
We arra Peepell !!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Gaun, have a wee laugh !
Here's a great wee column from today's Herald writer Lawrence Donegan ,.,., ( and before anyone asks ,, How the Hell would I know if he's related to the late, great Lonnie ? )
What I do know is that he made me laugh ,.., out loud too, so I make no apology for copying and sharing this with anyone who cares to read it, even although it expressly says No Copying without permission ! ( I'm sure Lawrence would grant permission ,, he seems like a fun guy to me )
The best things in life are free if you have the nerve to blag.
LAWRENCE DONEGAN
When I started my career as a journalist, my ambitions were to save the world and get lots of free stuff. I think you can all agree as you sit there drinking your skinny mocha latte on this fine Saturday morning that I have made a pretty good job of saving the world, although I wouldn't want to take all the credit for myself, obviously. The Sugababes helped.
The free stuff has been slightly more elusive, partly because - and I know this will get a laugh out of some of you - journalism is a very ethical trade. This means that offers of a free week's golf in Kazakhstan, all expenses paid, in return for a glowing appraisal of Kazakhstan's claims to be the finest golf destination on the planet must be declined lest this arrangement be seen as a terrible breach of the solemn bond of trust that exists between those of us who write columns like this and those of you whose lives are so sad and empty you actually read it.
It would also be factually incorrect. Everybody knows that Uzbekistan is the finest golf destination on the planet, as I discovered during my month-long holiday in the Bahamas last year, courtesy of the Uzbekistan Tourist Board.
The other problem with getting free stuff is I am not brass-necked enough to ask for it. I find it too embarrassing, both for myself and for the person saying "no", for no better reason other than I'm a popular newspaper columnist with four fans, some of whom don't even live in the same household as me, and they are not.
It is also the case I have a very Presbyterian attitude to life even though the closest brush I ever had with the Presbyterian lifestyle was the night I snogged a girl from Stornoway at the university disco and she slapped me in the ear for getting fresh.
By contrast, there are some extremely unethical people I know - and for the purposes of this column I will refer to these people by the collective noun "Dida" - who would feel no compunction in walking up to a St John's Ambulance person and asking for a free heart transplant even though their most pressing medical condition was a displaced hair.
My hair could be on fire and I would still want to pay the fire brigade for wear and tear on their fire hose. At this stage, you are no doubt wondering where on Earth all of this is leading and I will tell you, although I can't let the moment pass without mentioning the radio station in Detroit which this week offered $1000 (£500) to the first listener who correctly predicted when Britney Spears would commit suicide following her recent troubles.
What hope is there for America when idiots like that are mocking Britney in her moment of supreme personal difficulty? The same goes for mankind, although from a Scottish perspective I no longer feel so depressed about the Real Radio football phone-in.
Anyway, back to free stuff.
This week, while the aforementioned brains trust in Detroit was proving it is possible to operate a radio station despite possessing the mental acuity of a tadpole, Radiohead announced they were giving their next album away for free. Or to put it more accurately, for "any price the purchaser deems to be appropriate".
Having bought the last Radiohead album for a price the man behind the counter at HMV deemed to be appropriate - £12 - rather than the price I deemed to be appropriate after I played it a few times - 12p - I am bound to say this is a fabulous idea and one I feel should be extended to other things in life such as cars, houses and books.
For instance, those people who really want to read the next Ken Follett novel could show their appreciation for his genius by shelling out £300, while those of us who consider Ken to be a future Booker Prize winner, but only on condition that Jeffrey Archer was his sole competition, could send him an invoice for £150.
The same could go for that lovely flat in the West End you want but would require a mortgage 385 times your salary for you to buy it.
"I'll take it for free."
"But it has just been valued at £3m."
"Not by me it hasn't and free is what I deem to be an appropriate price."
Come to think of it, let's make everything free. If everything were free then there would be no arguments, no poverty and no reason for Ken Follett ever to write another sentence.
More than anything else, it would stop me blushing when I asked people for free stuff.
What I do know is that he made me laugh ,.., out loud too, so I make no apology for copying and sharing this with anyone who cares to read it, even although it expressly says No Copying without permission ! ( I'm sure Lawrence would grant permission ,, he seems like a fun guy to me )
The best things in life are free if you have the nerve to blag.
LAWRENCE DONEGAN
When I started my career as a journalist, my ambitions were to save the world and get lots of free stuff. I think you can all agree as you sit there drinking your skinny mocha latte on this fine Saturday morning that I have made a pretty good job of saving the world, although I wouldn't want to take all the credit for myself, obviously. The Sugababes helped.
The free stuff has been slightly more elusive, partly because - and I know this will get a laugh out of some of you - journalism is a very ethical trade. This means that offers of a free week's golf in Kazakhstan, all expenses paid, in return for a glowing appraisal of Kazakhstan's claims to be the finest golf destination on the planet must be declined lest this arrangement be seen as a terrible breach of the solemn bond of trust that exists between those of us who write columns like this and those of you whose lives are so sad and empty you actually read it.
It would also be factually incorrect. Everybody knows that Uzbekistan is the finest golf destination on the planet, as I discovered during my month-long holiday in the Bahamas last year, courtesy of the Uzbekistan Tourist Board.
The other problem with getting free stuff is I am not brass-necked enough to ask for it. I find it too embarrassing, both for myself and for the person saying "no", for no better reason other than I'm a popular newspaper columnist with four fans, some of whom don't even live in the same household as me, and they are not.
It is also the case I have a very Presbyterian attitude to life even though the closest brush I ever had with the Presbyterian lifestyle was the night I snogged a girl from Stornoway at the university disco and she slapped me in the ear for getting fresh.
By contrast, there are some extremely unethical people I know - and for the purposes of this column I will refer to these people by the collective noun "Dida" - who would feel no compunction in walking up to a St John's Ambulance person and asking for a free heart transplant even though their most pressing medical condition was a displaced hair.
My hair could be on fire and I would still want to pay the fire brigade for wear and tear on their fire hose. At this stage, you are no doubt wondering where on Earth all of this is leading and I will tell you, although I can't let the moment pass without mentioning the radio station in Detroit which this week offered $1000 (£500) to the first listener who correctly predicted when Britney Spears would commit suicide following her recent troubles.
What hope is there for America when idiots like that are mocking Britney in her moment of supreme personal difficulty? The same goes for mankind, although from a Scottish perspective I no longer feel so depressed about the Real Radio football phone-in.
Anyway, back to free stuff.
This week, while the aforementioned brains trust in Detroit was proving it is possible to operate a radio station despite possessing the mental acuity of a tadpole, Radiohead announced they were giving their next album away for free. Or to put it more accurately, for "any price the purchaser deems to be appropriate".
Having bought the last Radiohead album for a price the man behind the counter at HMV deemed to be appropriate - £12 - rather than the price I deemed to be appropriate after I played it a few times - 12p - I am bound to say this is a fabulous idea and one I feel should be extended to other things in life such as cars, houses and books.
For instance, those people who really want to read the next Ken Follett novel could show their appreciation for his genius by shelling out £300, while those of us who consider Ken to be a future Booker Prize winner, but only on condition that Jeffrey Archer was his sole competition, could send him an invoice for £150.
The same could go for that lovely flat in the West End you want but would require a mortgage 385 times your salary for you to buy it.
"I'll take it for free."
"But it has just been valued at £3m."
"Not by me it hasn't and free is what I deem to be an appropriate price."
Come to think of it, let's make everything free. If everything were free then there would be no arguments, no poverty and no reason for Ken Follett ever to write another sentence.
More than anything else, it would stop me blushing when I asked people for free stuff.
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