Remembering Chariots of Fire

Gemma was telling me that, as part of her University’s 600^th anniversary celebrations, there’s going to be a re-staging of the opening sequence of ‘Chariots of Fire’. Remember it? It’s the one where a group of athletes is running, in slow motion, across the beautiful sands of St Andrews in time to a brilliant Van Gellis soundtrack. It’s one of the best films that Britain has produced (in my humble opinion) and fully deserves the 4 oscars that it won. Gemma was saying that the group of runners in the re-enactment is to be made up of girls only, so she’s applied and is really hoping to get a part.

In 1981 Alex was selected to represent Scotland at the British Schools Athletics Championships and his PE teacher gave him a ‘Well Done’ gift of two tickets for the Scottish premier of ‘Chariots of Fire’. Alex was 16 at the time and we’d been going out together for about a year or so – I remember feeling SO excited when Alex told me he was taking me to the opening night of a new film in Glasgow! We went through on the train, had a meal out (SO grown-up!) then went to the old Odeon cinema on Renfield Street to watch the film. It was probably our first date outside of Cumbernauld! We both loved the film but Alex, as a talented young runner, found it especially inspiring (he still is a talented athlete, just isn’t quite so young!).

Athletics is still a big part of Alex’s – and the rest of our family’s – life. We’ve all been members of Central Athletic Club for a number of years, and one coach in particular – Derek Easton - has had a big influence on all of us at one stage or another. Alex and Ross still train in Derek’s group, along with some of the most successful middle-distance and endurance athletes in Scotland. One of Derek’s many gifts as a coach is his knack of being able to train a large group of athletes of very mixed ability. When I used to run, I was one of the slowcoaches at the back of the pack, but I received the same level of encouragement and felt just as valued by Derek as a member of the group as the elite lot at the front did.

So, you can imagine how much I love the fact that Alex and I sat in a cinema 30 years ago, because Alex had done well with his running, and unknowingly watched a man - who would coach our children and become a big part of our lives as a special friend - running across the sands of St Andrews on the big screen in front of us. You see, Derek was a student in St Andrews when ‘Chariots of Fire’ was being filmed and he’d been asked – as a member of the University’s running club – to be one of those extras in that famous opening sequence. An influential film with an influential man playing a small part in it. The thought always makes me smile.

Cooing over Emily

I’ve changed the title of the blog again – I’m not sure if it’s the done thing in ‘blogging circles’ to keep changing the title, but hey-ho. When I started the blog at the beginning of this year, my intention was to write about something I’d done every day that was positive or made me feel good. However, it’s developed into a blog about absolutely anything that’s going on - in my life or round about me - that’s made, or makes, me feel good (with the odd wee rant thrown in for good measure!). And I quite like that, so I’m sticking with it for the moment.

Yesterday I paid a visit to my friend who’s just had a baby. Little Emily is absolutely gorgeous and, as a mum with teenage children, I lapped up the opportunity to cradle a tiny new baby.

I remember a story in the papers a few years ago about a hospital in England that had ‘banned’ visitors from ‘cooing’ over new-born babies.  Anyone coming into the maternity ward was given a card which read:

“I am small and precious so treat me with privacy and respect. My parents ask you to treat my personal space with consideration. I deserve to be left undisturbed and protected against unwanted public view”

Have you ever heard anything so utterly ridiculous?! The reasons given for the initiative were cited as: to reduce infection; to respect the dignity of the patients; and to respect the human rights of the baby! Not surprisingly, the cards didn’t last long; the hospital was accused of allowing bureaucracy to go mad and of ignoring the wishes of the mothers on the ward – most of whom wanted people to admire their babies! It was also agreed that if a mum wasn’t happy about someone cooing over their baby, it should be up to the mum to say so, not some bureaucrat in an office upstairs.

Anyway, there were no such restrictions on me yesterday and I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to coo over and cradle little Emily. And, her mum assured me that she was delighted to hear yet another visitor tell her what a beautiful little girl she’d produced.  You see, what the bureaucrats didn’t realise was that Mums never tire of hearing nice things said about their children – no matter what age they are!

A bit more faith in myself!

I went through to Edinburgh yesterday for an informal interview with one of the tutors at Stevenson College. I’d applied there to do the next module of my course and the tutor wanted to meet with me - really just to suss out if I would be suitable for joining his established group as a newcomer. Fortunately, we hit it off and I’m really looking forward to starting the module in a few weeks time, but I have to be honest and admit that I’m also a wee bit apprehensive. It is going to be a bit of a challenge joining a big group -  whose members have been working closely together and getting to know each other for the past few months -  however, I’m up for it and raring to go!

I couldn’t have done it when I was younger – I didn’t have anything like the confidence or motivation that I have now. I was one of those kids that wouldn’t go along to anything new, or join any groups, unless one of my pals was doing it too. I was too worried in case I didn’t fit in; I hated that feeling of being the odd one out and never really knew how to deal with it. And, I always thought I was rubbish at everything. I used to drive my mum and dad round the bend, especially at exam time. I’m sure I said “I’ve failed” after every single test or exam I sat at school and Uni – I was a terrible judge of my own ability and always felt that I had done badly. I’d usually done well enough and never did fail! (Well, except for this one time in first year at Uni when I’d made the mistake of taking Chemistry, yeuch, – I only just managed to scrape through the re-sit!) I look back and wonder if it made me feel safe to be pessimistic about the results, so that I couldn’t be let down. I’m so pleased that none of my kids have been like that.

Anyway, that was way back then. I'm now much more likely to try new things – even if it’s still with a bit of trepidation – and I've developed a bit more faith in my ability to do some things well. Only a little bit. I’ve driven Alex and the kids mad with every assignment and essay I’ve submitted over the past couple of years, but at least I’ve progressed from “I’ve failed” to “I don’t think I’ve done that well”. Maybe in a couple of years I’ll have moved forward even more and be saying “that was a dawdle – easy pass!” but, in the meantime, I’m happy just to keep on enjoying the journey that'll maybe take me to that stage!

A bit of a rant

I’ve just been chatting to Gemma on the phone. She’s sitting on a train after attending an information session, followed by a long interview, with a company that she’s hoping to secure a job with for the summer months. She had a very early rise, followed by a 6 hour train journey from Leuchars to Leicester, and she’s on her 7 hour journey home now. (There is a reason for me telling you all of this – bear with me!) Gemma’s doing everything she can to give herself the best possible chance of securing a decent job when she graduates in the summer of 2013. So, she attends conferences, lectures, information days and evenings to learn as much as she possibly can about such things as presentation skills, interview techniques, the changing employment market, and all that kind of stuff. She also does her best to gain the essential work experience that most employers now demand; she’s been all over the country to insight sessions that she’s either been selected for through lengthy application processes or has won a place on. She has two part time jobs (for the money as well as the experience) on top of her course work and, of course, a happy, busy social life.

Now, getting to the point at last, I was pretty angry when I read, in a copy of ‘The Week’ this morning, that some high falutin Tory fundraising club recently auctioned off, for thousands of pounds, internships and insight weeks  to wealthy parents so that their student off-spring could gain that valuable work experience from prestigious companies. So, as ‘The Week’ puts it, “what’s the going rate for a leg-up?”. Well, a one week internship at one of the big banks went for £3,500;  a two week insight at a well-known magazine headquarters went for £4,000; one week at a famous PR firm went for £2,000.   And so the list went on.

What an interesting conversation it would be if Gemma came across one such lucky son or daughter when she’s on her, hard-fought for, internship with JP Morgan this April:

Son of the wealthy auction bidder: “So what did it cost you to come here?”

Gemma: “Hard bloody work, part-time jobs to help fund the travelling, endless application forms and psychometric tests, late nights, long train journeys, interviews, catching up with coursework and the gift of a new suit from my mum. What did it cost you?”

Son of the wealthy auction bidder: “Nothing. But it did cost my Dad £4000. So, can you give me some tips on how to work as part of a team – I never had to learn anything about that you see....”

Bah, humbug. It makes me mad. But, at the same time, it makes me extremely proud of Gemma, who’s going to get wherever she’s going through her own hard work, motivation and perseverance - along with all the encouragement, reassurance, advice, support and cuddles that her mum and dad can muster! We're not in a position to buy a leg-up for Gemma, but even if we were, I like to think we'd choose not to. Allowing your children to gradually find and fund their own way allows them the freedom to be their own person - with no obligation to their parents. 

There, rant over – now I feel good again!

Tired but happy

Usually when I’m tired I feel rubbish and grumpy, but tonight I’m happy knackered. I stayed with my pal Karen on Friday following a fantastic girls night out and we stayed up blethering till about 5 in the morning. Seemed like a good idea at the time! And that was followed by two busy days. Tiredness is a small price to pay for a good weekend.

 I must admit though, I felt my age this afternoon when one of the younger members of the team of volunteers I’m working with announced that she hadn’t been to bed and had come to the office straight from her own Hen night/morning! There was me, struggling to keep my eyes open, still recovering from a boozy late night on Friday and there was she, fresh as a daisy after having not slept at all on Saturday night then spending all day Sunday doing some pretty intense training for our voluntary work. Aye, I’m definitely showing my age.

Having said that, I think that me and the rest of the 40 something year old girls I was with on Friday were first on to the dance floor and last off;  it may take me longer to recover, but there’s plenty of life in this old dog yet!

Lovely Linda

Our family came together to celebrate Gordon’s birthday last night, except Gemma who, unfortunately, couldn’t make it down from Uni. We had a great time and everyone was in good spirit; though special mention should go to Alex’s dad and Tom (my favourite uncle) for being on top ‘banter’ form, and to my Mum for baking her infamous birthday dumpling!

While we were all having a laugh and reminiscing over Gordon’s past 16 years, a friend of mine was doing her very best just to get through the day:

Sometimes you meet someone and, within a very short time, you know that they’re going to become a welcome addition to your life. On the first day of the course that I recently completed, I was lucky enough to meet a few such folk and I probably gained just as much from them – as individuals – as I did from the actual content of the course. One of them in particular, Linda Sterry, has become a firm friend and she’s probably one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met. On the 15th of March 2009 Linda’s two year old little boy, Gregor, died suddenly - totally out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever.  He just didn’t wake up. The same day that we were celebrating Gordon’s 14^th birthday, the Sterry family’s world fell apart.

Now, my first impression of Linda – before I knew about Gregor – was of a lovely, confident, happy, well-informed, interesting, genuine woman who likes to laugh (a lot!). As I’ve got to know her, I’ve discovered that my first impression hit the mark - but I’ve also discovered that there’s much more to Linda than first meets the eye. When Gregor died, the family received a lot of support from the Scottish Cot Death Trust and Linda has, ever since, been an effective and active advocator of this extremely worthwhile charity. In fact, after beating off the competition from thousands of other applicants, she recently won a place on the Vodaphone World of Difference Programme, which funds selected people to provide invaluable help - using their transferable skills - to the charity of their choice for a two month period.  Linda has thrown herself into this project and the SCDT is going to benefit greatly from her input, indomitable spirit and commitment. Since Gregor’s death, she’s already helped to raise over £15000 for the charity through a fundraising walk – and that’s before she plays a more official role! As part of the programme, Linda has to keep a blog – check it out if you’d like to meet her!

As if that wasn’t enough for one person to be dealing with, Linda’s husband received a kidney transplant six months ago after a long battle with renal failure. She’d made a choice to learn how to administer his treatment and had a room in their house converted so that she could nurse him through dialysis three times a week for five hours at a time at home. This latest transplant has been much more successful than his last so the family – Linda, Mark and their son Ben – can start doing some things again that have been nigh on impossible for a long, long time. Things that most of us take totally for granted. Recently Linda and Mark attended a REVIVAL conference; it’s a local charity that supports transplant patients in many different ways and Linda’s been pretty active in finding out how her and Mark can get involved.  And, from firsthand experience, Linda asks everyone if they’re aware of the donor register and, if not, makes sure they become better informed. I was already registered when she asked me.

So, she’s quite a lady is Linda, which is why I’ve dedicated this post to her and her worthwhile causes. I admire and respect her for making such a positive difference to people’s lives following unthinkable tragedy in her own; but admiration and respect don’t necessarily make for good friendship. It’s things like her sense of humour, love of a good blether and a mutual high regard for people who make the most of life that probably made us click.

From last night on, there’ll always be a special little place in my heart for Linda on Gordon’s birthday. Sometimes, in the midst of celebration, it doesn’t do any harm to stop for a moment, remember that life’s pretty fragile, and just appreciate and be thankful for everyone and everything we have around us at that very moment in time. And, sometimes, on even the happiest of occasions, it’s OK to shed a wee tear for the special people who either we, or our friends, have lost.

A baby and a birthday

Friends of ours have just had a baby. John, the proud Dad, arrived at our house at 1 o’clock yesterday afternoon - absolutely shattered, grinning from ear to ear, tears in his eyes - to tell us that Emily had been born at 8am that morning. He was literally oozing happiness. Today I bumped into John while I was in M&S looking for a gift for Emily; he’d been sent to buy some ‘tiny baby’ sleep suits as the ‘new born’ clothes that they’d taken in to hospital were too big! We never had that problem with any of our three kids when they were born! Not that they were bruisers, but let's just say they were fairly easy to handle!

My last baby, Gordon, was born on the 15^th of March 1995. He arrived at around 6am and by 11am we were home. By 3pm I was in front of the computer sorting out the payroll for the week. (Who said working from home was easy?!) So, tomorrow we’ll be celebrating Gordon’s 16^th birthday, while our friends are just about coming back down to earth after the birth of their first baby. It brings a big fat drippy tear to my eye; I’ve got so many happy memories of those first few weeks after Gordon was born - and so many more from the years that have followed - but the depth of emotion you feel those few hours after your baby's born is something else. I've been extremely lucky to experience that feeling three times in my life and I will never, ever take for granted just how lucky I am. My three healthy, brilliant kids have grown up into young adults who make me proud every day. (OK, so I'm a wee bit high on emotion tonight - but, as I've said before, it's a mother's perogative to be biased when it comes to her children!)

I've just realised that it's past midnight, so this post will be dated the 15th, but it is still the night before Gordon's birthday. Best go wrap his pressie and write his card now; wonder if my poem will be up to his high standard (see earlier post)...?!

Saturday night in.

Snow outside. Log fire burning. Dinner in front of telly. Beer, chocolate and ‘Slumdog Millionaire’.  Everyone at home.

Simple - but makes me feel really good. 

A phone call and new friends

The phone rang last night while I was doing some work using a voice recorder. I forgot to press the pause button before I answered the phone and I now have a recording to keep for posterity of me bawling: “OH MY GOD! AW PET, AW, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! OH MY GOD!” ..pause.. “ I’M SO CHUFFED FOR YOU!” It was Gemma phoning to let us know that, following her recent interview, she’s been accepted for an Easter Internship with JP Morgan down in London. The recording speaks for itself really!

And today was a good day too – though, like yesterday, it was tinged with a bit of sadness as I had to say some reluctant goodbyes. It was the last day of one of my courses (not the OU one unfortunately) and I was delighted to come away with a wee certificate stating that I’d passed. Much more importantly, I came away armed with a new set of skills and a new set of pals. Nevertheless, I’ll really miss my Thursday ‘course days’ in Dunblane; I’ll miss my lovely tutor and having a whole day away from the computer and phone, but I’ll especially miss spending one day a week with a lovely bunch of people, a few of whom have become pretty special friends over the past few months. It was hard saying our Goodbyes today, and a fair few tears were shed. However, I’m now looking forward to the start of the next module of the course - which I’m starting through in Edinburgh next month – and I’m definitely looking forward to keeping up with my new pals away from the classroom and getting to know them even better (probably over a nice bottle of wine or two!). And I predict that that’s going to make me feel really good!

Thanking an old friend

We picked up our new car today. It’s always nice to get new things, but I felt a wee bit sad to see our big old Volvo go. OK, so it’s only a car – but that car’s been part of our family for over 8 years and we’ve shared many happy times together! It’s taken us safely up and down the length and breadth of the UK and across the continent umpteen times; it’s carted umpteen kids around from here to there to everywhere; it’s been loaded with umpteen flat packs from Ikea; its roof has been loaded with bikes on umpteen occasions (usually in an atmosphere of blue air); its spacious back-end has provided a welcome platform at the end of umpteen cross country events to sit on while muddy wet spikes are changed for clean, dry trainers; its extra seats have allowed for extra people to fit in on umpteen occasions; and its wee added extras have made our umpteen journeys (no matter how long) all the more comfortable, safe and fun.

Sadly, it’s been showing its age recently and has been costing us a small fortune to maintain. Also, with the rising price of petrol it’s been costing us a small fortune before we’re even out of our driveway! So, it was time for it to go. As we drove out of the garage today, with our shiny new car, I waved goodbye to our old friend and said a quiet little thank you for looking after our family so well over the past eight years. Yup, it is only a car but, on so many different occasions over the years, it made me feel good.

A good sport

Gordon took part in a hockey tournament after school today; he only started playing a couple of months ago, but he fair enjoys it. I went along and just loved watching him, and the rest of the team from Stirling High, giving it their all; running around, chasing the puck, waving their hockey sticks, geeing each other on ... even though they got well and truly trounced! The teachers were brilliant; encouraging the kids during the games, making sure that good sportsmanship was in play and ensuring that hearty Congratulations for effort was dished out at the end.

It’s the same with the school rugby team. Gordon really enjoys going along to training after school and has good fun with the rest of the lads, but more often than not when they play against another school they get well and truly trounced! I do worry about him playing rugby against teams from schools where rugby is taught more seriously, in other words more skilful and talented teams who know how to tackle effectively! (Though, I’m assured by Gordon that that’s all going to change as their training has ‘definitely stepped up a gear’ with the arrival of their new, young, enthusiastic PE teacher/rugby coach! Time will tell...!)

Anyway, Gordon’s never going to be a brilliant hockey or rugby player, but he thoroughly enjoys playing both games - and it makes me feel really good that he comes home feeling really good - even when his team have been well and truly trounced!

Dance, run, coffee, run, cake!

I’ve had a great weekend. It started off with a trip to Glasgow with Mum on Friday night to see Matthew Bourne’s ‘Lord of the Flies’. Mum prefers more traditional ballet but she’d thoroughly enjoyed Bourne’s production of ‘Swan Lake’ (you know the one? It was an all male, totally original version), so I thought his new show would be something we could enjoy together. I’m not really in to traditional ballet and much prefer contemporary dance, but sometimes that can be a bit of a hit or a miss. In fact, my poor family has been subjected to some pretty awful stuff at the Fringe over the years when I’ve insisted that we make a contemporary dance show part of our programme of ‘must-see’ events! Not so for ‘Lord of the Flies’ - it was certainly very different but, thankfully, it wasn’t awful! I loved the fact that Bourne had recruited young lads - from workshops in schools around Scotland - who had never danced or performed before. The professional dancers were brilliant and the performance was just about as far removed from traditional ballet as you could get. I did feel sorry for the ladies sitting behind us who leaned forward at the interval and asked Mum if she knew when the real dancing was going to start! Bourne was actually in the foyer at the end of the show, asking folk if they’d enjoyed the performance and happily giving out autographs to the youngsters who’d been in the audience. I thought it was a lovely gesture.

On Saturday I let a friend down – that really wasn’t so good. I’d been back through to Glasgow having fun watching Ross and Gordon do the Park Run in Pollock Park. It was brilliant to see Gordon running, and enjoying it (making his auld maw very proud) after losing his running mojo for the past wee while. Anyway, in the car on the way home I received a text from my friend Hazel, along the lines of: ‘Where are you and why aren’t you here?’. SHIT! I was supposed to be meeting her for coffee at 10.30; it was now 10.40 - and I was about 20 minutes away from Stirling. What an absolute eejit! I had completely forgot. I phoned her immediately, apologised profusely and asked her to hang on till I got there. Ross dropped me off in town with unwashed, unbrushed hair; NO MAKE-UP; my old muddy jeans; and my manky cross-country jacket on – but my only concern was making sure that Hazel received - and accepted - my big fat piece of humble pie! Being the good friend that she is, I was duly forgiven and we had a lovely blether and catch-up. Hazel was the first person I really got to know when we moved to Gargunnock, 15 years ago. On the first day of playgroup, she took my hand, led me in the right direction and introduced me to all the other mums (like all playgroup mums to new outsiders, they were a pretty scary bunch!) and we’ve been firm friends ever since. Our daughters, Amy and Gemma, have also been friends since that first day of playgroup, though - as a sign of things to come - ever-confident Gemma went off skipping and jumping with Amy while I stood like a rabbit in the headlights at the door being gently coaxed in by Hazel!

Speaking of Gemma, yesterday was topped off by some good news when she phoned late on (obviously having enjoyed the free wine on offer) to let us know that her team had won third prize at the Red Rose Business Weekend in Lancaster.  It’s an event held at the University but sponsored by some big companies. Gemma hadn’t expected their team to feature as prize-winners and was looking more on the event as an opportunity to gain some valuable experience; meet some high-up folk from the likes of Saatchi & Saatchi and IBM; enjoy an all-expenses-paid weekend away; and come away with another prestigious event to add to her CV. But, I think she gained a lot more than that and I got the impression that beating teams from the likes of Cambridge, Imperial and Durham had made the success all the sweeter! (And made her auld maw very proud!)

Today I was at Rosewell (near Edinburgh) to support Alex and Ross in the Lasswade 10 mile Road Race. Ross had a great run and met his target of completing the race in under an hour (making his auld maw very proud!). Alex’s not at his fittest (poor soul’s recovering from a chest infection) so was just happy to get round the particularly hilly route on a freezing cold day in one piece! As usual, I loved watching them run but the best thing about the event was the post-race spread: tasty sandwiches, massive cream scones and delicious home baking. Mmmmmmm! Technically, I didn’t qualify for any of this lovely stuff as a running number had to be handed over before you could fill your plate, but I reckon supporters have a very important role to play at these events (we’ll say that anyway), so I had no guilt in demolishing some of Ross and Alex’s plentiful rations. Sometimes, you know, it’s the simplest things can make us feel really good!

Shuffle comes up trumps

After a long day of peeking at the sunshine over the top of my computer screen, I headed out for a quick donner round Watson House (see earlier post!). I could’ve taken in the beauty of the surrounding scenery to the sound of chirpy bird song - but I opted for the music on my ipod instead.

I’m often surprised by the knack that shuffle seems to have of picking out the most apt or relevant music for my moment, and today was no different. After bouncing along - to Katrina and the Waves’ ‘Walking on Sunshine’, Cliff Richard’s ‘Do You Want to Dance’ (I like Cliff, OK?!) and McFly Ft. Taio Cruz’s ‘Shine a Light’ - on came ‘Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen’. I absolutely love that track. Ross downloaded it recently and, after not hearing it for years; I had to have it too. The song’s just as relevant now as it was when it was first released back in 1998 by Baz Luhrmann (you know him? He’s the bloke that directed ‘Moulin Rouge’). Luhrmann put the lyrics to music and produced a great video of the song, however the words were first written in 1997 as an article in the Chicago Tribune by a journalist called Mary Schmich. It’s good that she still receives some of the royalties from the song.

Anyway, it’s basically all about living life and not having regrets and stuff like that. Some of my favourite lines (or instructions!) are:

“Sing!

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss!

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.”

And

“Stretch!

 Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.”

And

“Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.”

And

“Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.”

I had an extra spring in my step on the way back to the house; the walk, the scenery and the song – a perfect combination for a pick-me-up after a dull day at the mercy of my laptop.

Bit of culture and bit of fluff

Last night Alex and I went to the theatre to see ‘Gagarin Way’. It’s a play written by the same guy – Gregory Burke – who wrote ‘Black Watch’ so I was really looking forward to it. ‘Black Watch’, quite rightly, won all sorts of awards; it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s based on interviews that Burke conducted with former soldiers who’d served in Iraq and it revealed - in a humorous, poignant and shocking way - what it meant to be a part of the legendary regiment fighting on the front line then making the journey back to civilian life. I’d go and see ‘Black Watch’ again; that’s how much I enjoyed it.

However, I won’t be sitting through another performance of ‘Gagarin Way’ in a hurry. The play was actually written before ‘Black Watch’ and it’s the one that made a name for Burke, but it just didn’t do it for me, even though one of the four actors on the stage was Dave Anderson. Do you know him? He’s been in a few things on the telly - most famously as the bank manager in City Lights - but I know him best for his time with Wildcat Theatre Company. When I was in my teens I loved going to Cumbernauld Theatre and Wildcat were amongst the best theatre companies around at the time. It was formed by a sort of break-away bunch from 7:84 (the left wing group founded by John McGrath), but Wildcat did political theatre in a more understandable and a more musical way, which was much more up my street than the kind of heavy stuff punted by 7:84.  If you ever saw Wildcat live, you’ll remember the shivers that Terry Neason used to send up and down your spine when she belted out fantastic songs, written mostly by Dave Anderson. He was a pretty good singer himself and had a great presence on the stage. He was also probably the first (and probably the only) baldy man that I found attractive! He just had that ‘je ne sais quoi’ about him and I loved to watch and listen to him perform.

Last night proved that Dave Anderson is still a talented actor but also, sadly, that he’s lost that bit of ‘je ne sais quoi’ with the passing of the years. (He didn’t have much hair to lose, so that hadn’t changed much.) As for the show, it started off well; it’s set in a factory in Fife where a couple of disillusioned workers kidnap their ‘capitalist’ big boss. It turns out the big boss is originally also from Fife and the three of them, along with a university-graduate-turned-security-guard, end up in a pretty volatile situation where verbal bullets are fired at each other in the pursuit of political soul-searching. It was a dark comedy with some really funny exchanges of lilting Fife patter, but it just got a bit too brutal for my liking – especially when the boss and the security guard met their vicious deaths. The violence was gratuitous and, I felt, totally detracted from the message that Burke was trying to get across; that political and social identities are slowly being diminished. Still, it was a thought-provoking play - just a bit heavy for the start of the weekend.

Tonight, on the other hand, we went to the cinema to see ‘Paul’. It’s written by Simon Pegg and Nick Frost and is a silly story about two nerds helping a likeable alien find his way home. No big message, no politics, a predictable ending and a lot of laughs. Absolutely perfect for a bit of light-hearted fun in the middle of the weekend.

Two completely different nights, but both contributing to a good weekend so far!

Not quite Burns

Gordon quite often writes wee birthday poems for his friends and earlier on this evening he showed me three poems that he’d thrown together to take in to school tomorrow – two for friends and one for his maths teacher! He’s no Byron or Burns (thank goodness!) but his poems are funny, personal and – occasionally - a bit rude!  Tonight’s efforts were no different and had me, Alex and Ross laughing out loud.


I love that my 15 (almost 16) year old son has no qualms about presenting his pals with a poem for their birthday and I love that he’s following in his auld maw’s footsteps! I really enjoy writing wee ditties and have done so for many years. I won’t ever be invited to be Stirling’s Machar, but I like to think that over the years my wee ditties have given my friends and family a few laughs - or sometimes made them shed a few tears - whilst, hopefully, making them feel a bit special at the same time. It makes me feel really good and really proud to think that Gordon’s presents will, hopefully, have the exact same effect on his pals (and teacher) tomorrow!



  Looking the part, but not quite Burns



Crap chased away

I’ve only had a Facebook account for a couple of months and I do, sometimes, have reservations about it.  Yesterday I logged on to check the discussions on my OU group (it’s getting close to the assignment deadline, so there’s plenty of lively chat going on!) and, as those of you with Facebook accounts will know, my ‘news feed’ flashed up first. For those of you that don’t have Facebook, the news feed basically shows you comments, photos or links that your ‘friends’ have posted. I was pretty angry when I read a short, supposed-to-be-funny exchange that one of my ‘friends’ had had with one of her ‘friends’, who isn’t one of my ‘friends’. (Hope you’re keeping up!) Their comments were crass and, I felt, pretty offensive. There’s just no need for that kind of crap under any circumstances, but especially on such a public forum.  I totally appreciate that what offends one person can make the next person laugh, but when it comes to publicly taking the piss out of nice people who would be hurt if they read the conversation, well, it just leaves a really bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I’m just as bad for not joining in with their chat to tell them exactly what I thought of their nonsense, and I can’t properly explain why I didn’t; suffice to say that I didn’t want to create a heated debate that might highlight the discussion to all the folk who hadn’t noticed it in the first place. The exchange has, thankfully, been chased off my news feed today; superseded by lots more nonsense, most of which is fun and none of which is in any way offensive. It's been chased off the page to obscurity, where it belongs - and that makes me feel good .

Cross country in the park

I’ve spent most of this weekend at Callendar Park in Falkirk.

Yesterday I was a spectator and supporter at the National Cross Country Championships. I love the Nationals; runners of all ages, from all over Scotland, battle their way through the mud in all sorts of weather to complete a gruelling course. Gemma and Tola came down from St Andrews to join me running around and cheering our club members on – it was Tola’s first experience of the Milne family at a running event but he didn’t seem too phased by the mad shouting, chasing around, hugging and blethering, so hopefully we haven’t frightened him off! In fact, he very quickly got the hang of it and his “GO CENTRAL” chant could be heard loudly and clearly above the supporters from the other clubs!

Ross had a great race and it was just brilliant to see the hard work and dedication he’s been putting in over these past few months pay off. Alex didn’t have such a great race but, as ever, I was extremely proud of him and, as ever, relieved to see him cross the finish line in one piece! Apart from Ross’s race, the highlight of the day was watching our club’s senior men win the team prize. It’s the first time in the 125 year history of the event that Central AC has won the title, so it was pretty special. Ross is hoping to be part of a winning Central senior team in the years to come!

We were looking back at the stats for the event and found the results from 1982 when Alex, as a youth, came in 17^th overall and won a bronze medal as a member of the Shettleston Harriers team. It brought a big fat lump to my throat. Alex was 17 at the time and I’d been going out with him for 2 years. Here we are 29 years later celebrating the fact that our son came in 11^th on the same course at the same event!

And, today I was traipsing round the perimeter of Callendar Park helping Alex to survey a boundary wall for the Forestry Commission – all 3 miles of it! We had to fight our way through bushes, jump over burns, clamber over fallen trees and wade through lots of mud. So, I too can say I completed a cross country event this weekend! Not as prestigious a one as the boys completed yesterday, but one which left me just as knackered, just as muddy and just as happy as they were yesterday.

Yup, a good weekend at the park was had by all!

Not saying much about Caroline

At risk of turning this blog into a ‘Who’s Who’ of my friends, I’m just going to mention very quickly that I had a lovely time catching up with Caroline - my best pal from schooldays - last night. As Caroline is totally averse to all things remotely associated with social networking, she’ll probably never read this, which is probably just as well as she’d probably swear at me.

In respect to Caroline’s view on blogging etc, I’m not going to write a big spiel about what we got up to when we were kids (like this time when we were 14 and we told our parents that we were ‘going into town to do some shopping’ but we actually got on a Celtic supporters’ bus and went to a Rangers v Celtic match at Parkhead with a bunch of complete nut jobs. Caroline got away with it; my Dad sussed out me out, gave me the biggest rollicking ever when I got home then grounded me for what was supposed to be a few weeks but - as Dad was a big softie - lasted only a few days), or about how talented she is (Caroline went to Art School in Glasgow, worked in theatre design along with all sorts of other things, went back to Uni as a mature student to study architecture and is now Project Manager for Andy Scott – you know the guy, the Glasgow artist who sculpted all the amazing figures on the Clackmannanshire roundabouts and the wee kelpies on the canal near Falkirk and the gorgeous Arria on the A80), or about how proud I am of her (for example, for the fact that she went back to Cumbernauld and managed a project that saw Arria being installed in a town where she was told, at school, by a so-called careers advisor that she would never have a career in Art), or about how happy I am for her (because, having had to face up to, and deal with, some big issues and big losses in her life, she’s come out the other end as a shining example to everyone around her with a full and happy life to show for it) and about how she’s another one of my friends that I’d, without question, be lost without.

No, I’m not going to say much about Caroline. Instead, here are some pretty pictures:

Saved a new, almost blank, document

Today I made a start on the next assignment for the OU course that I’m doing, but I didn’t get very far. It’s not too difficult - I’ve to write a 1500 word ‘compare and contrast’ essay - in fact, it should be a dawdle! I had to write a similar sort of essay fairly recently for one of my other modules, so it should be pretty fresh and - weird, I know - but I do actually enjoy writing essays. The last assignment I had to do for this course involved the necessary evil that is data analysis along with the compilation of a report with a far-too-short word count for my liking. So, this should be more enjoyable and I should be able to get my teeth in to it. But, nope, it just wasn’t happening.

I even find the topic of the essay really interesting; we’ve to compare the work carried out by two infamous psychologists, Harry Harlow and Mary Ainsworth - in particular, their contribution to our understanding of attachment behaviour. So, I’ve been reading all about Harlow’s pretty disturbing range of lab based experiments which involved keeping infant macaque monkeys in cages with various different wire model surrogate mothers, or, even worse, in complete isolation for long periods of time. Poor wee things – wouldn’t be allowed nowadays. And I’ve been watching, and reading about, Ainsworth’s ‘Strange Situation’ experiments where human infants were observed in, strangely enough, ‘strange situations’  to assess how they behaved when separated from and reunited with their mothers. Although they went about it in different ways, Harlow and Ainsworth helped change the accepted ‘norm’ for the way that mothers should be with their children. Before, mums were encouraged not to pick up a crying baby, not to cuddle them too much, not to show too much affection and be more of a ‘provider’ than a ‘comforter’. In fact, J.B. Watson - the guy that’s known as the founder of behaviourism – told mums to “never hug and kiss [your children], never let them sit on your lap. If you must, kiss them once on the forehead when they say good night”. I’m so glad that things are different nowadays - children are there to be hugged!

Anyway, I’ve rambled off the point – I didn’t get very far with writing my essay. However, I did enjoy the reading and delving deeper into the research, and it does feel good to know that I have a new Word document saved on my computer with the title of the essay at the top; a small, but positive step - from a psychological point of view - in the right direction!

Time spent with my oldest friend

I wrote in an earlier post about the difference between a friend and a friend. There’s just something special about the relationship you have with your friends and it can be different things with different friends. OK, I’ll stop doing that with the bold and italic, I can see it's becoming annoying and I’m sure you’ll have got the gist by now! I like to think that I have my fair share of friends, but only a few that fall into the friend (last time, honest) category. 

The length of time you’ve known someone doesn't always affect your friendship, but sometimes it really does matter. I met up yesterday, along with Alex and the boys, with our oldest friends (such a funny term isn’t it? They’re not ancient, we’ve just known them for a long time); Karen, Stevie and their lovely daughter Kirsty. I grew up living next door to Karen in one of the ‘matchbox’ terraces in Cumbernauld so we’ve basically been going out to play since we were about 2 years old - and we have as much fun now as we did way back then! Ok, so nowadays we don’t steal our mum’s make-up and plaster ourselves in it (or, worse, plaster our other best pal neighbour, Alan, in it), and we don’t dress up in old wedding dresses, and we don’t run around playing hide-and-seek, and we don’t spend hours listening to ‘singles’ on our record players, and we don’t do wee shows in our living rooms for our mums and dads (with hairbrushes as microphones), and we don’t go ‘up the town’ looking for the boys that we fancy, and we don’t have record sessions so that we can practice moonies and snogging (one time even with neighbour Alan – eeuwww!), and we don’t devise ways that we can communicate through the wall late at night (no mobile phones in those days kids!), and we don’t get into fights ‘behind the church’ when any of our pals are bullied or picked on (no, I’ll re-phrase that, Karen doesn’t get into fights any more – I was always a complete coward but I did have a very important job holding the jackets!), and we don’t spend hours talking about everything and anything...no, wait a minute, that last one’s wrong – we do still spend hours talking about everything and anything...and we do still support each other if our kids are being bullied or picked on, we do keep in touch by mobile phone (or, more recently, we got so with it on Facebook!), we do still dance moonies and snog the same boyfriends that we had way back then (yup, Alex and Stevie were our boyfriends when we were at school), we do still have sing-songs in our living rooms (with Budweisser bottles as microphones), we do still hear from our mums what the other’s up to long before we’ve had a chance to tell the other ourselves (they don’t live next door anymore, but our mums are still great friends) and we did still, as adults, dress up in wedding and bridesmaid dresses when each of us got married (with Alex and Stevie joining in, taking it in turn as groom and best man!). We don’t see each other all that often, but neither time nor distance has ever put barriers between us.

So, basically Karen knows me to the core. She supports, encourages and looks out for me (she’s also quick to tell me if she thinks I’m taking the wrong road) and I do the same back. A shared childhood is a special thing and it forms the basis of our special friendship – another one that I’d definitely be lost without.