7th November, 2009 - Little Plays About The Law #1

Dramatis Personae


GLYL - Good-looking Young Lawyer. Very handsome. Looks like a young Brad Pitt, only more intellectual.

CCO - Call Centre Operative(from a large lending institution)


WE ARE IN THE OFFICE OF THE GLYL. HE IS ON THE PHONE. HE HAS BEEN ON HOLD FOR SOME HOURS. SUDDENLY HE GETS THROUGH.

GLYL Hello. This is Mr Lawyer. I’m phoning about my clients the Smiths. Their mortgage account number is YP87654. Their transaction is due to settle today and I haven’t received their loan funds yet.

CCO Could I have your name please?

GLYL I just told you that. Mr Lawyer.

CCO And your clients’ name?

GLYL I told you that as well. Smith.

CCO And the mortgage account number?

GLYL (SHORT PAUSE. HINT OF EXASPERATED SIGH) YP87654.

CCO And for security could you tell me the answer to your secret question: “What is my favourite type of meat pie?”

GLYL Lancashire Hotpot.

CCO Excellent. How can I help you?

GLYL When are the loan funds going to be transferred. They were supposed to be here yesterday.

CCO I’ll just check the system.

(THERE IS AN INTERLUDE OF 22 MINUTES WHILST VIVALDI’S FOUR SEASONS PLAYED ON KAZOO SOOTHES THE HYL)

CCO I’m afraid we haven’t received a request for the funds.

GLYL That can’t be right. I faxed it to you 4 times. To all the numbers your colleague gave me including the one to your Top Secret Loan Bunker.

CCO Did you mark it with the secret symbol?

GLYL Yes.

CCO Well. We haven’t got it.

GLYL (EXASPERATED) But you acknowledged it last Tuesday.

CCO Not according to the system.

GLYL But I have a letter from you here on my file.

CCO Are you calling me a liar? Because, these calls are recorded so we can sue you for bullying.

6th Noovember, 2009 - Ouch

As a small post-script to yesterday's entry, you will recall that I mentioned that, one of the irritating things about Christmas, is that kids leave small sharp plastic objects in places designed to cause maximum pain to adults when they step on them.

I hadn't actually stood on anything when I made that comment. It was designed as a witty observation, of a type designed to make the reader nod sagely in a moment of recognition. It was, in a way, a little symbol about the wastefulness of Christmas - where toys which you hoped would be treasured, actually become a discarded nuisance only minutes after the parcel has been opened. A metaphor I suppose for the consumer society. It was not really meant entiirely literally.

However, I suspect that it will please you yo know that, about 4 minutes after I posted the last entry, I stood on a small woooden rhino. Those horns are sharp.

5th November, 2009 - It's Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaaaaas!

In spite of the date in the heading, iit is Christmas day in the real world, and not Guy Fawkes Day (which it is in the odd world of my blog). It is good to be celebrating two holidays simultaneously. Later today I shall be setting fire to an effigy of Santa while singing a rousing chorus of "God Rest Ye Merry Arsonists". It will be no end of fun.

We have just completed the annual orgy of unwrapping, and the children are now happily engaged in breaking many of the new shiny plastic objects which are scattered throughout the house, generally in places designed to cause maximum pain to adults who tread carelessly. There is nothing like a toy dumper truck to make your instep sing with agony.

Highlight of the morning, so far, was my son appearing in the kitchen with an entire Chocolate Orange in his mout. He looked like a small and tasty stuffed pig. I am considering making him the centrepiece of the diinner table for our Christmas feast.

4th November, 2009 - Rage Against The Machine For Number 1

I thought I would lend the (not inconsiderable weight) of my blog to the Facebook Campaign which is trying to secure a Christmas Number 1 for Rage Against the Machine - the aim being to topple the dominance of the X Factor winner.

I have seen quite a lot of tosh about this in the press: suggesting that the campaign is a blow for democracy in the fight against Simon Cowell's empire; and that it is a fight against synthetic pop acts. This, of course, is a lot of old tripe. But you know that already. The fact that you read this blog marks you out as person of superior intelligence and taste. And I also like what you've done with your hair today - it really suits you.

No. The reason for downloading the RATM track is obvious: it is a bit of a laugh. If they get the Number 1 spot it will be amusing to see the X Factor judges hide their irritation. It will be amusing to hear some old rock track blasting over the radio. It will make us all smile in twenty years time when we are listening to some run down of the Top 50 Christmas Number 1s.

So - download it! You can get it on i-Tunes for 29p.

3rd November, 2009 - Remember? Remember? The 5th Of November?

In case you have not been following the blog recently (and who could blame you) I will remind you that I have been on a desperate catch up mission to bring the blog dates into line with real life dates. Currentl, here in cyberspace, I am getting ready for Guy Fawkes night. I shall be letting off Catherine Wheels all over Facebook very soon indeed.

But I am catching up. Slowly. Steadily. There were those who said it couldn't be done; there were those who said I was a fool even to try; there were those who said they didn't really care much and would rather be eating cheese instead of reading this drivel.

But I have ignored them all, and now I have crashed into November, which is only one calendar month behind the real world month of December. Suddenly it seems doable. I can almost taste the champagne, and feel the podium beneath my feet.

Cheer me on fellas. I'm doing this for you guys; for Scotland. Hell - I'm doing it for world peace.

Just say no kids.

2nd November, 2009 - Always The Cliches - But Nevertheless

I went to see Marillion at the Renfrew Ferry last night with my pal The Advisor. Marillion are a band from my youth, and there was a point in my life where I largely lived for them. I could tell you every lyric. I knew the background of all the musicians. I pored over the artwork on their albums.

Over the years they changed their singer, and I suppose that I grew up. There became less room in my life to lie on my bedroom floor, glorying in the band’s angst-ridden tales of fist love and lost love. And it was with some trepidation that I returned to see them last night. And in some ways, the trepidation was not misjudged. In 1987, the band were distant and slightly God-like. They were only to be glimpsed in the pages of rock magazines, and from the middle of huge concert halls. But last night, they had become human. In a crowded but small venue, they were close enough to talk to. They had middle-aged paunches and dyed hair, and they looked a bit like you and me.

They clearly have a good and loyal fan-base (made up almost exclusively of 40something men who work in IT and do not take regular exercise it would appear) and the whole gig had a rather pleasant family-feel with audience and band sharing in-jokes and rather enjoying each other’s company. However, I missed the days when I was able to elevate them to a position where they seemed more than normal, more than musicians. I miss the days when I felt that they were almost unbearably important.

Mostly this was not their fault. It is my fault for getting older. But – and maybe I am wrong about this too – it seemed to me to be more of a cottage industry than a rock gig. But then, they have got older too. They have families to support and mortgages to pay I daresay. Rock and roll is no longer the preserve of the young and the footloose.

1st November, 2009 - S.A.D.

There is no doubt about it: the unrelenting rain and darkness is affecting my mood. People suggest that this sort of thing is S.A.D. Syndrome. This, to my mind, is another statement of the bleeding obvious. Of course we are liable to feel a bit down when it has rained consecutively for 542 days and our neighbour has started shepherding pairs of animals into that oddly boat-shaped shed he has constructed at the bottom of the garden. And naturally, we will feel a bit blue when we haven’t seen the sun since April 2008.

The Scandinavians deal with this sort of thing by retreating into a world of “cosiness” – fireside chats, and warming drinks and the conviviality of good friends. And I tend to agree with them. I do not need a S.A.D. lamp. I need a snowball fight with the kids, and a few pints with my mates at the local, before putting scarf and gloves on and then watching my breath dissolve into the frosty universe.