While in Glasgow, for a cancelled gig, we took in some culture.
While we were initially disappointed that the gig was cancelled, we’d thought we may as well have a weekend away.
And the Shiverin Sheiks in MacSorley’s were pretty good last night.
I’d intended catching them at Glastonbury a few years ago, but it didn’t work out, so last night was a bonus.
Ok, I grew up with this stuff, so please let me run with it.
Robot B9, the robot, and Dr Smith.
And the new robot and Dr Smith.
Accepting that the second picture is in color, and Dr Smith is more than marginally less camp, (and the acting is a lot better in the new series) I still feel that the original robot is more appropriate when compared to the (second attempt at) the modern version.
I feel the need to join a club.
For many years, I’ve looked down on folding bikes with disdain; after all, they’re simply not man bikes. I might have considered a Birdy at one point, but common sense prevailed.
So my obvious choice for a new bike had to be a Brompton. We may have bought a pair.
Perhaps it’s an age thing.
I originally posted this picture one Sunday afternoon in 2009.
We used to have a pretty regular family thing in the late 00s; lunch in Baroque (renamed Aspire, then Establishment) on a Sunday afternoon.
On that particular afternoon, if I recall correctly, there were some decisive football matches which would determine which of Newcastle or Sunderland would be relegated.
I’ve no particular interest in football, but I found myself annoyed by the party atmosphere in Sunderland. Sunderland didn’t actually win their match, but neither did Newcastle.
So, the man above was dancing in celebration of Newcastle’s relegation. I do accept football rivalry, of course. But sometimes it goes too far. It went too far that particular day. Which is why I probably remembered dancing man.
With Sunderland’s second relegation in two years, I wonder whether he’s still dancing.
I woke up this morning feeling really annoyed with my second in command. We’d been on a coach to Glastonbury with Karl and Michelle, when the bus stopped for a break at Pilton. We’d taken our bags off the coach and were sitting in the sunshine, when my second in command discocered that one of her bags was missing. The smaller one, with her iPad and hair straighteners, not her rucksack.
While I began a search for the bag, my beloved declared that she needed to have her nails done and, so, set off to seek a nail shop (is that what they’re called?). Michelle went with her.
While they were gone, the bus left. On their return, I’d still not found the missing bag, but we decided on a cab to the festival site. When one arrived, we found that we wouldn’t all fit in with our bags and camping gear. So I offered to stay behind and make my own way.
After waiting at a bus stop for a while, with no luck, I started walking. I was nearing the site when my second in command to ask where I was. I advised I was close, but that she should keep the call short since her phone backup batteries (we take several) were in the lost bag.
Within a few minutes I’d reached a point where I could view the festival site. The view was remarkably similar to my first ever sight of the festival, a long time ago. The scale was breathtaking.
I started walking to the entry gate, somehow bypassing the winding barriers which control the stream of festival goers.
And, then the alarm woke me up. I’m now on my way to work and still don’t feel quite right.
OK, let’s put this right. Robot B9 looks like this.
And this is the Jupiter 2.
And the chariot.
Going in …
While I’ve not had a single cigarette today, I did visit these establishments.
Answers on a postcard to mildlydrunk@sheriffhill.com
I’ve been to Bathgate today. I’ve been there for work lots of times over the years, but rarely of late.
I don’t think I’ll ever need to return.
That thought doesn’t make me happy. Or sad.
I fear it may be time to retire from my post as webmaster (you don’t hear that term a lot nowadays, do you?) For my local.
After partaking a little too much of their wares yesterday, I neglected to update the band details for tonight. So, on remembering while on a bus early this evening, I hastily added a post.
And later, when arriving for a nightcap, realised I’d written about the wrong band.
Rather than delete it, I probably should have copied it for re-use when this band actually plays.
I’ve realised that, to run a pub website, one needs to be on the ball. And I seem not to be.
ADDENDUM: It transpires that I made no error. The gig list does indeed say that this band would be playing. I need to establish a method for having late changes to me.