Week 3 begins as second week ends - approaching week 4 of abstinence

Yes, before the Olympics closes and my podium finishes depart. It was 3 weeks ago that I had my last decent swallae. Look how happy my chubby wee self was.

 My Dad was 92 on July 23rd and we had a party the sunday before. Scroll down for results and timetable.

I say party but it was more a small gathering in the clubhouse of a couple of his pals and some offspring. I had 10 pints, one for every time I went to the bar for a new arrival. Great fun had by all.

Enough to generate an atmosphere but not so loud that his ears didn't allow the opportunity to listen. To be fair, listening's not his thing, but if it is too loud he cant think so clearly what he wants to say, so it can be a bit frustrating for him. 

On this occassion he was able to turn back the clock with bourboun on the rocks with ginger beer in a pint glass following his orthodox pint of best. Yes,  I come from a family fully fond of the drink. This fondness has always been conveyed as a weakness, but it is our strong suit. In my aunties and uncles I saw only alcoholics and in my siblings and pals, I could see a few more. I of course have been a self confessed, absolutely ambitious alcoholic from an early age. With Stu's Mum Marie, I would sip the outstanding home made wine, while with Fergie's mum, who encouraged him to have parties where we could all drink under her watchful gaze, I would have my 6 tins and ensure the kitchen was tidy and an invite next weekend was assured. The boy baby boomer generation was fuelled by the antics of rockstars, George Best or even Brian Barnes, famously marking his golf ball with a tin. Aspiring alcoholics was our game growing up. It made us even more mercurial. Or possibly more irritating than words, but thats another story. The 1970's was the start of the great marketing media experiment. Like China's long march, this was our attempt to compete. Get everyone to buy a TV and then place lifestyle products in front of them, call it democracy as they get to choose from the two products. So I chose vodka, galliano, guinness, lager, wine and yes untold alcopop cocktails of my quickly inebriated heid. Fast forward 50 years to Dad's birthday and its all over.

Like my smoking days, my piss head days may be sliding behind me, maybe the next generation can pick up the pieces, ha ha. I know I'm having surgery and 120 units a week wont cut it. So I go cold turkey and start my camino abstentia. I'd have the odd half for methadone puposes and here we are 3 weeks later and i've had 17 units in 21 days, and the odd grumpy withdrawal moment. On Friday I tried a teaspoon of red wine. It would prove to evaporate the alcohol on my tongue and then slide over not too shabbily. Being greedy I then opened a bottle last night.

 One small glass was fine but then the second said, too much tanin. An alcoholic's worst job is pouring drink away but the 2nd glass had been folly and down the sink it went. 

Tuesday 13th will mark 2 weeks sine the op and the start of the next phase, radiotherapy I presume. A bit grisly but very popular. Cancer treatment has probably overtaken sun beds now in the UK, although it still has a bit of catching up to do with the fillers and trout pouts.

 My version of the self imposed trout pout is my drinking. On the plus side I'm now down a stone from not eating or drinking. I've started running again as its a lot easier without the excess weight. As I told the aenesthetist going into remission as a 100 a day smoker was not without benefits and I will clutch the sobriety this cancer camino brings like the great gift it is, the gift of life changing. When you get older and duller, a wee change is as good as a rest and perhaps this is what provides the perfect punch to get me to start doing those 40 years on interviews with the stars of 1980's Deadbeat. So today is Sunday, 7am like the Aldi weetabix, has been and gone. How mch will you drink today, ha ha.

Well after watching Hibs capitulation to Celtic, I would think loads. I took an ibuprofen after breakfast and woke up in time for the kick off.

After the game my mouth felt up to try bread. First time since they offered me a tuna sandwich at St John's when I came too, after the op. Oh how I've missed bread but only now does it seem to make sense to try to move towards solids.

Home grown cucumber works for me.

There's a quiet celebration that my first few post op milestones are being passed. I feel like the Camino Frances opening stages are over.

The first stage from st gien pied du Porte to Roncesvalles is a brute but it's also a wake up call to the journey you're about to embark on.

Tonsils, biopsies, wisdoms and a few other teeth, might seem like a fair bit but compared to a couple of months of radiotherapy and chemo, they'll feel more like an appetiser, or possibly an apperitif.

I'll look forward to writing my Camino norte diary in November assuming treatment is successful and I'm free to go. Last year we did Almeria to Almenucar, Málaga and beyond. Nothing lifts the spirits in January like the tapa and toes in the sea.

Ideally I'd like to catch the team in Burgos in October so Tuesday should be illuminating.

I think my mouth might be ready for a curry. I'll certainly be trying to cram a few in before too long.

And with a wave of the wand magic Tuesday is here.

Yes I had the curry and yes 3 pints at the pitch n putt followed by another 2 walking home. I was reeking drunk as I tucked into my curry. It all went very well and I fell into bed to watch the Luton Town v  Burnley. I woke about 11pm then wisely took straight back to bed. What a brilliant session. Simon looked like a normal person on 5 pints, I on the other hand was slaughtered when I left him and I knew it.

The one thing alcoholics often forget is the value of withdrawal. Most normal drinkers have decent gaps between celebrations which maximises their relationship with drink. It gets a bit of harmful press, receiving binge drinking headlines, but the impact physically is far more pronounced. Non alcoholics get more bang for their buck, determinedly more drunk per dinero than the alcoholic who is merely topping up.

A bit like walkers at the weekend. They climb a hill and feel great to have dusted themselves down but can't fathom why they don't do this midweek too. My mum used to say everything in moderation and I preferred everything to extremes. Whether it was my work or domestic life habits, I've definitely few gears.

Today is the trip down to the hospital so I'll go via lauriston and get my hearing aids some more batteries. It's a lovely walk through the meadows past Jess Rogan's bench.

Into lauriston building for the batteries then out past the wee red bar and the tap of lauriston.

Then down to grindlay street, past legendary old dole office and castle. 

Lothian road and over to the bus stops for Inverness, Aberdeen and Fife in Queensferry St.

Then down the brae to the water of Leith. 

Down the water to Stockbridge then over into inverleith park and up to the hospital.

I'll leave gaps and put some pictures in.

When you write for yourself it's such a pleasure. If anyone reads it I hope they enjoy it, but as my daughter told me, the freedom you get when you just write for yourself not an audience is .... I forget the word, which is why I'm not a writer and she is. Vocabulary dear boy, isn't a strong suit. Articulation is even worse.

So counting back I need to be at oncology for 2, so Stockbridge about 1, lauriston building 11.30 and meadows 11. 

It's 10am, when will I move. Hmmmm.

Luckily I made it in time to get a coffee and ice cream from cafe Gallo. Many thanks to Deli and Oscar.

I headed into the park and found a bench.

Ice cream with George in the park.

Or is it coffee with George in the park.

Well I sat on their bench and it made me smile.

When I finished I headed up and thought, I remember the pitch n putt here. 

The greens are still there for all to see.

So I arrived at the hospital and got seen very quickly by the weight man.

106kgs with my boots on. Down 7 kgs from last weighing 2-3 weeks ago.

It's a while since someone said to me we don't want you to lose anymore weight. How I did chuckle when the good Doctor started to go through the stuff. She apologised in case of repetition but I was delighted to hear it all again for my own good.

The biopsies and analysis of the tonsils suggested no spread so I saved any joking about, "so I could've kept them" for later.

The upshot was chemo and radiotherapy. 6 weeks of radiotherapy topped up with week 1 and 5 chemo. Including an overnight stay at chez oest.

Keep healthy, maintenance of abstinence would be appreciated and walking to and from hospital for radiation fine. It's a 30,000 round trip so it'll feel very Camino like. 

Next steps suggest a roughly 10 week cycle.

Week 1. Bloods, ECG, dental double check

Week 2. Mask fitting or 

Week 3. Mask fitting

Week 4. Feeding tube fitting

Week 5. Chemo overnight and daily radiotherapy dosage 55.

Week 6. Radiotherapy (2)

Week7. R (3)

Week 8. R (4)

Week 9. Chemo and R (5)

Week 10. R(6)

The daily radiotherapy sessions will be under an hour and the actual zapping may be as short as 2-3 minutes but the set up will be 15-20 mins.

The dosage is 55, so below 60 which is why they have decided to leave my lower molars.

I don't know if this means my post treatment performance will be quicker rehabilitation or not as I am not really comparing it to anything. The main thing is we have a realistic timetable and if the mask fitting is in week 2 then I'll be finished at week 9.

Weeks 10-12 are usually the worst I'm reliably informed as you stop the treatment but you're just destroyed. The rebuilding is largely on your own but you get as much support as you need. 

I took that thought away with me as I went through to see the nurse who explained the mask fitting and other fun prep stuff. Pam was superb putting up with my chaotic approach to "and another thing", or "just wondering". How patient all these professionals are. I also got to ask how to square the alcoholic circle.

"So you explained I'm not to lose weight but also I'm to continue not drinking. As you know I'm a 40-60 pint a week kinda guy so that's a lot of sugar I'm cutting out. Most of this first 7kgs is just drink." How we laughed. "When I stopped in 2004, I lost 5" and 14kgs from not drinking, could we not reset the losing weight clock please, ha ha"

I asked "could I take my mask home as a souvenir of the journey?"  I just thought it would be great if I got the band back together, or better still get Stu to join the band on marraccas and do a cover of sisters, brothers... Whatever. I've been writing a few songs as I walk and I can sense I'll send myself to sleep with some of them during treatment.

I'm looking forward to taking my mask home with me. When I told Jackie later she was in agreement. Spraying it gold and putting it on the wall really felt natural. I'll have got quite attached to it after 30 days. Like one of my hats on the Camino.

Next up I saw the bloods guy. Phlebotomist I think he was. I said help yourself to the vein, he tapped the arm and up it popped. I told him about my surfeit of platelets so I'll probably not need a plaster. Having taken his bloods he asked me to hold the cotton wool. I took it away and get! Presto! It had stopped. I said he was expert at needling and so the love in continued.

Another superb professional I was on my way to the dentist.

She's brilliant, along with her colleague from the last time, their assistants and reception, what a team. She looked at the healing and was delighted. 

She looked at the embroidery and wondered if they'd had a lot of sucker left in the roll. They've even sown your tongue where the biopsy was. I tried to say I normally stop bleeding quickly but clearly my mouth was still a bit tied in knots.

She looked at the teeth and told me the prognosis for the ones I had left. She explained radiation above 60 means they have to go but below that and with the superb job done on the root canal, it's probably best to leave alone. It's a patient call and I said I was chilled either way. I suggested she buy some time and cut back the hedge of stitching and so we moved on to cutting my tongue loose. The wisdoms had been beautifully stitched and with about 20 snips of the scissors the last of the stitches came loose. Likewise the tongue and suddenly I felt I could talk again. Bad news for the pals but a great feeling for me.

I thanked them again for my appointment for the Thursday for hygienist and said see you soon.

I wondered what way to go home and eventually chose back to cafe Gallo in case it was still open. 

I saw a charity shop and heard the rezillos. I walked in, saw a record player and bought it. £25 what a bargain.

I got it home and laughed. I'll always remember the day I had my plan presented to me.

Deli and Oscar were closing up so I said see you soon and wandered onto a bus. I was home in no time and admiring my new purchase.

Wednesday morning arrived and time to get my ECG. A mix of bus and walking as I sat transfixed eating my Weetabix. Eventually I moved and after going to the cancer centre I got directed up to the ann Ferguson building because everyone knows that's where ECGs are done. 

It was not before I met some fellow Prestonfield members where the expression what are you doing here, well of course your here for that, one was getting treatment another their feeding tube, I was a few weeks behind.

I think the ECG was ok. I wanted a picture for my wall but the crime scene stuff can wait. I took myself off on the walk back down to Leith.

I knew cafe truva was a good coffee and baclava place so I thought get a few steps in.

Through inverleith park again and down around the back of the ground.

Then along to the water of Leith.

Then walk walk walk.

Over at canonmills I took a detour via a charity shop. I bought Daniel Kahneman's book and would have a good laugh reading it later.

On and on past  and under Newhaven road.

Ah, the port of Leith, the shore.

After cafe truva I'd planned to buy boots but I looked at Tapa and saw the seats deserted outside.

I stuck my head inside

I got a menu.

I ordered

I ate. 

And then I bought my new boots.

Caught napping at St John's on Cancer camino

I awoke with a startle as I'd dropped off to sleep again. This time celebrating issue #16 all of 41 years ago. Really, 41 years, what a fossil. No wonder I'm getting my tonsils and teeth out in preparation for some radiotherapy. At my age that's the least I could expect. 

Before I go on I have a just giving page if people want to support Scott. For those who don't know Scott set out to run a marathon and raise money for Macmillan. At this stage we knew nowt about my own cancer, so now I'm begging on his behalf. Hope you don't mind but a £5 or £10 would help him on his way. Thanks

https://www.justgiving.com/page/scott-miller-1716664629103

Simon had got me out in plenty of time. Thank you Mr Kettles. Check in for this early morning departure opens at 7:30am but my last sip of water has now passed so time to write some slander.

Back to my dream, 41 years ago. Is it true that I knew people who wore WWII fanzine t-shirts from 1942, ie 41 years before #16 was published. I thought not. What a fossil I am, and I love it. My Dad's generation never had fanzines in 1942 although comics would come out much more regularly thereafter and he was a huge fan of Thurber's cartoons.

I just can't get past the indulgence of that wonderful whirlwind period of our lives.

Issue #16 encapsulated so much of the Deadbeat madness. Keith and I going up to Inverness, interviewing Will S on the ice rink after the gig, gatecrashing a party, then sleeping at the station at 4am. 

I look at the list of bands inside, the clubs and the people all jump off the page, and they're all in their 20's. I remember Jeremy Thoms trying to get the slider up and running. The review of Emma Thompson at the Fringe. It was all leading up to #17 the Flexi disc issue and our first anniversary as a fanzine. One year old, we'd come of age 

We had all these plans. For the label, to get bands showcases, the venues, to do the compilation tapes to promote them and find pathways for them to exploit.

At this stage I'm still thinking the music industry was one big team of ideas, lyrics, tunes and beats. I wasn't wrong but I think I missed out self interest and a wee tad of bitterness and jealousy whenever a band got signed 🤣.

Suddenly it's 7.30 and I'm called through for pre op stuff with the nurse and the consultant explaining the biopsies and the tonsils. The search for the primary and the targeted radiation. Then it's the dentist talking about removing my teeth, the wisdoms, the back and the front teeth that look like they'd not survive radiation. The teeth need to be in good nick and if there's any hint of infection they'd be bad news coupled with the radiation. 

The anesthetist finished it off by explaining that as a drunk I'd done well to cut my drinking last week but that this was a golden ticket to change and should be grasped. I replied yes, I will do better. From my 100-120 units a week I was at 7 and I said it would be that way or less for the next month.

I saw him again about an hour later and he filled my cannula with a wee drink then a big one. I slept for 3 hours and woke with a mess in my mouth. A tidy mess but it was sore.

The nurses were superb and I got ice which helped numb the pain. The consultant told me about the biopsies and tonsils. They never found anything visible to the eye but hoped the slides would be more helpful. I could care less. I'm neither an oncologist or surgeon. My role in this is patient, so that's what I'll be 

I found out later when Iain came to pick me up I failed on that chore. My migraine that started with the sunny sky resulted just as I was being discharged 6 hours later at 19:30 with a small then violent vomit. Nothing apart from water came up but it cleared my sore head and off we cheerily went to get me home and in bed.

Day 2, Thursday felt like it was going to be tough so I went out for a walk. I met Caitlin in the meadows.

This was a rare treat indeed. Fresh air was fantastic and the chat was good. I was listening a bit more than usual. I was still 17 stone so no violence in the weight reduction as yet. I wandered up to the pitch n putt while she headed to see her pals and a show.

I have so many pills, mouthwash and painkillers to take I felt zero inclination to eat but managed a small juice, manuka honey, avocado and chocolate milk before sliding back to bed.

Day 3 Friday and again I thought it's 48 hours since the op, go to the pitch n putt. Meet Caitlin on Jess Rogan, mother of Brian's, bench.

We met and it was good. I'd had a Weetabix today so was a bit happier than usual. Contrary to the face being bloated I felt a bit better and so continued taking in the air. The speech therapist team at St Johns phoned and explained that days 3-5 were usually the worst for the tonsils. Joy, I laughed as I finished my pitch n putt session.

Saturday saw 72 hours since the op and after a slow start a meander to Portobello and a stroll along the front. My eczema asked for a swim but I gave it a rest.

A great time had with Scott and Simon as I tried (and failed) not to speak. My tongue isn't happy but I had two halves of Guinness and an oat latte. The height of consumerism.

I left them at 8 and headed home for a lovely veggie soup Jackie had made. It was as good as it looks.

Two mugs later I was exhausted.

By 9 I was in bed wrapped in my ice blanket. More antibiotics and a bit of paracetamol.

It's now Sunday  and it's 4am. I've just had Weetabix and tea. Feels almost normal.

I'm back up to 10,000 steps so there's progress but I took it a bit far when I tried to eat ravioli. My first holiday meal with a light chew was a disaster. My dinner companions, Jackie and Keith, were left hanging on every mouthful as I tried to get the miniscule pieces of pasta down my throat like a salmon climbing a tree..

Lesson learnt and I'll stick to swallowing liquidised stuff until my throat is healed. It feels all on one side so I guess the surgeon felt the trauma was best kept to one side. The problems with chewing when you still have stitches on your gum from the wisdoms being removed is the food migrates so matter how small a lump.

Lesson learnt I'm back to soup and no more, "could you box it for me please".

It's Sunday night and to be fair I've got no real pain if I don't eat. I can drink as much fluid as I like but just forget the solids.

It's Monday morning and medication moment. It's 6am and I realise I never took anything after 7pm, not even ice. I poured some soup, tea and Weetabix in along with liquid ibuprofen, ,2 paracetamol and ice. 16/6 so dropped another couple of pounds off somewhere. It's a brutal diet but effective.

I was writing my American dream song last night and through the night. A very angry one about how much of a con it is.

Don't feed your own discontent there's only one f***** becomes president. 

I have always been impressed by the way the American dream has been sold. I think we do not hear enough about what happens when you fail to be the one who wins.

Who cares you have to be the best who cares Lennon isn't wearing a vest

I knew I'd make it, make it somehow everybody knows, knows my name right now

A stuttering conclusion but I like the other verses too about the sports kids who suffer paralysis or die in their teens, pursuing papas dreams.

A triple salko, salko with pike

Didn't mean you to land on that spike.

Throwing that touchdown while they 

Smashed you up 

Won you a wheelchair and a share of the cup.

It's natural selection 

Darwin wouldn't care 

Human insurrection 

Abuse laid bare 

I've also an affectionate dislike of selection processes and how the top performers didn't always make it through because coach makes decisions and they envied you. Put you in a play off at your period worst knowing full well your floodgates would burst. Chucked out of the programme on the whim of a man, who held all the cards in the palm of his hands.

You wrote all those words it was a Pulitzer prize, your teacher stared so enviously into your eyes

She ripped up all the pages, under your nose, scattered in a 1000 pieces on your toes..... 

She sang

Dream a dream you can realise 

Flipping burgers and serving french fries

Don't dream of a Pulitzer prize

You could never ever wear the disguise 

You stand here a BMI fatty

Not gonna work with our glitteratti

Don't dream your own discontent 

There's only one fucker becomes president 

Look at the ring it is a fawney 

It's too small to land on the square

The hoop and the square peg cause such fun

This Fawney game so easily undone.

I love the derivation of the word phony and it's so applicable to this nonsense song of mine.

Originally it was a word, what the Irish used, to describe our gold (brass) wedding band. 

Nowadays I've taken that ring and said it will never fit any hand. I do like the way it gets used as a pawn in the game of switching gold for brass, and leads to the Pretenders, brass in pocket. That's my head, obviously.

Juxtaposing the concept of throwing rings onto hooks appeals to me as everybody knows it's a con and yet for me it encapsulates the American dream. No matter how hard you work at it you will never achieve success. There are a chosen few who have the capacity to become good at a sport and there are even fewer who are chosen to run the business of, and government.

Find your place in the counter culture class learn about friendships and the dream will pass. Live in the moment, breathe in your day, dance to your tune and dance the night away.

Ah yes, it does go on. Like this pain. 

Wednesday & it's August 6th one week on.

It feels like only a week ago that Simon was waving bye bye as he scooted back to Edinburgh in the school holiday rush hour traffic. In my great self absorbed way I forgot to ask him if it had been quieter on the roads.

For all the great activities of yesterday sleep did not become me. Paul and Jimmy gave me the honour of the double bed whole they assumed their positions on the bunk beds. I'd had too many coffee breaks and lay awake until 1am. I awoke with a startle again and it was 02:57. I squinted, then agreed, shit I'm ready to get up.

The craic, driving, walking and swimming was superb yesterday. Embleton is on one level a quiet out of the way place, the vast beaech reminding me of blqckwaterfoot on Arran, endless sand and one other person when I went for my dip.

Pain was well manageable until I ran out of ice. There's a tiny raw piece on the lower deck where they took the wisdom tooth out and also scarred the cheek and tongue. It sang veryloudly when I tried linejuice and salt with the avocado, a trick not to be repeated for a while. It's the only issue I've had so I've been very lucky as the rest of the pain is just like a very sharp elbow in the face at football, irritating but just dull in it's permanence. I once got caught with someone's back swing at golf when I was a stupid pre-teen person. It's a bit like that. In fact it's so much worse than the time Mike Edington tried to have a cheap shot at Arnaldo. It's one of my favourite 15 year old stories. Mike's haymaker caught me square on the cheek and I looked at him laughing and said if that's your best shot get your corner to throw the towel in now. I felt he never said thanks for saving him from inevitable but that's ok. I was happier that I saved Arnaldo from having the story brought up time and again about the time he flattened the would be mauler Mike.

Jaw trauma brings to light many other stories. One time my brother Gordon smashed me and in a split second I had to decide if I lifted him and threw him over the banister head first or take a dive. I pictured in a split second lifting him by the legs and spiking him head first down the stairs and the psychopath in me just stepped away and instead I took the knee. He loved thinking he decked me. I loved thinking I never killed him. Same story, both true and a happy ending.

The other story a few years later was when I was in a taxi with Keith on the way back to Deadbeat central in marchhall road. We were outside the commie pool when a vespa with passenger pulled alongside revving like it was a 750cc powerful thing. I pointed to Keith and laughed. The passenger was less amused, getting off the bike opening the taxi door and breaking my nose. I laughed even more as the taxi driver offered to chase them. When Keith and I were talking about it, the 40 years in between just vanished and it seemed like yesterday. It was so funny. We were in the middle of one of the issues, probably the Flexi disc one, #17,  that celebrates 41 years today. Wow, how the years have passed. I still listen lovingly to the Dancing bears as they sing "looking back on the says when we had such fun, drinking wine in the park, in the warm summer sun". I think Ritchie was probably 19 when he wrote that song, oh how it must sound today when he sings it.

So back to today and we have a long walk to banburgh castle today I think. It's funny being with boys who are getting pissed and I'm so in my own painful wee world that I'm trying to reason with them. I've only been abstaining for 2 weeks but you'd honestly think I'd forgotten how to be a drunk.

As a lifetime alcoholic I find it strange that I could forgot so quickly but as I said to the anaesthetist a week ago when I went from 100 fags a day to zero it was just one of those sad funerals where you love smoking but you have to ditch it as you can't breathe. I think the trick with my addiction processes, always important to understand yourself, is I'm a sweetie jar person. When I was known as pukey McQ, or just Pukey, it was because I'd be sick every night before going to bed so I didn't put on weight or awake with a hangover. Had I known about Cancer I would've forgotten about trying bolemia and gone straight for the most brutal diet of the lot. 

Having watched many others, not least Stuart and Arnaldo's brutal campaigns in the last Cancer Olympics when they both dipped from nearly 12 to borderline 10stone before settling at their healthier looking weights of today. I of course have been a fat greedy, lazy bloater most of my life. If I haven't got a pint in my hand it's a cheese and ham toastie. In my youth it was a pint of milk and a peanut butter sandwich. In my post Camino last 14 years I reach for the wine and tapas. Yes at the certain of my alcoholism is nothing more complicated than greed. There are many people where the chemicals grab a hold. Junkies get a bad name but actually they're a very good social experiment to find out how quickly you can become addicted and which people have the wherewithal to recognise the freefall and who just falls. The documentary series on oxycontin was something I welcomed with open arms. While many of us knew what was going on in the drug industry both here and worldwide very few politicians seemed to want to get involved in fixing it because they hid behind "market forces". Any drug company boss will be as greedy as I'd be with a free bar, free tiramisu, in fact it reminds me of one of my dad's stories. I'll continue to digress as this greed is handed through the generations.

We got a TV when my Dad got to the final of brain of Britain. He would later be on their 60's version of eggheads. The story he tells of being allowed, nae ushered, into the green room is the epitome of greed. At 92 he remembers his 35 year old self being told to pour his own whisky and refill at leisure. What then followed must've been a masterclass in answering the question after the answer had been given. It was all live TV back then so I can only imagine how funny it would've been as this drunken man on the panel would say, " yes Wagner, its the 2nd cycle of the rings trilogy", "yes, Vincent, that's just what I said". Greed saw that he never got invited back but also taught him a valuable lesson about how naturally greedy some of us are.

Back to my days as Pukey not only did I sleep well, I'd also be able to get drinking as early as possible the next day without a hangover.

I'd call myself greedy. There's no trauma inviting me to drink apart from aspirational stuff from when we were kids. We all wanted to have enough money to drink as much and as often. It was our American dream to be able to have cocktails on the beach or vodka and galliano in the st Clair hotel at 16. Many of my fellow alcoholic pals had the same aspirations. Many stopped after 8 pints and went home unaware they were nursing a 120 units a week habit. One of my favourite lines a pal tells me is all his hobbies I volved drink at the end. If a sport didn't have 2 pints afterwards it got dumped, if it had 4 pints afterwards it became a permanent feature. Hence football, badminton and the running club worked for him and squash didnt. Had he joined a different squash club he'd have been fine.

Good news. I can stop slavering, my jaw has settled down.

The great thing in writing this for me is it's my own wee diary but I'm happy people read it. It's a self absorbed load of nonsense with tongue firmly in cheek, not just to stop the pain.

I likened someone recently to having all the empathy of a 747 lying on Lockerbie. Apologies to Lockerbie but Jim and I drove to Blackpool on Christmas day that year and we saw the site and it was an awful sight. It's the closest I'll ever get to the devastating effects that hit Gaza daily, the Ukraine and all the other places where violence at the hands of men with unrestrained testosterone destroy the lives of people. For all the nonsense talked at the Olympics could someone please just call it out at the UN. Oops, slipped into a rant there but that's me all over, self absorbed and allowing that stuff to dictate my emotions. 

Time I did the word teaser from issue #16, now that will test the memory banks.

So it's Thursday morning and I'm not going to hang around while the boys give me food envy with the full English.

Yesterday was a great day of walking, talking, cards, drinks, food, painkillers and great craic.

While they had breakfast in the dunstanburgh hotel I took my Weetabix on Bernard's bench.

It was delicious. A three pack in my wee box, I ate two by the time they'd returned. The other one I left soaking and had it as a wee drink for the rest of the day. 

Quite apt considering how many wheat fields we would walk through.

After leaving Bernard's bench we popped into the golf club for tea then got walking the high route around the edge of the dunstanburgh course.

 Stunning views of the beach and when we arrived we were met by a chorus of cackling chicks awaiting some caterpillars for breakfast.

I tried not to envision the 6 on a skewer ready and cooked but my food envy does go to weird places.

We had been walking through Ferniehill and it was good to be able to get back to the beach and more importantly a pub in low newton for tea.

Next up was the long route to high newton. Instead of 15 mins up the road we went for 30 minutes out to the point and then in the back of the town before settling down in the joiners for beer and sparkling water. 

I tried some mango juice but it wasn't to be. It seems to be a wee sore on my tongue that reacts to any acid and therefore best not to. It looks like the site of one of the biopsies so I'll find out on Tuesday when I head back to oncology.

It's been so largely pain free this last week I've just got to live the dream and stick to liquids although the prune juice was brutal. I got two wee baby food sachets. Carrot was superb, benign and tasted like a liquidised carrot. Prune was too acidic for the cotterised area. So be it I shrugged.

I was less sanguine at the end of the evening when I tried a bowl of soup. It looked benign but trust me, the tears were real. 

Three spoonfuls, three tears, 6 swear words, head in hands then repeat at one minute intervals. What a drama, puir wee puppy.

After the 3-4 pints in high newton we kicked off for the fabled Blink Bonny pub by the railway crossing.

Jimmy's miscounting of the scores as we chased the Ace was proving too comical for words.

It was time to move and the Blink Bonny offered us a two hour drink reprieve in the hot sun.

It was a walk that started well but quickly we realised not every farmer wants walkers nearby. Although they don't miss a chance to advertise their cottage for rent.

The paths as they were, were either overgrown like the Ferniehill or fenced in and had bushes preventing passage. 

It was a bit bizarre but we still enjoyed the very slow going.

At one stage Jimmy did disappear but when we hit a peak he would reappear.

We finally found out way over the wall and onto the busy main road before crossing over the outskirts of Embleton and making it along another quieter road and then a bridal path coming out at the caravan park. 

The last stretch was probably the same length but the time splits suggest we're not good on the fields. 

The overgrown or vanishing pathways were 2 hours while the same distance on the flat was 30 minutes. 

We cared not a jot, we were on our holidays and they were getting merrier by the moment.

I decided to join the Guinness party at the Blink. Paul returned with my half and also a story about change from a tenner after buying 2 pints and a half. The Blink is not a tourist trap. Note to self. 5 star review.

We sat inside played cards then went outside to laugh at Paul's sunburnt coupon.

The wind was too wild so we went in again and to slow both our drinking and sun burning we took to the games room and the 50p pool table. Stop the bus this is Deadbeat for 10p territory. We never put the price up as I really didn't want to. All our inputs went up between 1982 and 1985 so we should have, as by 1986 it became loss making, except for the ads, free gigs and records, I digress.

We played pool and Paul was our champ but Jimmy had his moments. His vision was sufficiently blurred that he started potting from distance!

I knew when I saw my second pint of Guinness my eyes had not been bigger than my belly but threatened the throat tolerance.

We thanked the kind woman for her help in keeping us refreshed and entertained. We wished her and the locals well and wandered back along the road, through another uncut path and into a field with cattle and a well defined path. 

Soon we were back in the greys inn and having our tea. Thank you Northumberland.

Just time for me to squeeze a high tide swim this morning at 5:51am. A quick walk past the green keeper attending to the tee.

It was stunning.

Thank you

Trickle down - the sequel - Bin strikes

As if by magic I get a perfect headline from the paper today about FESTIVAL BIN STRIKES.

This makes me chuckle.

Edinburgh has a hugely successful international festival but we can't find 5.2% or £1290 for our lowest paid.

That's the headline I read but it's not written. Those figures are what I read, but I haven't checked with Unite if they are correct.

The festival might be worth £1bn+ to the local economy and businesses. It might be worth £60m to Edinburgh university but it is not trickling down. We still have workers using foodbanks and on receipt of benefits because they don't earn enough. Most salaries are just short shift wages at minimum wage for seasonal workers in the gig economy. 

The trickle is a drip. The drip/gig economy is not an economical model that builds anything. It's just a fast grab. It the worst of us trying to adopt an out dated model of working for nothing and just be glad you get to be inside the ropes. It's like the volunteers at tennis and golf events.

But back to the impending strike, or should I say the ACAS avoiding conflict.

Some business leaders have taken up the pen in their fight for resolution. Many businesses rely on these summer months for a large portion of their annual income, screams the letter according to the Scotsman.

I think it's almost a balanced report from David Bol the deputy political editor but what is missing is the wider politics of poverty. I remember like yesterday a similar report on the nurses and other workers travelling across town who can't get a bus to their work because the festival is on and buses are full of can't move. 

How can we generate so much for businesses and yet we can't generate an extra 5 2% for the lowest paid or find a way to put extra free transport on for residents.

This is where I think the detailed analysis needs to go. The businesses are not always part of the circus that blazes for 4-6 weeks, they are part of the city, so they are here to both set up then tidy up and put up with what's required to rectify the damage after. Like the workers involved in erecting and then dismantling scaffolding cleaning our streets, restoring our parks, applying the grass seed after the circus goes. 

I walk all over the place in Edinburgh, the Lothians and Fife when I'm not wandering the Camino in France and Spain. I see the joy of tourists walking and exploring the city with the same excitement as Pellegrinas and Pellegrinos on the Camino. I see first hand how many tourists are good and awful. It really is cultural who throws things away and who puts a cigarette butt in their pocket. 

The Camino is like any circus rolling through town and so many "Camino" businesses in Spain have 7-9 month seasons with 4 fully sold out while others can be low or high occupancy. They have to respond to look after the locals in their village who will be there all year around and then the others who are itinerant.

Cardenuela Rio Pico, just outside of Burgos is a perfect example. I've stayed there about 15 times. I'm made to feel like a local by Myriam the owner, a long lost Scottish cousin. I first met the son when he was 7 and I think he's 21 now.

I love this place because the people and the food are superb. The bed and showers perfect and the size matches the setting. Everything is on a different planet from Burgos and I'm always writing and evolving my theory of small business when I'm there. It is the epitome of micro economics and the old fashioned trickle down working.

So then I ask why does trickle down work here. A business has been built to satisfy a growing demand for food and board on the Camino. The Camino is a festival like Edinburgh that has grown and grown. It now has growing pains too.

Often people argue the Camino has got too big, like Edinburgh, but it's not that it's too big, it's bulging in all the wrong places. Like the Scottish parliament building it can split the audience about where it's bulging.

I'm away out for a walk but will continue on my return.

Trickle down and the fatuous growth in economy - how we laugh

I do get frustrated. I'm trying to explain iconic growth means nothing for alleviating poverty.  

Economic growth is largely about measuring how well advertising revenue has increased and how much the techknowledgeology stocks.

That is such a goodness spelling I might keep it as it is indicative of what artificial intelligence can do for us 

I am very impressed with the growth of NVIDIA and the share price. Editor interrution - Fat Al is about to go off on one with the words being interpreted via his phone's microphone. I am even more interest that NVIDIA is so recognized by my speak up application for those blog. I am Scottish and it doesn't always understand what I'm trying to say hence I have excellent type. 

The growth of the technology stocks this down to their sales and in particular the advertising revenue they command. 

The ability for Google and apple they sell the same product with minor enhancements Iran year that should be here on here here next year on year, should be uploaded applaud but it should not influence the economic growth statistics to tell us how successful the nation is doing. 

I clearly need to upgrade my phone to enable it to understand me and built in obsolescence is a standard success story of any product particularly cars. 

Tesla is back moving forward again in the hope that their cars will be given the green light for driverless automation. Set reminds me why in the USA there is a law about g working. Jay walking. I needed to intervene there as sometimes certain expressions seem impossible to say to the speech in temperature on my phone. I need an interpreter. 

The pedestrian is really punished in the USA and driverless cars will punish them more. I am convinced that 8 out of every 10 deaths will be blamed not on the driverless car but on the pedestrian. We shall see. It could be that drinking is still promoted but you are not allowed to walk home in case you cross the road randomly. 

So to my point about growth statistics. We all hope I'm booming economy means we will all be living a better life but that was the 1970s. That was the post war expectation. That is not 2024. When levels of worth diverge to this level there is only a trickle off shore. There is no trickle down. It is now a drop.

The plumbers have arrived and they've fixed those leaky pipes. They've cleaned the drones and nothing is escaping. Wealthy stays with the wealthy and in my humble opinion it's going to make it a healthy time for revolution.

It's no wonder climate activists are confronting bigger targets. Olympic size events get olympic size audiences and if only a handful agree they've followed the marketing beasts beautiful example and just moved on to the next project.

Poverty does simmer and this is a long game. By 2030 we will have missed our goals and by 2050 we will fully be living with economic growth and full planet malfunction. The 1% won't care. Rome is burning but we're in the Ark.

Population migration has existed throughout time and will continue. The means with which to do so will vary but this cycle of kondratiev wave will be better summed up by the term armigeddon. 

AI has already invaded the classroom and the current generation born in this millennium will be using it to run the planet. By the time the universities churn out the graduates of 2030, the 2025 ones will already be shaping the world in their likeness, except it won't be their likeness, it will be through speech typos.

Football supporters think VAR can be bad but what they're missing is the game has changed. Soon VAR will be an ad break. The beautiful game has enough stoppages for ads but it doesn't utilise them. Sports is what we are sold so we can be sold more. The trick is to keep our consumption up on shit we neither want nor can afford.

Look around at the way your pub or club would have a riot over 5 or 6p on a pint 5 years ago, now its £1 and rising. I said to people after COVID don't just move to £4 move to nearer £5. As I look elsewhere £6.50 is fine and £7. It now feels like going into town is an opportunity to be fleeced. I find it astounding that even the supermarket experience is driven by location. The same chain a mile out of town has the temerity to be price sensitive.

Knuckle down, it's gonna be some ride.

In praise and thanks to the staff of our NHS

I'd like to take my fanzine approach a step further. In early May I discovered a lump under my jaw/ear. This swollen gland was still there a week or so later so I made a call to my GP. They offered me an appointment the next day but I was golfing in Fife so I took the next one which was the following Tuesday, May 28th. Next up a fantastic locum decided it merited further consireation so referred me for bloods, X-rays and the Lump clinic. The next day I phoned for the X-ray but it had been cancelled as the lead GP decided it would be best left to the lump clinic to decide on the action. On the wednesday, 29th I got the bloods done. The lump clinic appointment came through almost immediately and my wife opened the envelope and then asked when was I going to tell her. Ha ha, caught out. I duly had an endoscopy and ultrasound followed by biopsies on June 21st. The NHS are certainly moving faster than I did in early May when I wondered whether it was worth bothering about. I got referred for a CT scan by the consultant at Lauriston and a week later on July 3rd, had had the CT scan and was receiving the news that indeed there were cancerous cells, pappalomavirus, whatever else we'd find ot with the PET scan. Being unfamiliar I just took the good news that we were in early. This cancer camino is fast moving I chuckled. Next thing its July 16th and Im having my PET scan. I'm a tad claustrophobic. I was never into S & M as I didn't really want to be tied up and as soon as my body is locked into position panic pokes it wee way into parts of my brain. I occupied my brain with numbers. Not quite the 243 times table I had during the vasectomy but I kept counting backwards and laughing at the thought of telling the story later. Now its July 17th and I'm waiting for the next steps of my camino. I'm thinking radiation may be involved but I've stuck stoically to the speclation is silly and when we here facts they will be acted on. I feel like I'm getting fantastic treatment. I'm sure some people would know of less successful ventures but I'd like to tell my story as I've encountered a lot of fantastic caring professionals who know their job and have kept me informed and moving through the diagnostic process. I am on this camino for whatever length of time and to say I'm enjoying the journey would be to overstate it. I'm in admiration of the professionals I've enountered on the journey and the knowledge I'm picking up. Who knew the PET scanner was in the basement and that you had to sit in a small room while yo were injected with the radioactive solution that would help highlight where the cancer had spread or where it was hiding. I must try and learn the correct terminology. The politicains have kicked the NHS political football about but they keep forgetting how good some of us find the experience. If I was to moan it is nearly 3 months, the first answer I would give under oath is I sat on my hands for the first month. The second answer I would give is its less than 6 weeks from referal. This is diagnosing a problem that, happily, in many cases the answer comes back no problem. That speed of analysis is phenomenal in my view. We only have limited resources to diagnose but as you process through the diagnostic train you see how well oiled it is. Could it be better, I guess if you have machines operating 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and paid 3 times as much for another 3 shifts of nurses, radiographers, consultants etc but then that would involve immigration. I dont know the hours these machines can be used, are they like Taxis or Ryanair planes or do they need downtime to cool down. I look at this infrastructure as I'm lying claustrophobic inside what is a fairly ok donut if I just opened my eyes through the prism of maximising its benefit. I'm thinking if you wanted to use it more you dont just need more staff you need the full security required with 24 hours opening. I'm thinknig loads of things, but most of all, I'm thinking thank fuck its over when the radiographer calls through well done Al, thats it done. Ha Ha, oh what a lot goes throgh my ears in 30 minutes.

So that was good and then I turned up for my answers at oncology. I laughed that here we were on my Dad's 92nd birthday and the best present I could get him was on its way. Treatable yes, while teeth and tonsils no. They will be in the way of the radiation. So next stop was to be the dentist. My own dentist had been well ahead of the game when she suggested a full X-ray to ensure there was no dental reason for the lump. As the X-ray shows my teeth are shocking and the two sleeping wisdom teeth could well cause problems, wisely thought the dentist at the Western.

I concur and along with the rest of my teeth I said they can all go.

We don't know the pathway the radiation will take as they haven't found the primary. The Pet scan revealed nothing which was good news of a sort.

So I'm off to St Johns to get the tonsils and the teeth out. How many I'll find out when I wake up.

I had my pre op assessment yesterday and was delighted my BMI at 35 has me as over weight not obese. I also found out from the ECG I have a good heart. I just wish my 100 units of alcohol a week was regarded better. Abstinence is not my strong suit but a few days of 0-1 pint will doubtless help my chances of not sleeping through the 3 days after my op. 

It'll be July 31st when I wake up a toothless wonder, aka the gummy grinner. It's then likely to be 3 weeks until radiotherapy commences. How much and for how long I don't know but I'm in good hands and delighted to say I've got a good heart.

Would anyone like a pint.

CHANGE and LISTEN

Politicians arrive with promises they fully intend to ignore but what can they do. One of the best promise they can ever make is to listen. Listening is actually FREE. Politicians talking about schools, waiting lists and knife crime as they strive to get elected can relax now. They can stop saying this needs to be sorted and can sit down, listen, discuss then resolve. It is the Police who stand in front of the machete marauding mad man. It is the doctors, nurses and porters who stand in front of their victims, or explain why a hip operation may be a few years away. It is the fire fighters who enter buildings to save people, douse fires and risk their own lives in a way that is extremely generous to the resut of us in society. It is the teachers and classroom assistants who try to raise cash for school outings, books and all the shortfalls in the budget that ensure our children receive as comprehensive an education as they can possibly deliver. So before saying another word, venture forth into your constituencies and listen, before you get you goodie bag and baggie your seat in the chamber. One of the meatiest parts of any election campaign is the focus groups and the statistics they produce. This creates the banner under which the party will perform. In Labour's case it was CHANGE. It seems rather obvious that most things did indeed need to change. Instead of telling doctors to work faster, take short cuts and treat more patients, here's a plan, let's CHANGE. Let's ask how we can deliver. Instead of telling schools that they are failing, incentivising inspectors to identify flaws, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask schools how we can deliver. Instead of telling the police to crack down on knife and every other crime, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask what needs to be done so we can deliver. Instead of setting up watchdogs for utility companies how about giving them a real reason to CHANGE. A significant equity fining structure that dilutes shareholders but means they still have the funds to invest. Instead of grants for green energy projects make them equity sharing arrangements. Democracy might be at it lowest ebb as this whopping majority came from only 35% of a very small turnout, but it offers us the chance to CHANGE. A democratic forum that looks around Europe and identifies a better voting system than the see-saw of 2-5 Tory prime ministers then a Labour one. The see saw that sees so many people join politics, get 5 years in Westminster then disappear again. Now is the time for CHANGE to let people get the chance to evolve the process so it stops being a late night lonely drinking man's club. We can only expect more from our politicians if we CHANGE the way they work. The ones who have been there a while say "its aye been this way", well here's a plan, take a leaf out of the advice every Minister has ever advised and CHANGE. On behalf of the electorate, Thank you. I will do the long list of suggestions below over the next month or so. Instead of telling Nurses to work faster, Porters to take short cuts and Doctors treat more patients, here's a plan, let's CHANGE. Let's ask how we can deliver. Let's ask the question how can we use the buildings 24 hours a day to utilise the £1m scanners 7 days a week. Let's ask where we can get the resources to rapidly raise the radiographers required. Let's look in the mirror and say immigration. Let's not say yet another national emergency where we need the staff to work 84 hours a week. Let's not tell the staff they must contribute to a pension that is capped so that all the extra cash you pay in means you are effectively taxed at 70% because you pension pot has maxed out. At a stroke removing this ceiling would ensure that more doctors could work in the NHS. Forcing them to do less hours and work privately as locums because the pension cap forces them is madness when you have a labour shortage but what would you do. Instead of setting up watchdogs for utility companies how about giving them a real reason to CHANGE. A significant equity fining structure that dilutes shareholders but means they still have the funds to invest. Instead of grants for green energy projects make them equity sharing arrangements. The most obvious thing in the world was when we bailed out the banks we gave them the cash but not take a stake. We stood behind them but let the price of the shares fall to a level that the market felt acceptable and then let them find a way to pay the government back with a caveat of converting the debt to equity shares at any stage in the 2 years. The government would be obliged to hold for a period but at least they wouldn't buy in at a ridiculous price and yet again provide the city with some free cash. The opposite of privatisation, where we sold our country's assets at a severe discount, when we bailed out the banks we paid a huge premium. This was because the government forgot they could dictate the terms. Somehow the banks conviced them that the bank should dictate the terms. THat's back to POCA in my book and the police should investigate one day. Its almost identical to the theft of the many Tory covid cases that still need investigation. This again would help the government find some cash. Instead of telling the police to crack down on knife and every other crime, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask what needs to be done so we can deliver. For example - If you make POCA targets bigger and say all POCA receipts can be used to fund the Police and serve Justice, I think you'd find more money laundering legislation was not required. The Police would be able to find 100 times what they currently do. For every £100m they identify £25m fund new recruits, £25m goes in overtime, 25m goes into the Police Pension and £25m towards legal aid. Drugs policy. Legalise more drugs than tobacco, alcohol and legal highs. Tax them instead. Again hand in hand with POCA, the drugs ceased should be released through licensed vendors or drop in centres. The money raised can be used to fund the drop in centres and residential rehab units we need. Many small gains make a huge difference to our children growing up from an increase in needle return schemes to discarded vapes and other litter. Making it easier for society to contribute to Society is what the RNLI does through its volunteers. Emulating what the Food bank industry, (as sadly it is now an industry) has achieved is a beacon of light for how we can as a society come together, locally and nationally. Finally - stop measuring police performance through arbitary crime statistics. These do not help, they only muddy the waters. Now is the time for all community leaders to join together to say what should be measured, locally and nationally.

Sitting here waiting - Platform 9.9

It's so funny reliving old songs and the many lyrics.

Platform 99, or 9.9 was the place to be.

I used to make up the words every time we played whether live or just rehearsing and I'd keep doing it until I found something that worked for me. Sometimes the phrasing, rhyming or just nonsensical nature of the narrative whatever appealed to me.

This song started life as many did with the nuclear wasteland thought of

"A city is waiting, on platform 99"

The deal being that everyone went down into the depths of the station and the evacuation trains left from platform 99. 

This was fine for a few versions but if I missed the intro and the first bar I'd start

"City is waiting", which became "city awaiting"

"City awaiting, platform 99" led to all sorts of dialogue. It really had me chuckling as I talked about what the people were expecting to come off the train. All the love we give to migrants fleeing the war zones, juxtaposed against those being ferried in trains to death camps.

I sang it for at least 6 months before the song moved on again and became

"Sitting here waiting, on platform 99" a very mundane version on paper if you didn't know the evolution of the song.

As usual, I'd missed the train. There was only one departure from platform 99 so that's where I went for 9.9 later in the songs life.

It summed up my stupidity at looking at the poster on the wall that had been splattered by the debris and a dot appeared in the 99. Like an ice cream cone with a flake, it was a simple mistake, and it led me to see out my days on platform 99.

The song started in Edinburgh with Life  Support and made it to London. It was one of a few that Rich and I would play in the Sutton Arms in 1987.

Great song and I'm still singing and rewriting it.

I might have to move onto boats and find a rhyme for Rwanda that isn't kinda.

post office scandal first draft

Fake news lies at the centre of most corporate collapses and as the inquiry unfolds it becomes clearer there were two bits of fake news that the board and executives wanted to believe. 

The first was that sub postmasters had their fingers in the jar and if we could close those loops we could get more money for the shareholders, (they didn't it was fake news in the board room). 

The second is no surprise, the board continued to accept that the horizon system was fit purpose and showed no interest in auditing it. 

The public are still confused as to why the CEO was not more on top of the company. So much talk about establishing values and yet it manifestly was to undermind sub postmasters at every opportunity. 

I can shed some light here the CEO is responsible for making more money for the shareholders they are not responsible for running a good company. 

The shareholders are not interested in how the company will be in five years time they want immediate results.

Performance of the retail pol from a financial point of view looks on the surface quite good and that is a problem with numbers. 

CEO from 20 to 12 to 2019 I previously what in the branch network and clearly like most people had a pet hit called sub fo sub PMs stealing. This was a bee in their bonnet but not one that was particularly true. The sledgehammer of an inadequate system reinforced the fake news in their head and when they became a CEO they pursued it with more vigour to the point that prosecution was perpetual.

As CEO I would've sat down with the SPMs and asked why. Why steal, were the wages not enough. I would've seen the faces and the clothes. I would've seen the lack of ostentatious jewellery and I would've joined their cause after hearing when it all started going wrong.

It would've been as clear as day these people were the victims and I needed as CEO to represent the shareholder better by taking a strong stance with my software team.

Hindsight is wonderful but this is how I managed businesses or situations when I'd been parachuted or promoted into a role.

The poverty of curiosity is what is so damning about the enquiry. The tragedy of our companies being run by people who want to viece the narrative of fake news reminds me of carrillon and all the others before.

I was never asked to be a nob exec as I turned things over and found stuff. Stuff the management needed to know as they were unexploded mines like the ones that killed the kids in Crail after the war.

Sometimes we choose to learn nothing but unexploded mines need tidying up. While significant members of the British public adored Diana for her work with mine victims or AIDS their values changed not a jot and that's so clear today.

A wonderful survey where love for Diana and the gender identity bills across the UK would undoubtedly have professors of logic confounded but I digress 

Truth is we have been run by the money for a long time and since 1980 when the 7/84 gap seemed to be improving to now when the7/84 looks more like 1/99 we need to sit up.

Taxation us still not taught in school and it's certainly taught in the boardroom.

The minimum wage has become the maximum wage for many and those who were on double the minimum wage in 2009 find themselves only getting a rise because the minimum wage has caught them up.

The property owning classes have dwindled and now are split between those whose parent are underwriting the purchase and those who own the rest of our property.

The private rental sector is so large now and yet people suggest that not enough is done for landlords to be able to maximise their return.

Sorry, I need to stop you, supply and demand are dreams. It was buried in the 80's that supply and demand would meet our expectations only the rise in prices.

In achieving equilibrium it was always hoped that this system would arrive at better quality. It was the fundamental strength of the market that it would raise quality and standards.

No that's not what happened. What it means is our food rota in the fields as the labour required to pick it without European workers meant the wages required to pick it couldn't compete with food being brought over from elsewhere.

A tour of the 80's takes us back to the financial boon and the complete lack of competent people in London and elsewhere to be trained and have enough passion to want to do a job. See ny earlier note about how £600m went missing or the fraudster who stole a mere £600k over 10 years in the 90's. No suprise the executives involved in the missing £600m dodged jail but the sad wee gambler who was allowed to steal £600k got 4 years.

In both cases wages offered in the city tried to force up the supply of competent labour. All it did was force up the supply of labour. Lots of stupid people in roles they had no training for.

And now we have a CEO being cross examined in an enquiry telling us that they were a good and competent CEO.

Fake news and self belief, managing a room not a business. That's what we have successfully bred in this country. Parties for the few and jail for the rest.

As I look out to the July 4th election I'd like to hear some truth but it'll be drowned out. If like to hear about trials of SNP leaders but I suspect on July 5th we will hear the PF say there is no case to answer and actually it was all a ruse to try and bust the bubble of seeking a return to Europe.

I think that means the unexploded mines in my hometown are that joining Europe again can only be achieved through freeing ourselves from the separatist UK nonsense by voting nationalist. How bizarre Is that.

I believe strongly in Europe as they represent the only global village prepared to offer democracy and some protection again the multinational control of the tech companies. These tech companies don't even have effective shareholders, they are all Caesars of their own empires.

Ok I've talked enough!

Deadbeat #24 - 40 years ago today

The best issues stood out because they just did.  I don't remember much about doing them. They just happened. Usually Hilary had a great picture or interview, Karen McD would have doorstepped a legend of the time KB and I would've stumbled around the back steps at Clouds or skidded along the ice rink in Inverness and before you know it there's things we have to leave out, not that much fell on the cutting room floor.

I look now at the cover and how many names inside the fanzine never made it outside. I look at the Dance Factory ad and saw it was the Cocteau Twins only Scottish gig at the Assembly Rooms, DF had finally arrived. Who knew they'd dominate our summers in Kinross.

Those adverts from Stuart at the dance factory and Bruce and the guys from Regular Music paid for half the costs of printing. It was huge for us, especially this wee alcoholic. In the early days it was £20 when we were selling 500-800 but by #24 we were nearer 2000 and UK wide so tried to get £40. The truth was free entry to all the gigs was worth it for us. Taking a trip to London or Liverpool, Norwich or Newcastle, wherever to pick up a few quid and see some gigs that was a lush lifestyle for this jakey.

It was all about the music and that marvellous moment you were in. New town, new faces, sounds and accents. We did stand out. Afterwards grabbing 10 minutes with exhausted performers who were coming down or just getting slaughtered and thinking, hmm should've done an interview.

We did the odd interview in the flat, the coffee shop on sauchiehall street, the Tayside bar but after the gig was best. Annie after Eurythmics in a Dundee hotel for #11or  on the fire escape at the Barrowlands with Gillian Gilbert after those practical jokers Barney and Peter invited me to sit on a chair for a Chaplin'esque gag, were my favourites but every time any band gave us the time of day it was a joy. We were nobodies, not Screaming nobodies they were #18, and we loved it.

Whenever you hear who's doing what today whether they're cleaning windows, sound engineer, printing t shirts, nursing my mum or still playing their trade, these days are as fresh as the fruit that falls in my allotment, fantastic and thank you.

Click on the home page and choose any issue and chuckle at how good or bad we were and feel the power of those early 80's bands.

privatisation 40 years on

I went into stockbroking at the time of the privatizations thinking that I would raise the money to promote more bands more compilation tapes and more singles.

I was very much against privatizations as I saw them as a handout of assets We, the UK already owned. I think when you look at the state of the asset stripping over the last 40 years from these nationalized and industries you can draw two conclusions.

The private sector are not always very good at running things. Like the banks like the railways, buses, like the water companies the reason behind nationalisation is that the government needs to ensure workers can travel, have clean water to drink while smelly water is processed safely.

In Scotland our water is still nationalised. It makes money for the state without the middlemen cyphoning off anything. If you take a pint of Scottish water you'll find every penny paid in wages, on pipes, machinery it's still our asset. We pay for it and we still own it. 

If it were to be privatised there is not efficiency gains that can't be achieved in public ownership.

The second conclusion takes me back to a 1st year economics tutorial in st Andrews. I suggested in November 1980 as kids are supposed to that Thatcher had a plan to go from 1m unemployed to 3m and it was quite simply to batter the Unions. Some of my Tory peers suggested I was talking nonsense but the tutor said don't you think that is quite a legitimate strategy. I replied it was a strategy but not a responsible one considering the communities and the economic impact it would have. To my mind it seemed a crass way of throwing out all we had achieved just because we want to win a fight. Years later I would look at the Norwegian model for health and safety on the rigs. I would sigh in disbelief that their unions were in charge of health and safety which resulted in proper progress being made to keep the working people on and off those rigs safe. I believe the UK safety record does not stand up against the Norwegian safety record, it proves we were shit at organising ourselves because we spent too long having a fight.

1980 was a pivotal moment in the view of Stiglitz. It's when the old economic theory started to get fully tested. As soon as the asset strippers of the 80's saw the potential we very much moved to a dual economy. Some firms were building investing their profits for future growth while others were spying companies with hugely undervalued assets.

Rental income was squeezing it's way into economic theory. If it didn't generate enough on one company then it was called an underperforming asset, like having Messi play in the reserves in front of no crowd.

Whatever the asset class it had to be assessed, which means more fund managers counting and less people creating.

I watched this with my own company where we took our profits and invested them and as a result were the first company to fully automate trading, something we all know about but on 1998 to deliver an online trade from someone's house through the market with settlement taking place sounded a very expensive build. Expressions about the bleeding edge of technology were being bandied around but I digress. This company has changed hands so many times recently but not for the ingenious people and the creativity. Nowadays it's a bunch of clients with assets and a few people who service them. In the industry it's called a cash cow. It's viewed quite simply as what's the return on £100m, £20bn or whatever worth of funds.

Investment trusts are consolidating at the moment. Many managers under pressure because the net asset value is at a discount to the share price. The shareholders want more returns. 

The obvious way is to wind up the investment trust and sell all the assets over a reasonable period but that could create a fire sale and destable the market, oh, and put the managers out of work.

The second way is to buy back their own shares in the market. This is a popular route as it keeps the money inhouse all the commissions that can be collected will be and the managers keep their jobs as the discount in the trust's price narrows to the NAV.

The third way is to move to a mega fund. Consolidate with a rival and lose half the overheads. This can be a hostile or a friendly merger but again it should result in a narrowing of the discount between the net asset value and the price in the market of the investment trust.

I could talk about the fourth way but really all we are talking about is how counting money has become such a lucrative occupation. A fund manager is going to earn shed loads more than a consultant at a hospital, or many of the professions from engineering to a professor in a university. 

Herbal fix your cancer, who will make the casket that buries you, who will smell the coffee.

So in conclusion I believe that we are at a very critical stage which is reminiscent of a time 100 years ago when Roosevelt introduced the antitrust laws in the United States of America. Probably the most recent time when people got seriously stinking rich and left the gap between the net asset value of the population and the price Carnegie, Rockefeller ford to name but a few extracted from the population.

There was the wall Street crash in 1929 and I doubt we will get another in 2029 but I do look at COVID comparisons with the Spanish flu epidemic but discount it against the banking crisis. I do know we have learned nothing and greasy fat pigs still have their noses in the troughs in plain sight. In Scotland our nearly former baroness Mone is keeping schtum but it surely is inevitable that when Labour get in they will hound some of the illegal actions taken place during the Pandemic.

Does this mean in conclusion we will just muddle along with lots of distractions while the money keeps getting cyphoned off. Yes of course.

The art of moving money and taxing it when it moves is something the Tories in the city are well familiar with. They tax their pals quite happily providing dubious investment value. Search the monkey with the darts versus top fund managers and you'll find it's hysterical. The.monkey gets a banana the top fund managers screw £1bn.

When you take only 0.5% off the table nobody notices. The fees these managers take all add up. The monkey receives nothing. Every time you look at your pension statement have a think about that monkey and ask is it a privatised monkey or a nationalised one, because it does the same job. It beats the top fund managers regularly.

If Labour win the next election it should renationalise through stealth. It should regulate the water companies into the ground and if they go bust there is no.bail out. The same for all the facets of the travel infrastructure. The land the companies had may well have been long sold off to pay huge bonuses, or reward asset stripping boardroom to shareholder strategies so as a country we don't need to buy them back or bail them out, we need to regulate then assume control.

It's a different war from 40 years ago but we can't just buy ourselves into them like we did the banks. We never prosecuted anyone over the asset stripping by the banks. We even rewarded, post banking crisis, the asset strippers appointments time and again. Over the past 15 years buildings that were valuable have been flogged to cover the incompetence. Now we have an online banking industry with the odd shop to sell products. It's obsolete and will soon be taken over by the Google and apple pay banks that will be formed very soon.

If the UK has any eye on the future it should start the legislative process today.

La Beat Friday 5th April, Edinburgh

Yes the Argyll cellar bar is hosting another great night 

Tickets leas than the price of a pint. A whole night of superb music, Vinny B says it a must for me, see you next Friday 

Met a great guy David in the cask and barrel tonight

Back in the day he screen printed and pasted up the anti nazi league posters that went up all over town in 1980, give or take a year. HQ in Picardy place will always get a name drop and David could have a book coming out in the next 12 months regailing us with the great gigs of the time. He was at most of them and as a Fanzine it couldn't be better for Deadbeat to report on these things. Fingers crossed for publication before Christmas and this is a time we all love to get nostalgic about and David's novel will be right up our street here at sunny Deadbeat, where we never miss a beat...

Time for action or nurturing nocturnal behaviours

Yep, I never know. I'm looking forward to escaping the march madness and assaulting April with the vigour I usually find in Spring. I'm living in the past here and enjoy re reading the issues of April and the memories associated. Scotland wasnt as desolate as we felt as ideas grew from the most barren perimeters. We all knew Scargill was wrong and Mick McGahey was right, and yet history tells us that yet again a fanny took us into a fight and the sheep followed. I've relived so many of those moments and while many bands made many songs our wee fanzine was all about our society. We weren't articulate and we lacked a clarity of purpose. We were sheep veering over the cliff at times but 40 years on it helps us realise that our actions dont occur in isolation. I took a job to raise the cash to get Deadbeat to the next level and help the bands put out singles. I never understood how the business worked, but I'm delighted that so many bands from the 3 Compilation tapes got signed and learned the hard way how the business worked. I'd almost suggest that the ones who never got signed were the lucky ones. The industry was full of sharks and swimming in it encouraged you to become one. So as I drift off to sleep tonight I'll not get upset at our label or venue never taking off, rather I'll concentrate on those hysterically funny interviews or stories that bands would tell. The gigs where things went wrong in a spectacular way that weren't funny at the time but are priceless now. Its getting closer....40 years on, Deadbeat style!

Inspired by the millennials

It's difficult to know if climate change or conspiracy theories will dominate the landscape in the next 60 years but I do know that the millennials will build their own world in their likeness.

They'll decide what the octogenarian masses will have to eat and whether they'll have a bed in which to sleep. They'll not need to do it with a heavy heart as the age of consumerism ticks down and Kondratieff waves bye bye to the technological explosion that enabled so many good things. Like all things, marketing was at the front of the technology and from elections to pandemics proved that the P.E.N. or push E notifications, can be mightier than the sword.