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This blog still seems to be an online shrine for Glen Michael fans. Give me some Glen Michael memories.. Ive forgot a lot about the show. But one thing Id love is a copy of the theme tune…

I took a trip to Kelvingrove with my girlfriend on Saturday. I heard a lot of good things about the place and its refurbishment. Pretty good fun and I could probably lose myself in there for a few hours in the future.

My enjoyment was marred by the amount of screaming kids around the 2 to 4 year age group running around. No doubt they were taken there by weekend dads because their fathers have no clue as to where to take them. The fathering instinct took hold and made me realise that I wouldnt take a toddler to a museum. Id rather take them for ice cream and a bag of chips, but not neccesarily in that order.

Have you ever thought about what you would leave behind to be placed in a museum for generations you will never see to look at?

Id bequeath the following:

A pair of well worn adidas samba trainers
Some hair pomade and my favourite brush
Empty diet irn bru cans

—

Pretty pointless to people who are not me or lived my life. But there are a good number of rediculous things in museums that have no relevance to my life..

I like haggis and I enjoy hunting, skinning, boiling, eating and excreting the byproducts.

However, I am not keen on Robert Burns’ poetry/songs. Is he the greatest thing that Scotland celebrates? To a lot of people yes he is. I dont get it.

Ive read his work and I am unmoved. I hear Auld Lang Syne and I cringe.

One thing that does not make me cringe, is the artwork of Glaswegian Observationalistic, Flightpenist and Printmaker Artist Stuart Murray. ( Do not ask me why I have decided to promote him in a post about Burns )

Seeing that I am on a Burns rant. ‘ Oh my love is like a red red rose ‘ is total 18th century cheese. Perhaps I should write a book updating his work for the 21st century reader. So, in my hypothetical book I could do :

Oh, my love is like a 12 pack of jelly hoop skydivers
That’s newly sprung from Boots
Oh, my love is like buckfast
That’s sweetly poured in a glass
As fair art thou, my sunbed tan lass,
So deep in debt am I
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till the sac goes dry.
Till the sac goes dry, my dear,
Till the seas gang dry
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Until the sac goes dry.

‘Til the sac goes dry my, my dear
And the rocks melt with the sun
And I will love thee still, my dear
While the sands of life shall run - ( Note: Actually thats a good line, I wouldnt change that )
But faretheewell, my only love
Oh, faretheewell a while
And I will come again, my love
Tho’ Ive only got ten minutes
Tho’ I can only do so ten times my love
And I will come again, my love

==========

Dear reader. If you thought that was a bit hmmm.. then read some of Burn’s lesser known erotic poetry.

Why did I not post this on Burns Night?

I had a very good weekend.

I drank too much and then I met the Glasgow Artist Stuart Murray on Sunday for a beer and diet coke with lots ice. During our conversation I learned the real meaning of feltching

And I thought I was a man of the world…

Is manflu. Anytime I have a touch of the cold there is always some woman in the workplace laughing and using their medical knowledge to diagnose manflu.

What a rotten term.

Another rotten term which I dont use but probably invented is bumperiods

But the urban dictionary doesnt seem to have a definition for this one..