HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, KERRI........!

On Saturday( Hogmanay/New Year's Eve),  my baby girl, Kerri, turns 30. OMG? Did I just say 30? Weird thing is, I can recall her birth as clear as a bell.  Even now!  I'm not too great at buying presents or indeed babbling on the phone, but one thing I  do my damndest at is poetry and rhyme. That is the one sure thing that comes from my heart.  So below is a dedication to the day my angel (eventually!) popped into the world.  Alli Bally Bee.......

My Girl

Reflecting on your birth day, how you popped into the world.
My one and only daughter, firstborn, little baby girl.
I recall that very morning, as the niggles started up
Held my breath, bit my lip, stared into my coffee cup

Uh-oh! The planned arrival's curiously making waves.
It only cramps a little bit, I must try to be brave.
Your dad met me at Maternity, a smile upon his face
A floppy rose in one hand, and a watch to set the pace.

Feeling quite uncomfortable, from sit, to stand, to sit
I didn't like the set up, not one single bloody bit!
He asked how I was doing and I lashed out with my tongue
For it felt I had an open brolly sticking up my bum!

You weren't too concerned about making your appearance
And all I wanted here and now was full-blown baby clearance!
Deliver us from pain and things, it was beyond a joke
Not even sweat stained lullaby's were able to evoke!

I huffed and puffed and panted, swore and knocked some flowers down
Prayed to God: '...just kill me now...', while in my labour gown.
You still maintained a lie-in, in no hurry to appear
While I told your dad he's 'in for it, when we get out of here!'

They offered pain relief for me, I took it and was grateful
But that just slowed the process down, how could they be so hateful!
Then  'crack ' you burst your bubble, water gushing all about
I felt worse than central reservoir, depleted and washed-out!

Now, I felt you coming, waves of chronic, gripping stuff!
Dilating me to number 10 - when 4 was bad enough!
But, yes, indeed, still here was I , the mid-wife quite confounded
I'd said good-night-and-morning twice, akimbo and abounded....

This baby was the champion, a sac of pure control
There would be no Miss-taking,  Little Miss's  future role!
So, where that strength was mustered, Heaven knows from where it came
I purged so hard, I soon saw stars and lighter I became.

You were swabbed and robed and measured, checked out quickly by the nurse
Who handed me sweet little 'you' and forgave my need to curse!
Twenty-seven long hard hours, it took you to comply
I kissed your bloodied forehead and the pain just waved goodbye.

But from the moment I first saw you -  what a rush of pinking air.
A girl when they all said 'a boy',  you made your mark from there!
A chubby little face you had and fingers long and thin
A heart that beat so very fast, a precious stone within.

The beginning of a story,  chapters that just captivate
I don't believe in magic, just the power to create.
My perfect little baba, my funny, funny girl
An addition and a honour to this huge revolving world!

I'm PROUD My Kid's Going To Jail!

       The Inhaler That Shadows Cast

I love you in front of
and sometimes behind
Shadow's and inklings
your two of a kind

Ideas all cluttery
churned in your sleep
As gracious a subject
as mind's eyes compete

Inhaling my soul
as the image suggests
What mighty idea's
to mixed and digest

An ending as fiery as the
red room is bold
Nice that YOU'RE the main focus, 
as  deep as it's cold.

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Tonight and tomorrow night and for the second year running, my son's band No Need For Idols is playing a gig in Scotland's only woman's prison. The guys rocked it out last Christmas at Cornton Vale in Stirling and hailed it as one of the best venue's to have ever played. Mind you, at regular gigs the fans pan out 50-50 girls and boys, so a female-only filled pheromone hall is gonna make them that little bit more appreciative, work a sweat up even quicker!  Last year's performance was a huge success but with the band being another year older, the gals are in for an even better jingle-jail rock!  

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ADAM

My baby boy turns 18 tomorrow.  I can't believe it. Already.  The nurses in maternity dubbed him The Golden Child as he had the most beautiful sheen to his hair.  His birthday is also St. Andrews Day. Not only that but he'd have shared the same birthday as his Grandpa Frank had he lived. 

Anyway - as you can imagine, most teens hitting the milestone age wants to get out there with their mates and get wasted and be rowdy. Loud music and vomit filled celebrations. Right? Not him.

He wants a quiet drink in the house with his dad and brother, as he has saved hard and is off to Oban with his girlfriend and her family staying in her uncle's holiday mansion just by the sea, to mark the occasion. So I've compiled him a little slideshow to see him off and honour his age at the same time. My little boy, all grown up and in love.  Adamski.

A Hint If There Was Ever One..........

You know I like my comforts and my cosy little traits
But I can't believe the lengths you've gone to, just to actuate
I told you but a million times I'd get her out of there
How's she gonna feel now that you've kept the matching chair?

That was her little brother, he'll look so lost on his own
Can't you ever leave the tatty things to which I've fondly grown?
She may not be in vogue right now or even haute couture
But you can't deny she made you feel all sleepy and secure!

That wall will never be the same, I'll never ever find
A sofa that will let you stuff so many things behind!
I know down in her innards lay the odd wee crumb or two
Maybe some lost magazine (and hankies from the flu!)

The last thing I expected, when driving home today
Was to see my faithful friend abandoned, tossed in to the day
The council won't be happy when I lift the phone on you
Fly-tipping leaves a hefty fine - I've pride to live up to!

Guess I'd better get the guys together, part with 'Sofie' right
I'll take her to the local tip - lest I'm miserable, contrite
But not before the lads and I say farewell with some beers
Sitting in the street remembering long and happy years.......

Missing Link

In a pocket was a piece of paper, writing looked like yours
Remorse it gushed right at me, through it's hard and fearsome shores
I loved as much as hating you, disastrous to the last
It takes more than blocked out visions to immobilise the past 

Who could bind the mindless notions that were floating in my head?
Neon lights and sundry rays, all challenged to embed.
I caught the vision, gave it thought, sparked the naked flame
Would resting on my laurels not just aggravate the game?

I found you as I left you, on that night of dying shades
Not a single drop of hatred dripping downwards from the blades
Forgiveness chases chances in a circular cease-fire
Can I really hang the painting as our colours now transpire?

Drawing ever nearer,  a fear that fears comply
But you smile and laugh and reach out, trap my hand between your thighs
Sweeping hair from porcelain,  I lean in for a kiss
Could a man be such a doubter of his solid parti pris..?

You move in closer to me, in scents of evergreen
With the power to crush an angel and render it obscene
Caught us in a low sensation,  a soulful, still degree
Sweetest moments as we have it and unjust, cold symmetry


I loved you and I hated you,  but cannot do without
The feeling left within me when your aura's not about
You're tender yet you're trouble, very rarely catch a wink
Click into our prime position, my forever missing link 


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The Pup, The Popstar and The Press

Meet Alexandra Goldendoodle. Or Alex for short. She's my friend Linda's 9-month old labradoodle. Linda works tirelessly for the charity Canine Partners UK, which train dogs to help benefit the lives of the disabled both indoors and outdoors. To widen charity interest they came up with the idea of getting Alex snapped with as many willing celebrities of soap, cinema, sport and comedy as possible at hotels, shows, back stage passes and such like venues. Linda's sister resides in London and does her part in celeb-chinning!

The story was covered by the Daily Record in September, but now Linda's focusing on the music scene. To boot things into gear, my son's band NO NEED FOR IDOLS has offered to perform a charity gig for Canine Partners in the near future where Alex will be the star of the gig/show. Oooooh! I've never tried Agadoo with anybody with more than two legs before!  Here's a snap of Adam with Alex the wonder-dog. She is so full of shaggy love and affection!



I've popped up a slideshow ( including some with simple Alex poses!) of other 'celebs' including James Corden, Gerard Butler and Scottish artist Jack Vettriano. British readers will be (obviously) in with a shout of recognising the faces - even the ones we've not seen in years.......soz!

Fidelity Knell

They fed themselves a pellet each,
washed down with syrup wine.
Huddled close into the duvet,
feeling ever so inclined...

To call their spouses, say goodbye,
it really was the end.
Of life in utter misery,
no need to condescend.

One tender kiss, then closing eyes
just waiting for the lure.
To tempt them into paradise's
grandest ever tour.

A garden filled with safety nets,
where waters never drown.
Vernal twists with violets,
binding your acceptance crown.

A sky where rainbows' arched and domed.
Contentment, worry free.
Taking love's ultimate step,
a harp to render thee.

Soon his body bended over,
stomach retched in twisted pain.
Floods of pandemonium went,
coursing through his veins.

He grabbed her hand against the pull
crepuscule calling near. 
Ensuring their allegiance
in the terror of her tears.

All at once the toll of bells
drowned out the calming strings.
Him returning while she
hadn't earned the right to wings.

He vaporised before her eyes,
thick mist hung in the air.
And all around her as she turned - 
and endless field of chairs.

Where were the steps to Heaven,
stairs forgiving with each climb.
Guess she'll sit there being capsuled
into limbo's telling time.......

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Eleven O'Clock Hush

If anything left an impact on me throughout my life, it was my father's stories of his time during WW2 that affected me the most.  Stories of the sad, happy and horrific.  Pictures that my mind struggled to compile or complied readily to conjure up.

  Over the years he made sure that his family and friends sported a Poppy on their jackets when mixing with the public on the lead up to remembrance day on November 11th.  He also reminded us that the Poppy was in recognition and respect for the younger soldiers of closer era's - especially those in active duty.  The experience that distressed him the most was that, after the war, out of the 5 friends that left their little village, he was the only one to return home.  He felt so guilty facing the families of his deceased friends but they were determined he was getting a hero's welcome, which he and the neighbourhood honoured and dedicated to those lost.

The picture below is of him with other musical comrades entertaining the troops and companies.  Typically, he's the one on guitar!  

Miss you so much, auld yin. Your music and talent still oozes down through the family bloodline. And so it will continue.....it's just a shame peace isn't hereditary

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The Death Of Casino............

*Magpie's (kinda) on my other blog for now.......*

The Death Of Casino........

Before the odd one or two get up off their swivel chair in sheer elation, it's not really the end of the band. Just the name. The guys have had to come up with another title. Search engines and general enquiries for the band have often been bypassed as today's gambling mad society automatically presumes that you're some sort of bookie fodder looking to waste away another week's wages in no time at all. Try googling Casino for yourself. It's mince.

The guys just played a recent wonder-gig at Leith Theatre to around 400 top nobs who are quite happy to see them back. Their Saturday gig in 20 Rocks was bloody phemi famonima phemomi  magic! Black Eye played stompingly good and 'new tune' has a fabulous little keys-up accompaniment to it. Gets to your heart, that does. 

So what's the new name of the band.......? The guys have decided on *Hotel India*. Obviously, it'll take time to get used to and a lot of editing on their videos and things but I hope it catches on. Only problem is googling that name. Until the guys are recognised with it, it's gonna give you hotels all over blummin' India. But their boss has a passion/obsession for India and he wants to give it a go but.........well, it's like calling that cuddly teddy you've loved and cherished for years by another name at night. Wrong 'til it feels right, I suppose! But before I go.....here's what happened on Saturday night - I'll change fonts.....*ahem*
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Hotel India's sound checking was running a good bit late and the doorman/promo git said to me when I got my ticket out:

"Would you mind going back downstairs  'til the bands are ready, please?"

Ross (PrettyBoy) comes over and says:

"She's ma maw"

Git replied:

"Oh? Just through there then, madam....."

Sweet as! Ah, the perks of the getting-there famous!

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I'm leaving a rather crappy (recording) of the guys' new song (that I've dubbed 'Inbetween' for now) on my other ABDTS blog. I will add lyrics. Catchy little bugger........!

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ps......if anyone is wondering about the new profile pic it's to support the charity Movember........!
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Their Song, His Romance

My youngest son is a strapping lad.  Not yet 18 but sporting a beard that is now long enough to plait.  He takes lids off jars as he spins them, blows up and bursts hot-water bottles as his party piece, and lifts the back end of cars up if need be!  You'd never think to look at him he'd be capable of something like this:



As his girlfriend attended an awards ceremony for work she'd done in Lourdes, he spent hours making this  for her return.  In all it's sweet, dodgy-grammar glory, it brought tears to my eyes.  But no-one knows better than me just how big that heart is. And to think the most romantic thing I ever got from his dad was a bloke in a gorilla suit bursting into my work with a bunch of flowers for me............! 

Volumes Away

She hated it, his love for letters, presented there in keys
Scrunched up sheets, rejected reams, ink defied and squeezed
Telling tales on one another, in whose version could she trust?
Tapping rhythms, shout out louder, in the silence, readjust

Fallen graces, murder, intrigue, part of elementary hype
Letting fingers do the walking, inky bloodline as you type.
Sets and rises, days a muddled, corner sighs in high defence
Particles of skin in chinked light, resting on it's own pretence.


Journey down a road in solace, accompanied by mind's own eye
Words that read the same to others, but pictures always will defy.
Time is held in low abandon, a dungeon that his will adores
Remind him of her own existence, in bold barbaric underscores.........


She left a note in crimson, pleading, on the last page of his book
Volumes on but not exceeding, some day he may take a look
Reminding him that life is something else, to which he should assign
Will he begin another chapter as she signs along the dotted line.

Get To ''Halloween'' (23) Here Too....!

   I've heard of being pea-brained but this is ridic......!

This week's F-ing entry is to archive Halloween also.  I've added a nice little song (audio) by the much loved and missed Kirsty McColl. It is played every Halloween in our house as a tribute. It's a beautiful little number and goes perfect with my 'Bits Down The Side' blog entry too.....................


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Versus You

The city sighs and cars collide and
    I take it in all in manic stride.
Pent up hating, gross debating
  run or spend a minute waiting.


 Traffic lures me, lights assure me,
 time for madness   to endure me
  Gridlock, trying, by and bying
someone's crying loud but surely



  Put the foot down, sidles around,
can't the motion hurry on town
 I'll twist the tries, nurse my black eyes
green says go but red defies......

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No Need To Pay Up

My younger son's band No Need For Idols launched their new EP on iTunes yesterday and received this fabulous review:

 It goes without saying that the cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh have both contributed largely to the canon of great Scottish music, both having produced several bands over the years who achieved worldwide success. Even smaller areas have had bands who have had a significant impact in recent years with long haired Kilmarnock rockers, Biffy Clyro enjoying mainstream success with their last two albums reaching the Top 10. Falkirk has yet to produce a band that can measure up to Dunfermline's Big Country; Dundee's The View or East Kilbride's Jesus and Mary Chain. The last blip on the radar here was Arab Strap's 1996 single The First Big Weekend which was lauded by Radio 1's Steve Lamacq.

Nevertheless it looks like times are set to change with the emergence of No Need For Idols, a band formed out of 5 school friends.They've worked solidly for the last few years building up a fanbase and recording original material, culminating in the release of their eponymous debut EP released today on iTunes (Fri, Oct 21).

Opening track What's Become Of Me? opens with a bassline similar to a distant stampede of elephants and what follows is the aural equivalent of being trampled by said elephants. The chorus is written specifically for the volume level to be abused on whatever device you listen to it on.

These boys are not your average indie rockers - because they aren't an indie band. They go for the jugular with massive riffs, howling vocals and drumming not unlike the sounds of war. Walk Away, a staple of NNFI's live shows also appears here and the tempo does not relent for a second. Held together with an almost tribal drumbeat, the song is catchy, muscular and performed with a great collaborative flair.

For All I've Done is the point where the tempo drops slightly but the intensity is not compromised. The refrain is anthemic and the verses are dripping with ghostly harmonies. This is all composed around a cinematic guitar solo that kicks in at the halfway mark.

It's easy to spot the influence of Foo Fighters on the closing track, Truth, which is delivered with a post-punk edge. The circling riff-age on this track will certainly have listeners holding an air guitar of their own and banging their heads. It sounds as if it should be played alongside footage of a riot, or an epic battle in a film. And with the clever title of  Idle To Idol, topping the planned album, it gives us a taster of future good things to come.

In an era where insipid and vacuous pop seems to be dominating the charts, it's heartening to hear rock music being played, and being played right. Expect big things from this group in the future who look certain to help put Falkirk firmly on the musical map.

By Owen O'Donnell

Just google the band name for options of purchase.

You can visit iTunes directly if your computer has it available (this old wreck don't and I ain't downloading it!) where the tasters are longer.  The EP is also cut into 4 single tracks if you prefer just to buy one!

Of course I'm happy enough with anyone having a simple listen at the tasters, (No Need To Purchase!) as my fanciful notions of what fame and fortune may bring my son to luxuriate me with haven't quite left the box of chocolates mark. Oh, and what with a sought after recent local rag interview released next week, and the lads having to turn gigs down, methinks NorseGod's band has the upper edge of getting in the limer-light (spelling intentional) before his older brother's does. God, that'd be a bugger and a beauty at the same time!

Many Hammy Whammies....

Tomorrow (20th),  The Cheaper Half and I will be *celebrating*  22 years of wedded bliss. Ahh! And they said it wouldn't last.....well, the ex-fiancee I nicked him from did anyhow........Happy Anniversary, darling. Mine's a large one!
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    * passing the day in the usual manner, just a bit pissed up, that's all*               

Chinatown DaddyDown

A cultural weekend, in song and in flavour
Delibes for the ears, and the taste buds to savour:
Food from far off Asia, prepared in the way
We multi-task time-savers never obey

Orient calling in one stretch of town
Under the smoke clouds of caramel brown
Lights, shouts and beckoning, should I bring myself near?
Not speaking the language yet the message quite clear

The smoke and the powders both making me sneezy
Old men playing Pipas, girls on the Dizi
The lanterns and lights, and dragons displayed
Music delightful as the colours cascade


The sound of crackling and sizzling took over
Fattened up carcass well fed from the stover
Nostrils a-flaring, at every new smell
A Heaven to Daddy, for me it was Hell


The Opera's heroine's fate in my head
So quickly displaced in this market of dread
The ugliest fish, catching you in a stare
With red blood eyes bulging and warning 'Beware'

Yuk! I saw them all hanging, head and feet clipped
Some bird or other, with plumage all stripped
Doused in some seeded oil, crispy of skin
And bunged in a basket of horrors within


At the next stall there stood a man, toothless and grinning
Skewering bugs down a pole that was spinning
Glazed them in sticky stuff, poked through a wire
Yup, my dad brought a stalk from the nodding old fryer

Dogs zigged-zagged in and out everyone's legs
Getting thrown little tit-bits, if valently begged
Then my father said ' dogs made a nice evening meal.
In a burger it's similar to eating veal!'


Further up there were tanks filled with variant fish
You could CHOOSE ones you wanted to eat in your dish!
Before he had the chance to -  I pulled him away!
I'd had enough roastings of creatures that day!


We left but my dad felt, to make up to me
He'd buy a nice Orient ice-cream for tea
The wafer was normal, the cream tasted sweet
The best thing that Chinatown had here to eat!


Till I got to the bottom, curled up in a ball
In the wafer - the creepiest slug of them all
I screamed and I dropped it and stomped on it's head
Asked no forgiveness for the sweary-word said!


So, the next time Dad takes me to Opera's or shows
I'll not sit there next to him, with huffs and with ho's.
I'll take my bit sanity once curtains fall down
To that nice fish and chip shop on the Upside of town!
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Get To 'F' (22)

Still coming down from Wednesday's Mannor Ball, so I'm rounding this week's 'Get To F(riday)' pic off in style. I want one:

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Willow Mannor Ball 2011

The prestigious ball is upon us once again, and with great delight (it's the only night of the year I'm out in style) and huge bucket loads of champagne, I'll dance the night away.

I attend this year again, with gorgeous Australian, Simon Baker, star of the big screen and my naughty dreams. My husband may have thought that I was listening intently to his recent fishing tales, but my mind was focused solely on the ball.  It is the only night of the year where Simon and I say 'stuff the spouses', give them some fib about the car breaking down or a kitten drowning or something and meet up for our October tryst.

Anyhow, this year I chose a black, daring dress - to match my soul - while Simon chose to go a bit more casual.....well, it's a nightmare trying to rip that dickie and sash off him after midnight. I'm looking forward to a couple of classical dances. I'll request the orchestra play 'The Blue Danube' for our first dance as he's likely to neck more champagne after a long twirl and the more sozzled the better! Anyhow - I'll no doubt bump into (literally!) you at the ball, so Simon and I look forward to meeting you and your partners and of course, to exchange compliments of the ball gowns  (if anyone wears the same outfit as me there'll be fireworks!) See you there.....don't be late!

My date:

My shoes:         

My earrings:   

My evening purse: 

Our entrance:

And to end the ball, my son's band CASINO, will play their classic finishing song.....# won't close my eyes Until Sunrise #  . If only the ball could last forever......!


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Right Royal Reduction

The King was a smarty, who threw a big party,
to show off his riches and stuff.
A conceited old guy, with a twitch in one eye,
as the other one pictured you buff!

His aunt twice removed, brought guests unapproved,
one a beauty with long golden hair.
The King downing rums, kept patting her bum 'twas
enough from this fat debonair!

You just couldn't tell, from her sight and her smell,
that she practiced the way's of the witch.
While he guzzled his wine, giving tales quite sublime,
she had popped in a potion to which:

For each boast that he made, or fib that he said,
he'd lose inches the very next day.
To shrink in his sleep, this royal bopeep,
would party his good self away.

So the beauty just smiled, as the fat king beguiled,
reminding the guests of his riches
This silly old fool, with his useless crown jewels,
was no match for beautiful witches.

So she danced when he asked, this Dead Hand of the Past,
was groping the flesh of his fate.
His big sweaty hands, and his roaring commands,
wouldn't strike up the strength to berate!

So the morning broke in, with a sunnier grin,
his majesty rubbing his face.
Sat up with sheer dread on this huge, endless bed,
as he struggled in brocade and lace!


No holler, no shouting, brought one in or outing,
the place was as quiet as church.
What a whole-hearted nightmare, he slid down his side chair,
- abandonned and left in the lurch.

In his tiny white nightie, he took off fair and flighty,
crawling himself under doors.
Ran into the kitchen, with hardly a stitch on, 
where the maids started cleaning the floors!


'Eeeh! Where'll the King be, kidnapped in his nightie,
...how much will the robbers demand?"
They say grace alone, won't get him back his throne,
could cost us well over a grand!"

Though he screamed at them loud, jumped and made a dust cloud,
at over an inch just, he reigned.
He was too small a guy, to hear or espy,
would he ever feel wholesome again?


The maid left her mop, near the marble work top,
took a break from her hard morning toil.
So up the King climbed,  in an act so well timed,
for back came the servants and royals.

But the silly old flip, took a turning and slipped,
fell off into water below.
In the bowls of the hounds, who thirst showed no bounds,
for their searching of Master McLow.


His favourite mutt, with the low-hanging gut,
swallowed him down with one slurp.
Seems the King of all grace, disappeared without trace
(and was not even pardoned by burp!).


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McVicar

Prettyboy attended a recent wedding. His gorgeous girlfriend Stacey's brother was getting married. Apparently, the Vicar was a funny old guy. The bride was a little late and to fill the awkwardness he started to sing the notes from the Wedding March,  'Da-da-da-da'....(everyone stood up) which he then backed up with 'da-da-da-da-da-da-da' (notes 4-10)...from the Funeral March. Bridey turned up and during the course of the ceremony he kept pausing to feel the groom's head and going, 'he's okay, he's okay'. Later on Bridey nervously got the ring hand wrong, to which he remarked 'pillock' to her. Then he was first up to the bar after the 'I Do's'.  With these being just a few of his hilarious antics, I want to book him in now for my funeral. 

                              The Pretty One With The Even Prettier One
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Mistress Of The Mind

In the corners of the city
through the rages, over fences
You can catch the smirk of Keres
pulverising precious senses

Breathing in diseases
that we live under and loathe
Gathers fruit for us to tempt with,
if you're the bearer of a troth

Perfect symmetry will scare her
as will the beauty of the piece
A flawless soul, a neat provider
never match her soul caprice

Is it in the way we panic
making fuss as schedules juggle?
Sitting back's her one requirement
getting off on how we struggle

Is it not the path of duty
that she boldly tampers with?
Not determining the balance
but backing up the myth

She's devises little snippets
of the weirdest, weirdest kind
Holes them up for later usage
in the back streets of your mind

Watch elephants soar skywards
with a graceful tilt of wings
And water rising gradually 
from colour tainted springs

Softening the winter layer
with an over-zealous sun
Nightmares stacked in single file
less able now to shun

Hallucination is her forte,
seize your mind before your pride
Nothing make sense any more
convincing visions - bona fide

Can't the sun just simply melt her,
or the route lose her her way?
Let her taste self satisfaction 
with a different sauce today

The carnage of your thoughts
lost among the strange debris
Won't return to render mind games
but to pass you on to me.


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