Toast

Was Hippocrates a season ticket holder at Cathkin? Stone memorial hidden away at the back of the terracing.

It's always nice to get aquainted with the appliances in ones new home. The Hoover, the washing machine, the cooker and the central heating. Oh, and the smoke alarm............

It was Sunday morning (ok, it was 1pm, but that's still the morning as far as I'm concerned.) and I'dstuck some toast on. I absently wandered through to the living room and stuck the tv on, only to become slightly transfixed by the hypnotic drone of the F1 car racing. God! I miss Murray Walker. The only man in the world that could make watching paint dry sound exciting. Instead we have a couple of inane public schoolboys to add to the tedium of watching 24 men driving round in circles for an hour and a half.

.........but I digress. It was around this point the bloody smoke alarm went off and I realised I'd burnt me toast. Thankfully nothing was on fire, but what to do about the infernal racket the alarm was making. I opened doors/windows to let the smoke out, but to no avail. I then tried holding the button on the alarm casing. Still nothing. next I unscrewed the casing and tried to wrench the battery out, only to find it was connected to the mains and any further tampering could see me doing a rather entertaining 'St Vitus Dance' atop a set of wobbly metal ladders. The next few hours are too tedious to go into, but by the time I'd asked the chap upstairs to give me a hand getting the battery out (I'm such a gurl!) and the girl next door had stuck her head in and wished me luck and little else, my nerves (and hearing) were more than a little frayed.

Anyway, my knowledge of household systems is a little clearer now I suppose, but I haven't made another slice of toast since............

Taking the nets down. All part of yr duty as a Thirds player.

Ok. Some links. Third Lanark AC have a wee site up. It's not too flash but it does tell you when they're playing. It's free, you get to watch the game from the terracing of what was once known as Hampden Park (back in the mists of time), and more recently was the home of the last club to go out of business in Scotland, the original Third Lanark AC . It is just amateur football that gets played at Cathkin Park today, but the last time I went to see them, I came away wondering why I bothered going to Firhill at all. The video of the game can be found here. Mud, meaty tackles, loads of goals and some nice football, just ignore the naff Star Wars theme they've tacked onto the video in post production. Furthermore, if you watch between 7.31 and 7.46 you'll see my lanky frame descending the terrace steps behind the player being interviewed. Yes, I am an old buffer..........

Acrobatics in the penalty area
Panoramic view of Cathkin Park

O' The Snot Has Caked Against My Pants.......

Literally..........

Don't quite know in what sense Arthur Lee meant it, but for me it aptly described my situation. You put on trousers, you go out. (As opposed to not putting on trousers and not going out) and you realise there's something grim sticking to one of your legs. The hazards of hanging one's clothing up on the floor I suppose. Being a vain fucker, I'm back inside in seconds finding something else to wear.

That said, it seems many people think nothing of the odd mucky mark on their clothing, why should they bother about me? For instance, a guy at work had a nose bleed all over his shirt and whilst he was marginally embarrassed, he still looked quite dashing with the sort of spatter marks that your average knife killer would be proud of. Some bloke I saw yesterday had the best part of half a bottle of red on his shirt, but seemed unfazed by the experience. So, what's my problem with an unidentifiable mark on my right trouser leg?

I think the word "unidentifiable" covers the bases on that one.........

So, what else has floated past me in the past few days.............

Saved a dog from strangulation the other morning. Sort of. Some tit had put the noose end of the lead over a railing spike outside a shop, resulting in the poor mutt being unable to put it's front paws on the deck. The resulting distress and pained yelping led me to stick my head in the shop and find out if the inconsiderate cunt owner was about. I was met by a little girl who ran out and comforted the dog and loosened the slack on the lead.

Hard to know what to say really.................So I said nothing. Maybe should have chastised her, maybe I should also have taken a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all the good it would have done me. Anyway, I saw a female adult in the shop with her and decided I couldn't be arsed getting into an argument about it.

Also saw this mob up to no good in the local park =D.

Ach, they're alright. Just wish they'd calm it with the Anarchist flags. I'd wager a fair few of them wouldn't know an anarchist if it bit them on the erse...............

Bonsoir!