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Stifling a yawn, . . .
Since the programme for Bloody Scotland was published a few days ago, I’ve been asked by a few people why I won’t be there.
The short answer is, I don’t really know. I was available, as I have been for every year of Bloody Scotland’s blessed existence save one when my wife was recuperating from illness, but the feedback one of my supporters was given by the Director, my good friend Big Bob, was that this year the committee had decided to ‘rest me’.
Well this is how it plays. I’ve been active, and moderately successful, in Scottish crime fiction since some of the emerging talent, for whom, make no mistake, I have great admiration and respect, were in primary school, or maybe even being toilet trained. Given that, maybe ‘the committee’ can be forgiven for believing that I’m tired! For the record, I’m not. I was out tonight and bumped into a Welsh mate of mine. He and I are kindred spirits of the same age and temperament, and he was there with his two year-old.
For the last two years I’ve been working my nuts off adding four more Skinner books to the Scottish crime catalogue, which, I believe, promotes us all. Between those I’m presently working on a short story that I’m loving and which I hope will nudge the envelope still further. Maybe I will tire soon, but at my age all you can do is keep going until you hit the buffers, like Thomas the Tank Engine in my grandson’s favourite story book.
Is QJ annoyed by missing Bloody Scotland this year? He’s so fucking annoyed that he’s starting to refer to himself in the Third person, and trust me, that’s always a bad sign. (Doesn’t prevent him from wishing everyone involved success and a weekend of packed events, though.)
Got to go now. It’s a holiday where I am and I’m off out clubbing.
Alves: Barca still in my blood
Read this and share, please. Inspirational.
A living legend
My dear wife is from England. We were discussing telly and stuff tonight when I mentioned a name unfamiliar to her. Any Scot of a certain age will remember her, though, the lady who blazed the trail for Jackie Bird, Hazel Irvine and many others. I had the joy of meeting her once: she was as regal and downright nice off screen as on. I offer you the legend,
Shock tactics
If I was Lynton Crosby, or whoever is pouring honey into Theresa May’s ear, around three hours ago, I’d have said to her, ‘Okay this is what you do. You change into a severe dark trouser suit and fuck me shoes, you get your ass up to Cambridge as quietly as is possible, and at the very last minute you walk on stage, look Corbyn in the eye, say “Be careful what you wish for,” then do to him what you do every week in the Commons.
‘Then when he accuses you of being the Lady who’s for Turning, you smile and say, “No, Jeremy, I’m your flexible friend.” That will be enough; you can leave the debate to the rest of them .’
But it ain’t going to happen,
Really?
Earlier today I posted a blog about my decision not to vote SNP this time and I explained why. My blog shares automatically on Facebook. I’m not surprised by a few of the comments it attracted.
Not surprised, but saddened. Come on, folks; you’re better than that.
Goodbye to a dream
For the last twenty years, I have supported the Scottish National Party, for one reason alone; its commitment to Scottish Independence, and the real prospect that it might be achieved.
I was disappointed by the outcome of the referendum. I believed at the time and still do, that the game was rigged by Westminster and its unlikely allies, the mainstream media, but 55% to 45%% is a pretty convincing margin.
I was disappointed when Alex Salmond chucked it; I thought he had more staying power. Nevertheless I went with his successor, given her declared determination to keep fighting for the Scottish passport that I crave, even if her policies are rather too left-wing for my centrist taste.
Until today, when I woke to read, in big headline type, that she is prepared, if the numbers stack up, to do a deal that will put Labour in power.
I may be Scottish first, but I’m British second. Therefore I cannot give my vote to anyone who is prepared to instal the untrustworthy Corbyn as Prime Minister, the unpleasant Marxist McDonnell as Chancellor, and the frankly laughable Abbott as Home Secretary. That trio of Orwellian clowns? No thank you very much, Nicola!
To prevent that calamity I’m prepared to give up on my lifelong ambition. On June 8 I will be doing something I never thought I’d do again.
Concern
An odd thing to say on WordPress, but I am coming to fear that if our society falls to pieces it won’t be because of Isis or Al Qaeda.
It will be the fault of social media and its facility for people to express their prejudices, their intolerance and their downright hatred for those with whom they disagree, in the most vicious and provocative of language.
I’m on Facebook and the like for two reasons: business, because that’s how publishers do most of their marketing these days, and to engage amiably with genuine friends and those who show genuine friendship towards me. I’m not there to be exposed to fundamentalism in any way, but make no mistake, it takes many forms, it is alive and well and at the heart of ‘our’ society.
The boy Zuckerberg has a vision of bringing the world together. Sadly it’s more likely that he’s playing a central role in breaking it apart.
IMHO, as we say in the chat rooms.
Manchester
The world’s a hateful place. How do we explain that to our grandchildren.
Invidious
https://www.europeantour.com/en/whistle-blowing/
Read what’s on this link and tell me if you’re as disturbed as I am that a professional body that oversees as much wealth as the European Tour should operate a system that appears to give free rein to any nutter with a grudge.
Hello
I heard a guy say on radio this morning, ‘Adele is worth £125 million.’
So am I, mate. I don’t have £125 million, but that’s by the by.
Green light for film studio near Straiton
When I was a young journo I was at a reception and got talking to Bryan Forbes, who was making films with young British talent.
I asked him why he didn’t make them in Scotland. His reply: ‘I’d love to but you don’t have a sound stage.’
Fifty years later …….
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-edinburgh-east-fife-39486904
Open season
Outstanding evening in Driftwood, Cala Montgo. Lasagne to kill for, magic chips, and a top rated Provençal pink wine. Great to be back.
Quintin Jardine's blog 