Hogmanay in the Snow

Hello Folks

Well here we are at Hogmanay again.  God knows where the time goes to.  With 2 wee ones our Hogmanay will be a quiet one, at home, couple of beers, watch the (repeated) Still Game, avoid the now turgid Only an Excuse and to bed by 1am. 

I know it's cliched to lament the death of this Scottish Tradition, but I'm going to anyway.  Gone are the days of first footing.  As a kid I sat in my grandparent's house with an Advocaat or Snowball.  As the Grieve of the farm, all the workers came to Granda's house for a dram.  It was the only night of the year he drank (apart from the occasional Sweetheart Stout which I still have a fondness for) and a smile still comes to my face as I remember my Dad and Uncle helping him to his bed! 

As I grew older I'd go into the village and go round the houses until the early morning.  You knew everyone and were welcome everywhere. 

Now New Year is organised, forced jollity.  It's become a parody.  I can't think of anything worse than standing in the centre of Edinburgh with a bunch of Tarquins and Cecilias dressed in tartan telling you how their great great uncle was "Scotch" and how they love our quaint traditions..........

As is also traditional, it threw it down with snow here last night, we had around 8 inches, so I've spent a good chunk of the day clearing snow.  In our whole street I think three of us have done so.  The rest are probably sitting writing letters to the Evening Express to complain about it.

Now I know the city council have been a disgrace and many older people are housebound because of the mess of the pavements, but I have to say we have had people clearing the pavements almost daily and the gritter was round the street today. 

People need to take a bit of responsibility for their own lives.  It took me a hour to clear the snow, gave me some exercise and it was a beautiful day to be out.

As our street is full of single mothers and single blokes in their 30s who have inexplicably been given pensioner's houses by the council (I dare say they have 'issues' which mean they just have to jump to the top of the council house queue), you would think they would get off their arses and do a bit of light manual labour and maybe do their pensioner neighbour's path while they are at it.

But nope, no sign of them.  Society is dead right enough.  However to be a 'local' here you have to have lived here since birth and be able to trace your family back 5 generations. 

New Year's resolution - don't get so worked up about the insular inhabitants of the village I live in!!

Have a great Hogmanay and see you all in 2010.

Last music recommendation for this year is a classic Come Together by the Beatles.

More Problems with Pensioners

Evening All!  Apologies for a lack of blogging over the weekend, was feeling under the weather was a vicious headache and sore throat.  Thought it was the old Swine Flu, but plenty of sleep and some industrial strength ibuprofen seems to have done the trick.

Anyway, thought I'd regale you with another run in with a Senior Citizen.  As you know the oldest of the Macbeth children seems to have caught the thespian bug and his theatre group meet on a Saturday Morning at the impressive Ferryhill Church.  They have a coffee shop there and I while away the 90 minutes by sitting catching up on my emails on my Crackberry and having a coffee and a bacon roll.

Smallest Macbeth was with me this Saturday and he is a energetic wee soul who didn't want to sit on his backside so we had a walk to Duthie Park, and had a look round the Winter Gardens.  We then went back to get his big brother.  There's a side entrance to the church, we went there, rang the bell, but there was no answer.  So I went round to the main entrance and entered the church via the coffee shop.

I'm struggling with the doors to get wee Macbeth's buggy through them and I'm instantly confronted by an old curmudgeon.  He is not one of the usual helpers at the coffee shop, who are all pensioners and very friendly.

This arsehole screams at me "are you here for the theatre group", I said yes and he went ballistic.  "Should use the side door"; "can't come in this way".  I protested that I had tried but I couldn't get an answer, to which he waved his hand at me in a "don't care" manner.  All this in front of a mesmerised full coffee shop and a little lad in his buggy confused as to why his dad is being shouted at by a pish stained, foaming at the mouth madman. 

I wasn't feeling that well and after my last run in I just walked away.  I couldn't believe it.  What the hell is it with me and mentalist old fogeys?  I bet the old bastard was at Church yesterday giving it the whole pious Christian thing too.  Hypocrite.

Needless to say they will not be getting my custom again. I'll head to the coffee shop at the Duthie Park instead.  I probably spend a couple of hundred quid a year in there, but no more. 

My faith in anyone in this country is beginning to dive towards zero.  What has happened to this once great country?

So I need a tonic.  A good tune perhaps?  Why not.  May I guide you towards the new single from the Stereophonics - "Innocent".  Mrs Macbeth has always been a fan of these Welsh rockers and this song has converted me.

Who's Wrong - You Decide

I had a busy day at work today (no sniggering at the back). So against my better judgement I nipped out to a back street sandwich shop a couple of minutes away from the office to purchase some luncheon. This place has had bad reviews from my work colleagues but needs must. Walked in and there was three or four people in front of me. 5 minutes later I'm still waiting in the same spot. The Three Musketeers behind the counter are excruciatingly slow at making low standard sandwiches and they suck their teeth when people hand over £10 as they've "nae change ken". Imagine thinking a catering establishment might have change of a tenner, down that road lies madness.

As I'm waiting I sense someone acting in a pretty impatient and irritated manner behind me. I have a quick glance behind and there's a woman, obviously of pension age, agitated and moving from side to side like a winger trying to lose his full back. I now know how Danny McGrain must have felt when he was marking Peter Weir (apologies if you have no idea who these people are!). As I finally get to the counter, Mrs Miggins shoots in front of me like Alan Wells lunging for the tape in the 100 metres final in Moscow in 1980 and asks for a tuna sandwich or some other such delicacy that won't stick to her bloody false teeth.

I am a bit taken aback, this is not the kind of behaviour you're used to from senior citizens, but in my state of shock I manage to blurt out "erm excuse me, are you having a laugh, there is a queue and I was before you". She makes a face like Blanche from Coronation Street and then studiously ignores me. The brains trust behind the counter as one look at me in disgust.

Miggins' mate, who was standing nearby now gets involved, stating to me (and the rest of the shop) in a loud and screechy voice, "for goodness sake that's pathetic." Dander well and truly up now, I ask her if she would have thought the same had a teenager barged in front of her in a queue or would she have instead started into a tirade about the "youth of today".

She refuted this saying she had "better things to do". I guess these things would include standing in aisles at supermarkets blocking them with a strategically positioned trolley, writing to the Evening Express complaining about Donald Trump, watching soap operas, spending her pension on Bingo and smelling of piss, but I digress.

I just shook my head and ordered my stovies. The Mensa members counter side were overtly rude to me and made it quite clear they thought I was an arse. The stovies were anaemic, the beetroot had black bits on it and the oat cakes were soggy by the way.

So dear readers, what do you think. Was I an arse? Or was I within my rights and is this just another example of this country going to hell in a hand cart. When Molly Sugden decides it's time to stop the age old British custom of queueing and just barge to the front, I personally think we're totally screwed.

Tonight's music is Same Old Scene by Roxy Music. I urge you all to get some Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music into your life and this is a cracker to get you started - not as obvious as the likes of Jealous Guy, Dance Away or Do The Strand but a forgotten gem.