I had an awesome wrap party night at the BBC gig, just lovely and my daughter Ashley came along and made me happy.
She makes me laugh; she suggested that she buy me a small red duffel coat so that I can run around the river bridges of Glasgow in a ‘Don’t Look Now’ manner. She says I look like a child from behind but have a wee old wrinkly face at the front. What a nice child I gave birth to eh?
Last week I met up with my dad who told me to walk him to the bus stop, he then told me “That bus takes me home” and pointed to a big Glasgow bus. I waved him off then ten minutes later he called me shouting “This is the wrong bus you put me on”
“Dad, I never put you on a bus, YOU said it was YOUR bus” I laughed loudly on the phone.
“No I didn’t its like going to Belsen horror camp on this bus” he muttered.
Now before you get all umpity and suggest my dad is anti- Semitic, he isn’t, it’s a generational catchphrase, old Scottish people use the term ‘Belsen’ to describe any type of mildly uncomfortable situation.
Scots use exaggeration and shock to display humour.
If they see a skinny model on TV they say things like ‘she looks like she walked out of Belsen, she should eat’ I know that it sounds offensive and probably is to some people, but my dad and other elderly relatives do throw the word ‘Belsen’ about at an alarming rate. It’s a generational thing I suppose.
I had a neighbour who once described a Butlins holiday camp as Belsen, now that is just wrong, old Scottish people do have a rather savage sense of humour, yet we contemporary comics get our balls kicked for less!
So apparently an over crowded bus hurtling through the foggy streets was akin to a horror ride to a death camp in my fathers mind and guess who sent him there? Me…according to him.
I do love the crazy old nutter.
Today I got up early and went to see wee Abi my great niece in her nativity play. She was the lead part in The Bossy King, and she really did take the stage with gusto. All the other kids were mumbling, stumbling and shuffling with downcast eyes. Abi was belting out her lead role with a performance that Dame Judy Dench would have been proud of.
“I am the bossy King, everyone bow down to me NOW!” she yelled and startled all the babies in prams and on knees of the parents sitting in the school hall. I gasped out loud and laughed. Abi winked at me and a huge grin split her face, then she went quickly back to grumpy face of the Bossy King. I am so proud of her!
Baby Julia was on my knee silently waving at Abi and getting annoyed she wasn’t getting a wave back “Hi Abi” she finally yelled out in toddler frustration. I giggled and hugged wee Julia close, or almost suffocated her in my bosom…you decide!
It was lovely watching the wee school play and Abi is destined to be a top actress, I can see her Oscar acceptance as I write.
I have been at Glasgow Jongleurs all week, the Christmas nights can be really hard work, but all in all it’s been fine.
The downside was wearing a new bra I bought, honestly it felt like a torture device from the Spanish Inquisition (see my dad’s use of genocidal events to exhibit exaggerated mild discomfort has been passed onto me) and I spent the whole night in pain. How can a bra be that sore? The side bones literally cut into my ribcage, my tits looked great but my lungs were being crushed.
So it’s been a good week. Talk soon._