…the amazing gift of finding treasure in your own backyard…

…this ol’ Scots Jurassic scribbler’s writing schedules have been more than full this past twelve months… a back-burner item was the hope of producing my own personal memoirs in-between lengthy programmes encompassing ghostwriting autobiographies and family histories for other people, work which I enjoy immensely… I had begun to despair of finding enough of that elusive item that most of we authors crave — time!… one morning last week, like a flash of inspired lightning, it occurred to me, that much of the content for any memoir of mine was already ‘out there’, or more precisely, ‘in here’… on my webpages… for the past seven years as a blogger, I have shared a kaleidoscope of topics, many of which were throwback anecdotes of things I have seen,  felt and experienced during my life and career… over the past few days, I have downloaded and segmented these particular blogs into a timeline, subject matter,  and career slots… and guess what?… no less than 40,000 words of copy is there already!

 

…this will be the bedrock on which I will build the telling of my memoirs… of course, I will re-work the  content to meld it with my narrative flow, but what a wunnerful realisation, that much of my writing  labour has been done through my invested time over these last years since my first blog in May 2012… the amazing gift of finding treasure in your own backyard… the impetus is now with me to get on with it, a far cry from my original expected target date of a couple of years hence… stand back, and let the smoke billow from the keypad as the record of Master Gallacher’s Life and Times see the light of day, and not remain locked away in the registers of the various police authorities and lunatic asylums of Docklands Govan in Glasgow, Tobermory, Campbeltown, London, Hong Kong, Singapore, Sydney, Manila, Abu Dhabi and Bahrain... see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

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…regrettably, Sir, there is no known antidote…

…a little dive into my past blogging history reveals this wee piece, done about six and a half years ago… the message therein still holds good today 🙂 via …regrettably, Sir, there is no known antidote… 


 

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April 5, 2019 · 1:04 pm

… ‘come… dance with me,’ she said…

…a wee reprise Post from four years ago… via … ‘come… dance with me,’ she said…
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March 28, 2019 · 4:00 pm

…paying it forward… it’s the gift that blesses the giver as well as the receiver…

…this ol’ Scots Jurassic scribbler has been the recipient of so many blessings throughout a life that has had its fair share of absolute highs and desperately dark lows… looking back is the epitome of 20/20 hindsight… and I can see now so clearly where the ‘anonymous hand of my Creator’ continually put people in my path who were there at the right time and the right place… one such episode occurred when I was all of 11 years old… in Scotland, we had this thing called the 11+ exams where we were tested for the simple purpose of streaming us into the next level of secondary education… by some miraculous fudge (I’m sure), it was discovered that the young Master Gallacher was allegedly possessed of the highest IQ ever recorded in a Glasgow primary school up to that time… let’s be clear, however, that that IQ rating doesn’t mean I’m necessarily intelligent nor smart – it merely indicates that I have a propensity for solving logical issues in an extraordinarily fast time frame… the upshot was, that this wee lad from the Dockland, Govan slums was invited to sit the entrance exams for a scholarship at Allan Glen’s High School of Science and Technology, at the time, a prestigious fee-paying school in the city…

…I won the bursary and was told I could start at the new school at the beginning of the next term… however, my mother had to tell the headmaster of the primary school that her son would be unable to take up the position… when asked why not, she told him with blunt honesty, that although the bursary would cover the expenses for the school books and the tuition, the student’s elegant, but expensive, motif-adorned school uniforms, gym kit and sportswear were beyond our family’s budget, and I would not be going… he would have none of that argument… instead, this marvellous man, Carl Caplan, paid from his own pocket for my uniforms for the three years duration of the scholarship… ever since that time, one of my own pet areas for ‘giving back’ relates to providing assistance where possible to other children who otherwise may be denied the kind of opportunity that I was given… but it’s not about money… as I’ve written here before, I learned long ago, from someone much wiser that  me, that whatever it is you have, (and I don’t mean money!), you keep it by giving it  away… paying it forward... it’s the gift that blesses the giver as well as the receiver… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH – BE MY GUEST

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…when you want to light up your life… tell Teddy Bear stories to children…

…it has been a couple of years since last this ol’ Scots Jurassic scribbler was invited to talk with children in a classroom setting… World Book Day provided a plausible excuse for the invitation for Master Gallacher in his guise as an author, to come tell a story at The Budaiya Pre-School in Bahrain

…my dear friend, Jess Stansfield, the (much) better half of my writing buddy, Glen Stansfield, teaches a class at this superb kindergarden, and extended the opportunity for me to appear… which I almost bit her hand off to accept… I met first with the principal and founder of the school, the wonderful Janeann Mohseni, who led me to the classes… I was privileged to tell to three different class-loads my story about The Greedy Teddy Bear… the intensity of participation from these wee maestros of mischief was terrific… noise levels were decibel-bursting… great fun!… all of the children were dressed in costumes  depicting their favourite story hero and heroine characters… everybody from Spiderman and his crime-busting buddies to assorted Elsa Princesses

…the story line of the Greedy Teddy Bear is about a wee teddy bear who discovers a cottage when he’s walking in the woods… and where everything inside is made of confection… he touches the door and finds it’s made of chocolate... then the table… made of ice cream... and, of course, he eats everything he finds… when I got to describe what the chair was made of, I asked the children, ‘What do you think the chair was made of?’ … one little girl said ‘Lollipops’, another boy said ‘Cake’.. . but I was blown away in a fit of laughter at one wee fellow who looked askance at the question and announced, ‘The Chair was made of Plastic!’... what a fabulous morning for me!… I totally recommend, when you want to light up your life, tell Teddy Bear stories to children… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH – BE MY GUEST

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Ageing. The inevitable truth.

…great thoughts from my pal, Barbara Rogers… LUVZYA, m’Lady Barbara! 🙂

Barbara Bear

I saw this picture recently. It made me think. A lot. In the end I decided that it is such a beautiful, and poignant depiction of old age. One I had hoped to aspire to …. but now unlikely to achieve.

So what did I see?? I didn’t read the words at first, as I wanted to form my own opinion. Yes… we are permitted to have our own bleddy opinions!!

First of all I saw the physical ravages of time…. but almost immediately after, I saw the love. It brought a lump to my throat the size of a bleddy football. I certainly felt short changed … as I don’t expect to ever feel that bond illustrated so simply. I’m not regretting my ‘efforts’ …. not all of us get the balance of loving right. It has to be a two way thing…. of equal parts… of loving, sharing…

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…from Marie Antoinette to Docklands Govan… ‘let them eat cake’… and we did…

……the early 1950s in Docklands Govan in Glasgow didn’t boast much in the way of haute cuisine… indeed, given the harshness of life for thousands in the inner cities back then, any kind of cuisine itself was sum’times completely absent… money was scarcer than an honest politician… our family, with four children, myself as the eldest, was no different from many in similar circumstances… it’s amazing what a mother could rustle up in the large pot simmering away on the gas stove, with bits and pieces added to it as the week progressed… potatoes, lentils, barley, bits of corned beef, cabbage, minced beef, onions, carrots and the ubiquitous Bisto Gravy… (Ah..Ah..Ah..Ah… Bisto Gravy’s best by far! went the advertising jingle)… my father worked all sorts of part-time jobs, as did my mother… sum’times cleaning jobs in the houses in the more middle-class areas, where a shilling or two was available for outsourcing a ‘non-working’ lady’s housework… she also had an evening job as a cleaner at the local cake-making factory of Galbraith’s in Govan…

…as I recall, her stint began around 5 o’clock in the later afternoon until around 10 pm…  we children would wait patiently for her return, because often, she was able to bring home a veritable confectionery goldmine… all the cleaners were allowed to take away whatever leftover cakes that were not shipped for delivery and unsold during that day, as these were not allowed to be sold the following day… however, the booty was not carried away from the factory in fancy cake-boxes, nor in any sort of boxes…

…instead, the takeaways were bundled in one conjoined mash-up in plastic bags… eclairs, doughnuts, jam tarts, and creme pastries, all in one enormous melange… did that deter us from tucking-in big-time?... not a bit!… the massive mound of Galbraith’s best leftovers was excavated with great vigour, with nary a thought for dental welfare, nor of potential stomach ache, nor of hyper-sleeplessness from over-inflated sugar rushes… from Marie Antoinette to Docklands Govan… ‘let them eat cake’… and we did… until this day, I still find it difficult to eat just one cake... see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH – BE MY GUEST

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