Monthly Archives: September 2017

…Listening to Ladies Who Lunch, Loudly and Long…

…this ol’ Jurassic Scots scribbler is normally impervious to extraneous noise… utter silence is not welcome when I write or indulge my SOSYAL NETWURK stuff on the laptop… at home, background bruit is usually provided by SKYNews, which is so bad, its often good, if yeez know what I mean… I can sit in any people-packed clone of the Starbucks chain, with multiple conversations humming away around me, happily tapping away on the Mac… on long train journeys, constant, ambient noise is never a distraction to me… what a shock to my aural system it was then today, when I visited a Japanese restaurant for a late lunch… it was almost last orders when I sat in my booth… no compooooter with me, just fiddling with messages on the Samsung thing-y… the only other diners at that hour were a group of expatriate ladies of middling age, crammed into the booth next to mine… I say ‘crammed’,  ‘coz, regardless of how wide or long their table and seating arrangements, it clearly wasn’t accommodation enuff for their conversation…

…I should have known at the start when I tried to give my order for Gyoza Dumplings, Shrimp Tempura and Chicken Katsu… the caterwauling from the adjacent group made it necessary to repeat the order three times… I wasn’t so much ‘listening’ rather than having my ears assailed by the four of them all talking at once in what appeared to be four different simultaneous ‘conversations‘… the modus seemed to indicate a philosophy of ‘the louder one speaks/shouts, the more important the message’, even though not one of them was taking heed of anyone else’s diatribe… my initial pique at this prandial interlude lapsed into amusement as the unspoken competition from the Society of Screechers degenerated into a free-for-all race to determine which of them could say the most without apparent pausing for breath… I would like to record what any of the conversational content from the quartet was about, but sadly, communication fell a distant second to volume control… the lunch itself was enjoyable – its hard to screw up on the menu items I had chosen… and I s’pose I should whisper a small ‘thanks’ for being able to attend Listening to Ladies Who Lunch, Loudly and Long, as it served as great practice for when next I’m in my normal sound-bound writing mode… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

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…age is not just a number… it’s sum’thing that’s earned…

…this ol’ Scots Jurassic scribbler considers himself immeasurably fortunate to have in a global SOSYAL NETWURK countless wonderful friends who p’raps are showing just a tad wear and tear…

…infancy, teens and a few decades thereafter have elapsed in my own existence on this planet… the early ambitions, hopes and travails of a lifetime and career are valued mem’ries… pensionable age arrived a wee while back… but here’s the strange thing… I rarely feel ‘old’… physically of course, the litheness and athleticism these bones and muscles once possessed as a young professional footballer, have faded a touch… ‘ambling’ has replaced ‘sprinting’ as the preferred mode of forward bodily movement… a once-medal-winning tenor voice struggles to reach any kind of upper musical vocal register (although, thankfully, the ability to hold a key remains intact, Mabel)… so, am I about ready to be carted off to the Old Writers Graveyard yet?… not bluudy likely!… I have made myself part of my own, personal recycling project… other, different skill sets and attributes are kicking in now… the brain, once as sharp as a billiard ball, is keener than it ever was, and I use life experience to spike my thoughts and speech with as much humour as I can derive… patience, a formerly elusive quality, visits on a regular basis, and sits neatly with my frame of mind most of the time…

…I’ve come to acknowledge that making mistakes is common to every human being alive, and these are the learning posts for later years… ‘wisdom’ is merely having ‘been there and seen the effects of stuff’ ‘wit’ is simply translating smiles and laughs into WURDS… and prob’ly most of all, ‘love’ is a by-product of letting good things come into yer life, and not a desperate attempt to ensnare adoration from others… in my not-so-‘umble opinion, age is not just a number… it’s sum’thing that’s earned… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

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…Authors… yer book’s a what kinda seller?

…in the WURLD of publishing, after ‘the cheque’s in the mail’, the phrase most prob’ly more abused than any other is the ‘such and such Best Seller’… it seems to my warped understanding that the old meaning of ‘best‘, being ‘the Number 1 above all others’ doesn’t quite translate that way in the book business… at any given moment, promotional blurbs abound tagging dozens… nay, tagging hundreds… even more nay, tagging hundreds and p’raps thousands of titles simultaneously as ‘Best Seller’

…could be ‘The Noo Yawk Times Best Seller’, the ‘Sunday Times Supplement Best Seller’, the ‘Platinum, or Gold, or Silver, or Ruby, or Tin, Garbage Writers Guild Best Seller’… or maybe the ‘Local Dry Cleaners Writers Best Seller’, the ‘Best Seller in my Front Room’… yeez get my drift… and by the way, the addendum is always ‘#1 Best Seller’, as if emb’dy would ever tag yer tome as ‘#2 Best Seller’ or any other ordinal configuration… demotion from the supremo position is just not done, Dahlings…

…let’s face it, there are literally (see what I did there, Mabel) millions of books in circulation, which makes the validity of the ‘Best Seller’ label even more precarious… I feel it’s time to introduce a multiple-choice selection of ‘Best Seller’ tab choices for we scribblers whenever we launch our wee masterpieces onto Auntie Amazon Kindle, or assault the Waterstones and Barnes & Noble bookshelves… fr’example, here’s a selection for yer consideration:

  1. ‘Quietly Making Its Way In Its Amazon Genre’ Seller’
  2. ‘My Granny LUVS The Way I Wrote This Book’ Seller’
  3. ‘I’d Appreciate More Sales So I Can Cover This Month’s Rent’ Seller
  4. ‘If The Typos And Grammar Errors Are Ignored, It’s Not A Bad Story’ Seller
  5. ‘I Know The Cover Is Blank Artwork, But Dickens Never Had Fancy Covers Either’ Seller

…I’m certain there are gazillions more ‘Sellers’ like these which yeez can conjure up… bring back a bit of ‘Honesty In Novel Advertising’… see yeez later… I’ve got to finish writing my ‘If It’s Not a #1 Best Seller, It Should Be’ Seller… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

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…Robin Williams… a few thoughts…

…okay, okay, okay… he was not universally admired… but those to whom his humour and style didn’t appeal must have been less than 0.0000001% of emb’dy who ever watched him and listened to him… I’ve been re-running some of the interview clips he did on television chat shows over the years, and remain constantly mesmerised at the speed of his brain, his genius in spinning WURDS , and accent impersonations, and just out-and-out ‘Williams-isms’… undoubtedly a ‘one-off’ comedy titanhis blockbuster movies, Good Morning Vietnam, Mrs Doubtfire, The Dead Poets Society, Aladdin, The Birdcage, Good Will Hunting to name a few… and yet, sadly,  a touch over three years ago in August 2014, this man, this genius, this creator of so much pleasure for others, took his own life… I will not pretend to begin to understand the enormous personal battles that conditions and illnesses such as depression and others cause… but it struck me this morning watching one of the old televised interviews of how ‘one-way’ the entertainment stream was… all coming from Robin… making others laugh, his physical body gestures enhancing much of his spontaneous spiel… but his eyes lacked sparkle… NUTHIN was going to him… he was eternally ‘on stage’… giving out, rarely receiving… history will show many comedians over the years have taken the same route as Robin… the onset of depression or other mentally debilitating conditions, followed by suicide, a common record… of course, being a famous celebrity made the news of his death all the more shocking… but… and here’s the thing… there are many hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, of ordinary folks who suffer the same tortuous anxieties, struggles and fears… I don’t consider myself within a million miles of the same condition that attacks people in this way, but one saying I adhere to is this: ‘EVERYBODY  you meet, EVERYBODY, is fighting some sort of battle we know NUTHIN about… be kind always’… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

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…Tobermory… a wee town with a huge musical heart…

…the distance in time of almost fifty years makes the mem’ries no less bright… some of yeez know already I’ve shared that prob’ly the six best years of my life were spent as a young Trainee Master of the Financial Universe as a junior officer in the Clydesdale & North of Scotland Bank Limited in Tobermory on the beautiful isle of Mull in the Scottish Hebrides… the population of the town was less than 900… but the musical talent per capita must have been one of the highest anywhere on the planet… entertainment in the form of television was passe… we folks made our own social evenings buzz… I recall vividly one of the many ceilidhs in the Mishnish Hotel bar… around nine p.m., the owner of the hotel, Bobby MacLeod appeared with his accordion…

Bobby was one of the finest musicians, not just in Scotland, but globally… his famed Scottish Dance Band included Pibroch MacKenzie, the most talented fiddle player of his day, who lived two doors or so away on the Main Street…

Pibroch’s three lovely daughters, Anne, Joanie, and Fiona were superb vocal harmonists… Janet Tandy (now MacDonald), a future Gaelic Mod Gold Medallist in solo singing… and yer own blogger here, who, with no false modesty, also went on to collect a fair haul of Gaelic Mod solo singing medals… we all congregated in the Mishnish… unplanned, as the best ceilidhs always are… and away it started…  it took all of around twenty seconds for the spontaneity to infect everybody in the place and others arrived in before closing time an hour later at ten o’clock… but ‘closing’ was in name only… the doors were closed, merely to conform with local licensing regulations, but the party carried on… and on… and on… of course, liberal sprinklings of the ‘electric soup’ were gargled during the night, which fatigued out somewhere around 5 or 6 in the morning… we all had WURK to go to!… there was never a schedule of songs or tunes, but in true ceilidh style, someone would call out, for example, ‘Janet, give us ‘Mo Mhathair’ (‘My Mother’), or, ‘Seumas, how about ‘Loch Leven?’… or Bobby and Pibroch would immerse us in soulful laments, stirring jigs and reels, or dance tunes, the MacKenzie girls would deliver fabulously melodic ‘Puirt a beul’ (fast, intricate, unaccompanied Gaelic ‘mouth music’)… other people in the bar would jump in with a song or poem… seemingly from nowhere, a bagpiper would materialize… and we were all in Music Heaven… to Tobermory, a wee town with a huge musical heart… thanks for the true ‘time of my life’… see yeez later, LUV YEEZ!...

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…Glasgow Dockland Govan’s version of Rudolph Valentino…

…a wee reprise post from three years ago…

Source: …Glasgow Dockland Govan’s version of Rudolph Valentino…   

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Here is my interview with Seumas Gallacher

…the wonderful Fiona Mcvie carries a piece on yours truly today.. many thanks , m’Lady 🙂

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authorsinterviews

Hello and welcome to my blog, Author Interviews. My name is Fiona Mcvie.

 

Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?

Hello, Fiona. First of all, many thanks for letting me revisit. I normally don’t get asked back a second time anywhere.

I’m Seumas Gallacher, self-named ‘ol’Scots Jurassic scribbler’ which puts me certainly above the legal age to be a writer.

Fiona: Where are you from?

Born in Docklands, Govan in Glasgow

Fiona: A little about your self (ie,  your education, family life, etc.).

Government junior school until age 12. Then won a scholarship to a fee-paying school, which meant the fees were taken care of. Almost never went, ‘coz my Ma told the headmaster of the primary school we couldn’t afford the school uniforms. The headmaster paid for it for three years from his own pocket. Won a second three–year…

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