Oh my word! Gimme a LARGE brandy!

Today ended up OK but I must admit I thought I was going to be singing with choirs of angels tonight or getting a hellish suntan dancing with a horned bloke by evening! Stop it! I said HORNED not horny. Humph! Chance would be a fine thing......

Anyhoo, it was a foul day in Ayr when I first looked out so I wasn't too dejected about leaving today especially as I knew I would be coming back again next Saturday. The weather was so dreadful, I stupidly booked a taxi to take me to the railway station less than ten minutes walk away. The bloody thing didn't turn up or if it did was hijacked by some bastard leaving the hotel next door. Mom and I hurried up the road in a howling gale and driving rain and my heart was banging like a drum threatening to jump out of my throat! I was carrying my laptop and camera and mom was running behind me with my case. Horror of horrors! I was doing a very good impression of an old steam train crossed with an asthmatic pit pony by the time we got there. I'm so glad there was no one with a camera to blip us (I HOPE!) as we must have looked a sight. I caught the train with 2 seconds to spare despite getting my case stuck in the gate going through after I'd remembered to grab it from mom. I was convinced I was going to either die or throw up my egg, bacon and tomato breakfast. That awful feeling of impending doom lasted for a good twenty minutes and I was at the stage of choosing music for my funeral. It would have to be 'Sympathy for the Devil' from the Rolling Stones as let's face it, he's got trouble coming with me on the way!

When that feeling passed I shrieked - yes shrieked! - 'SHIT! I'M ON THE WRONG TRAIN!' as I didn't recognise any of the usual stations on the way to Paisley Gilmour. Where was Milliken Park? Never heard of it. The old guy in front of me said 'Calm down yer silly coo! It's a changed route on this line but it's Johnston next then Paisley!' The old buzzard started muttering under his breath then about 'Bloody English....independence...arsehole Cameron....' which cheered me greatly!

Well, I am now sat on the plane - a tiny little propeller job - writing this while sipping my brandy so the rest of the journey was OK. If you are reading this, the plane didn't crash and I am still alive.

On the plane a little boy - he was a bad tempered little git - asked his mother why they had to sit in specific seats and was moaning. His constant whining had really got on my nerves so I leaned across and told him it was so the rescue crew could identify his charred remains when the plane crashed. The look on the faces of all close by including the boy was priceless. The rest of the flight was blissfully silent!

The picture was taken from my seat when I was trying out my zoom before the plane took off. Great to look out the pilot's front window although I don't think that ground crew staff member was very pleased!

Track? My funeral track - Sympathy For The Devil