Trivial Hirsute- Literary Edition.

It’s time for the big summer shave so this year I’ve turned it into a quiz!

See if you can guess the novelist, dramatist or biographer by the arrangement of my facial hair. 10 points for a correct answer, 5 points for a nearly. Put your answers in the comments box and I will publish the results once a sufficient amount of people has entered.

Good luck!

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More Bus Stop

Here is my good lady wife waiting for the 7.55 to Lerwick at the newly empinkened Unst Bus Shelter.

Like J-Lo we have a troop of minions on standby to redecorate the shelter whenever they are informed Caroline is coming.

Then when I arrive they have to re-do the whole thing.

A Tale Of Two Sandys (and a Martha and a Tom and an Elaine. And a dug called Culain)

This week we were visited by journalist, broadcaster, musician, thriller writer, bread maker, chicken breeder and biker Tom Morton and gang including my old mate...wait for it... Sandy Nelson. Yes! The guy with me in the pic below is called Sandy Nelson! He's taller than me, 10 years younger, better looking and a doctor. We are like Schwarzenegger and De Vito in Twins.(l-r: Martha, Sandy, Sandy, Elaine.)

We stopped off here and there, me showing them the sites of Unst, including the Northern Lights Bistro which was closed. At 1pm-lunchtime. On a public holiday. On a Scottish Isle. During tourist season. Now, I'm no Duncan Fannytyne or Theo Clitoris but even an arty farty treehugger like me can see that this makes no fucking business sense whatsoever.

Anyroad, the big thing is that the Bus Shelter has had a makeover! Last year it was Baby Blue. This season it's pink to make the boys wa..er..wink.


Aw. Gorgeous!

(photies shamelesly ripped from Tom Mortons Beatcroft)

I'm Sandy, Fly Me.

Canny believe I haven't told yuz about this yet. Happened a couple of months ago.

Now that I am away up here in the great wilderness 30 miles short of the Argtic circle my traveling expenses to work are a little painful. When I go to work in Glasgovia for instance it's: bus-ferry-bus-ferry-bus-foot-bus-flight-bus-train. And back.
(the first ferry is free and the second one is included in the bus fair so canny really hark aboot that. Still. Ooyah!)

So a cuppla months ago I'm coming out of departures at Glasgow Airport and I see two Arriva Glasgow Flyer busses. I only need one.

As I stand there gormlessly wondering which bus to get on some suit collers me and says, "Excuse me, are you getting on this bus?"
"Yes," sez I, "but I'm not sure which one to get."
The suit points to the one on the right and sez, "It's that one. Congratulations. You are our ONE MILLIONTH CUSTOMER!"

As I stand there eyebrow raised Spock style trying to comprehend this Oor Wullie storyline that unfolds before me, other eye looking out for Dom Joly, a wee crowd of semi suits start chattering "Ooh! Is that him? There he is! He's the one" (the closest I'll get to being Jesus.)

Next thing I know I am surrounded by them cameras flashing, champaign, chocolates and low quality Arriva promotional items being thrust into my hands.

While I stand there wrestling with the possibilities of my agent and showbiz mates crawing, "That fanny will do anything for publicity," against free sweeties and booze the suit says, "Here's a pass for a years free travel on the Airport Flyer."

That's £120 in old money.

So, as you can imagine I said, "Well I never had a reputation to speak of anyway. Festoon away."
The pass was passed over with four vouchers to the Free Booze Lounge (don't know what it's official name is but I think Free Booze Lounge covers the idea.)

Carbon fitprint through the fuckin' flerr.

Arrochar-Flat For Sale

Sorry for using my blog for this but well...

We have a wee one bedroom flat for sale in beautiful Arrochar.

50 mins to Glasgow by car. Pleasant train journey to and from Glasgow three times a day. Council tax lower and air clearer than Glasgow.

Go on! Live a little!
Get in touch if you know emdy interested.

Living room

Kitchen with big Belfast sink.

Bedroom with original stone wall.

Designer bathroom with cast iron bath as designed and built by GSA alumnus Caroline McMurtrie of Elements Eternal.

Arrochar from the foot of The Cobbler.

Read, look, listen, think, tidy up, write, speak.

Sorry there's been no blogging of late. I'd been putting all of my creative energy into the final draft of the new BBC Radio Scotland situation comedy pilot Marshalls Misdemeanours which was being re-written right up until and during the recording last Tuesday. I was lucky enought to have an amazing cast of actors and a most generous and understanding director. It is due for broadcast whenever those who decide these kind of things decide. To. Broadcast it.

Then once I got back to Unst I realised I had a full TWO FULLWEEKS where I didn't have to get on a ferry to anywhere at all. That never happens! So I thought I'd just read, think and tidy up and hug my wife for a while. And watch a lot of Gilmore Girls.


But now it's back to writing and the virtual brown envelope posting. The McLellan Award for a play in the Scots language is calling for entries again so I think this year I'll punt something in there. Then there's my supernatural family drama sitcom to redraft and a synopsis for a feature I'm writing with an undisclosed writing partner. As well as all that I'm finishing off a second act to my hit one act plat Metrosexual.

David McGowan and Danielle Stewart in Metrosexual at Oran Mor April 2007.

So, now that the fire festival season is over ( more pics later) it's heed doon and batter at he keys. Some of you may have noticed I did a Reggie Perrin on Facebook, ie: faked cybercide and restarted. That's 'cos I get addicted to that shit. So if you see me on Facebook or writing this blog it means I totally "procrastubating." and I need to be told to "Get Back To Work!" All nagging graciously accepted.

Will let you know when Marshalls Misdemeanors is on and Metrosexual is out.
S.x.

Uyeasound Up Helly Aa

Photos by Lucy Hargreves.

All the different guizer squads muster at The Galley Shed around 7.30pm.


After the Guizer Jarl's Squad hand out the drinks we all grab a torch each.
Guess which ones me and which ones Caroline.

Then we march off into the crisp winter night towards the galley.
Once gathered around the galley the torches are tossed in.
(note the sheilds, of the rugby six nations flags, as painted by Caroline and her pupils.)
...and up it goes!
The bottle is passed around.

And a Viking gets a happy ending.
What happens next is all the squads go to the village hall where they in turn perform a viciously satirical sketch based some recent goings on in the community. Fights have broken out over it.

Our sketch went down well. I did, however, nearly get into a fight when I pissed in the sink in the gents and a guy went mental in an Eastern European accent and started pushing me around. Must be frowned upon over there. Then again we don't oppress Jews, so one mans poison and all that.

After the sketches it's Shetland Come Dancing!


A splendid time was had by all. Hoorah!

Only two more Fire Festivals to go. Norwick then Hillswick.

S.x.