The first time my name was on the radio was a birthday request by Stewpot for my 6th birthday. “Mares eat oats and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy….”.no it does exist it’s just that I am ancient. From that moment to this, my overwhelming obsession in life has been radio. A medium where you as a listener really connect to the presenter and as a presenter if your doing your job, to your listener. To me the master of them all was Terry Wogan and when I heard the chocolate voiced, cheeky, twinkly eyed Irish man had passed away today there was a tear in my eye.
Sitting circa 1976 on the way to school in Mums old Morris Minor I would turn the radio onto Radio 1 and crank up the volume, the second she stopped at the lights Mum would slap my leg and turn back to the Radio 2 Breakfast program which was then hosted by Terry Wogan. It only took me a while to to realise Noel was just a pretender to the throne (with bad streaks) but at a very tender age I also became a Wogan fan. His gentle self deprecating humour won me and millions of others over to be dedicated fans.
When I heard Chris Evans was taking over his Radio 2 breakfast show all those years ago I wasn’t convinced he was the man for the job. But then who could ever take over from Terry? The day Evans took over he played it very low key and respectful and quiet and there was hope but within the week his volume was up, his me me me style was back at the fore and the memory of that lovely lilting unassuming Irish brogue was lost to our grumpy early morning ears.
Hearing his voice on air on a Sunday was piecemeal indeed but better than nothing. Which is sadly where we are now.
A huge loss. A colossus of the broadcasting world. Anyone who has ever asked me who I believe was the best radio presenter of all time I used to say listen to Terry Wogan. I always will.
Oh and to prove I am not insane….here’s a 1943 version of Maisie Dotes….
So throwing a party. It’s always a buttock clencher. Will anyone turn up? If they do will they enjoy it? Is there enough food? Drink? Music? Jollifications? Well in this case it seems that’s a yes.
It started at 6.30pm on the dot and went off like a rocket. Over 150 people at one point all talking, laughing, drinking, eating, singing, dancing. The local craft brewery 6 Degrees North set up a bar to let people taste their wares – which was delicious. We poured white wine, red wine, prosecco, beer and whatever else the heart desired.
There was a rumour of a soft drink being served but we don’t have proof.
The fa’s fa of Aberdeen were out in force.
The instruction was ‘keep the glasses topped up’ and that was the theme of the night.
This is gauged by the fact I was giving the band (sorry) who were fabulous – Chris Bradley and his co-hort Austin – talented buggers – some unsolicited backing vocals and beginning to whirl people round in a centrifugal force sort of way when the long suffering husband recognised the signs of imminent badness and oxtered me into a friends car.
David said it was like having a 3 year old in the back of the car as I lay flat in the backseat refusing to put on my belt ignoring his pleas to ‘wise up’. It was not until the driver Rachel said “If I slam on the brakes you will fly through to the front and kill me” which made me sit bolt upright and behave instantly. She is from Ireland and I love her voice so her wish was my command.
Back to our hotel Malmaison (sorry) – where we stayed on an amazing ITISON deal and though I had a canapé or 6 I needed something to soak up the belly of booze so room service was order of the day. Just a tip scoffing a burger lying horizontal is not advised for a 50 year old woman. Of all ages I should be more than aware of the effects of gravity as I was instantly when I awoke this morning and was concerned I had killed the long suffering husband as all I saw was red splatters and meaty nodules. I was in the set from CSI Miami. My burger had hit the duvet and hard.
Mortified I have written a note of apology to the hotel and am on the wagon. Forever. Ish. I blame dress stress and worrying no-one would turn up. But you know the most shame making thing of all – I was in bed juggling my burger by 10pm Hardly hard core party girl these days. However others exploits put mine in the shade the details of will eek out on this blog. But that is enough for now. I shall leave fellow attendees wondering if it is their story that will be told. Guffaw.
Why is it I wait until the morning of a party to get something to wear? It’s not just any party either its our party. A party to relaunch our restaurant in Aberdeen.
As ever I have been concentrating on the night itself, the folk, the food, the drink and the music and then come the revolution I think. ‘Och I will just wear that-it’s’ fine’. Then I realise when I try it on and the poundage of Christmas still clings to my not insubstantial fleshy bits it is not in fact fine at all unless I want to look like a mutton dressed as lamb, VPL, bulgy bodied, baggy kneed harridan. Which I don’t.
The thing is it’s a perfectly good dress, from Sandwich which my pal donated to me but it won’t cut the mustard unless I cut the calories and it’s a little late for that. To wear a too tight bulger is just not going to do for the relaunch of the restaurant plus let’s be honest I am seeing people I haven’t seen for 20 years and I don’t want to look well em.. 20 years older. Also I don’t want to look as though I have tried too hard so the frock that was for the offsprings 21st is not getting an airing. “She’s done up like a dogs dinner look at the state of that!” Its a rock and a hard place situation so I get up at 7am and google all the shops in Edinburgh, the majority of which don’t open till 10am ! Why? Anyway we are leaving at 10am so the only real option is John Lewis. Concession central so I am standing at their locked grill gates at 8.59am to find something. Anything.
Cramming 20 dresses into a changing room finally I try this one on. Thankfully this photo is not of me in it – obviously – but well I felt black was a little dull. So.…I tried on another 25 and by now hot, sweaty and grumpy I plumped (sic) for this one from Damsel In A Dress. Bright. Cheery. Machine washable. Yes I have complete aversion to dry cleaning anything. Ever. Grippy and lazy my two watch words.So relieved off I run to check out, pay, run home, pack car, put sausage dog in car, drive to Aberdeen. Arrive, shower, open bag, realise new dress is still in Edinburgh 120 miles away so I have no option but to wear the original sausage skin. I blame this stress on what happened next which I can’t quite bear to write down yet. Mortified. Tomorrow when my blood pressure returns to normal I will.
Badly behaved old bat (dehydrated)
PS Googling Damsel in a Dresses website and happily found this great Blog Damsel In A Dress from California which has nothing to do with that stripy thing above and everything to do with a great blog. Its on my blogroll from when I remember how to add it.
It’s been a long haul. A long low slow lazy can’t be bothered to get up and at it haul to hoover out the blog and start afresh. But here we are.
With the sausage dog on board a new year full of adventure beckons. Here is my little ginger man in the back of the car with his mini-Schnauzer mates. That’s Basil on the left – and Doris on the right. Three wee crackers, you can spot the tartan blankets as they were well wrapped and just getting their circulation back after a long walk along the beach in Aberdeen. Bbbrr.
We were up last week amidst the aftermath of the storm that wreaked havoc in the area. Dramatic scenes all around not least the sandy beach which was so covered in drift wood no-one could actually walk along it.
Here’s a photo of a tree which was snapped off at the roots and carried through the churning sea to this lofty spot. It was wild, windy and cold but great. We had faces like well slapped babies bums, dogs like drookit wigs and an intense need for some food so we stepped into The Sand Dollar on the front. Overlooking the beach and sea their welcome was warm and their food delicious.Soup of the day and great hunks of warm bread and butter set us up for the brisk walk back to the car. It’s almost worth getting cold, wet and shivery just as an excuse to get in there and toast up.
Though I haven’t lived in Aberdeen for years. I love it. The silver city – it aye feels like home. But colder.