Dynamite, curling & Teenwolf answers back. Help?

Dynamite's birthday lunch -start the wy you mean to go. PINT!

Breathing toxic air– I awoke from a short night fitful alcoholic related sleep to recall my pals husband Callum was teaching us to curl yesterday morning. Sunday. At 9.30am !  The reason for the scrunchy face was Dynamites birthday lunch – the day before which went on for 9 1/2 hours.  I blame the rugby. Scotland won their match with Italy and then as Ireland and England started to play the whole bar went wild – so it would have been rude to leave mid-way so we stayed til the end. The bitter end. Yeuch.

So back to the curling. What a day to start. Firstly, I cannot recommend curling after a wild birthday party. It was cold.

LSH & Callum practice formation dancing - sorry I mean curling.

Well obviously I suppose.  The atmosphere of an empty ice rink laid out for curling is quite unique and much like a smell or a sound it can evoke memories which hit you like a slap on the chops. So I burst into tears. Great start Alison, and as the snottering ensued  lots of scared men in in cosy jumpers averted their eyes. Oh God I love being a woman. I surprised myself to be honest. The memories of all those years ago with my dear Dad who died 3 years ago was too much, with hangover, hormone, lack of sleep and no breakfast. I couldn’t be sure an egg would stay down.

We soon perked up though, as I slid about on my knees, and we all hooted and h hollered at how appalling we were. Our pal Leo had been at a stag night so him and I were in the same ballpark of shake and thus we indulged in much knee sliding and general buffoonery. But you know what ? We’re hooked.

I told my Mum.

Oh she said your Dads curling brush is here if you would like it, it’s hollow so you can fill it with whisky.

Ah so I blame him. It runs in the family. Why fight it?

PS Teenwolf is not mentioned today as he is threatening to start his own blog – Teenwolf Answers Back this could back fire badly.  Money may  haPreview postve to change hands. Does he have a case?
Teenwolf Evidence Day 1
Teenwolf Evidence Day 2

Teenwolf Evidence Day 3

Should he answer it?

Dynamite ramping up for a day to remember – with the aid of photographs and an overhead projector.

Di and I ready to roll

Today is going to be wild.

There I said it.

No not Teenwolf he will be face down asleep for hours yet.

No today is all about Dynamite, my oldest and dearest pal – well after today definitely oldest is celebrating her birthday.

The plan?

Well a table of 23 women having lunch at an undisclosed location in Scotland’s Capital.

Undisclosed? You may think how pretentious!

Well not really, the proprietors would want us to keep it schtumm, after all which self respecting bloke would go into a loud shrieking horror environment like that?

My Dad took me to Murrayfield to watch Scotland play like this!

Especially when it is the last rugby international of the year and they want geezers with empty beer bellies and big wallets to enter their premises.


Scotland V Italy.


So kilt clad rugby fans will be rollocking around the town, as will thousands of Italians who also love to party.

Oh God Alisons they've found me in your room!

It’s a bit like the Perfect Storm.

3 different party fronts all heading slowly but surely towards the epicentre.

You may recall in the film, the weather men didn’t realise what was going on until there was no going back.

A situation the publicans of Edinburgh will be able to identify in just a few hours.
So as Teenwolf sleeps, his hypocrite mother is getting ready to roll and put a rock in front of that – it’s my turn to behave badly today. A speciality of the house.

Photos may or may not be posted tomorrow depending on one thing. How much money the girls will give me not.  Money will go to Comic Relief and will provide a huge relief.

Dynamite and Harry Potter star get together for dinner at Oloroso.

Scary Jason Isaac in Harry Potter.

So there I was last night. Slumped like a sack of potatoes on the couch, a dog under each oxter, a cup of tea in my hand, wearing my skiiing thermals,  watching crap on TV. There was nothing on last night. FOR ME?

The I get the usual call from Dynamite.

What are you doing? I asked. Expecting the answer having a QNI aka quiet night in? After the weekend we had, singing in restaurants, whisky tasting and watching the X factor twice, once half cut and then again the next day hungover. Both times it was crap by the way. I knew her stamina, like mine, would be gone and long forgotten.
No she said casually I’m going out for dinner.

‘Oh on a Monday?’ I said sounding like her mother Muriel. ‘Who with?’

Jason Isaacs. she said casually. Well that got my attention.

‘You what?’

Yes you know the guy from….

‘Harry Potter’ I blurted ‘yes I do know. How come?’

Well I know his agent and he’s filming in Edinburgh so we’re off to Oloroso for supper.

‘Well eat garlic and carry a cross’ I said ‘he’s a bit scary’.

Well what would you do if it was your pal? Of course I told her to put on her slap and report back before rolling from the couch to the floor and getting my laptop to google Jason. The photo on the right came up. Ah yes I knew he was a scary magical Harry Potter person. And then I looked again. And saw the other picture. YES THE OTHER ONE.  The non-madeup real Jason Isaacs. The, let’s be honest girls,  stoating looking bloke.

My heart sank. Poor Dynamite was going to have sit opposite this vision of loveliness and not drool. I am seeing her tonight. I am getting all the chat.

Consider this a news bulletin with a news update as soon as I get back.

That girl really!

I just know there will be a story…..there always is……meanwhile have a swoon.

It's James Bond - sorry Jason Isaac - no he could be bloody James Bond!

Sunshine in Leith, haggis and a sore head.

Actually my eyes were a lot worse than this

Yup it’s that Sunday morning feeling. Tongue stuck to the roof of the mouth, eyes like a lab rats, body shaken and stirred and not in a James Bond sort of way. Yuck.

The lovely BB

There is an unwritten rule when I get together with old pals for the first time in ages – we go berserk. So last night Marie & John were over from Luxembourg, Gordon & Rachel was down from Aberdeen, Ann Smith – starring in Sunshine in Leith with Billy Boyd, who is based in London appeared later as the production is in Edinburgh this week – it’s off to Aberdeen tomorrow go and see it if you are up in the area it is bloody brilliant!. Fiona Duff, PR guru and wild woman of Wonga with her husband the lovely Callum, and various others too but….the thing is this. Marie, Dynamite, Ann, Gordon,  Fiona and I all used to share a house in London in the 80’s and so seldom end up in the same place at the same time this was very much a case of light blue touch paper and retire.

Starting at 6pm in the house with a couple before meeting at The West Room at 7.30 for the official commencement of the binge drinking. We congregated amongst shouts of ‘ What are you having?’ ‘Hello what would you like?’ Fancy another’ and fitted about as much booze into 60 minutes as possible, leaving not a drop in any glass as we careered out of there towards Howies Cellar in Alva Street for 8.30.

My dear long suffering husband started Howies and sold the business about 3 years ago which I thought I would say before I say what I am about to say so you know there is not a whiff of nepotism or insider dealing going on but… we had a great meal. We did. Set price £15 a head the grub kept coming. Black pudding with tomato, calamaris, haggis spring rolls which in all honesty I wasn’t

Ann Smith singing in Howies rapt we were. Rapt.

mad about, mushrooms in a creamy sauce, chips, fish cakes, roast vegetables we really got our moneys worth and then the booze. Yup £15 a head for the food and £20 a head for the drink. There was tons of the stuff. As we laughed, and face stuffed then Ann Smith arrived hot from the stage of the Kings Theatre and sang Sunshine on Leith – as you can see from the photograph there wasn’t a dry seat – sorry eye – in the house.

OMG! Look at his thumb! WEIRD

At 12.30 we left, full of …well everything. The second we got home we put on the X factor …..and fell asleep. Can’t wait to see it…waiting for the others to wake up it’s 10.51am Sunday., I can’t put on the radio, read the papers or turn on the telly in case I see any chat about it. So am off to give them a cup of tea and tell them dressing gown son, downstairs NOW, Simon, Cheryl, Louis & nurofen await.

Have a great day!

Alison x

Sex In The City 2 ? Nope. Wrecks In the City too.

Like to see this lot after a few pints in Glasgow

Never mind Sarah Jessica Parker et al. The girls and I hit Glasgow yesterday for lunch at  Blythswood Square. Departing Edinburgh it was about 25 degrees, blasting sunshine and we were in high spirits. 3 on at Waverley, 2 Haymarket, 1 Linlithgow all present and correct off we sped  west for a carry on.

Toasty hot we decided stootering about in hee hiles would end in an early injury so we leapt into a cab. As we got out the poor taxi driver was grabbed and asked to take a photo of us – we thought it would be good to get one before the inevitable collapse of style, grace and mascara. Perched on the steps half of us with our chins up, the other  half with chins down he clicked the camera.  Thanks! I shouted ‘miss your column in The Sunday Mail ‘ he shouted. Och thanks I said waving and following the rest of them  heading  gaggingly fast towards the bar.

High stools, round tables and a fabulous cocktail list. Happy Harriets. French Martini – had two. Had too! Lunch 3 courses for £20 – wine, prosecco, coffee and a lot of high jinx. The place was jumping. Afterwards Jane Thomson showed us round including the private viewing room. You can see it here complete with it’s Harris Tweed seats.
 It’s  WOW from top to toe. The whole place, in the old RAC building has scrubbed up beautifully,  with interior by  Graven Images it looks and feels opulent, modern and special. Unlike us who by this point were feeling full,  half cut and fat.  When the spa opens we’ll be back for an overnight sensation we shouted at the rather alarmed looking staff.

By the time we’d finished our tour one of our number was asleep in the gardens across the road as the rest of us stumbled out into the sun and flagged down another taxi, back to the station.

‘There’s a train in 5 minutes shouted Dynamite ‘ as head down we ran for the ticket barrier. After we got thrown off the train to Dunblane we leapt off and found the right one with seconds to spare. The guard ushered us on. We did a head count. One of us was missing. ‘We have to get off!’ You can’t said the guard we’re leaving NOW.

Standing, sweaty and confused we phoned our lost member Kim. Where are you?
I bought a Big Issue it took me 10 seconds and when I looked up you had all gone.

Sorry we cried in unison. It’s Ok I was fed up of the lot of you anyway.

That’s why we love her.

Like looking in a mirror

Home to bucketing rain. No jackets, high heels and linen ensured I arrived home looking like Alice Cooper in a dress.
Look at the state of you said the long suffering husband.

I’m sober! I objected.

Yeh right he said eyeing up the sodden streaky slapper that stood before him.

If I was a black belt Ninja he’d have been in big trouble. But I’m not so I just squelched past in high dudgeon enroute to a hot shower, fresh clothes and a large gin. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

Prada Shoes for £20!

Just stroked some Prada shoes. Ms Dynamite Di bought them at the  Mary Queen of Shops, Save The Children shop in Edinburgh. Originally £220 they were only £20 she announced as she dug out a shoe bag in front of my very jealous face.

Looking in, it  was obvious why they were so cheap – there was only one! ‘No  you pillock’ she said producing another shoe bag with the  matching shoe  in it. Oh so you get two shoe bags if you buy posh shoes – well you don’t at New Look I said in my defence which is where I buy my footwear. Such a class bird. For £220 you could about 90 pairs of shoes from there or one from Prada – bring it on New Look that’s what I say.

You can take the girl out of Aberdeen……….

7 Days in Scotland trapped in the body of a podgy, middle-aged woman.

I know how he feels.


Arranged a tennis lesson in a fit of madness. I used to play about 20 years ago and had vaguely firm thighs so the thought of revealing any part of my body at all ever again has spurred me on to give it a go. One hour of teaching from the coach and I am wondering if the court has an oxygen tent, main problem is I can’t find out the answer as I can’t speak. No it’s not a good look hanging onto the net gasping for breath as the  coach stands next to me, arm outstretched, proferring a bottle of water. Clearly I have a long way to go.


Soon to be joined by Bandy & Limpy

Walking like I’ve  had a  horse between my legs for the past 20 years. Bandy and limpy.  Tennis clearly reaches the parts of the body that have been lying  dormant for decades. Blimey. This evening  Dave asks if I’d like a game? ‘Of what?’ I ask hurpling. Tennis? he says. ‘TENNIS are you joking? Look at me?’ He smirks, yeh OK then how about Scrabble?  I chose to ignore that  cheek, storing the retaliation for another time.  Watch it sunshine your time will come.


Dynamite has been away on holiday for 10 days but it’s her birthday today so I phone where she is staying and speak to a mutual pal. Where are you

Would have been a much better idea the tea!

going tonight? I ask. I’ll phone and buy her a big drink to wish her happy birthday. ‘Oh God’ says Duff the desperate voice ‘  don’t do that I couldn’t face it’. It’s not for you! I admonished ‘I know but Dynamite is sitting right next to me, are you drinking tonight Di?’  In the background I can hear the familiar tones muffled but definitive  of the birthday girl herself  ‘Non. No. Nein. Nicht. Never’ Put her on! I command. You sure you don’t want a big cold birthday gin and tonic? I ask. ‘Och well….why not?’ That girl has the self control of Lewis Hamilton when faced with the accelarator pedal of a very fast car. None. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!


John about to sink his head into the vat

Met up with old pal John Wood for a quick drink.  John & I used to do the zoo crew a radio program which was a scream. John is a natural comedian so we soon revert to type sitting in a restaurant, eating, drinking and guffawing like a pair of old dafties.  Afterwards we decide to just head off home when John suggests one for the road. One what? Vat? Yup spot on. Having sat at the begining of the evening declaring ‘ oh aye we were wild then’ we stayed out til closing time and hatched 17 new plans for world domination of the entertainment world. Shame we won’t remember them in the morning.


Got a call at 8.30am to appear on Kaye Adams new show on BBC Radio Scotland within the hour. The topic? The idea that clothes maketh the man. Naturally being a big mouthed Aberdonian I aye have something to say on any subject.  There was no escaping the irony as I sat there in my tacky trackie bottoms,odd socks, with a slumped dog on one foot, no make-up, a surfeit of Astral cream on my face in a baggy,faded sweatshirt and expounded the sad truth that clothes do maketh  the woman.   Which as I

Photo taken as I exit studio

regarded the fright of myself in the mirror  may well be why I now broadcast dressed like Catweasel from a small dark cupboard in my home.


7 hours and counting.

Taking the horror of my ever greying hair on board I bought a Garnier Herbalshine hair colour. Temporary covers grey for up to 6 weeks. On reading the instructions I was tempted to go to the local infirmary to apply it. Oh My God. It is as if they expecting your head to swell to the size of an elephant before passing out and experiencing some sort of fit. Nervously I read and re-read it before deciding I looked like a grey headed elephant anyway so I might  as well go ahead.  Half an hour later I appeared downstairs with completely different hair colour. As I write this I am still waiting for my husband to notice. 7 hours and counting.

Now Sunday morning and he still hasn’t noticed. He will pay.

Dynamite -the annals – is that how you spell it?

My little chickadee. My pal. The quiet one. A star of stage and screen. from Postman Pat to Dr. Findlay she’s done it all.

Archive footage here of the little pumpkin playing the mother of a boy with a hideous measly thing. She will kill me for this.  But hey ho. About 1 min 23 seconds in she can be seen howking the poor lad toward the Dr! All heart that one.

General TV Excitement!

So there I am in the pub with Dynamite when I get a call d’ya funcy being a judge in a new Channel 4 show called Iron Chef? 0000.6 seconds later I said yes. Asked no pertinent questions just bit the mans hand off. Very uncouth for a woman of my age but what the heck. It looks great! It’s billed as a cross between Gladiators and Masterchef it sounds right up my boulevard. Sitting on my bum, eating. Here’s the American Iron Chef to give you a flavour of what it’ll be like!