Drambuie & Champagne – next stop oblivion.


Louis is away on a school camping trip, so Dave and I run away for a couple of days. But sods law means we are both feeling dreadful with some bug that’s going around.

Our great plans to do lots of things are scrapped and we end up slumped in a hotel room, eating shortbread and watching A Place in Slovakia on TV. It is outrageous and has us hooked.

An English couple went to the country on holiday and got chatting to a local man while having a morning swim. They ended up buying a Chateau from him for cash – you couldn’t make it up. The poor husband looked a bit bewildered as his wife set up the deal. Every man should be made to see her in action to realise how lucky they are with the wonderful woman they married. She was a maniac – but hilarious


Mum returns from her week away tomorrow and has finally got used to using her mobile abroad – so she says, anyway. Dad is sitting watching telly when the phone goes and it’s her calling from Mallorca. “Hello, Eric, hello…” she says several times, not giving dad a chance to answer.

Eventually, he gets a word in. “Hello,” he says, interrupting her. Suddenly she snaps. “Is that a woman’s voice I can hear? Who have you got in the house?” Dad explains, in his world weary way, “No, Pat it’s your voice – there’s a slight delay.”

Suitably calmed, mum says hello and then swans off for her last night away with her sister Joyce.

After 52 years of marriage the spark clearly is still alive – mum thought he had Britt Ekland in watching Scotland Today with him and making him rissoles. Sweet but mental


Go home this afternoon via the kennels to get the dogs, who are not speaking to us. They walk right past us with their noses in the air and leap straight into the back of the car. They are not amused.

Going through to Glasgow tomorrow for a Breast Cancer Care Scotland event, so go and get a blow dry late afternoon. Decide to sit in and watch Lost tonight. It’s aptly named – the show is a bit lost now. It’s too long and too silly.

have to be up early but don’t want to go to bed and mess up my hair. But, as Dave points out: “You can’t sit up all night for Heaven’s sake.” Lie face down. Naturally, it doesn’t work – suffocation is too high a price to pay for neat hair


Wake up with hair on end and eyes like slits. No change there. Turn on the radio only to hear there are no trains running between Edinburgh and Glasgow – aaaargh. Jump up and into the car.

It takes two hours to get to the venue and the place is full of volunteers. The atmosphere is tremendous. Many guests have experienced breast cancer. The energy and fun bursting round the room is incredible.

I sit beside a couple of lovely ladies from Asda in Govan, who tell me the supermarket group had raised pounds 3million for Breast Cancer Care last year by selling the charity’s pink ribbons, clothes and goods. I am going to shop there all the time now.

Go to the Eat Scotland launch at Edinburgh Castle tonight. It’s an initiative to encourage the use of Scottish ingredients within the catering and tourist industry. One ingredient we inadvertently celebrate is Drambuie. As we go in, there are trays of drinks with a choice of three Champagnes. One plain, one strawberry and one with what looks like a sliver of lemon in it. I go for that one – lucky dip and all that. Well, it turns out to be Champbuie, which is Champagne with Drambuie. Oh my God.

It is like letting a bomb go off in my brain – not so much Champbuie as shambles. Accost various unsuspecting individuals before being taken home


Louis gets back from school camp today. The bus arrives with 60 boys – aged nine and 10 – who don’t even have the energy to climb off. Wee white face, bedraggled body, a big smile and baggy eyes… that’s me, not the boys.

It’s lovely to have Louis home – it’s amazing how much stour one 10-year-old can make in the house. It’s been far too quiet without him.

Head to Glasgow to take part in the judging of the Sunday Mail’s Great Scot Awards.

It is a rollercoaster of emotion with lots of heart- rending stories. I want them all to be winners but after many hours of discussion and very tough decisions we pick the final 10. All will be revealed at the event at the Thistle Hotel on October 29


Have to wake Louis up with a cattle prod to get him to rugby. Afterwards, we come home and slump. We have pals coming round for a quiet night – where did the expression ‘quiet night’ come from? It starts at 7.30pm and ends at 2.45am with us dancing and putting the world to rights. Tomorrow I have to spend another day standing at the side of a rugby pitch watching a tournament. Thermal underwear and a flask – with hot chocolate, not a dram – it is my only hope


Writer & broadcaster.

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