We've trod the bings together, in mony's the blyth stravaig...

Looks like I've I sold a picture:

Alright. Settle down.

I saw Skids at the QM courtesy of a pal from Dunfermline. It was FUN. And nice to get a wee hello with Mr. Jobson after the show. I told him his brother bought one of my portraits (of Sex Pistols-era Johnny Rotten).

I was v. glad to get the chance to see On Falling (released next year):

I saw David Sedaris read this in Edinburgh earlier this year.

I am getting slightly obsessed with a song written by the late John Watt. I was in a folk band at school in 1986 or thereabouts. We had some bookings in Scottish folk clubs including one in Glassford, Darkest Lanarkshire and, during the break between our two sets, Bill 'Somebody' who ran the club performed it, doing his best accidental-Norman-Collier-as-a-chicken impression on the recurring line "or I'll punch yer ticket twice!". In all the versions that I've found there's a line: "Ah says “Hey Mag, pit doon yer bag, And gie’s a wee bit kiss.” But that night "pit doon yer bag" had transmogrified to "nip yer fag" (Translation for whom it may be appreciated: "extinguish your cigarette"). 

Anyway, here it is:

Still here?

This was a powerful listen.

I just learned (here) that George Michael programmed the drums himself on Last Christmas. That stuttering, idiosyncratic snare makes the song, in my humble opinion.

More art?

Ocht.

OK...

One line drawing (*Voice from the back: Aye it looks like it*)

Right. Off you go.