It was the loom bands that did it.

Right through 2014 we've been bombarded in the newspapers, on TV and radio and on the internet with reports that tell us - well, basically, whatever we do is wrong and the state we're in is all our own fault.

So 4 out of 10 cases of cancer could be avoided if we had a good diet, avoided alcohol/sex/the sun, took exercise and, as far as I can see, had no fun at all. (This is the opposite of the ideal life a friend of mine recommends: live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse. I know which I find more attractive.)

It seems we're only safe if we drink two glasses of red wine a few times a week. No, according to another researcher, a bottle a day will do us no harm.

Smoking is very bad for us, but now it seems the electronic fags, which I thought were a great way to help people struggling to quit smoking, may also be dangerous.

We need to exercise 3 or 4 times a week. But some other expert says just imagining ourselves exercising will help us keep fit and stave off the dreaded obesity (A much misused word which is only attractive to newsreaders because of the disapproving hiss they can get into saying it.)

But it was the loom bands that finished me off. They are dangerous apparently. A wee pastime enjoyed by many boys and girls and some adults and it's bad for you. I didn't read beyond the headline so I don't know why. I do know what my reaction was.

First I thought: Must be a slow news day. And then: did somebody get a research grant for that?

And finally I said out loud: Opissoff!

And I've decided Opissoff is going to be my reaction to every scare and rumour from now on. I urge you to join me, especially women, who are constantly bombarded with every kind of nonsense. So much so that many women now go through life in a cloud of guilt, constantly on a diet,  hair so fiercely straightened it'll probably fall out by the time they're 40, and tanked up on botox. (I watched Eve Pollard on the Sky News Review last night. Do you know her face never moved once in 30 minutes.)

The kind of health news I want in 2015 is more about how attaching a wee machine to the vagus nerve can control diabetes and rheumatoid arthritis. Now there's news worth having.

Tesco - not helping, not even a little bit!

I like Giraffe. There's one of their restaurants in Heathrow Airport and it always strikes me as a haven of sanity and decent food at reasonable prices. They do good fresh salads, quality coffee and smoothies. The service is efficient and it is always busy.

Tesco bought the Giraffe chain last year and have opened a Giraffe in Silverburn, attached to their store. It was reviewed in Saturday's Herald and a terrible review it is too. Nothing - service, food, atmosphere - got good marks. The food earned 2 points out of 5. The dishes ordered didn't contain the fancy ingredients the posh menu said they would. One dish even contained what looked like tomato ketchup. 

The Silverburn Giraffe is close to a Nando's. On the day the reviewer visited, Nando's was full and Giraffe mostly empty. It's just along from Wagamama and I'll bet that was quite lively too. There's also a 'handmade burger' place in that group of restaurants. These are all chains. They operate the same menu in every branch. Their food and service are quality-controlled. They all charge the same prices almost to within a pound of each other.

The Giraffe prices are higher than any of these. 

I know little about the restaurant business - or the supermarket business, come to that, except as a customer. But I've got a few questions:

Why did Tesco decide to get into the restaurant business? And why now? For decades, those of us who work in the public sector have been urged to look at how things are done in the private sector because the private sector does things so much better. But even I can see the flaws in Tesco's decision to diversify by buying a restaurant chain, an area they have no experience in, when they are already struggling to hold their own in the supermarket business - which they do or should know about - against Lidl, Aldi and Home Bargains. The old adage 'stick to what you know' comes to mind. 

And who did the market research before the restaurant opened in Silverburn? A quick swatch (as we say in Glasgow) at the menus of nearby restaurants would give you an idea of (1) how much competition you're going to have; (2) what you can charge if you're going to compete with them; and (3) the blindingly bleedin obvious fact that you need a unique selling point. 

Nando's is Thai/Chinese fusion and offers mainly chicken dishes. Not to my taste, since I reckon peri-peri sauce is mostly used to disguise the fact that chicken these days has no taste. Wagamama is Japanese/Chinese fusion and has the added excitement of chopsticks, which I've never got the hang of myself but I can see young people love them. My sister and I love the Wagmama spicy noodles and chicken but I doubt if any of the men in my family would eat there more than once. They'd be next door wrapping their gnashers round a handmade burger. 

I'm not sure what the unique selling-point of Giraffe at Silverburn is meant to be. I hope Tesco either get these restaurants right or get them sold to people who know what they're doing. 

Here's to Eòrpa

Eòrpa

If it wasn't for Eòrpa (Alba and BBC2), I would have no idea what's happening in the rest of Europe. 

For example, did you know that Germany gets 25% of its electricity by burning 'brown coal' - that is, lignite? This is the most polluting of the fossil fuels. Not content with being filthy and dangerous to human health and the environment, burning lignite pours arsenic into the atmosphere and shares it with Germany's neighbours - and that includes us, just across the North Sea. And the Germans have loads of it. As they turn away from nuclear power, Germans need a fuel supply that will be cheap to produce (lignite comes from open cast mines rather than deep mines so that ticks that box) and cheap to burn (keeping consumers' bills down - another box ticked with lignite). And they're willing to do a lot to get it. 

Most of Germany's brown coal is in the former East Germany and the German government is prepared to dump the health and well-being of local residents to keep the lights on in the west and, to quote one official from a local town hall, to 'keep industry running.' 

Perhaps the most alarming part of Germany's brown coal story is the way mining companies have dismantled whole villages to get at it, moving populations to new locations and effectively destroying their way of life. A lot of the people caught up in this are Sorbs. They are Germans but from a Slav background. They have their own language and culture and are, like many minority groups across Europe, under threat. When their villages are moved, some Sorbish inhabitants decide to go elsewhere. Then there aren't enough children to keep the village school open, the local shop closes, and in a short time what was a healthy wee community falls apart. The Sorbs are used to being at worst badly treated and at best ignored but now, having tried keeping quiet in the hope no one would bother them, they've summoned up their courage and are challenging both the mining companies and the German government. 

I wish the Sorbs good luck. They have everything on their side: the European Convention on Human Rights, the World Health Organisation, Greenpeace - and surely every right-minded  person in every community in the EU. But I wouldn't count on their local politicians backing them up: the local mayors want funding from the Land and from the federal German government, so they're playing the collaboration game. 

I saw all this in - I think - programme 3 or 4 of this season's Eòrpa. Eòrpa has the luxury of being able to devote 15 minutes to a story and really drill down to get the facts. It's worth a look on BBC iPlayer. 

Rock but nae roll

Anybody else noticed how hard it is in Glasgow to get a roll n sausage these days? I'm serious. I don't often go looking for comfort food but when I do I expect it to have pork meat on the inside and the two halves of a roll on the outside. And it's getting to be very elusive, the roll n sausage.

You want a 'panini'? Yes, we can do that - even if we canny spell it. Baguette? No problem. A club sandwich even? Fine. And all filled with tuna mayo, chicken salad (more mayo) and egg mayo. If you go to our local deli, you can have your baguette or 'panini' (yeah, the inverted commas are sarcastic now) toasted and filled with jalapenos, onion, tomato, cucumber, grated cheese, egg mayo, gammon, turkey and piri piri chicken. Yuk.

Not a square sausage to be seen. No fried egg. No chance of scrambled egg. Or a potato scone. Or black pudding. Or all of these in one roll. That would mean cooking and modern catering is all about scooping pre-prepared grub out of catering sized tubs onto very poor quality bread, not cooking. Sainsbury's in Darnley do a bacon roll all day but don't rush - it's boggin: claggy roll that sticks to the roof of your mouth and undercooked fatty bacon.

I like a greasy spoon cafe. The one we used to go to in Mosspark Boulevard went over to panini and posh nosh but there's still the Cherry Tree in Cardonald and there are are quite a few in Govan of which Gaynor's is the best.

You may be thinking: but these old style foods are bad for you - high in fat and low in veg. And that's true, but first of all does anybody really think large amounts of bread with large amounts of mayo are better for you? Even with a wee bit of salad on the side of the plate. And second of all, how many times a week are people scoffing the awful processed food above in their baguettes and panini? At least, in the greasy spoon, an egg is an egg. You know where it came from and what's in it. And if you ask for black pudding with your roll, you'll be told it comes from the butcher's next door. A fine recommendation as far as I'm concerned.

Is it us?

What's the difference between Sawney Bean, Robert Black, Peter Tobin and Angus Sinclair?

They are all Scottish. But Sawney Bean is a myth, and not exactly urban, since this story may date from the 15th century. He was dreamed up to make the good folk of Scotland glad they lived in nice cosy villages and towns, rather than out in the wild countryside.

The other three are serial killers. And they definitely exist.

Black killed at least 4 children, but probably many more, and his killing years extended from the late 60s on and his area covered Scotland, England, Northern Ireland and probably parts of the European mainland too. No one is sure how many women Tobin killed but he too predated all across the British Isles over a long period. He may have been 'Bible John', the notorious killer of women who haunted the streets of Glasgow in the 60s. Sinclair's is the most amazing case, since everyone involved with him recognised he was a psychopath and a danger to women and children from the age of 15 but our society had no way to deal with him and he was released from prison after murdering a child. He then murdered - it's believed - 7 women in 7 months.

I used to think serial killers were a uniquely American phenomenon, probably because US thriller writers seized on the idea of the serial killer very early on and wrote probably thousands of schlock horror stories of (usually) women being terrorised. It was years before I realised serial killers were also to be found in Russia, France and England, But finding three who have lived in Scotland in my lifetime has come as a bit of a shock.

Three murderous psychopaths in a population of 5 and a half million - well, make that 4 if you want to include Peter Manuel - is that a lot? I have no way of judging. I also know nothing about psychopathy or any other kind of 'abnormal psychology' so I'm not sure what treatment can be provided for people like this, if any.

When I was a teacher I occasionally came up against kids whose behaviour was extreme. I remember one boy of about 13 who had been adopted and showed signs of sexualised behaviour very early on in puberty. His adoptive mother, faced with the worries of the school staff, shrugged and said: 'That's what happens when you adopt - you don't know what you're getting.' I think her attitude was more chilling than anything the boy had ever done but then I don't know what she had been through since adopting him.

Do we in Scotland produce more disturbed individuals than other countries? Do we do enough for them? And do we start treatment early enough? I ask because only last week I saw an item in a newspaper that suggested referrals for children and adolescents to get psychiatric help now take up to 18 months. When I stopped work 6 years ago it was 9 months and we thought that was outrageous. What misery do young people and their families go through when they're waiting for help? How many suicides, attempted suicides, acts of aggression and self-harming, exclusions from school, family breakdowns occur during the waiting period? But, of course, mental health is still the forgotten bit of the health service.

Bring me the head of an rbs banker

I keep thinking it's all over.

We, the naive and pathetic taxpayers of the UK, most of us on PAYE so unable to find a way to avoid taxes, will soon get back the money we loaned to the likes of rbs and life will revert to something like normal: austerity will be shown the door, the public sector and the poor will stop carrying the can for all economic problems, the cuts will end, wages will rise above £6.50 an hour so we - the taxpayers again - is there a pattern developing here? - will no longer have to subsidise the wages of the 'working poor' - and I'll get a reasonable return on my savings once more.

If I sound bitter, it's because I am. I'm the mug who was tempted to join the Thatcherite 'property-owning democracy' of the 80s and then saw the mortgage rate rise pretty fast from 5% to 14%, watched my endowment policies decline till there was a gap of £35,000 and then - the final insult - saw the insurance policy I'd taken out to bridge the gap left by the failing endowment policies, not just fail to prosper but manage to lose - lose - £8,000 in under a year in a stock market that was doing so well for everybody else. (I seem to remember my lawyer who had arranged all these policies for me managed to cash in his own endowments in time and emerged with a nice new landrover, a trip on the Orient Express and the deposit on a holiday home - in Coupar, ffs).

But all is not lost, right?

Because the corruption and dishonesty that caused the biggest f*ckup in the history of capitalism are over, aren't they? It all happened before 2008 and the cost of 1.3 trillion pounds - that's £1,300,000, 000,000 - well that's a sad memory but it's in the past all the same. I honestly thought that was the case. I thought the wrong-doers inside the major UK banks had been caught and punished, or had at least been prevented from committing the same crimes again - and make no mistake, they committed crimes such as fraud, conspiracy and embezzlement.

But no. It turns out, some of the guys and gals were still defrauding us right up to 2013. That's last year, people. Five years after the collapse that we, the tax payers, had to save these banks from because they were 'too big to fail', they were still playing the market. Talking up Libor. Screwing money out of us, their employers, and in particular working people who have paid into pensions for the past 50 years thinking they were looking after their future.

And the banks are still standing there like huge monoliths out of 2001 A Space wotsit. Not split up. Still jeopardising the economy of the UK. And still demanding and getting huge bonuses. No one has gone to jail or even been fined. Apparently, we're all worried in case these golden guys and gals decide London is not a good place to work and head off elsewhere. They are that precious, these crooks. So here's an idea: let's charge a couple of bankers with fraud and, if possible, put them in jail. Pour encourager les autres. I've heard of a couple of people who tried to export the habits they had learned in the London financial market to Hong Kong and got fired within a year. There will be other folk around to take up their jobs - there always are.

And after we've dealt with these bankers, we need to split up the banks so the crash of 2008 never happens again. And we need to make sure the banks understand that they have failed. In fact, capitalism has failed. And we, the people who pay the bills, don't like it.

Don't start me...

I've been taking a break from blogging in the past few weeks. It's not that there's nothing to comment on - I'm Scottish, female and old - I've always got plenty to comment on. In fact, there's too much going on and almost all of it is annoying.

There's Christmas. You know: the December festival that started when Debenham's put a Christmas tree on display at the end of September. Before Guy Fawkes night, even before Hallowe'en, the ads were on the telly. Now there seem to be two TV stations showing non-stop Christmas movies and the chain stores are competing to see which one can produce the most sick-making advert. For the first time, I feel sorry for fairies and penguins. This fiasco will presumably go on for the next 45 days. If you're Christian, I'm guessing you've worked out a way to separate this kind of commercialism from your religion. But if you're one of the 42% of the population whose religious beliefs come under the heading 'other' or 'none', you may be at screaming point within a couple of weeks.

Then there are the poppies. Yes, I think our ex-service people should get every support we can give them. No, I don't think it should be left to charity. If we really care about looking after these people and their families, we should have a veterans' agency, properly funded by us - the taxpayers. And we should stop referring to the pathetic payments we make to the dependants of service people who died on our behalf as 'benefits' and making it look as if they are getting hand-outs or, worse, something for nothing. At least David Cameron has decided it's not not fair to cut people's 'benefits' if they remarry. That was a nasty policy that went on for years and years. And mostly punished women.

And there's the EU and the UK government's wish to pick and choose the bits of EU membership it wants. I loved the recent opinion poll that asked if people thought the British should be able to live and work anywhere they wanted in the EU. 76% wanted that right. Then they were asked if EU citizens should have the right to live and work in Britain. 28% - seriously, 28% - were in favour. Who says irony is dead? Just as bizarre is listening to Cameron telling British business people their businesses will not suffer if the UK leaves the European Union. Oddly, that didn't apply to Scotland leaving the UK. And it's nice to hear Cameron's advice to the CBI which is, basically, to button it.

And finally, there's Celtic Connections. I've already got tickets for two events: Ceol nam Feis (£12) and the Songs of Ewen McColl (£24).  Neither of these is the 'headline act': that's Van Morrison. I won't be chasing tickets to see Van. They're £55. The words rip and off come to mind. I'm disappointed Celtic Connections has gone down the road of chasing big names. Especially this big name, since his only celtic connection that I can see is that he was born in Northern Ireland.

Tell Three Women

Okay, girlfriends, picture the scene. You park the car and go for a walk one day, taking pictures as you go. You're 35. A hill-walker. Pretty fit. You're working full time in a job you enjoy and you've not long moved to your first ever 'bought' house in an island village. All is well with your life. 

About an hour into the walk, you realise you're quite tired. Your eyesight feels a bit odd but you've had migraines for years and 'visual disturbance' is common in some migraines. You have a bit of a headache as well. In fact, the pain runs from the top of your head down into the right side of your neck. You head back to the car and drive home quite slowly. Over the next few weeks, you feel worse and worse. You lose control over your right eye for a while. Your right hand starts to curl in. Your right knee buckles. Both hands and legs tingle. Your speech becomes slurred. And the pain in your head gets worse and worse and runs from your head down into your back and your right elbow. You'll be a bit worried about your control over your bladder because for a while you can't tell when you need to 'go' - so you go all the time - just in case.

You won't find out for quite a while but you've just had a stroke. This happened to me 31 years ago. My GP didn't diagnose it but sent me to the wrong hospital, the Victoria in Glasgow, where I was lucky enough to find myself in a consultation with a young doctor who immediately referred me to the right place: the Southern General Neurological Institute. From the moment I got there, I knew I was in good hands. Their experience and expertise were crucial to my recovery, although I have to say that I put my survival before that down to the physiotherapist who regularly carried out what I believe is called 'inter-costal drainage', a technique that eased the pain in my back and helped me to relax.  

Stroke is more likely to kill women than breast cancer but we don't hear much about it, do we? Yes, there have been posters around for a while:

I don't really find these helpful. For one thing, every stroke is different and you don't always get visual indicators that other people can identify. (I got little sympathy from my immediate boss because I didn't 'look' ill most of the time.) And these posters can be quite alarming unless you know that you have up to two years after a stroke to recover, so the weakness and disability may not always be as severe as they were at the start. But at least these posters and the current ads by the Stroke Association emphasise the need for early diagnosis and also that a stroke can happen to anyone at any age and for lots of reasons - and survival is not just possible but likely. And to be brutal: the younger you are the more likely it is you'll get better and the more of your powers you'll recover.

When I started to feel better, I took out a covenant with Oxfam. Just by way of a thank you. I reckon I've donated over £30,000 to them since then. I didn't know about the Stroke Association. But I'm glad they're around and glad to urge you to take part in their current campaign directed at women:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5L-r2puKZs&feature=youtu.be

Gardyloo!

Let's play a new game. It's called how many objects can you cram into the cubicle of a public toilet - apart from the toilet?

Of course, I can only speak for ladies' toilets, but here goes.

There will be two waste bins, one on either side of the loo. Neither of the bins will be labelled so it is a mystery what they are for and why we need two. Maybe there are bin wars going on, with the manufacturers of toilet bins fighting for supremacy in loos across the land. The main use of these bins as far as I can see is to reduce the space available for people to sit on the toilet, because the bins are usually taller than the actual loo and stick out beyond it.

There will be a hand sanitizer, usually attached to the wall of the cubicle. It will be empty. It probably hasn't been filled since the toilets were installed, so its only use is to stick a few inches out from the wall just where you can bang your elbow on it.

There may also be a toilet brush in a white plastic holder. It's often behind the toilet and, frankly, that's where it's staying. Nothing will persuade me to touch that.

Next to the hand sanitizer will be the toilet roll holder. This is often in the form of a large drum, again sticking several inches out from the wall. It will be very badly designed. It's supposed to allow the user to pull off several sheets of paper at a time but usually it's empty or it's stuck. If it's empty there may be several rolls of paper in the cubicle: one on top of the drum, one on the floor (yuk) and maybe one on top of the toilet. If the drum is stuck, the floor of the cubicle will be covered with wee bits of paper, proof that previous users have tried to coax some paper out of the drum. These will attach themselves to your shoes when you leave, flapping as you walk till some kind person (usually another woman) points them out to you.

Myself I always carry tissues in my bag. If I'm on a trip lasting most of a day, I carry a flat pack of Izal toilet paper just in case. I also carry a sanitizer spray. Yes, I know, it's a bit OCD but I've watched American women try to open a toilet door without using their hands. It's a tribute to their agility that they can reach the door handle with their feet but I'm past that stage myself. And I am all too familiar with the principle of 'hovering' in ladies' toilets and the spray that sends up. Not to mention the tendency of wee girls to dribble on the seat. I'm taking no chances.

Behind the door of the toilet, there may be a coat hook. Storage in toilets is something that isn't given enough thought. Most women need two hooks, one for the jacket and the other for the bag.What the hell do you do if there isn't a hook? Does that floor look clean and pee-free to you? Of course, the hook behind the door may mean that when you hang up your jacket and bag and sit down on the toilet, you may be nose to nose with them. Yes, some toilets are that small (v Fraser's of Buchanan Street).

I'm in two minds about 'public' toilets. They're not public since such a beast no longer exists but are in shops and public buildings, but at least they're there, which is more than you could say twenty years ago - and more than you can say in la belle France even today. As an 'older' woman I'm grateful. On the other hand, I wish I had the cast iron bladder of a former colleague who boasted she had never used a toilet in the school we worked in but always waited till she got home. I am also grateful to whichever member of staff cleans the toilets every day. In supermarkets, I'm told the person who pisses off the boss gets to wave the giant red hand telling customers where the queue is shortest. Maybe the other punishment involves cleaning the 'facilities.'

Actually, I'm in three minds about public toilets because I've been to Japan, where the door to the cubicle opens as you approach it (no hands), the light comes on as you enter (ditto), the seat is automatically sanitized and lowered for you to sit, the toilet paper machine automatically dispenses 2 sheets when you reach for them. The flush works when you wave at it. As does the door. There's also soothing music and perfume scents the atmosphere at regular intervals. I spent quite a lot of time in the toilet in Japan - and I wasn't ill. I just had to avoid the toilets that were flush with the floor. A lot of Japanese women like to squat to pee.

In India, on the other hand, there are more mobiles than toilets. Priorities, huh?

And to hell with principle?

Last Monday, I saw Diane off back to Colonsay after a week of culture, fine dining (out, not here) and plenty blethering. I like to think by the time we get to the end of these discussions, we've got the world put to rights, though I can never remember later how we did it. I put her bedclothes and towels in the machine, did a little leisurely dusting and hoovering and sat down with my paper and a coffee. The doorbell rang. It was a delivery man bringing my Nioxin shampoo and conditioner from a firm in Liverpool (the cheapest I've found). As I signed for the parcel, he looked down and said: 'That's a helluva lot of wine bottles for one weekend.'

To explain: just inside my front door I keep two bags: one for paper and plastics and one for glass. When I've filled these I transfer the contents to the big bags provided by the council which are kept in the outside shed. I was a bit taken aback at his comment but settled for saying: 'No, no, no - that's not from the weekend' (4 empty wine bottles). 'That's just last night.' He frowned. Before he could say anything else, I handed him back his wee machine and shut the door.

I was furious when he left, stomped around a bit, had a good swear. Because he had just displayed one of the characteristics of the Scot that I most dislike: this willingness to tell other people how to live their lives. In fact, to tell people off.

Maybe I've been unlucky. All my life, I've been on the receiving end of advice from people who mostly haven't a clue what they're talking about. There was the neighbour who disapproved of me going to university and my sister going to college. What was the point? he asked. You're 'only' going to have have weans and stop work. (Yep, it was the 60s - that golden age). There were the colleagues who tried to talk me out of moving to Argyll (on two occasions) because there was 'no point going there.' (Well, it wasn't Glasgow.) There was the friend who advised Diane and me when we were on our uppers (me a teacher and Diane married to a farmer) that 'you really need to have a couple of thousand in the bank.' Do I need to say this friend had gone from her parents' house to her husband's house on marriage and stopped work almost at once to have her children, safe in the knowledge that there was a secure wage coming in?

In the past month, I have had otherwise sensible people telling me I need to 'give it up'. That is, give up my wish for my country to be an independent nation. Just accept that 'we' lost the referendum and move on.

I was raised a socialist by socialist parents and grandparents. At no point did any of them say: Right, that's it. We lost the election. Our socialist principles have been rejected by the electorate, so we need to give up and move on. We hung in there and fought for what we thought was right.

Why would my aim of independence be any different? It's not a fantasy or an obsession. I haven't been infected by some germ carried by the SNP (never voted for them and probably never will; don't like Alex Salmond but see no reason to depict him as the devil; joined the Greens last month because they express principles I believe in). I have in fact carefully thought through why independence is the way forward. And the insistence by some 'unionists' on using the word 'separatist' to describe people like me is just annoying. Like the word independence carried some kind of infection.

Nothing has happened since the referendum to change my view: we still have Trident missiles 25 miles from Glasgow; we still face the prospect of more and more right-wing government with Ukip leading the charge out of Europe; not only are we not represented by the Tories and Lib Dems, we're not even represented now by Labour; I see the poor and the disabled victimised even more by government; I see the rich getting richer while we have coined the term 'the working poor' to describe people doing a 40 hour week but still needing tax credits (from you and me, the tax payer)  to survive. And let's not even mention the Tory councillor in Brighton who thinks access to food banks should be means-tested to stop people asking for food.

Something has gone horribly wrong in the UK and I would love to hear from people who voted no in the referendum if they are still confident in their decision, still believe we are better together and see a way forward for Scotland.

Murder, murder, polis

Scotland now has one police force for five and a half million people. This is principally meant to be a way to save money. I object to this for quite a few reasons. 

Firstly, bigger is not better. The trend all over Europe is towards smaller administrative units in all kinds of government, closer to the people who pay for them and more answerable to their wishes. These can be health authorities, local government or police services. I have to wonder why Scotland is going against the trend.

Another worry is who these larger units are answerable to. Who investigates the police, for example, when there are complaints? It was bad enough when we had 12 police authorities and they investigated each other. Now, I suppose, we have to get somebody in from outside Scotland. Extra cost, extra time needed and no guarantee the outside force will know the lie of the land here.

Then there's the matter of who decides what is sometimes called 'tactics' and what I prefer to call policy. 

This is Sir Stephen House, chief constable of Scotland's single police force. He is obviously very well qualified to do his job. 

For most of 2014, Scotland's specially trained armed police officers have been bearing firearms when carrying out their everyday duties, sometimes on the streets. I don't like this and I'm not the only ordinary citizen who dislikes the idea of armed police routinely appearing among us, rather than being trained to arm themselves only when trouble appears. Sir Stephen doesn't seem to have negotiated this with anyone and, worse, he seems to confuse policy (in Scotland, we do not arm our police officers as a matter of course) and tactics (he may need armed police officers at any time and doesn't want to waste time going back to a central area to collect the guns). 

Scotland is not a violent country. We don't as a matter of course expect to hear gunfire on our streets. That may come, of course, if terrorist threats escalate and gangsters get access to weapons from other parts of Europe. But the arming of a previously unarmed police force is a serious issue that needs a lot of discussion - which we haven't had. 

And just in passing, I loathe Sir Stephen's new uniform. To me it looks semi-military. Not at all the 'communautaire' image I want the head of our police force to project. It's bad enough to see the proliferation of hi-vis vests throughout the land. (Anybody know why nursery weans going for a walk need to wear hi-vis vests?) Sir Stephen and the senior members of the police force may like this image but some of us want our police to look like us. Not Rambo.

The mind goggles

I like watching Gogglebox (Friday night 9pm on C4), in which groups of 'real' people watch programmes on TV and have their reactions recorded. I'm not sure how the people are chosen for the show: there are quite a few families including one where 'the boy' never talks, a gay hairdresser couple (except in real life they are not a couple any more), two female friends, a pair of pukka drunks who run a B&B, a C of E minister and her partner + greyhound, a retired pair of teachers, a father and his two sons of apparently Asian descent (whose womenfolk never appear - where on earth are they?) and so on. The people come various regions of England, although I've yet to see anyone appear from Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland. My favourites are the friends: Sandra and Sandy.

The groups are obviously told to watch certain programmes including this week the news, a documentary about 9/11, Strictly Come Dancing and X Factor.

I've never watched Strictly or X Factor, so these have been quite an eye-opener for me.

X Factor is a disgrace to the name 'entertainment.' This week Cheryl Cole keeps on two talentless singers but rejects the third who has a great voice and engages with her audience. The studio audience goes wild. The people at home watching for Gogglebox shout at the telly: Cheryl, what are you doing?! Well, it's perfectly clear what Cheryl is doing: exactly what Simon Cowell has told her to do. Does he own the franchise by any chance? She has stirred up a bit of controversy. Fixed the result. Pushed the TV ratings up. It's called manipulation.

Strictly is just as bad: 'celebrities' (a much over- used word in my book) are paired up with professional dancers, given some rehearsal time and allowed to make an absolute arse of themselves onstage.The comments from the Gogglebox people about Greg Wallace's dance moves were not flattering. I know why the mainly young people queue up to audition for X Factor, but why would established folk want to be on Strictly? Are they working on the principle that any publicity is good publicity?

I find myself sympathising with my late father who admired real entertainers, the ones with talent, but hated what he called 'cheap' entertainment: theatre shows or TV programmes where the audience were encouraged by some third rate entertainer to sing along, join in - or, as my old man used to put it: do their effin jobs for them.

Judging by the reaction of most of the people on Gogglebox, they don't usually watch TV news broadcasts. They judge the news by the same standards as the other programmes they watch: for their entertainment value - it's all chewing gum for the mind. The only time the people truly engaged with what was happening onscreen was as they watched a documentary about 9/11.

These are not stupid or uneducated people but they seem to have no critical faculties at all. Possibly they had to start with but have been ground down by decades of Allo Allo. Apart that is from Leon, the retired teacher. Leon asks questions and expresses opinions. His wife doesn't really appreciate his interruptions but I do. I would like to take this interruptions further:

I'd love to ask the producers of Gogglebox why they called it that, since it became clear in the last series that most people had no idea what the title meant.

I'd like to know what the people watching think of the mix of programmes they are asked to view. Did it occur to them that September was a suitable month to show a documentary about 9/11? Do they think Simon Cowell is simply ripping the piss out of young people desperate for a break in the music business? Is Strictly exploitative of people under contract to the BBC who can't refuse to take part?

But then there are so many questions I'd like to ask TV people, starting with why the BBC have packaged up a show 5 nights a week that appears at 7pm  - just before the soaps start on BBC1 and ITV - and is nothing but an advert for forthcoming BBC programmes. Does any other channel get to do this? Nope, because other channels depend on advertising for their money and advertisers wouldn't allow it. But the BBC is sustained by your licence fee and mine and can do whatever the hell it likes.

What happened?

I met a man from Kosovo yesterday. I didn't ask him where he was from. I've learned in the last few years not to ask that of anyone in Scotland who looks or sounds different from me. He volunteered the information.

We started off talking about the weather and he said he liked the weather here. In fact, he likes Scotland a lot though he's only been here three years. He went to London from Kosovo in 1998. He had been in a prison camp, held for months by the Serb army and only released because the West imposed a settlement on the Serbs and western countries agreed to take some Kosovan Muslims as refugees. I looked up the entry for Kosovo in Wikipedia. It's worth a look: this country of 2m people probably has a longer Wiki entry and a more tangled history than most of Europe.

The man praised the western powers for their actions in Kosovo. (He's probably one of Tony Blair's few fans.) In fact, he praised a lot of things here in Britain and is glad to be here even though he can't work at his profession (mechanical engineering) because his qualifications are not recognised and so has taken a lot of what he called 'random jobs', that is the ones Brits don't want to do. He likes Scottish people. Most of them are friendly, according to him.

That, sadly, led him on to describe some pretty horrible experiences he's had in Scotland. Like being told by one Scot: 'I hate all foreigners.' And by another: 'You people are taking over my country.' It's not just that these remarks are ridiculous. In fact, stupid. How can you hate all foreigners? Since Scotland has the lowest level of immigration and the lowest population density in the UK if not the EU, how can immigrants possibly take over?

But it's not just the stupidity involved. It's that there are people who think it's okay to talk to other people like that. In Scotland. In the 21st century. I remember a friend telling me how she'd been berated over the phone by a stranger - a Scot - on the grounds that Americans (she's Canadian) are responsible for the state of the world right now - warmongers, murderers all of them. And a South American friend was insulted in a shop by a Glaswegian Asian because he thought she was Muslim and he disapproved of her hanging around with a white man (who was in fact her Scottish husband).

It's certainly true that there's been a frightening rise in right-wing groups all over Europe in the last twenty years. But there's something else happening in Britain.

Before I blocked them, I was getting Facebook ads for the Conservative Party. They all invited me to have my say. But only on two subjects: immigration and 'welfare'.

The Tory Party has latched onto these topics and made immigrants and people on benefits scapegoats for everything that's gone wrong in this recession (and no, it's not over as far I can see from Scotland, even if it is in central London). The bankers, stock markets gamblers and most of the Ponzi scheme managers are still free and making money.

The British public seems to have bought into the idea that Britain is 'full' and can take no more immigrants, when in reality the population density here is pretty low and we need immigrants to do the 'random' jobs my Kosovan acquaintance talked about, more so in Scotland than elsewhere. And people on benefits are said to be getting something for nothing or spending their benefits on drink and drugs, whereas most of them are either pensioners or working families earning so little they need tax credits or folk who are sick or disabled or have lost their jobs but paid into tax and national insurance for years before they were laid off.

The politicians could help set the record straight but the LibDems keep quiet in case they're tainted with the same reputation as the Tories and Labour edge closer and closer to the Tories in order to get into power, taking on the same punitive policies. Then there's Ukip - but I'm not going there. Newspapers and TV stations like Sky, the BBC and ITV play their part too, as do some Facebook and Twitter groups like Britain First. Stories appear that clearly have no substance and the flames of hate are fanned by poor and sensational reporting that is never contradicted because, well, who is there to contradict them?

For example, there was a programme on ITV last week about migrants in Calais trying to get into Britain. There was no attempt to investigate how these people had ended up in Calais and whether they had been offered help in other countries on their way north; no attempt to find out if they were aiming for Britain because they had family there; no reporting of what the French government or the EU were doing to manage this influx of - well, I would call some of 'refugees' but that's a word that's totally out of favour right now. There was a faint air of panic in the reporting.

A friend of mine told me in all seriousness a couple of weeks back that post office employees reported handing over benefit payments of £1000 a week to 'foreigners.' I said it was impossible for anyone to get payments like that because there's a benefits cap in place of £25,000 or £26,000 a year. What he was telling me suggested people could get £52,000 a year in benefits, which is clearly nonsense. But who could tell him he was wrong, apart from me? And I'm not sure he believed me.

We live in a very unkind country now.

And the terrible thing is this is all a distraction from the real issues: poverty wages (Tories talk about the UK as a 'low wage economy' as if that's a good thing); the scapegoating of the disabled; the triumph of capitalism which is making lots of money but at the cost of the fabric of our communities.

Normally I'm an optimist. I'm the person who is told to give up the ideals and get a sense of 'reality.' If this is reality, friends, you can keep it.

Choose your friends carefully...

This is the logo of Russia Today, a news station available on line and on satellite. It doesn't say so but this is a channel set up and financed by the Russian government to present us with a world view from a Russian angle. 

RT is backing Scotland's bid for independence. Good of them, eh? But a wise viewer would watch with just a hint of suspicion and ask why Scottish independence would matter to Russia. 

You no doubt remember that Russia recently took over a huge swathe of Ukrainian territory in the Crimea. The invasion was described by the Russian government as a rebellion by local Ukrainians declaring their independence. In the last few weeks, rebel Ukrainians have staged further uprisings in the east of Ukraine - the bit nearest Russia. The rebels (or Russians?) are carefully controlling the news from that part of the world but pictures and reports have emerged of rebels dressed remarkably like Russian soldiers 'defending' territory from the Ukrainian army. 

You have to go back a wee bit to work out Russia's agenda here. It's about access. And it's about Vladimir Putin trying to restore Russia's position as a world power.

Way back before the USSR was created, the Russian empire had access in the east to the Pacific ocean and in the north west to the Atlantic ocean but wanted an ice-free seaport further south. On the Black Sea. With access to the Mediterranean. Losing Ukraine when it became independent was a blow to Russia. That was before Putin's time and it's no surprise Putin, the hard man, has taken steps to recover some of this strategic land mass. 

Ukraine is westward-looking: there's an item in today's papers about how Ukraine plans to join the EU by 2020. Not good news for Russia: a lot of EU countries are NATO members and NATO is the only agency large enough to take action to stop Russia's land-grab in Ukraine - and wherever else in the former USSR Putin fancies taking back. 

And Russia's agenda in Scotland? The UK is a member of NATO and will back whatever NATO proposes. Anything that undermines the UK - like losing quite a bit of its home territory to independence - can only be seen as good to the Russian government. So suddenly Scotland is on Putin's Christmas card list. 

That said, some of the Max Kaiser reports on Scottish independence on RT are interesting because they tell us things we don't hear on the laughably biased UK TV and in the UK press. But we should watch them warily, just as we should watch the Chinese channel CCTV, Fox News and Sky News with suspicion. I wish I could say some of the satellite stations give an alternative world view that's worth watching but so far as I can see the Japanese channel and the French channel are no more than extended travel documentaries for their countries. 

Al-Jazeera is maybe the only satellite station giving anything like a balanced view of the world. It's always a give-away when other broadcasters defer to al-Jazeera's views, as they do over the Middle East. 

It's almost over!

The referendum I mean. I'm not sure how much more tosh my blood pressure can take.

I’ve been reading a column by Ed Smith in the New Statesman. Have a look for yourself.

http://www.newstatesman.com/politics/2014/09/ed-smith-alex-salmond-may-get-laughs-would-you-trust-him-crisis

It’s about Alex Salmond and it is downright nasty. 

Now I’m not a member of the SNP, nor a fan of Alex Salmond, nor a Scottish nationalist (well, not any more than the Better Together people, who could be described as nationalists of the British persuasion). But I accept that the SNP gained a large majority in the Scottish Parliament, formed a government and began to implement their party’s manifesto: item one, and it has been since the party was formed, was to call a referendum on Scottish independence. And they’ve done it: delivered their manifesto. Maybe we’re so unused to politicians doing what they’ve said they would do, we’re surprised by this.

So the SNP are in charge at Holyrood. That’s how elections work. It’s not how the referendum is working though: the referendum appeals to more than SNP members and Alex Salmond. And surely it’s time intelligent people like Ed Smith realised that.

I don’t take to the Scots being described by Ed Smith as showing ‘whining bitterness’. And Ed Smith’s description of Alex Salmond is couched in such ‘unparliamentary’ language, I can only suppose he’s forgotten the man is the legitimately elected First Minister of Scotland. Ed Smith calls him ‘a hectoring bar-room bully’, writes of his ‘cocksure irreverence’ and ’lack of gravitas’ and claims he has damaged Scotland’s standing in the rest of the UK, though he doesn’t say how.

It’s not all bad: Ed Smith concedes Alex Salmond has  a ‘certain native cunning, the ability to whip up populist fervour and a willingness (apparently unchecked by conscience) to say almost anything to serve the here and now.’ Some of this is intended to be an insult, of course, but it also shows Ed Smith’s ignorance of the Scottish situation.

He concludes that, ‘(i)f he wins, Scotland will be saddled with a man who is utterly ill-equipped for statesmanship.’ Though he doesn’t say why.

I don’t expect Alex Salmond, win or lose the referendum, will be around for long. Possibly the SNP won’t be around for long in government either if they do win the referendum, unless before the first general election they can develop their manifesto with some strategic thinking and position the SNP somewhere on the Social Democrat spectrum, which is where a lot of Scottish people want to be.

The News Statesman is a Labour-leaning magazine and thus more or less bound to support the union. It is obviously not the Coalition’s best buddy but I don’t think even David Cameron has merited a full-page diatribe like this. I don’t like the way Alex Salmond behaves in Holyrood and I don’t like the way David Cameron behaves in Westminster either. I certainly don’t like the Tory agenda of running down the state sector, cutting support to the poorest and claiming to do it to reduce the ‘deficit’ in the UK budget, which it clearly is not. I don't like the way the SNP government is handling education right now and I have serious doubts about their transport and fisheries policies. I expect attacks on politicians from writers and journalists but maybe we could expect them to be on these subjects and not about the man. 

Save your sympathy

A couple of people you don't need to feel sorry for this weekend:

'Gorgeous George' isn't looking too good this weekend, because he got a doing in the street in London last night. I don't know who did it, although I can guess, having heard his comments about banning Jews from the streets of Bradford. I believe his main defence today was that as he has been elected as an MP 6 - or was it 8? - times, he is entitled to express his opinion. I think George has missed the point: we live in a democracy and we are all entitled to express our opinion. Some of us do and some don't. Some don't because they feel pretty powerless and they react badly when people like George use their speaking skills and their media contacts to publicise views which I think I can reasonably describe as deeply offensive. 

Labour Party members (and ex-members like me) in Scotland know George well. I can remember when George was elected MP for Hillhead in Glasgow in 1987. It took a lot of work to get him the seat and he didn't do it alone, although to listen to George you might not believe it. Some of us were doubtful about George back then. And we were right. When it comes to courting publicity, he's an expert. But what's he achieved for his constituents in Bradford? Il reste à savoir.

Then there's this man, Jim Murphy, my MP:

Don't bother feeling sorry for Mr Murphy even if he did get an egg fired at him when he was campaigning for the Better Together people in Kirkcaldy. He is a Labour MP. I have a few beefs with him. We don't see much of him in leafy Giffnock but I believe he is very active in Barrhead where there are likely to be more Labour voters. Fair enough. But I was dismayed that last week he declined to comment on the ebola crisis in west Africa for Radio 4's PM programme, his 'aide' telling the presenter he was too busy working on the independence campaign - for the No side, natch. He is, of course, the shadow cabinet member for International Development, so his input might have been useful: the UK government says we're doing a lot to help. Are we? Does Mr Murphy not get paid extra for doing that job? And he can't spare the time to comment?

Today he has been on TV and radio telling us that the egg-throwing incident was part of a campaign of disruption orchestrated by the Yes campaign and he's sort of suggesting maybe the SNP are involved. To hear Mr Murphy, it's like the end of the world as we know it. It was an egg, people. It was not a stone or a bottle. The country was not invaded by flag-waving Russians intent on occupation or revolution. Planes were not shot down. Fifty years ago, getting egged - or, as a Facebook friend said, getting 'floured' because eggs were too dear - was a normal part of election campaigns. But I have to doff my hat to Mr Murphy: he's a great man for spinning a story to try to make the Yes campaign look bad. But it's nonsense and an indication maybe of a panic in the Better Together camp? 

But here's a wee soul that deserves our sympathy:

Ashya King is 4 and he's dying of a brain tumour. His parents took him out of a hospital down south and set off for their holiday home in Spain. It's August and the press in England are desperate for stories. (That's why the Scottish referendum is getting so much publicity, by the way. It's not just about the run-up to the vote.) So the media have focussed on the number of kids in the family and the religion the parents are bringing their kids up in. Have the parents done anything bad to this wee boy? Doesn't look like it. The father has described on YouTube how they are looking after Ashya. Why did they go 'on the run'? They didn't. They had no idea the hospital and Interpol were looking for them - they were travelling to Spain. Now the parents have been arrested and the boy taken to a hospital. And where are the other kids in this family? 

Let me put it to you very plainly: Ashya's illness could happen to any family. Children have very few rights. They depend on the adults around them to make sure they are safe. At this stage in his life, that's what Ashya needs: to be safe. What if Ashya dies tonight? Will it be in the care of some very kind people who are not his parents, in a place he doesn't know? I hope not. I hope someone somewhere - but I don't know who - will get the media and Interpol and the hospital in - was it Southampton? - to back off and let this wee boy die with his family around him.

Using the media

I watched the second debate between Alastair Darling and Alex Salmond on Monday night and found it fascinating, though probably for all the wrong reasons. Because I used to do a job that involved getting up on my feet and presenting to an audience, I love watching how other 'performers' play their public.













I don't know how Darling and Salmond decided who was going to stand where - a toss of a coin? - but Alastair Darling got the prime spot: in Europe we read from left to right and from top to bottom and we do the same with pictures, so Darling being the first face the audience sees after the presenter and also standing in the middle of the 'stage' is good for him. He's quite tall and also has a shock of white hair which catches the viewer's attention. Initially, Salmond looks as if he's a bit isolated on the right. And issues of left and right also matter in these events.

We're in the main hall of Kelvingrove Museum & Art Gallery, a vast Victorian building, pretty echo-y. There's a lot of free space on the set. And a lot depends on how you use the space around you.

You can, as Darling does here, go for the nonchalant look, leaning on the podium. But Salmond has clearly been tutored in this - either that or he has very good instincts when working with an audience. On three occasions, when the audience were asking questions, he abandoned the podium and stepped towards the audience. This reduced the distance between him and his questioners - and thus the remoteness between politician and public - but it also allowed him to make eye contact with the people who were asking questions. Crucial.

It's also helpful to have a good memory for who asked what and Salmond has that. On one occasion, he was asked questions by three members of the audience in pretty quick order. He stepped away from the podium towards the audience, remembered who had asked what, looked at each questioner directly (in the order in which they had spoken) and answered them directly.

There's also the matter of hand signals. Alex Salmond doesn't point. His gestures tend to be towards himself. This of course brings attention back to him and reminds the viewer who's talking.

Alastair Darling points a lot. People don't like that.

Then there's the matter of the presenter. 

Glen Campbell is an Islay boy (not that that would affect my view of how he mediated the debate) and pretty shrewd. He kept the debate going very smoothly right up to the head-to-head section. Then he let the two politicians off the leash. And they were truly awful, shouting over each other, asking questions and not waiting for an answer. In fact, politicians in the UK don't actually behave like that in either Westminster or Holyrood where they have speakers keeping them in order. 

But there's a good chance the undecided - that group of between 12% and 23% of the voters who haven't yet worked out who they plan to vote for - will remember this bit. It reinforces their belief that politicians are thugs: if they can treat each other this badly, what the hell will they do to the rest of us? 

A message for anyone?

New Shoon...

...or Auld Feet?

My sister is younger and slimmer than me but possessed of the same shoe fetish. Last week she was meeting a friend for lunch in the centre of Glasgow. Like any sensible person she decided to leave the car at home and take the train. The shoes she chose to wear were not new, fairly low-heeled, very attractive and well broken-in. By the time she'd walked from her house to the train station, the skin was off her heels. Yes, her shoes had turned on her.

This is a phenomenon I found out for myself years ago. I had to go to a conference in Glasgow. During the walk from Central Station to the Concert Hall (not that far), my lovely - and quite expensive - brown suede and leather, mid-heeled pumps turned on me. My heels were ripped to shreds. By the time I took my seat for the conference, I was already wondering how on earth I was going to get home at the end of the day. I was lucky: a colleague with a Mary Poppins handbag (she knows who she is) lent me a pair of mules she just happened to be carrying about and I made it back to Central without having to stop for a greet on the way. I'd had these shoes for a couple of years and had worn them regularly.

In both these cases, what on earth had gone wrong?

Here's my theory. You can't buy shoes in half sizes any more unless they are from the top of the price range and not everybody can afford that. My sister sometimes has to buy shoes that are really half a size too big for her. I don't. These days I just don't buy shoes as often and usually buy pricey ones so I can get a half size. So why can't we get half sizes? Well, it's not for our benefit that half sizes have been done away with. We often end up having to buy insoles to try to make the shoes fit. So is it for the benefit of manufacturers then? When they're commissioning cheap shoes from sweat shops in India etc, they can limit the different kinds of shoes they order. Maybe it's for retailers? With no half sizes, shops like Asda and co can reduce the amount of space they give shoes on their display racks.

Now this is fine for manufacturers and retailers, but can we rewind to the 1960s and have a look at what happened to women's feet then? A whole generation were so busy stuffing their feet into cheap stiletto heels and platforms they ignored the warnings of foot doctors (there must be a posh Latin word for them!) and chiropodists and ended up crippled. I have friends who in their 60s are paying for the fashionable but bad, bad, bad shoes they wore then.

So what's the difference between the shoes below?

These are from the 1960s. My sister wore shoes like the ones on the left. For a very short time, I had shoes like those in the middle. 

These shoes are from now, worn by a guest at my great-nephew's christening a few weeks back. Other than that, there's no difference. Most women can't walk in any of them. 

You can see women being oxtered along the road by their pals most Saturday nights in these shoes. These are the who get handed flip-flops by the police when they are too drunk to walk on their high heels. The lassie's shoes are definitely too small for her. 

Anybody else remember Josie from the Karen Dunbar Show? 

If the 1960s shoes stored up a world of trouble for us then, isn't it likely the shoes of today will do the same for today's women?

And I'm not even going into the issue of sexual stereotyping that puts pressure on women to wear shoes like this or why I think fashion 'designers' are having a laugh at our expense.

The hard sell

I've been on the receiving end of the hard sell in shops twice this week. First, in PC World. I'm looking for a tablet and with the help of my friend Geoff I've narrowed the choice down to three: Samsung Tab4, Lenovo Yoga and Asus MeMo. What I wanted to do on Sunday was feel the weight, eyeball the screen and see how fast the tablets reacted to a swipe. Sadly, I then got caught up with a sales guy who tried to persuade me I needed a cover, extended insurance, an in-store tutorial and Macafee security. Before I knew it, the £200 tablet was costing £370. I made an excuse and left. I messaged Geoff who assured me I would get a cheap security system and a free tutorial online. I don't buy extended warranties for anything. Voilà, £135 saved!

Later in the afternoon I went to Tesco at Silverburn where I knew nobody would bug me, mainly because there's never any staff around. That let me do a bit of comparison shopping but I didn't buy. I wanted to look online to see what Argos and Amazon were asking for the same tablets. And I was able to stock up on stationery while I was there.

Yesterday I had some physio and followed that up with a foot and leg massage in Whole Foods. Very pleasant, though I do feel the noise of the pop music outside was competing with the plinkety-plonk 'relaxation' music in the wee room and not conducive to relaxing, especially as I couldn't hear the lassie's relaxation patter. Next time I'll ask her to cut the music and the chat. I've got my own yoga relaxation techniques.

After, she gave me some bad news: my lymphatic system is in poor order. I couldn't argue since I don't know what it means. But I did argue when she told me I had fluid retention in my ankles. Nope, said I, I've got fat ankles - always have had - but that's a different thing. She wasn't fazed. I needed to build up my immune system and my gut. Since I've had Guilain-Barre syndrome, I reckon my immune system is as good as it's going to get. But what would she recommend? Cumin. £4.95. I'll bet it's cheaper in the herbs aisle. And for my gut, she suggested something the name of which I've forgotten. I declined on the grounds that my gut needs no more interference. She suggested aloe vera for my skin but I've got a house full of that. Gel? she asked. Yes. Cream? she asked. Yes again. She gave up but not before a bit more chat about avoiding processed food (well, you'd expect that - it's Whole Foods after all) and taking omega 3 or was it omega 6? If I bought the things she recommended, I think I'd be about £55 out of pocket.

Two things occur to me.

Firstly, the sales guy in PC World had me clocked for a pensioner (old, frail, easily confused) as soon as he saw me and, I suspect, tailored his talk accordingly. I don't like that. The lassie in Whole Foods omitted to ask any questions at all about my state of health but accepted everything I'd ticked on her obligatory form. That's the one you get at the dentist's as well, but at least the dentist wants to know what meds you're on and has enough knowledge to understand what they are.

Secondly, is it still the hard sell if it doesn't sell?

Poor Robin

I read today that Robin Williams had been diagnosed with Parkinson's and this may have contributed to his decision to end his life.

If that's true - and it is a fact that Parkinson's can affect behaviour and mood - it would mean his illness was more advanced than anyone thought and he should have been getting help much earlier. 

This is my friend Alex, who has lived with Parkinson's for 15 years now:

He's pretty remarkable is Alex. He worked at a whole range of jobs until he couldn't work any more and then he started volunteering. He and I deliver books to the 'homebound' in Cardonald, Mosspark, Govan and Ibrox every Monday and Thursday. When I'm not available to deliver books by car, he happily delivers on foot or on the bus using his bus pass. Alex has been volunteering so long that he is one of the volunteers who are called upon when Glasgow Libraries want to sound the volunteers out. 

He is also an active volunteer for Parkinson's Scotland, a magnificent organisation that supports sufferers all over the country. Till quite recently Alex was an office bearer in the organisation. He still supports them by telling everyone he meets with Parkinson's or relatives with Parkinson's how to access support and he fund-raises for them. He's done a sponsored walk in the past - not so easy with the big P - and he's shortly going to do a zip slide at Braehead. 

If you can spare a wee bit of cash, support his zip slide on justgiving.com: 

https://www.justgiving.com/alexander-anderson2/

Myself, I think he's nuts but he's a stubborn bugger - it's probably what has kept him going. 

Of course, a diagnosis of Parkinson's is not to be taken lightly but Michael J Fox is dealing with it well: 

It used to be thought of as an old person's illness but Michael J was young when he got his first symptoms, and we forget that happens often with terrible illnesses like Parkinson's...and stroke and dementia.

Stem cell research will help us find a cure for this and, let's hope, other neurological illnesses. Support that too whenever you can. 

Meanwhile, we can only wish Robin Williams's family well - and Michael J Fox and his family - and Alex. Heroes, all of them.

I'm not doing that again!

I was sitting looking at my bramble bush tonight:

Pretty healthy. Some nice berries on it already. Then my mind wandered and I had to remind myself: as a representative of the good life, I'm a total disaster. 

Yes, I've made jam from brambles in the past. It was awful. It took forever to pick the brambles and I got jagged all over, the juice dripped all over the kitchen floor and the jam had more sugar than a supermarket readymeal. I spent several winters wishing I'd just bought a jar with Bonne Maman on it - or even a jar of Lidl's peach jam at a third of the cost. So never again. 

That also goes for quiche. I used to make my own, usually with wholemeal flour which is, of course, good for you. Have you ever tasted pastry made with wholemeal flour? If they're ever looking for something to seal an exploding nuclear power station with, that's what I would recommend. 

Likewise I am never making scones again. The trouble with making scones is it's only economical if you make a dozen at a time (in fact, my recipe produces 12 big ones and 2 wee ones) and you know what happens then: you eat them! 

So I will pick the berries off my bramble bush and eat them, possibly in a wee mix with strawberries and raspberries and a red wine marinade. Instead of quiche, I'll buy a pizza base (ultra-thin, Roma type), add a fried egg and to make sure I have one of my five a day top it off with some mushrooms. 

The scones I will get from Whole Foods. I once spent a happy five minutes watching their baker kneading the scone dough - nae wonder their scones are so light and airy - they're pummelled tae bits! They have to rise - resistance is futile!