Miserable City

Aberdeen, you may not have noticed, has been awarded the 'Plook on the Plinth Carbuncle' award for the first time.  And not before time some would say.  The 'Urban Realm' magazine, no I've never heard of it either, chose Aberdeen ahead of Cumbernauld, and that says something and also East Kilbride in the west and Leven on the Fife coast.  

Aberdeen is famous for being the hub of the Scottish oil business.  The fourth of the main Scottish cities it is one of the coldest in the UK let alone Scotland.  I can assure you the cold grey mist rolling in of the sea that Sunday morning in 1968 still remains in my memory when a few young lads looked desperately for some entertainment before returning to civilisation in Edinburgh.  Aberdeen is also famous for the civic pride of Victorian days that caused them to tear down buildings, realign the main road 'Union Street' and rebuild it with Granite!  Sadly the costs were so high Aberdeen went bust!  It became the thing to joke about miserly Aberdonians, probably dating from this time.  Harry Lauder the Edinburgh singer invented a Scottish stereotype character who wore a 'tammy' on his head, carried a crooked walking stick and was incredibly miserly.  This must have been based on Aberdeen people.  

Now it is some time since I visited the place, we won by two goals to one last time I well remember, but council men are no different there than elsewhere and money talks and developers spoils even the heart of Edinburgh Scotland's magnificent capital city with modern day architecture and backhanders aplenty (allegedly!).  Aberdeen is no different.  

At least Aberdeen does produce a speciality, the 'Rowrie' a type of 'Aberdeen Roll' that is well worth buying, not that they would pay of course. 

The fans of the football club it must be said 'stand free' from the sectarian bile often found in Glasgow and follow their club with a good away support.  They remain however the most miserable outside of Glasgow however.  Never happy, always innocent, always finding fault elsewhere.  Fans of Edinburgh's glorious Heart of Midlothian would never act in such a manner, it would be unthinkable. 

Cities and towns ought to have something individualist about them but the larger shops always wish to have their own shop fronts.  When I cycled form Edinburgh to London in 1974, I was younger then, I could not help being aware that every town had the same High Street.  Often there was once some individuality but now the ground floors all looked like every other town.  Looking up we can see many differences in the buildings but on the ground cheap plastic fronts make every town a place of takeaways, opticians and newsagents, all alike, all cheapening the town.  

Side streets often reveal something original, houses from before the war show fine details, but since the financial side and the invention of plastic all has deteriorated badly.  

This town also has too many charity shops filling the High Street.  People ask what can be done but no councillor suggests lowering the rates.  I wonder why? Maybe specialist shops and the town might thrive?

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Tuesday or Wednesday?

I rose at my usual time, half an hour after throwing the alarm through the window, and headed for the coffee. Today I was careful to be less dozy after yesterday's disaster. Starting the morning as I was to continue the day I filled the cafetiere (that's your actual French that is) with coffee, fiddled about in the kitchen and knocked the cafetiere onto the floor, smashing it and burning a one inch hole in my foot with the hot beverage!
"Goodness gracious," I said as I stared dumbly at the floor, "I didn't want to do that."
The floor, by now coloured a deep brown and speckled with best Colombian coffee, as indeed was the oven, the wall, the ceiling and the pigeon outside that had been sitting on next doors roof! Somehow I knew it would not be my day.
As an aside I must explain the phrase 'Fiddled about.' This does not mean I was in fact fiddling, as I have neither a) a fiddle, or b) talent! I 'fiddled about by moving plates and cups (unwashed) to clear space for what laughingly was to pass for breakfast! Just how stale can bread be?

This morning I made my coffee in the new 'Tesco' supplied cafetiere and managed to drink it before I began putting my foot into anything. I then finished the Christmas cards, and how long does this take? I did the usual thing, having saved the cards received last year I 'Tippexed' out the signatures thereon and re-used them. I call this 'Going green!' I learned some things while passing through Aberdeen you know!
After this I wrapped the few parcels, last years unwanted presents, and affixed the stamps. You see, recycling is good! I decided to follow the advice of two sweet ladies of my acquaintance and avoid putting stamps on the packet, I just put four little dabs of glue and fool the postman into thinking the stamps have fallen off. There is a possibility these two may have passed through 'Doric Land' also. Not that I have many stamps anyway, and last year one sorting office realised the King (God Bless 'im) was dead and returned three cards to me! I have avoided putting a return address on the cards this year.


Later, after waiting half an aeon in the Post Office to post the valuable items, (Why does everybody have to pay for a Tax Disc at the same time I ask? I wandered through the town. I was dumbfounded to find the market up and running on a Tuesday and could not understand why this ought to be so. Maybe it is because of the Christmas shopping needs I thought and continued in my confused state for some time until it dawned on me this was indeed Wednesday! I am in several minds as to whether not having a proper routine is to blame or whether I am just barking? Answers on a postcard please! Anyway Matron said I must have a chaperon next time I go out and where have all the steak knives disappeared to?


I do remember meeting the pretty young lass, and they are all pretty young to me, to discuss the work situation yesterday and I remembered that this event did indeed occur on Tuesday. This left me with much homework to attend to, and I will eventually, and also led to far too much time on this here PC. Now my eye strain is back again and I have lots of letters to write and many things to read. It does not matter what folks do, in the end no-one will employ me because I am unfit, ignorant of what they require, and glaiket! I need a Lottery win urgently! Do you have any lottery system that works? I wonder how those folks that bought all those books offering Lottery winning systems got on? Do you reckon anybody ever won after using them? No, I doubt it also.

Ah well, I am off to lie in a darkened room until my mind returns! "Matron! Come and put me to bed!"

Aberdeen Rolls

Glancing at the 'Aberdeen Mad' messageboard, (a forum for supporters of Aberdeen Football Club) I came across a thread devoted to the 'Aberdeen Roll' or 'Rowrie' as it is called. My friends from Aberdeen stuffed gazillions of these down my throat some years ago and I have never forgotten the experience! The Rowrie is one of those things you just cannot stop stuffing into your big gob, or mine preferably! The 'EatScotland' website gives a few details of these lovely eats and if you ever happen to be in the Aberdeen area ensure you grab a few. It must be said these do not come under the heading 'Healthy eating.' That particular joy is one Scots tend to forego! Add to this a smoking habit and an ability to down pints of beer only Danes and Germans can equal it comes as no surprise to find Scotland has one of the highest rates of heart disease in the world! Certainly people eat better now than a few years ago and smoking is on the decline, however to much emphasis on fatty foods and slovenly lifestyle still brings a sad end to far too many. That said if someone force feeds me a bag, or two, of Rowries I will let them! I recommend a visit to the 'EatScotland' site for a touristy glimpse of Scots nourishment, however I do not suggest a visit to the Aberdeen Mad site. You see while the tourist site is written to be understood by one and all the football site is written in a language known as 'Doric.' This is a form of English which is unreadable outside of the North East of Scotland. While our good friend Mike S, will be cognisant with it there is no chance you and I, normal folks, can understand half the words.



Last night I found I had finished the book I had been reading. I searched for a light, easy on the eye tome to take to bed with me. I would have searched for a twenty something blonde but the ASBO prevents this. However in spite of the books all around me I could find nothing to suit my mood! They were all too heavy, wrong subject, or caused me to think, and that is something I attempt to avoid these days. In the end I found myself reading a 'Somerfields' magazine, one of those free things they leave at the checkout for dumb blonde's to get inspiration from. What is happening to me? I put myself to sleep reading about 'Griller Thrillers' and vouchers for hairspray!

When does the football season start again?