So, back in Glasgow after my London sojourns life got back to normal. I have had so much to do like getting the posters and flyers done for Edinburgh, getting the accommodation for the festival (£3,000 for a month people!) getting bills paid, being organised for the festival and dealing with my rotten ear infection.


I went up to see my dad, who is coping admirably since step mum’s death, I do worry about him. He is addicted to the Spotify music website! He is getting right into it and talks about it all the time!



Meanwhile on the home front Ashley is preparing to go to London for a bit and she had to graduate as well. She had organised all the graduation stuff herself, all I had to do was turn up and be a nice smiling mummy.



Ashley and her best mate Vikki were all excited and giggly in the back of the car as husband drove us through to the seaside town of Troon. It was bathed in sunshine and the beach was the backdrop to the concert hall where the ceremony was taking place.



We all had breakfast in Troon then Ashley went to get ‘robed’. We waited patiently outside the room and then there was my big girl dressed in her black cape with red sash hood and wearing her Jay-Z rapper hat on her big mane of hair.



The hall was teaming with people waiting to see their child graduate, but I didn’t care about them and just wanted to see my girl get up there! The bloody ceremony went on for ages, almost as long as her degree course. I listened to bla bla bla and me and Vikki just sat in the humid hall with camera’s poised. I was wishing that man who was dressed like a cross between a judge and a pantomime lion would shut the hell up and get this show on the road.


Finally the graduates started crossing the stage, bowing to get doffed with a black hat, have their hoods dropped across their shoulders and pick up their diploma thingy. I ran down to where the graduates were sitting in perfect rows and whispered to Ashley to turn back and smile as we were at the side of the stage where we would only see her back, and she said “Oh for the love of God piss off mum” her fellow students laughed at her.



But after about 4 million other students crossed the stage her name was finally called and she bent to get her head doffed, she got the hood over her shoulders, stood up and TURNED AND SMILED AT US then walked off getting her diploma and we caught it on camera! She was the only one to do so and it made me giggle out loud. It took me back to her first concert at school when she got up and sang “We don’t need no education” by Pink Floyd at five years old. That’s MY GIRL!



She then got back on her rapper hat and did the parade round the beach and the gents toilets outside the concert hall in Troon and the moment was over. I did shed a wee tear when I saw up there getting that diploma, I don’t know anyone in both our family history’s that even finished school properly never mind left University with a honours degree! My heart leapt in my chest and I am so proud of her.



Then on the train home whilst I was in full adoration mode she told me she had lost her passport yet again! I tried not to bite her face and just calmly said “it will be in your room darling”



She got home and under duress gutted her room out and was exhausted as the heat in Glasgow was oppressive, finally she pulled down the old bags in her wardrobe and in a black bag was an old teddy bear called popples, he has a pouch and on his back and yes...inside that pouch was her passport!


She has no idea how it got there and is still stressed as to why a teddy bear could possibly steal her identity. We all have come to the conclusion that she out it there for safekeeping and forgot where she put it.


So drama over and Ashley got the lecture about keeping her things safe and not panicking about stuff, you see she is really creative but rather disorganised in day to day life! Yet again

So London has been such a fucking pain this time. You see here is the truth, I was sick on arrival; I flew into Heathrow last week feeling hot and yucky. I secretly thought I had swine flu; mentally I was plotting my funeral.

So, then I just got ready for the gigs and getting myself into gear. The coughing during the night freaked me out so much I had to stop smoking all over again (yes I slipped). So breathing is better since I had stopped again, but seriously I am concerned and need to go get my lungs check.



So I called NHS helpline and they asked me all the countries I had visited lately, I gave them New Zealand, Hong Kong, Los Angeles and Scotland. She ignored all the exotic locations and dug her teeth into Scotland. “There are big out breaks of swine flu in Scotland” she shouted. After I listed all my ailments she reassured me that I don’t have swine flu but just The Flu.



The gigs have been great though, I managed to do an Edinburgh preview which wasn’t really an Edinburgh preview. I just made some stuff up and watched if it worked or not. Meanwhile, the illness was ranging from snotty thick nose goo and coughing up green kites out of my lungs, then hacking coughs during the day that almost made me pee myself.



Wednesday last week I headed up to Manchester for a casting. I made the fatal mistake of jumping on an early train (instead of 9.20am I got on the 8.20am) which apparently is evil and costs an extra £160- as if I was going to pay that because I sat on a train an hour earlier that is just mental. I told the train man to fuck off, the train was empty and I refused to be robbed by those people.



He just stared at me and said “You got on a train that is peak time and your ticket is off peak, you have to pay”.



“Am not paying, look, am sorry but this train is empty, I am not taking someone’s seat, the sheer amount of times the train I paid for never either never left the station or never quite got to its destination is many fold, so am not moving or paying so call the police, look mate I know you are doing your job but this is just wrong” I spoke. He stared at me and said “ok” then smiled. I like the train man now.




The casting went fine, and I headed back to London on a train that wasn’t actually my ‘time train’ but I was now addicted to screwing with the system and felt quite crazy. Nobody bothered.



London has been really hot, at night I was sleeping in the lovely room with a big fan in my face which was awesome but in the morning my mouth and nose were dried up.



On Friday I woke up to the news that Michael Jackson had died, I really liked his music but went off him years ago when he paid a kid not to take him to court for sexual offences. I know he was found innocent in another child sexual case, but I just didn’t like him much after that. No one likes talking about this, not many people liked my tweets about this, so I will leave it at that!



On Saturday I did a comedy stint on Loose Ends on BBC Radio 4; it can be a tough gig as you basically shout stuff at five people sitting round a table in a small studio. The lovely Gerry Anderson was there, he was the man who made the Thunderbirds puppet series amongst many other puppet based TV shows.



He was really a cool old dude and gave me a big chat about stopping smoking; really he should be doing the circuit as a stopping smoking guru as he was awesome at that. Then he went on radio and as Clive Anderson asked him about Thunderbirds etc...Gerry told him “I hated working with puppets” That made me giggle, nice man though.



The comedy slot went ok, but honestly I think I have done better before.



I coughed my way onto a bus and headed back to the flat to get ready for Jongleurs Bow.



I have been bothered by my over eating campaign that started back in 1980, I know I am too fat and decided to diet (again). This time to help motivate me,

I got an email from my past. A woman I knew called Maria when I was 14 years old got in contact. We knew each other through a friend of mine, but we didn’t attend the same school as she was a Catholic and because I am bereft of a religion so therefore assumed as a protestant (this is normal in east end Glasgow) – we never really moved in the same circles.


Anyway she emailed me to say hi and that she enjoyed my comedy set when she saw me at Tron Theatre back in March.



Anyway it got me remembering about her. I was always in awe of Maria as she wore thick black kohl pencil eyeliner and bright blue eye shadow. We were the same age but she had a curvy possibly plump demeanour with big ‘woman’ type boobs, which always made me stare at her. I had two very less -than -perky nipples that sat completely flat against my teenage ribcage with breasts that threatened to defy my sexuality and make me possibly the famous man/girl of Glasgow.



She had bigger back boobs than me and always had an ‘adult woman’ BO scent about her, it was a smell that reminded me of my mum’s drunken pals. It was a dirty smell that always disturbed me and she wasn’t a dirty unkempt person (like I was!). She was always immaculately dressed and came from a lovely home. I had been in her bedroom and it was lovely, pink and didn’t have a dog that ate its own fleas or a mum who crushed cigarette ends on the floor, like mine.



I can’t quite explain that smell, but it was definitely something disturbing and I recalled it immediately when I read her email. It can’t be a good sign that when you remember someone from over 30 years ago, you get instant recall on their body smell.



She always had steady boyfriends at a time when I was still thinking about Donny Osmond and dreaming about kissing a Bay City Roller. I remember one day I spotted her as she crossed the road near my home in her school uniform and an older man was waiting for her with a giant teddy bear. I thought it was her dad, but he swept her up and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ then kissed her full on the mouth, a big proper kissing. It was her latest boyfriend and he had a moustache -I decided there and then to get to know her more. She fascinated me, how did she manage to be a woman at the same age as me and grow big boobs and have boyfriends with facial hair and a car?



She was an only child and her mum and dad let her boyfriends come to their home and sit in her room with her. This astonished me beyond belief, who would have a boyfriend that came to your house? That was exotic.



One day my mum was chatting to her mum Chrissie. When Chrissie mentioned she was getting some steak for Maria’s boyfriends dinner. My mum asked her why her daughter had a boyfriend at that age and why the fuck was Chrissie feeding him.


The woman explained she’d rather have her daughter’s boyfriend in the house and get to know him. “She’s only fourteen Chrissie, too fucking young for boyfriends at that age, especially ones that eat steak” My mum said. As far as my mum was concerned steak was an adult’s meal and children didn’t eat good meat that was for ‘men’.


The woman shrugged her shoulders and walked off.



My mum couldn’t believe this woman was buying steak for a boyfriend of her fourteen year old daughter. I told mum her boyfriend wasn’t a boy he had a moustache and a car and wore a jacket with elbow patches on.



“That’s fucking Catholics for you” my crazy mum spat. My mum liked finding things wrong with Catholics, it reinforced her sectarian attitude.



She looked at me and said, “Don’t even think about wanting some fucking boyfriend that eats steak”


So I made it my business to get to know Maria more. It was hard work; she was always busy with her boyfriend. Occasionally I would turn up at her door and her mum would let me in. I would go through to Maria’s bedroom and sit there staring a