Clean cut chips

Just had my first fish supper for around two years... shockingly greasy but fairly enjoyable. A guilty pleasure I very rarely partake in. Will probably regret it in the morning. When I do naughty things like that I often wake up the next morning with a strange taste in my mouth and a feeling of absolute guilt. Not to mention the bad feelings in my gut of the calorie additions. A calorific hangover.
Ka was over in Hamilton trying on her wedding dress with her Dad and wheel chair confined Mother. After making my way through the hectic Hamilton traffic I picked them up and took Grace and Dougie home. Upon arrival we opted to join the in-laws for a quick chippy. They've never been the same since they stopped coming wrapped in newspaper (the chippys - not the in-laws). The chips with half a greasy ink news story printed over them somehow seemed to taste better, I suppose it must have depended on how tasty the news story itself was. If you were ridiculously lucky sometimes they'd even come with a page three girl. The chips are all too clean cut nowadays. Another casualty of the health conscious crazy world we now live in. Not that I'd go more often if the suppers still came in yesterdays latest classified section. In times of deadlines Davey Clyde, in the office, often shouts things inferring his latest work's preferred use. He'll be sitting in his seat mumbling away to himself as he plans his last classified page and suddenly bellow "Right, let's get rid of this chip wrapper!" Probably not the most complimentary remark to make about our treasured weekly newspaper titles and sadly no longer even accurate.

Independent state

Someone said to me in the office if the picture of the bullshit alert in the last post was a warning of the contents of the writing... Needless to say it was not. It's only an illustration of the afore mentioned 'red alert' which Davey wakens the office with in times of stress. Not that Davey ever gets stressed, I should point out. He's generally a very laid back, amiable fellow... usually. However, if you happen to get involved in a conversation on the possibility of an Independent Scotland things could get nasty! For this he feels quite strongly about and for the past two weeks has created a independent monster of Andrea who is now campaigning at every tea break, casting aside our crosswords and inconsequential talk in favour of speeches on the lost wealth of Scotland and the possibilities of the heights that our small country could reach. Me? I'm not sure I know enough on the subject - I'm just not sure why we should bother. Is everything not fine as it is? Or is that just lazy talk? Would we be any better off? Or are the folk screaming for independence fuelling the fires of separatism and the long, now boring, supposed feud with the english. I've never understood all that either. Personally I think England and it's people are generally great, as are Wales and Ireland. Why look for independence from a Great Britain? I am interested in reading more about it and defining how I feel about it all, but at the moment... I can't say it's at the top of my to-do list! It's not as if it's going to happen anytime soon is it? Or is it? The much debated over referendum is taking place in 2010 apparently. Just around the corner really...

Red alert

Waiting on ads. Today I'm on planning in the office which basically involves building the classified pages of the newspapers and sending them over to outputting. A few folk are on holiday over here today so I'm helping out on 'the other side'. The planning side. The dark side. In planning today I'm sitting opposite the exuberant Davey and the wonderful Linda. When conversations get a bit too 'diverse' or any outsiders start giving any complications Davey has a large red button on his desk with the word 'bullshit' over it. In the event of a personnel, conversation, or sales 'panic' emergency Davey gives the alarm a good smack and a loud alert blares out from the small speakers underneath the button alerting everyone in the surrounding vicinity to the presence of (you guessed it) 'bullshit'. Handy in times of 'crisis' which Tuesday's quite often do have.