I heard a story on the radio last week about a man who had suffered 27 heart attacks in a day. These sort of things are always of interest, partly because of the prevalence of heart disease in Scotland and also because of the similarity between strokes and heart attacks. Particularly haemorrhagic strokes like mine that are caused by high blood pressure.
Hi! I think I’m going to change apoplectic.me’s regular posting day to Tuesday.
Over the weekend, there are weekend things to do, and then by Monday all the other things to do have built up and there are regular weekday things to do and I want to do all the things because if I don’t do all the things the to-do list will just get longer and longer for ever and ever amen.
Long-suffering readers of the blog will know that I’m more than a little obsessed with time and how it works and how it’s expressed. If time is more elastic and less concrete than we imagine – and it is – then that would just about explain Sunday’s Superbowl LI.
I’ve mentioned it before, but in a scholarship interview to go to the United States to study I was asked to related how I would sum up my idea of Scotland for a curious New Yorker. Social justice and hardcore techno, I said.
I didn’t get that one, funnily enough. But after I honed my interview technique. I did end up going to study in the United States. I started on a J1 student visa before moving on to an H1B visa for foreign workers in specialty occupations which require highly specialized knowledge. [See picture above.]
Hogmanay in Scotland is a time for traditions. First-footing, coal, whisky, Auld Lang Syne, steak pie (apparently), black bun, and all the rest. When I lived in America, New Year’s Eve was the hardest time of year to be away from the country of my birth.
But there’s another tradition that covers all of Scotland, England, Wales, and Northern Ireland that I didn’t miss so much – the New Year’s Honours List.
Or for that matter, the snarky fortysomething stroke bloke.
Last week’s post on chairs was meant to segue seamlessly into a post this week about a musician who – like chairs – features surprisingly little on the blog yet has a chameleon-like ability to adapt to the times. Then George Michael died.