It has never been hard to tell the difference between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine, PG Wodehouse once wrote. And today, as the Scottish Parliament debates the merits of approaching Westminster regarding another Independence referendum and just under half of the MSPs grumble about the Scottish Government manufacturing grievances, maybe it’s time to change the stereotype?
As readers of last week’s blog post will know, I like to listen to BBC Radio Scotland’s Good Morning Scotland when I’m making breakfast in the morning.
Mrs Stroke Bloke worries about my blood pressure, I’m sure, as a disconcerting mixture of laughter and swearie words escapes the kitchen. But it keeps me somewhat connected to the larger world, and sometimes, there’s a wee gem of an item to consider. Say, on the subject of #strokes. Continue reading The Standard Version
Some years ago, Mrs Stroke Bloke and I noticed that – not much like J. Alfred Prufrock – our relationship could be measured out in international soccer tournaments.
Back in the summer of 2010, I was introducing my new American girlfriend to a Scottish pal in a Brooklyn bar as we watched (was it?) the USA v England in South Africa.
And as well as being beautiful and funny, she already understands the offside rule!
But as Scotland fail, yet again, to qualify for a major tournament at France 2016, how do I find a team to give me a rooting interest? Read on…
Last week’s post closed with the reflections of the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Company on the nature of the BBC weather map.
This isn’t an original problem, of course. Africa’s got it a lot worse. There’s a summary of some of the problems and approaches to mapping here. Have a think about what projections of the globe you like, and then find out why Randall xkcd hates you here.
‘What’s this got to do with strokes?’ you might ask. If you’ve not been here before.
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I met up with my attorney on the street in TriBeCa the other day.
“Did you get a new haircut? I thought so. You’d fit right in here, or in the West Village.”
It’s noticeable that the people most likely to pigeon-hole this middle-aged Scottish man as a hipster (even if he didn’t use the actual epithet) are solicitous recreational therapists and lawyers from Long Island. Clearly, I’m more square than hip.
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