It’s been quite a week for historic occasions.
- The Queen waltzing into Ireland for the first time and charming the bejesus out of just about everyone.
- Barack O’bama confirming his Irish ancestry by sinking a pint of Guinness and employing a touch of the Blarney to reduce all who met him into giggling schoolgirls.
- Super injunctions for the super-rich and super-shagging turning out to be not such a great idea after all – and Scotland’s Sunday Herald (under my old gaffer, editor Richard Walker) creating the UK’s most-talked-about front page in years.
- Lead On making its dog-walking debut on a run out in Withdean Park, Brighton, with the delightful Dudley the Tibetan terrier our first paying customer – returning home happy and exhausted (and that was just me).
Yes, it surely has been a historic seven days …
Fair enough, Lead On Dog Walkers may not resonate down through the pages of history but I’m chuffed to bits to be up and running!
It’s only two weeks since I got a van and embarked on fitting it out with cages, bedding, leads, water bowls and what seems a neverending list of things I need to have to be a dog walker. The dogs themselves have been almost an optional extra.
So it was nice finally to put the whole kit and caboodle into action, load up a dog into the back and – gasp! – go for a walk.
From little acorns etc etc …
The week’s other distraction has been yet another volcanic eruption in Iceland and the inevitable return of the ash cloud and ensuing airport chaos.
I’m a tad concerned about how long it will take to get things back to normal because friends from England are due to fly to Glasgow next weekend for the Scottish leg of our civil partnership celebration.
Not that it will affect me and Debbie – aint it just typical that her fear of flying would pay off like this?!
So we’ll be Caledonia-bound in the car for the big bash which is promising to be another cracking occasion. I may have gone slightly overboard in the invitation department – the final tot-up for the venue suggests more than 140 on the night!
Now that will be quite a purvey*.
Tumble yer wilkies v: to do a forward or backwards roll or somersault. Eg: That wean’s a right wee gymnast, you should see her tumble her wilkies on the living-room floor
NB: this might be Glasgow/West only. www.firstfoot.com/dictionary suggests it’s derived from Archibald Wilkie, head of the Glasgow Police in the 19th century, who was a renowned gymnast
Midden n: outside bins, rubbish pile, dump, a mess. Used to describe untidy houses and those whose personal habits (either with hygiene or morals) leave a lot to be desired. Eg: That bedroom is a right midden Or: That dirty wee midden hasn’t changed his shirt all week
NB: Most Scots will be familiar with the phrase ‘Anniker’s midden’. Click here for an explanation
Keek v: to peek or look slyly, to glance quickly. Eg: I saw her next door keeking through the curtains when the big removal van pulled up
NB: not to be confused with keech (definition to follow later)
Haver v: to talk or babble in an incomprehensible manner. Eg: And if I haver, then I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you (© The Proclaimers)
*Purvey n: food, usually at a function. Eg: That was some purvey – they had sausage rolls and everything