It’s Lola, as it happens.
It seems like a very long time ago that the boundaries of my life were clearly marked by the M8, the rusting hulk of Ravenscraig and the price of a day return to Glasgow Central, but that’s how it used to be.
These days I’m wandering the most amazing city on the face of the planet, unlimited free travel on my staff pass burning a hole in the pockets of jeans that never sit quite right on my bulky frame. I’ve been from pillar to post and hated the airports at both, but I love the crumpled boarding passes and ill-advised photos that I store in a wooden wine crate under my bed.
I’ve made a life for myself, such as it is. I’m a Tube driver these days, a strange career move perhaps, but ultimately a smart one. I’m making more money than almost everyone else I know, and for a materialistic sort like me, that’s a pretty good benchmark.
These pages have no coherent order or thought process to them: it’s simply a dumping ground for the biggest loves of my life namely the theatre, fitba, US Politics and occasionally something about the politics of this country in which I live and actually pay taxes.
I cannot be held responsible should I periodically crack and regale you with stories about the cats and their insane antics, usually of interest only to the residents of my own house. Oh well.