A flat full of women

"Is it not about time you had y'er flat invaded by that bunch of women again?" DVD Andy asked me this over lunch yesterday and I groaned inwardly. He'd been looking in his crystal ball again. Most men would be excited by the prospect of a flat full of women.
Ka's friends from work were all coming round for dinner last night and by the time I got home they'd all be in full swing, talking to each other, over one another and probably around one another. Not really the best thing to greet you after coming home from a twelve hour shift but I suppose I shouldn't be so miserable. Ka has to have her life too and it certainly doesn't stop when I go to work.
The only member of the group that seemed to look in my direction upon entering my living room was Claire's wee one, Olivia, from behind her Mum's legs to which she'd retreated after I managed to frighten the living daylights out of her in the hallway.
As I had shut the front door behind me I'd heard Ka asking the youngster "who was at the door?". Who could it be, was it Michael and telling Olivia to help her go and see (at least I presumed it was Olivia and not one of her pals being overly curious). So as Ka entered the hallway with wee Olivia, I playfully gave them a big "boo!". The tot nearly collapsed in fright, all wide eyes and quivering mouth. Fortunately for me she stopped herself from bursting into tears as Ka was there to ease the sheer terror of seeing me.
Children, and babies in general, never seem to like me anyway and I've now grown accustomed to it. They either spontaneously burst into tears upon seeing me or regard me with deep suspicion in their eyes, hiding behind the leg of a passing adult - an adult with a prosthetic leg would be particularly helpful as the child could then freely move around the room, though the one legged adult would presumably have some difficulty getting back up off the floor.
Joshua, the latest addition to the Leckie family, for instance, starts crying as soon as I pick him up. He has probably spent the past hour or so happy, smiling, laughing and gurgling away pleasantly to himself but as soon as Uncle Michael picks him up for a chat he suddenly gets very uncomfortable, looking around wildly for help (or maybe a leg?) and eventually objects rather loudly.
Still, at least Olivia noticed me. As I entered the living room the women barely looked up with a hello as they gabbed on. I'm only the man of the house afterall. Saying hello would interupt the conversational flow and the vastly important things they have to say to one another. Things probably too vast and important for me to even comprehend. The ability for these women to talk is incomprehensible in itself. A nuclear bomb could have went off in Long Calderwood outside. A cloud and blast of fire, wind and orange dust sweeping through our large living room window, powering through exploding cracks in the wall, as the room is showered in shards of glass, brick and mortar. I'd be clinging on to a metal fence, watching the city collapse around me, screaming as my flesh turned to dust. Yet they'd still be sitting, going on about transitions, mismanagement and how big 'wee Jake' is now.

Pantos, pakora and peanuts

Our tree is up and the Christmas stench flows freely in the flat. Yes, on friday night we carried out the strange tradition of installing a cold, wet, smelly fir tree into the middle of our living room and decorating it with beads and baubles. Our wee flat now feels officially 'christmasy'. We helped welcome it with a wee bottle of wine. Maybe it was the wine that helped with the 'christmasiness'.
The next morning I was driving up to Chapelton on Saturday morning when I witnessed one of the most stupid examples of driving I've ever seen in my life. Driving up St Leonards Road, towards the roundabout at the Bonnie Prince Charlie pub, there was a row of traffic coming off the roundabout up ahead and heading down towards me on the other side of the road (nothing surprising there). As I approached the junction for Morrishall Road on my right, a car speeds up to the junction and decides to refrain from braking. Not only does he go straight out on to the road infront of the oncoming traffic, driving down from the roundabout, but he decides to drive into their side of the road, belting straight into the unfortunate car, at the front of the line of vehicles, head on. Both cars thudded to a halt as I drove past. It was a moment of sheer disbelief, almost incomprehension, for me as I'd never actually seen a car accident happen, never mind such blatant stupidity on the road. As the drivers of each car moved to leave their vehicles I drove on safe in the knowledge they would sort their little bang out between them (perhaps with more little bangs involving fists and faces). Sure enough, on my way back down from Chapelton, a police van was parked on the kerb where the cars had been, with its side door slid open and two busy policemen leaning in, obviously talking away to someone, hopefully breathalising them.
Afterwards it was a slightly less eventful drive into Glasgow's West End to see Colin, Ka's brother, in his latest Panto extravaganza. Colin works for a travelling theatre group and on Saturday morning he was performing with the group in the Kelvin Stevenson Memorial Church, just off Great Western Road, with their take on Jack and the Beanstalk. After having built up a bit of a thirst on the drive in, I tried to take a carton of juice and a packet of crisps from the entrance table at the front door as we bought our tickets. Unfortunately the stubborn old ticket woman stopped me saying the free juice and crisps were for the kids only. As I tried to persuade her with money Ka ushered me away hurriedly. We sat down in a large empty hall with the stage set out infront of us, surrounded by empty chairs. It did not look good and I was beginning to think I would be shouting at Widow Twanky on my own, without any crisps or juice. However, with only five minutes before the start, families and kids started flocking in and within moments, every seat around us was taken, most of the kids gathering on the dusty, wooden floor at the front in eager expectation, munching their crisps and drinking their juice. As I suddenly noticed a few parents with juice of their own the production began and Colin and his band jumped out on to stage, shouting, yelling and singing. For me, Colin's best performance was as Daisy, Jack's man sized, two legged cow, but he also played the Giant, that lived in the Castle at the top of the Beanstalk, a role that best suited his stature and loud voice. Afterwards he approached us and after a few words with his sister he looked at me accusingly and shouted 'You weren't doing any of the actions!'. A little taken aback, I stammered something defensively about how I had been singing and clapping enthusiastically. If I'd had a juice and a packet of crisps I might have been more eager to participate in the song actions. On the way out the church hall the old lady at the door gave us a cheery goodbye. I humpfed in response.
Saturday night arrived and Ka dolled herself up and ventured into Hamilton for her work night out with the girls, so Chaz and myself decided to head out for a carry out, to the Atrium, where the owner talked us into taking a table. The place was packed with Christmas nights out of all shapes and sizes. After waiting a few moments he sat us upstairs beside three large tables of drunken workers scoffing pakora, unwrapping secret santas and spitting lager into each others meals as they talked. The dreaded Karaoke soon started up on the temporary dance floor downstairs and before we knew it the drunken workers were all singing the same old songs that karaoke singers usually sing - you know, Sinatra, Neil Diamond etc. Nothing vaguely original like, say, Orbison. So Chaz and myself headed into Glasgow for a drink witnessing a massive brawl, on the way, in the middle of Argyle Street with a large bunch of Glasgow neds. Unbelievable. Makes you wonder why you stay in Scotland. Neds, alcohol and violence. All in a good night out. Anyway, Bunker was, as always, busy and Chaz and myself mused over women and how they think(that old chestnut!), Bill Paxton movies, Apparitions(the BBC series that's on at the moment), Christmas, New Year and hotels to take y'er woman. Afterwards we headed back to fetch Ka, Gillian and Louisa from Hamilton, the latter two hitching a lift to Ek's Centre Point. For some insane reason they continue to spend money going into that place.
Morven, Sean and Leo visited us yesterday for dinner, travelling up from Hawick. Ka and myself arrived home from the gym with only half an hour to get ready for them coming only to find them sitting on the doorstep waiting on us. We welcomed them in, still in our sweaty gym gear, quickly kicking away any newspapers lying about the living room and throwing the drying clothes hanging from doors into the bedroom. Unfortunately Leo spent the first hour moaning until I presented him with two bowls of peanuts. One Bombay mix and one salted. This helped cheer him up considerably and he took up position at the side of the coffee table, munching away. I was not sure about the way he was eyeing me suspiciously if I reached out to take any myself. Considering they were my nuts I thought this quite rude really. I'll let him off this once though, as it's almost Christmas and he was just recovering from a flu. There's also the fact he's only three... Shouldn't be an excuse though. Flamin' youngsters. Coming into this world and getting all our crisps, nuts and juice. Without so much as a by-your-leave. Do they have the right? Ageism that's what it is!