Hello! Greetings from sunny Glasgow. I’ve been asked to take the chair this week and provide you with some witty repartee from north of the border. As if I could. Actually, I’ve worked out that it’s only taken two and half years of writing for the site to be finally let loose on the editorial page. I suspect that this is not a good sign. 

I’ve been on holiday for the last week or so, which has been very jammy if you like the sun. If you’re a bit of a vampire like me it’s not so great. Honestly, my wee baldy head roasts within a matter of seconds. I hate feeling hot and bothered too and would much rather be shivering during a long winter. Yes, yes, I know I’m mental. Any way, I was in Dublin to see Josh Rouse touring his latest album Subtitulo. Dublin last week was blisteringly hot and the venue for the gig didn’t believe in anything like air conditioning, so I sweltered through the set, bravely staving off heat stroke like a soldier in the Foreign Legion. Rouse was excellent, but struggled against the crowd who were probably the rudest I’ve ever experienced, talking loudly over what was an acoustic gig. It partly ruined what might have been very special, which was a bit sad. Shame on you Dublin gig goers.

The second part of my hols was spent at home. Well, Scotland and in Inverness to be exact. In contrast to Dublin, it was great. It’s a small and compact city in the middle of the Highlands, far more laid back and relaxed with people who are actually nice to you. I was really looking forward to visiting Loch Ness, convinced that I was going to be the first famous explorer to find the monster. The exhibition I went to was surprisingly keen to convince me that Nessie doesn’t actually exist though – talk about bursting your bubble. It still discharged you into a gift shop knee deep in Nessie toys, which is a bit of an irony really. Still, the Loch is 24 miles long and has an average depth of 450 feet, so I’m not convinced. Who’s to say Nessie doesn’t exist?

Getting back from hols hasn’t been so great. Within a day some muppet (probably Kermit) bumped into my car and I’ve had emotional trauma which requires repeated playing of The Smiths ‘I Know It’s Over’, a lot of Lloyd Cole and the darker songs on the new Keane record. I’m not in a happy place. To balance this, I’ve tried to immerse myself in the World Cup (ah, football heaven, as long as England don’t win it) and have been listening to the summery songs on the album by the defiantly cheesy The Feeling. Cheesy yes, but the harmonies are somehow soothing at the same time, particularly ‘Sewn’.

Any way, I think my time is up. If you enjoyed this, then perhaps you should seek professional help. Alternatively, it might mean that there’s a next time…

Read previous editorials:

2006
2005
2004