Fleetwood Mac in Glasgow, Thursday 22nd October 09

My first thoughts when I saw them – they looked OLD, Lindsay in particular. Now, I know they ARE old, but I just mean compared to 5 years ago I could see a tiredness about them. Not that that’s a criticism at all, they still played an amazing show that would shame most of the younger bands out there. I just thought, “oh shit, they might not do this again, it might be taking too much out of them”. But as the show went on, they managed to find even more energy, and seemed to really be enjoying themselves.

Stevie was beautiful in her goth frocks (I counted 4 costume changes, all similar dresses with slight variations on the sequin/lace adornments), and I had hair envy – her mane always seemed to be freshly brushed, with not a lock out of place. I hope I have hair like that at her age – blue rinses are for losers! (sorry grannies).

Highlights of the show for me were -

Landslide – I defy anyone to hear Stevie sing this live and not fall in love with her and want to hug her and hold her hand and sniff her hair.

Second Hand News – It was raucous, full of electricity and classic Fleetwood Mac.

Tusk – It was a wee bit tamer than I’ve heard/seen it before, but I still adore it, and Mick Fleetwood always entrances me with his faces when he’s playing this song!

Go Your Own Way – This got the biggest reception from the crowd, it was magical to hear the whole room singing it.

Stand Back – What can I say? It’s just heavenly, it’s so quintessentially Stevie, and I had goosebumps watching her sing her heart out.

Stevie and Lindsay seemed to have a good rapport, facing each other lots to sing. I’m not a Lindsay fan (Team Stevie!), but he deserves enormous credit for the effort he puts into playing. Big Love was fantastic as usual, and he soaked up the adulation in a very charming way (egotistical git that he is)! John stared at his guitar the whole time, and didn’t say a word to the audience, but I loved him for it – John’s John, he just wants to go on stage, get the bloody thing over and done with then bugger off fishing,  and he’s quite right! He’s earned the right to do so, putting up with all the drama for so many years! Mick looked like he was having a ball the entire time, and those faces! They crack me up every time.

Stevie dedicated Landslide to a bird handler called Jamie, whom she had met earlier that day. She told us about her stay in Turnberry near Troon, and how meeting Jamie and his marvellous birds had been a real highlight of all her travels. That was lovely. Stevie didn’t hit the high notes in her songs, but as I said with John and his ’let’s just get on with it’ bass playing – quite right! Why the hell should she? She’s sung the songs for years, they still sound absolutely wonderful coming from her, if she doesn’t want to why the hell should she? Just to appease the critics? Most people her age are hanging about coffee mornings and mooching round supermarkets for bargains. If she wants to sing her songs in sold out stadiums a wee bit differently to how she has in the past, just fucking enjoy it and stop moaning!

I’ve just realised how ageist I sound in this post. I’d just like it to be known that I love the oldies, I just like my oldies to be more like Stevie “I’m so rock’n'roll I lost my septum decades ago” Nicks and less like Cliff “colostomy bag-tastic” Richard.

27 weeks – time is whooshing past!

The pram is here, and the furniture is about to be ordered. We have discovered a new game which we like to call ‘Poke The Baby’. It involves poking about my stomach to make the baby punch or kick us. Great fun. Still undecided on names. Well, I’m decided, but one of them is a bit, ahem, unique so I’m giving it some thought at the moment. Tomorrow is a very exciting day, as we’re going for a 4D scan so will get to see the baby’s facial features. I hope it looks like this -

22 weeks now, and VERY hormonal….

Something happened this weekend. Something took over my body, and turned me into a walking hormone. I can’t even look at the cows in the field next to our house, because I know they are going to the abbatoir in a few weeks and they haven’t got a FUCKING CLUE. The mere sight of them gives me a lump in my throat, when up until last week I would laugh at their misfortune.

I have also gone up two bra cup sizes, to a DD. And I keep getting funny light headed moments, which require me to sit down and eat a biscuit. Or something like that. I had my blood pressure checked at my work, and it’s fine, as is my temperature, so I’m putting it all down to hormones.

Things that have happened to me at the dentist that have now rendered me completely paralysed with fear and intensely irrational when it comes to making an appointment and actually showing up for it.

1. My childhood dentist, a crazed ginger bearded maniac of a man, ripped the insides of my mouth open when he was giving me injections. To say he was rough would be the equivalent of saying Amy Winehouse dabbled in drugs recreationally for a wee while. UNDERSTATEMENT. He butchered me each and every time I walked through the doors, sticking things in, taking them out, yanking things this way, that way, whatever way he fucking felt like that day. He should have been a bear wrestler instead of a dentist. He’d be the world champion.

2. An abcess under one of my teeth was left undetected for a fortnight, despite me going in and begging them to find out what was going on as I couldn’t sleep because of the agony of the pain. I walked around for a fortnight with my whole skull throbbing like a serial killer who needs to kill RIGHT NOW because “it’s just needing a wee filling”. Result = me, minus the tooth (and admittedly, a painless and quick extraction), a fortnight later.

3. My most recent visit to have a tooth extracted resulted in me being in the chair for 2 and a half hours. Not a minute less. The tooth broke up, bits got stuck in the open wound, the anaesthetic didn’t work so I had to have 5 top ups, even the dentist himself was struggling to cope with the situation. They phoned me later that evening just to check I was ok; unfortunately the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder had already kicked in.

And that’s it really. Not much, but enough to make me cross the road at the sight of a dental surgery. It’s quite pitiful really, and as I read that list back I’m actually embarrassed. My list is mediocre compared to others who I’m sure have been through horrendous ordeals at the dentist. If you knew me, you would know that I am a calm, measured person who has no qualms about pain/discomfort for necessary measures. I’ve got plenty of war wounds, including burn scars which required skin grafts. What’s that? You want to scrape skin off me using a contraption similar to a cheese grater, leaving me with huge open wounds? No problem. You want to cut my foot open? Cut away my friend. You want to probe about my insides using all manner of intrusive instruments? Feel free! You want to look inside my mouth and make a few wee adjustments? FUCK OFF!

I admit it. I have a problem. I need help.

Flight of the Conchords Season Two

Just got a text from my husband saying he’s ordered me it – yippee!  Bret and Jemaine are the best characters ever, though I do have a special place in my heart for Mel. And Murray is as hilarious as ever this season. I didn’t catch all of season two on BBC4; probably the first 5 or 6 episodes, but I’ve been getting tired earlier so haven’t seen the rest. But I shall be able to watch them all very soon when the dvd arrives!

I’d love to have a Flight of the Conchords themed party, so I would.

19 weeks and trying to eat healthier…

…But have just sent my husband to get me a McDonalds. I hardly ever eat the things, I’ve had about 4 this year I think, but today I’m having one and that’s that.

Items purchased this week -  a lovely wee furry winter outfit, and fabric to make my own blanket for the pram.

The baby is jumping around merrily inside me, and is very active, as confirmed by the midwife who scanned me. “You’ll feel this baby a lot”, she said, and she’s right. It is very reassuring indeed, and it’s an incredibly strange sensation. Like having a giant tapeworm in your gut. Apparently this is what a tapeworm looks like, according to Google Images. It almost looks friendly, like ET.

18 weeks pregnant and need new clothes…

…As I am getting bigger each day.

We got the pram yesterday, courtesy of my wonderful gran. It is fabulous, very ‘me’ so I’m told, and it felt so exciting making the first big purchase.

Names are swirling round my head constantly, and I’m finding it a bit more difficult to pick boy’s names. I’d like to hear your suggestions for both boy’s and girl’s names, tell me what you like!

17 weeks today…

…And feeling great. I have more energy, and feel more pregnant now. My husband says I’m glowing, which is nice to hear. I think I just look a bit fat, but a few people have commented that I look pregnant as opposed to fat. Maybe they’re just kidding me on…

However, the main not so good symptom I have had since last Monday is – excruciating back pain, like someone has grabbed my sciatic nerve and is squeezing it to death. This has led to me being practically crippled at times, with plenty of comedy moments of me walking down the street and suddenly moaning ‘aaah’ and having my legs buckle from underneath me completely unexpectedly. My sciatic nerve has a wicked sense of humour, so from now on shall be known as ‘The Anti-Christ Evil Bastard Nerve’.

Now I really really want to write about my poos, but I’m a bit scared. Perhaps if you all spoke a bit about your poos, I’d feel more comfortable. Big? Small? Lumpy? Stringy? Hard? Soft? Lets discuss!

Dead Man Walking

Ok, I’ve written about Forgiving The Dead Man Walking a wee while ago, but now I’ve started reading this again, as I haven’t read it for a few years. Helen Prejean is on Twitter, so I’ve been seeing updates about upcoming executions more frequently, which has refuelled my interest. I’ve been fascinated by the American justice system for years, in fact, decades (my mum will vouch for this), and have read many, many books, articles and websites on the subject. I like to think I’ve got a pretty good knowledge of everything that goes on, but even so, I still have conflicting feelings about the whole matter. I could debate it for days, and still not veer towards either side of the argument.

I’m proud of this though, because my refusal to ‘pick a side and stick to it’  comes from the insight I’ve gained. Who are we to say what the right thing to do is? If your partner was raped and killed by some evil person, could you honestly say you would not want them to die too? On the other hand, is death at the government’s hands acceptable in today’s society, when controlled and monitored incarceration can lead to a better understanding of criminal behaviour, and consequently, hopefully lead to reduction in crime?

It’s a tricky subject, and I think it’ll be pushed to the forefront even more now we’re in Obama times. So, anyway, please read Dead Man Walking.  Sister Helen presents a very compelling argument against the death penalty. I think she’s brilliant for having the courage to push forward with her beliefs in such a unique way, and she always gives me food for thought.

http://twitter.com/helenprejean

http://www.prejean.org/Background.html

Pregnant

Yes, that’s right, I have a bun in the oven. I didn’t feel comfortable writing about it until now, superstitious cow that I am. We are ecstatic, and I’m having a wonderful time sourcing funny, quirky and increasingly bizarre outfits/costumes for my baby. Poor wee thing. Please let me know how much detail you would like me to go into regarding symptoms/bodily functions etc, and I shall set the tone accordingly.

http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/index.php?cPath=21_60_30&sort=4a&page=4

http://www.tuttibella.com/kingsley-sid-vicious-tee.html

http://www.nippazwithattitude.com/clothing.html