Jesus, feels like I’ve been away forever. Oddly, Jesus has been away forever too. But is due back now, tomorrow or the next day, so don’t worry. But its a funny thing, I get time off work and suddenly my time’s not my own. So even though the world has now taken about 4 more steps closer to nuclear oblivion, even though now Trump has found the buttons to push, he keeps on pushing, and even though Spurs won yet another game today, even though Kelvin McKenzie has become a bigger hate-figure than Assad, I haven’t had a chance to put ‘pen to paper’ (its a metaphor for writin’ things, in case you’re under 23).

Every second has been spent planning a holiday. Just 8 days in June. In Scotland. At Christmas we spent 2 weeks in India, it was all pre-arranged and wonderful. One phone call and it got sorted. But this one is more ‘self-service’. And it ain’t easy.

Firstly, this is Scotland we’re talking about. Its not the French Riviera, the Alps, the Croatian coast. No-one knows Scotland is lovely. Even though its where most of their Scotch comes from. They just make judgments based on its football league and its whingeing mps and assume its a midge-infested vitimin-free-zone where it pisses down all day every day of the year. But when we went 2 years ago we learned the magic of the Highlands. And decided there and then we wanted to return and go further north. So I booked the flights yesterday, on airmiles. Bargain. Which proved to be the easy bit. The really easy bit.

Because even though we decided long ago we were going to fly to Inverness, get a car, if they have such things, if not then a horse-and-carriage, and tootle round the northern coastal bit, round to John O’Groats. Ok, and a few distilleries, if we must. Then last Sunday, just before we were finalising dates and stuff, the fucking Sunday Times printed a massive piece about the Northern 500!!! Never heard of it? Me neither. Its a road trip. Starting in Inverness and driving round the northern coastal bit round to John O’Groats. Bastards!!!

So the first stop we decide, let’s call it ‘Glengoolie’ (not its name but the real names get really complicated, AND I DON’T WANT TO GIVE YOU IDEAS). It has 3 hotels worthy of the name, 4 inns and 17 B&B places. All fully booked til November. “We’ve got the garage you can use. Bring yer own bed and the roof leaks. Just 200 quid a night. Supply an’ demand, innit?” So finding 7 different places to stay is proving very time-consuming. We still haven’t finished, but you kind’a get Booking.com-ed out after 19 hours of sheer frustration and depression.

Kelvin McKenzie? Attacked Ross Barkley the Everton player who was knocked out in a bar in Liverpool last weekend. McKenzie, writing in the Sun which he used to edit before he moved onto the Murdoch first team at Sky, insulted Barkley, really viciously, attacked the entire city of Liverpool and most of its inhabitants. Who mainly deserve it and Barkley is a bit lame. But demanding he be sacked? Elevating insulting Liverpool/Liverpudlians to the status of high treason? Demanding that McKenzie be summarily sacked for his insulting words? I won’t even mention the racism-that-isn’t-racism because that might give it a validity above the contempt it really deserves.

McKenzie is horrible. And he wrote an opinion column that quite frankly he shouldn’t have, which was approved by a sub-editor who shouldn’t have done so either. His crime is one of writing a terribly unfunny piece. Nothing even vaguely amusing in it. So yeah, sack him for that. But not for ‘crimes against Liverpool’. And once someone on the radio mentioned ‘Hillsborough’ in this context, I almost murdered Alexa (Amazon joke).

Happy Saturday

A xxxx