Sunday, December 17, 2006


On Saturday morning I ventured from the safe confines of the West End to go to the centre of Glasgow to buy a Christmas present for my mum. I was stopped by soneone who was doing a survey about alchol problems in Scotland. Now I had been out the previous evening for a holiday session and my head felt a bit thick, so I wasn't really in the mood to be questioned. The first question was "how old are you?". Oh my, god I thought I am not sure I can do complicated math with a Saturday morning hangover. I told her my age, but apparently they are only interested in people with drink problems who are younger than 37. So I am now too old to take part in a survey on drink problems in Scotland. Why? On reflection perhaps that had something to do with sperm counts. As I stood stunned the woman gave me a gentle tug on the arm as she stepped away and I was propelled into the tube station and totally missed the waiting arms of the scream pub next door.