Last week, in the wake of the unveiling or leaking or however it was carried out, the revelation of Cheryl Coles new arse tattoo inspired me to write a pithy status about it on facebook. I came up with it on my Sunday shift at work and improved it I thought as the shift wore on before finally when I emerged in the daylight at 2.30 from an 8 and a half hour warehouse slog I posted it on my facebook account and waited for a reaction.
But nobody bloody liked it.
Now its something of a hot topic of conversation in pubs and in online group chats on things like Viber about the level of interest a post or photo can get on the likes of facebook. 10 likes seems to be the base level for acceptability. Any less and its as well not being there. A massive fail.
The status was
“Cheryl Cole likes a tattoo to celebrate English footballs full backs eh? First ashley Cole, now Danny rose. Surely next she will get a tattoo depicting multiple images of a bandy legged ex Scotland and Aberdeen goalie in tom hardys mask from the last batman film.”
Now I think that is a good bit of patter but it appears that no one understands it (or, you know, thinks its shite) so I will take the opportunity to explain it.
Lets kick off with the Mrs C tattoo she has on the back of her neck from when she was still with her husband. Her husband being (C)Ashley Cole, an English full back.
She now has enormous roses on her back and arse, its really rather horrible I think, but quite clearly its her own wee homage to Danny Rose, who happens to be Tottenhams new first choice full back after being papped out on loan to other teams in seasons past.
So thats two English full backs etched on her skin, what will next trip to the tattooist deliver?
I thought she could get a few images of the bandy legged ex Scotland, Aberdeen, Manchester United and Hibs (and more) goalie; Jim Leighton (left) and team it up with the mask worn by Tom Hardys oddly spoken Batman baddie in Dark Knight Rises, you know, Bane (right) Leaving something that kind of looks something like………
See? Its a hilarious image that you were supposed to piece together in your minds eye from the clues I gave so that it depicted Everton and England left back Leighton Bane’s or rather Baines.
Oh I laughed when I came up with that, laughed and laughed at how clever I was. She could get it above the roses but below the neck writing, it kind of looks like a cross, folk get crosses all the time……
Right, yer all right, its a pish joke. Time tae move on.
On Wednesday I ran in the Kilmaurs Gala 5k which I did last year in the run up to taking part in the great Scottish Run half marathon. Which got me thinking I should maybe write a bit about how my training is going for this year’s 13.2mile endurance test (not great) and such things and see how it goes.
However when I brought up the posts list in my WordPress app it appears I never got round to finish writing about my 5×50 challenge that I done earlier this year. In fact, checking the blog I covered half of it. 25 days. So I thought, bollocks, this will take longer than I thought and would probably be easier on the computer so now, on Sunday, here is a brief rundown of scant memories of I can remember of the other half mixed in with full reports of actual days that I did write out in draft versions of posts for that second half plus a look at my efforts at training since.
Well, the 5×50 thing I finished. Did all fifty days. Never missed one and for that I am quite proud. Didn’t particularly like doing it and don’t think I would do it again either. I felt most days I just wanted to get my five k out the way. Managed to get my time down to around 21 mins. Never cracked 20 which is disappointing but I found it really hard considering it was day in day out, and falling ill during it but not letting it stop me I feel went against my chances for a sub 20 run (of course not missing a day even though I was choked with the flu or something was impressive I thought). The second half did throw up some noteworthy moments.
I had two stand up gigs during the second half, so instead of whatever I had been listening to the day before on my mp3 player I recorded myself reading my set and listened to that so it got into my head a bit. Worked quite well actually though I do wonder why my wife married me because I have a really fucking whiny voice. I ran in a monsoon, I got close to 20 minutes, as i have mentioned, but not close enough. In fact….
Between days 34 and 39 this happened, i know this because I must have typed it up at the time.
Today was the fucking pits. Due to circumstances and downright stubborness there was only one time i could go out and that time was when it was absolutely pissing out the heavens. I managed it though. My times are a bit dodgy (it includes one 2 and a half minute kilometre which I would assume I cant do) because the rain was so heavy that my clothes were soaked through within two minutes of going out and as such i think the running apps gps might have got a wee bit fucked with the rain. I was worried that the phone would be gubbed and need a night in rice but actually it survived. the earphones might not, we will find out in the morning.
There was quite a lot of puddles on the road, and i managed to find them all, i had to ditch my specs and as i ran through the car park at Annanhill someone said “hi John” and i dont know who it was. And finally as i headed back up the Bonnyton Road, through the arch that floods i experienced for the first time being soaked by passing cars pouring water over me like a waterfall. Its actually very sore as big dollops of mucky water belt you in the face and go in your mouth. Tremendous.
When I got in from last night’s run in the pishing rain my dad phoned me about going running with him. I had mentioned I would like to go to with him to the running thing he does on a Saturday morning. I didn’t know a whole lot more about it but I did know he went on Christmas day just passed so it must be decent.
*there is a logic in there somewhere.
So I got up at 8 to be picked up at half past. Some cereal, a big drink and two rennies in me prepared for a good run. Turns out, as he tells me in the car on our way up, this is a sorta big thing called parkrun where you sign up online, get a barcode which is your racing identity. Each time you go you do your run then get your placing barcode (which is a wee Tesco clubcard type thing you get when you finish) and your personal barcode scanned and all the results are put online and your progress is tracked.
Busy day today so squeezed in a run in the morning. I decided to go the same run from Friday’s monsoon to see if it was 5k since there would be no water problems with the phone and hence no GPS problems with the app. However toward the end I forgot where I went so it became a bit of a waste of time. I maintain it must have been at least 5k as I was going like fuck cos of the weather and still ran for 25 mins. Must have been…..
I set myself a target of under 20 minutes which so far I haven’t beat. I got close (ish) once bit now it seems further away than ever. I thought Saturday at Pollok Park might have been the one, what with running past folk but it wasn’t. My last idea is to start going for longer runs so that when I drop down to 5 again it will feel like a sprint. It might work. I started this today by doing just over 7 and a half k by instead of scuttling up the embankment onto the cylce path continuing on the road that leads to the fork in the road that leaves Killie and either goes to Kilmaurs or Stewarton and cutting off through the new houses along the western road and then around the old Annanhill pitch n putt which is much missed by me who now lives up in that neck of the wood. (i fondly remember my dad trying to show off by chipping his ball over the big tree on the eighteen and fucking it up and losing the ball years and years ago).
Oh and then home.
More distance as I headed down toward the old abbitoir and back up through the town. Saw an old shoe on my travels. Didn’t warrant stopping for a photo though it was folded up for some reason. Done a little over 8k. Hope this idea works. Today I also ran without a jacket for the first time in this challenge. Its gems of details like that which makes this whole blogging thing worthwhile I think.
Not a lot of time today and have to give me father in law a loan of my motor so meet him in crosshouse and run home past my work at Moorfield. Shite run.
So that leaves 11 days. I did two runs which were under 21 minutes. One of which i had to tie my laces twice which i am certain would have pulled me under the 20 mins, but it didnt so can’t claim it. Done Parkrun in Eglinton on day 49 in the rain which is very muddy and at one corner you hit a mud puddle which sees your foot plunge in and the muck go over into your shoe, but i got my picture on their facebook site that run so suppose every cloud. Day 50 i did a fairly routine run in an routine time, came home to zero fanfare and er, thats it. Plus other stuff, i dont know. I am boring myself here. Point more or less is, I never really lost any weight, and didnt really look any different at the end from what i did at the beginning apart from some fairly decent looking calves, i was pretty tired though.
Since then I havent ran nearly enough, went back to the parkrun a few times but the other week there i decided to give a good go at running for a bit further so ran from Prestwick to Troon along the cycle path and then back out the road to the airport and back to Prestwick. It was about 6 miles however for a fair bit of the way there was no pavement and I was shiting myself as i held up a line of traffic coming out of Troon who had to wait til no cars were coming the other way to get past me.
Then on Tuesday, the day before Kilmaurs i ran five miles while i waited on my motor getting its MOT. It failed quite spectacularly but thats another story.
Great Scottish Run is on 6th October apparently, better get my finger oot.
Well, looks like there wasn’t a 90th minute winner in this game of pregnancy. We are now past the due date and with no sign of the kiddo yesterday a golden goal in extra time will be needed to finish the match. At this point in time we won’t even consider the end of the two week extra time and the midwifes inducing Natalie to bring on the labour which for the sake of extending this painful cup final analogy we will call penalty kicks.
It would seem we are playing the old waiting game.
But the bags are packed, the nursery decorated, cot built, baby monitor set up, moses baskets (one in the living room and one in the bedroom) are set for action, pram is in its space under the stairs and its tyres blown up to the advised pressure, isofix base thing fitted in the back seat of the car, clothes are all washed, even the coming out of the hospital clothes for Natalie and the baby are hanging in the new wardrope ready for me to take in with me so i dont fuck that up. Its all taken care of.
But we wait.
I guess i could shine up the metal work of the pram, so it looks nice. Or i could get the steraliser out in the kitchen and have a wee trial run with that and the bottles for feeding. I could even read one of the parenting books i have so far dodged for 9 and a half months (and now a day ontop of that). We could decide on a name, or rather names since we dont know what we are having.
We could do all these things as we wait but we arent.
We are just waiting, we have tried all the things they tell you but so far no joy, it will come when its ready. I am quite enjoying it actually, Natalie not so much. Its not too much pressure on me, mostly i am doing the things i usually do, working and watching the telly, Natalie is off her work on maternity which initially i was fairly jealous about but she is mostly knackered from carrying around the bump and needs a pee every twenty minutes so i suppose the novelty will wear off soon. I will get my paternity fortnight soon, the two of us working out how to look after a wee toaty baby.
I am looking forward to it.
But I am not excited, I rarely get excited. Not a very excitable person really, I can appear quite dour. Wonder if my kid will be like that. If it is Natalie will be demented. Thats away in the future though, now as I try to remember the advice given at the anti natal classes we attended about how to deal with labour (there isnt a lot of info about a fathers perspective at those incidentally, certainly not the ones i was at, so you have to improvise a bit from the mothers perspective info) and put it in practice when the waters break (if they do) and mop up the gallons of stuff that comes out (imagination getting away from me, hopefully) before packing us all up in the car and heading out to the maternity unit at the hospital. Surely its within the week?
Not sure where i am going with this now, think i will just press publish, go see what Natalie is doing. Its Saturday night, T plus one day (is that how it is described?) and since its after 11 its unlikely we will see a wee mucky baby arrive before due date plus two so the wait isnt near to being over. This is frustrating writing this, more frustrating than just sitting about waiting.
Been a wee while since was last on here writing. Done a fair bit of everything since last posted. Like, eh, like, got my wife pregnant for one.
Also done some other stuff and if i get the finger out i will write some stuff up here. Got a recap of a thing i did 3 years ago started, probably finish that and post it and them i might try catch up on some more up to date stuff. Like, you know, the upcoming parenting stuff and a few gigs i have done in past wee while.
In the meantime, here is a picture of some great graffiti i saw in Gatehouse of Fleet. On one brick it says “I ❤ SMACK” (embarrassed a wee bit i used the arrow and the three to make a love heart there) and on another brick it says PHALLUS. A great word. Took me back to university where Andy Walker and I discussed its power as a putdown. Surely better and withering than calling someone a dick? Maybe not.
Went into work at half past 7 to tell them i couldnt do the overtime i signed up for becuase i had furniture being delivered. Gaffer seemed a bit taken aback that i showed up to say i couldnt make it but the reason was i couldnt find the phone number. The furniture arrived pretty early and i set about building it. Couch was bloody heavy and akward, the bookcase on its side sideboard unit type thing was less heavy and akward but more hard work to put together. Done it though and celebrated with a bowl of porridge. This was the first time i have ever made porridge, real porridge with salt and water not the girly sugar and milk rubbish. Did a good job, cooking seems to come naturally to me, i can add it to my repertiore now, baked potatoes, porridge and of course, cheesy beanos.
Got offered a stand up gig in Paisley later this month to go with the one in May in Killie, good stuff, i said yes. Its a charity gig put on by a student, or a bunch of students, im not quite sure. My big mate Alan Provan (his blog) got me involved as he is doing a set at it and suggested me for it too. Decision now is whether to write a whole new bit or just a wee new bit to replace the out of date Scheme stuff and add it to my seagull stuff which i did last year.
For my lunch today i took the new Jamaican Jerk pot noodle. Big fan of pot noodles so i am, often thought about setting myself a wee task to see how many o could eat in one sitting (it would be chicken and mushroom one i would use in such an event as they are easiest on the belly even though i am partial to a Bombay Badboy) but as yet havent got round to it. I think i could do 4 pretty easy but might hit the wall at 5. Not sue if thats impressive or pathetic, guess there is only one way to find out….
Later on i wrote up the blog post about me being on the telly, not going to link it again but this will be the last wee plug, if you want to read it i am sure you have the necessary skills to navigate away from this to it, do it, i believe in you.
Watched Chelseas champions league game tonight. Football players have tiny wee shinguards nowadays. John Terry plucked a pair out his socks when he got subbed which looked to me to be about the saze of a smart phone. What exactly is that protecting? I remember when it was big sondico things with ankle supports and bones down the front which pretty much protected your full leg and before that i remember reading or seeing a shinnys advert where they just stuck old newspapers down there for protection. Totey wee things now though. I think they all wear them now, seems pointless.
Not much going on today, got quite excited about the cup final on Sunday after reading some of the stuff in the Daily Record, plenty to be positive about.
Got ridiculous cramp in both my legs after playing football while lying watching tv on the couch with the wife. felt it coming on in one leg and tried to shift my weight to put it off, straighten my leg out a bit, didnt work and the cramp set in my hamstring like a lightning bolt. As i wriggled to get off the couch the other one cramped up too and i screamed in my own living room. Down on the ground writhing in pain i got zero sympathy. Warm down essential from now on, getting too old.
A good few years ago now, when Berti Vogts was Scotland manager and James MacFadden was the cheeky boy, Scotland made the playoffs to reach the major championship at that season end. We drew Holland and ultimately didnt make due to a 6 nil second leg defeat that left us narrowly squeezed out on a 6-1 aggregate. The one came in a 1 nil home first leg at Hampden which i was at.
The reason i tell you this is that the night previous to that great day (when Scotland scored, shamefully i took that as a cue to glug down the bottle of Bud i had smuggled in as the crowd were all on their feet, post patch i flashed a bus of dutch supporters and also had the last bottle of Buckfast to pass my lips that night on the bus back into the city from Hampden) Natalie and i took in a show at The Kings Theatre in Glasgow. Oh What a Night it was and starred Kid Creole i think, maybe Sonia too though that would seem like something i would remember. It might or might not be an omen but today, the day before the big League Cup final, i found myself taking Natalie back to The Kings, this time to see Spamalot! It was really good.
Up early on a Sunday to clear some space in the conservatory to let young Craig in to wallpaper the “feature” wall in there. I say feature, its effectively the only wall considering the rest of it is just glass. I would like to say i was instrumental in the whole decorating process, I wasnt though. I sat through the front room dicking around on the laptop. Got told that our wedding features in the Ayrshire Wedding Directory by someone who picked it up at the Ayrshre wedding fair at Rugby Park. Did know about it becuase i wrote the article that goes with it but was nice to be spotted.
Made myself a baked potato for dinner tonight but wasnt entirely sure how to do this. I wanted to make a real baked potato in an oven with tin foil and everything, not as i have been doing for the last few years, microwaving it and passing that off as a baked tattie. To fix the problem i had with not knowing how to do it i did what anyone does when they wan to know something. I googled it. There is a fair amount of chefs and cooks and the likes out there who can fair spina yarn about baked tatties i will tell you. To my surprise the majority tell you not to use tin foil otherwise you just steam your potato, you could know me over with a feather at that, instead they tell you to rub it with olive oil and some salt before bunging it onto the shelf for an hour and a bit. Dead easy, should have done this ages ago.
While it cooked i flung some tuna mayo and chillies together and when it was ready i ate it. This however isnt a cook book or recipe blog so i will tell you what else i did this fine monday. I went to a Killie Trust meeting then came home and watched the Scottish Fitba documentary Game for Europe while writing snarky things on facebook and drinking a bottle of March of the Penguins beer which was quite nice.
I have went over in fine detail what happened when i appeared on tv on this Tuesday here so no point rehashing it again. Just click away if you want a read. When i got home from my big night out at the BBC i had the other Christmas dinner pot noodle which was absolutely horrendous when you knew what to expect, i doused it in soy sauce though which made it taste like nothing and therefore edible. Watched myself back on the TV debate thing at night and watched as my phone lit up with the pish getting quite literally ripped out me for my appearance on tv. You have got to laugh.
The ribbing didnt stop last night, it continued at work where i was called brokeback killie for a bit on account of my check shirt. After work i took my wedding album down to my grans house to let her see it. My gran is 92 years old now and is looking well. She is one of the most remarkable people i have ever known, she has a thousand stories, sometimes she tells you ones you have heard before and sometimes you get one you havent. tonight i got both, I had heard a few times about how my grampa never actually left the mainalnd during the war, however he was on the boat to Normandy but it was called back, but she also told Natalie and I about how her dad died in 1940 and told it like it was yesterday. What a memory. Sensational woman.
Quiet day apart from the fact our wedding picture appeared in the Standard that came out today. Well last night it came out. You can get it loads of places on a Wednesday night now, i remember when it was the shop in Knockintiber you could get it first on a Wednesday, or so my dad told me….dont know if thats even true.
Went to work then headed up to Glasgow to Jongleurs for a comedy night we had booked. A wee spot of dinner and a show then entry into the nightclub in mansion house after that. After a dodgy start where the ten of us were put on table with 6 older folk who had lined themselves up along one side of the long table while we had to line ourselves up on the other (hardly good for a big company) and the table cloth was wet and minging to touch. Words were had and we got a move to a different table which was smaller and just us so better, we then got fed and turns out there was a free drink involved too. All good. Comedians were cracking, mentions to Kai Humphreys and Andrew Longmonth who were outstanding, especially Longmonth who had our table pishing ourselves and other tables wanting to harm him. His set was a bit weird. Out of the nightclubs we could have chose we picked the 80s and the dj refused to play any Wet Wet Wet.
I slept the whole journey back on the night bus which runs every hour by the way from Glasgow to Killie, last time i was out it was 1am and half 3 or something but now its more regular. Stagecoach buses or whoever are resposible should take a bow.
After dodging Ikea to go star on the telly on Tuesday we went today. Bought a couch and a bookcase type of unit and a mirror. We took the mirror home and the rest are getting delivered tomorrow. Good stuff. Also at ikea i completely dodged the hot dogs for the first time in maybe 4 years. Instead we went to MacDonalds.
The following is in no way the view of The Killie Trust as a board more the opinions and feelings of a guy who happens to be on the board.
This time last week i was sat squeezed inbetween two gentlemen, on my right as i look out, a representative of Hutchy Vale B.C. whom i am assured have produced many Scottish professional footballers over the years and on my left, Barry Richmond, chairman of the Killie Trust and who will be for the rest of this blog post be called Baz. In front of me was DUFC and national team coach Peter Houston, SPL man Neil Doncaster, SFL man David Longmuir as well as Mark Wotte the new chief of youth development and other such people making up a kind of whos who of Scottish football. We were sitting waiting on the panel of Steven Pressley, Rod Petrie, Craig Levein, Stuart Regan and Jim Traynor taking their seats in front of us so Rob Maclean could kick off the taping of Scottish Football: The Debate.
Why i was in such illustrious company? Why i was dressed so casually? I will try and explain now.
At work that afternoon i had a voicemail from Baz asking me to call him back when i got the chance, Baz is quite downbeat on an answering machine, i thought i had ballsed something up in my role as press officer/communications/social media type thing i try and do. I hadnt though, its just his telephone manner, he was calling to see if i wanted to go to this debate thing which was a follow up to Traynors documentary Match for Europe shown the night previous. Having watched the doco and commented to friends and colleagues that it was half an hour of stating the obvious, we’re rubbish, germany and holland have the right idea, grass roots football is way forward, i still decided to go.
I did delay my decision to check in with the wife, only five months married and have arsed up plans before so just made sure i hadnt committed to anything prior. I had, ikea, but i brushed that aside like the alpha male i am (agreed to give up my saturday to go instead (pussy)) and called back to confirm late afternoon.
Now at this point i was completely unaware as to what we were going to, in my mind it was going to be like Question Time with a panel and a assorted audience of varying backgrounds and a fans of several clubs. I did know it was invite only at this point, though not to the extent of its exclusivity.
With the QT idea in my head i rushed to get ready post work, pre pick up. I would normally have worn a tshirt and jeans but actually consciously chose a shirt as didnt want to seem too underdressed but in a biggish crowd it woudnt make too much of a difference anyway. Oh the irony.
The drive up we spoke of how neither of us really knew what we were going to but Baz had been filmed for a segment of the doco which was left on the cutting room floor. That footage i am sure would have given some good insight into fans views and given that it was a show about improving a product to make it more attractive to fans some input from said people was sadly lacking from the broadcast. In my mind it seemed that this was why we were asked, the interview was cut but here is an invite, in fact here is two, bring someone else. Me.
On arrival we got our visitors passes and were taken to the green room by a nice woman. Out of the car i reflected that under his overcoat Baz was dressed much like me, check shirt and jeans though he paired this classic look with shoes, im still young and trendy so i had plumped for my trainers.
We entered the green room and my heart sank, shirts, ties, blazers and brogues and nowhere near the amount of people to constitute a big QT style audience like the one in my head. We took a seat and had a quick look at the set up of where everyone would be in the studio and its at this point we realised the rarified company we were keeping.
A look at the photo above shows who was all there. It also shows that originally Baz and myself were to be behind one another over at the end as far away from panel as could be. Imagine my surprise when i got downstairs to the studio and there on the back of the seat dead centre on the back row (of two rows) John Spiers and Barry Richmond. Now i decided against pulling up the spelling error on my surname because i was excited and nervous about being in a tv studio. Plus i bottled it. Baz and i then took off our jackets to reveal the extent of our father and son style nearly matching outfits. Side by side in tablecloth glory our check shirt look seemed likely to stand out.
We were asked to say our names and how we got to the studio to test levels and our reaction to the boom mic. In hindsight given my harbouring ambitions of being a stand up i should have looked dead on down the cameras lens and told them i swam the clyde to their pacific quay building in my Calvin Klein suit and only had the attire i have on now to change into which would have both got my comedy schtick over to a new crowd as well as address the elephant in the room which was the “brokeback Killie fan” look being sported, but i never, bottled it and told them i was John Speirs and i came by car while glancing at the boom and getting a wee silent look of a telling off by the director.
The show itself came and went in a flash, there was probably as many people working behind the scenes as there was in front of it. The debate was less a debate and more a running through the ills of the game with opportunities for the panel and certain members of the audience to deliver carefully considered soundbite filled answers. Well, i presume that they were carefully considered, i also assume that they were pretold what they would be asked in order to formulate an answer, some people on our row even had notes though i guess i have no real way of knowing what those notes were. They might have been a message list for Asda (probably Sainsburys) on the way home. However one person who wasnt pretold his question, is said pretelling was done, was Baz. His came out of the blue and he did well to pull together a decent answer to the question posed.
While the show is being taped there are big tv screens showing what is been filmed (effectively the edit of the show) on the studio floor. On these I was able to see when i was in shot at any given time and watched myself wriggling around a bit. The twitching and the scratching wasnt any attempt to stand out in anyway i should add, more a reaction to the heat of being between two bigger guys and only having one bum cheek on each of the two chairs i was spread out over.
When it was done and they checked to see if the show was actually there (if for some reason it hadnt taped we would have had to have tried again, in hindsight maybe this would have been better for both halfs of the Killie Trust representation, i could have shown off some rapier wit on the sound test and Baz could have retooled his earlier answer in some way and removed the use of the term leisure dollars i would expect) we were taken back upstairs for something to eat and drink. On the way up we spoke about the shock of being put on the spot like that, i mentioned the leisure dollars thing and Baz asked me who said that, when i replied it was him he burst out laughing.
The canapes, if i can be so bold as to call them that, were great and Baz and i stood on the outside of the throng of Scottish football pressing hands and chatting earnestly. They probably all knew each other already though there did look to be a bit of networking being attempted by some in search for a bit of gravitas, if there was a baby in the green room i would suspect it would have been in danger of being kissed if you know what i mean. Feeling a little left out but reluctant to join in it was nice when a representative of The Spartans FC came to talk to us. He told us about the ownership model his club uses which was very interesting and we discussed the evening we had just experienced. We left soon after so as to be home for the screening on BBC1.
During the screening itself i dont think i have ever taken as many pelters online and through text and phone calls about anything in my life before. The wardrope malfunction was a keen talking point as on the 19in tv in my bedroom our bright shirts stood out a mile. Looking back on my facebook timeline it was mostly about the shirts, the rest of the discussion was actually about Scottish football and points raised in the debate, looks like i will be giving the SFA a month to approach us to donate the shirts to the museum at Hampden or i will have to torch mine for fear of putting it on to go out without realising and someone digging me up about it when out.
All in all it was a great experience and i was chuffed to bits to be involved in something with so many important people. Personally i think we might have been a bit stitched up and put dead centre in order to give the impression of two ordinary punter fans (in the broadcast Baz had his name come up on the screen as he spoke describing him as Kilmarnock fan rather than as Killie Trust Chairman as he was invited as) maybe it was naivity on our part to underestimate the importance and exclusivity of the debate or maybe it wasnt. All in all it was a nice bit of exposure for our Trust and got people talking about Scottish football. I enjoyed it, Jim Spence said hello to me.