Gordon Brown in Kirkcaldy

So, Gordon Brown visited Kirkcaldy today.
The town he grew up in.
So he's not going to be convinced by:
the shiny shiny litter free streets
the jolly happy people
the spirit of joy captured by the marching band

But still, nice to make the effort. Security at its finest: bin bags over bins. Without meaning to be picky, could a potential assassin/terrorist wanting to place a device in a bin possibly overcome a binbag? Maybe not. Maybe if they see a bin bag over a bin they move onto the next one, then the next one, then the next one, then get narked and give up the whole idea and have a cup of tea and a piece of shortbread instead. Maybe.

There was much muttering of "last time you'll see him as PM".

Yes, because the people of Kirkcaldy are really going to vote for anyone else. The last tory vote in Kirkcaldy was recorded in 1765.

The choices of the candidates will be:

Sonny Somebody from the Liberals.
Thingy Smugbutquite-Scared from the Tories
GORDON BROWN, your local Prime Minister
Weirdy Funny Party Candidate from a party that you've never heard of
You wouldn't sleep if you voted for the BNP candidate
Oh that one. What's UKIP all about again?
ISN'T SCOTLAND NICE?? Scottish McScot from the Lovely SNP.

So, two candidates have a fighting chance, and 90% of the voters (aka 16% of the entitled to vote population) just trog on down and stamp their X next to Labour Regardless.

I know who I want as PM, and it annoys the HELL out of me that if I can't just vote for him. No, I can vote for a candidate, and if he/she doesn't win this seat, my vote counts for NOTHING.

Bah.

I am sorry to say that if I had bumped into Snr Brown in Kirkcaldy today, my actions would have been sycophantic. And I may have told a big fib. But I didn't bump into him.

Why Jeremy Hardy is funnier than me

Tonight I saw Jeremy Hardy, which was a very unusual thing to happen in Kirkcaldy, but it happened all the same and he was marvellous. He looks, bizarrely, a bit like Holly Johnson, with a hint of Dale Winton from the side, then he does his big grin and he looks just like himself and rather gorgeous. Which is not a term applied to either of the aforementioned. He does have the best grin ever.

Ah yes, relevance: he was extremely funny, and very entertaining for two hours. Hurrah for value for money. I saw him, I think, two years ago and he was very good then. He is topical and outspoken without being remotely offensive. Clever, witty act. I'm cringing a bit on his observations of bloggers and their sheer inanity, but I did laugh and laugh.

My inner child would like to protest: I have made some genuine friends that have taken a liking to the drivel I write online.

I'm feeling a little blooo however.

For one, I may have had an evening out, but noone told my hair. So when it came to time to get ready and I tried to coax it into submission, it mutinied. stating "Whoa, woman, are you a trained hairdresser? No, I thought not. What are you doing? Why are you disturbing my lank tangled ways? Do you think this is 2005 or something? Get a grip and get back in that kitchen" so it took me out looking a bit bedraggled. The right side relented and went into quite cute curls, the left side simply wasn't up for a night out and did its best to achieve the Real Bedhead look (ie, the "goodness you need a shower" look).

Secondly, I hate being 33. I have hated being 33 since approximately one week before my 33rd birthday, compounded by actually having flu on said birthday. It's a rubbish age, it's such a nothing age, it's not old, it's not young. This is not a new discovery, but listening to Jeremy Hardy, who expresses the things I'd like to be able to think, I feel extremely young and inexperienced. Yet I find young people an alien species, they make me feel past it and shrivelled. It's very disconcerting feeling like a small child most of the time interspersed with feeling like I should be pensioned off.

33 doesn't even know what it is, is it early or mid thirties? At least with 34 you know you are definitely talking mid thirties, which is more definable.

To clarify: Early 30s are 30, 31, 32; mid thirties, 34, 35, 36; late thirties, 37, 38, 39. Where does 33 go? 33 is neither early nor mid, it doesn't know where it is, clinging to the youthfulness of 30, or maturely accepting the inevitability of 35. No, it swings back and forth between the two, being nothing. 34 is nearly 35, which is something, 33 is nothing other than nearly 34. What use is that? 23 has the same problems but 23 is undoubtedly young. By 43 I hope to have grown up and may even be able to talk to people. It's just stupid limbo age, 33. Grr. Roll on January.

Talking of which, winter is arriving, I love it :-)

Jeremy Hardy in the sticks

Jeremy Hardy is playing on my doorstep. Literally. He's quite little so he can in fact do this.

Actually, that's not too far from the truth, he is performing at the Adam Smith Theatre, KIRKCALDY later this month, which is about five mins from my doorstep.

I'm quite beside myself with joy. I am. See, that's me, right there, sitting next to me looking rather happy. Deliriously so in fact.

In Kirkcaldy, I can hardly believe it.

This is part of Kirkcaldy's Comedy Festival, making Kirkcaldy the "laughter capital of Scotland". Because it will be better than comedy festivals in, picking a town at random, Edinburgh? Uh huh.

My 100th post

How nice, I feel I should celebrate.

Woo.

That's me all celebrated out now.

I want to have a general moan, except I've forgotten the chief thing I want to moan about. How annoying.

I'll have a wee rant about estate agents. Mine, specifically. Would it not be correct to assume that in a time when houses are selling poorly, that it would be prudent to market extra carefully and not, perhaps, miss out the big selling points of a property and when asked to take new improved pictures, to sit on the pictures for a week, then put up substandard pictures that do no favours to the subject? Like, if you're being paid to sell something, an attempt to sell would be nice? Or perhaps keep in contact with the sellers? Not apparently so for Remax, Kirkcaldy. I am seriously unimpressed. At present I am trying to get my spare keys back as there has been noone to view it in months, and it's a pain not having spares. But replying to emails is too hard apparently. Obviously they're snowed under with all the houses that are sitting endlessly on the market. I want a sale! I need a garden! They're a bargain just now! "We want a quick sale" did not compute apparently, he's "trying to get us the best price". No, we'd like A price. Seven months now. Seven. Three viewers, two of which were bogus. Well done!

Grrrr.

That'll be all, that's eclipsed all the other bad things in my mind.

CNPS failure

Yesterday was the first day with no numberplate. Well, clearly as I was out and about, I saw several, but not one single 26. And I think I've done all my being out today so that's THREE DAYS of nothing.

Sigh. I was doing so well as well.

Anyone in the Kirkcaldy area that has a 26 reg, please let me know where you park.

edit: it was not three days, it was 2. I got 25 on Sat, then nothing on Sunday or Monday. Counting's hard you know.