Head Rambles

Grandad December 15th, 2007

I am going through a very bad time at the moment.

So much to do and so little time to do it.

I am being pulled four ways at the moment - home, business, blogging and The Book.  At least one of them has to suffer.

Business is kind of mad at the moment.  I was trying to wind that down a bit, but it seems every day, I get a call from someone new wanting me to take on more stuff.  This Silver Haired Internet Technology thing started as a laugh but it is beyond a joke now.  I am working flat out at it, but for each project I finish, I find two new ones to replace it.  I can’t tell them to go away, because I want to go to France next year, and I need the money.

Blogging is fun.  But because it’s fun it is having to take a back seat.  I feel bad about that because I don’t have time to leave comments, and comments are a lot of what it’s all about.  I have been tagged again [*sigh*] but it’s an interesting tag so I intend to do it.  Sometime.  It needs a bit of thought which is why I can’t just lash off a bit of drivel.  And I don’t really have time to write stuff for my own blog.  I’m actually typing this with my toes, while I do other things with my hands.  It’s that bad.

Then there is The Book.  That, to me is the most important at the moment.  I always wanted to write a book, but it was one of those dreams, like climbing Mount Everest, that I always assumed wouldn’t happen.  Now that it has come down to it, it is a lot harder that I expected.

The other night, herself wanted a bedtime story, so I read her the first few chapters.  She was delighted.  Last night, she wanted more, so I started reading out the next bit, and realised that I had gone horribly wrong.  I couldn’t read it out it sounded so bad.  So that is a lot of work to be deleted.  Bugger.  Knickers.  More work.

So, you see, something has to suffer.  Apart from me.

So it has to be the blogging…………

• Rambles , The Book , work
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Grandad December 7th, 2007

Being a celebrity is really hard work.

The hardest part is fighting off all the beautiful young women who insist on crawling all over me.

Elaine [Head of the Grandad Fan Club]

It is difficult at my age.

Here I am chatting up Maura McGrath of Jenerate [who sponsored the Blog bit] and I have a furious Glenda about to thump me for ignoring her. I can’t win.

But that damned smoking law isn’t going to spoil my night.

Of course, as soon as I had a spider in my hand, it was too much for Elaine, and she was back. [The other bloke is Cully by the way, not Liam Neeson's son]

At this stage I was getting really worried.  There was another approaching from behind me with a huge tarantula crawling out of her cleavage.

With three spiders, we got a little rowdy, but that was before the band struck up.  They would have drowned out a Shuttle Launch.  Incidentally, the very sophisticated young lady seated beside me is K8 the GR8.

It was a bit wild, because Elaine was also celebrating getting her Masters exams that day, and also I had just signed the book deal.

Frankly, I was glad to get back to the peace and quiet of the mountains.  I could take off that ridiculous suit, get back into my old jeans and jumper and my wooly hat and try to live the life of an anonymous celebrity in the bogs.

• Getting old , Rambles , The Book
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Grandad November 28th, 2007

Laptop: You think you’re fucking great.

Me: What?

Laptop: You and your fucking award. You think you’re the dog’s bollix.

Me: What are you on about?

Laptop: It’s only a cheap lump of metal. You’re swanning around like it’s a Nobel Prize. Ya big headded git. Fucking spider me arse!

Me: You’re just jealous because you didn’t get one.

Laptop: Jayzus! You wouldn’t have gotten it without me.

Me: How do you work that out?

Laptop: You honestly think you would win with that turgid crap that you type? No way, baby! The only reason you won is because I take your maudlin bullshit, spruce it up a bit and add a bit of humour. Don’t flatter yourself.

Me: Good. You can help me with the book then.

Laptop: Book? What book?

Me: The one I’m going to write.

Laptop: Oh fuck! Don’t make me laugh! You, write a book? So what is the title of this great work then?

Me: I was thinking of “PMS, I love you”.

Laptop: What the fuck……? What kind of book is this going to be?

Me: A sort of cross between Cecelia Ahern and Kerry Katona?

Laptop: Oh Christ!

Me: It’ll be great. everyone will want to read it.

Laptop: Yeah! And everyone will want barbed wire shoved up their hole!

Me: Do you have to be so coarse all the time?

Laptop: Me? Coarse? You’ll have to think a lot coarser than that if you want to write like Kerry Katona. And you are going to have to dumb things down a hell of a lot. If that’s possible.

Me: Are you saying I’m dumb?

Laptop: Listen, Kid. You are dumb. But compared to those two, you are fucking Einstein.

Me: So what are we going to do about it?

Laptop: You just fuck off to bed. I’ll have the first ten chapters ready when you get up tomorrow.

Me: Thanks.

Laptop: Don’t mention it, Old Sport.

• The Book , computers
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Grandad November 23rd, 2007

Last night I mixed the grain and the grape, which is something they say you should never do.

They’re right. Whoever ‘they’ are.

I have a slight hangover.

Yesterday was a little cause for celebration. And for those of you who think I’ve gone all American and am talking about Thanksgiving, I’m not.

-oOo-

I got an email recently.

Its subject line was “Would you be interested in writing a book?”

Very f*cking funny! TAT is in the habit of making hoax phone calls and sending e-mails, and this looked just like one of his. I binned it.

Later, I went back to it, just out of curiosity. I did some checking. It didn’t come from TAT’s mail. So I replied to it and asked what they really wanted.

They wrote back and said they wanted a book. They seemed to be sane. They seemed to be serious. They even had a website, and I had heard of them.

They eventually persuaded me they were serious. They really do want me to write a book. I told them they were mad.

I told them I knew nothing about writing books. They said that it was easy, and that they had read Head Rambles and I could do it. So I told them that that was like saying that I could climb Killiney Hill, therefore I could climb Everest. They told me not to be daft. I threw a hissy fit because everyone one knows that authors are allowed to be temperamental.

So the e-mails started flying backwards and forwards. I began to hear about New Title Meetings and stuff like that. It was all rather surreal.

Then they sent me a contract. It was full of stuff about copyright and circulation rights and film rights. The last bit worried me in case they decided to cast Tom Cruise in the part of Grandad. I couldn’t have that. I hate the little w*nk*r. So I had to insist on a ‘No Tom Cruise’ clause.

Yesterday, I signed the contract.

This means a lot of changes in my life.

I have to start drinking heavily. I have to start calling people ‘Daarling’. I have to adopt an air of mysterious indifference in company. I have to learn to spell. I might even persuade Herself to let me buy a new laptop as this one is getting stroppy.

Of course, the ultimate would be an invite onto the Late Late, where I would insist on calling Kenny ‘Plank’ all the time. But I can’t see that happening.

It’s all a bit weird and mind blowing.

I only have one problem now…….

What the f*ck am I going to write about?

-oOo-

Last night, I went to the Golden Spiders thingy, with K8 the GR8.

First they poured the wine into us, but I’m not really a wine person so I went onto the Guinness [that turned out to be a mistake].

Then K8 and I went out for a smoke and got chatting to a bloke. I told him I knew I’d seen his face somewhere before and asked him who he was. He didn’t seem too pleased with this as he was the host for the night - Jason Byrne. I told him who I was and he then realised he was in the presence of one of The Greats, so all was well.

We found we were sharing a table with Cully of Cully and Sully fame. I had already met Sully, so it was nice to complete the set. And he had brought a bevy of beautiful women, and I had the beautiful K8 with me so we were already attracting a bit of attention.

After dinner, Jason Byrne and Glenda Gilsen came on and they presented the awards.

When they called out Head Rambles for best blog, I must admit I was very surprised, but delighted because I fancied a chance to grope Glenda Gilsen.

So I hopped up on the stage, made an improper suggestion to Glenda and got her phone number. That’s why she is looking so pleased.

Then Cully and Sully won their category, and then they won the Grand Prix.

So our table ended up with three spiders. An arachnophobe’s nightmare.

Our table was mobbed with well wishers and groupies, and Cully bought loads of champagne. People kept asking to see my pipe [?] and everyone wanted to be photographed with three spiders. They tried to interview me for television, but when they asked my opinion of the Golden Spider Awards, I got a fit of the giggles and told them about the Golden Crab Awards. I don’t think they’ll televise that.

Then the ‘entertainment’ came on.

Jayzus!!!!!!

I have heard Concorde take off. The ‘group’ were three times as loud and not as melodic. I was deafened, and all conversation ceased. K8 and I resorted to passing notes.

We went home then, and I had a large whiskey to calm the nerves.

I have to decide today what to do with my spider. Herself doesn’t like spiders, and she won’t have it in the house.

I might plant it in the garden to frighten off stray cats.

• Cully & Sully , Rambles , The Book
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