Profit margin and piles of dosh. The principle drivers for all businesses, everywhere. Apparently. Me? I’m not so sure. I’ve got a complicated relationship with monetary matters, and simply cannot get excited about only being in business to make moolah. For me, bringing in the greenbacks is only part of the entrepreneurial picture, I simply could not
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The Last Word blog comes straight from the heart of WORD UP.
In our irregular online offering, we aim to please, entertain, and be brutally honest in our musings on small biz, the ageing process, and life. But we sometimes raise hackles and spark off debate, so feel free to join in, or fire back if you don’t like what you read.
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The Blog
It’s an emotional business being a sole trader. In a good year there’s plenty of highs, but the tough stuff can be hard to handle when you’re a solo flyer with no colleagues or partners to share the weight with or to dust you down when you’ve fallen on your small business bahookie. Perversely, it’s
Don’t look back in anger. Or so goes the Oasis song. And they’ve got a point. For the sake of our our mental health it’s probably not a good idea to dwell on the past. Maybe more of us should open those cupboards and let the skeletons loose. Maybe we ought to find ways to forgive those
Never mind some lighthearted digital chitchat, folks, this time it’s serious. Lately I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about God. But if you reckon you’re about to get some profound spiritual enlightenment, you’re probably barking up the wrong blog. The extent of my involvement with the holy father begins and ends with singing along at the top of my
It’s such fun being friends with a legend. My pal’s not a rockstar, footballer or A-list celeb. He’s not a soap star, an Oscar winner, a prince or a pin-up. He’s not even a household name. But my mate’s got legendary status in our wee corner of Glasgow, everyone knows who he is. What’s more, this ain’t
Sole trading soulsters will know exactly where I’m coming from when I borrow a line from the Reverend Al Green. Basically, folks, I’m so tired of being alone. Apologies for hackneyed plagiarism of a simply stunning and much-loved song, but it turns out that the quiet contentment of ploughing one’s own furrow was wearing a bit thin. It’s
Praise be, this year’s nearly over. Dunno about you, dear reader, but can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the back of 2017. Boy, it’s been weird. Good riddance to an annus discombobulous, say I. Come Hogmanay, I’ll be joining in with Big Ben’s bongs (which have been temporarily brought out of their campanological silence,
Prepare yourselves, peeps. What you’re about to witness is some classic Word Up contrariness. Breathe deep and get ready for a spot of mind-melting as I try to explain the ever-tightening web of confusion I find myself wrapped up in. But before I go further, please be aware that every single word cast here in ever-lasting digital stone comes
Dolly Parton’s been on my mind a lot lately. And why not? Not only is the diminutive Dolly a global superstar and miracle of modern cosmetic science, but she’s a champion of children’s literacy and a damn fine songstress to boot. Not that she needs any help in the production department (musical variety), but I
