Tag Archives: Glasgow

Innovation overload

Here at Word Up HQ, the boss lady has been in a mood. Aye, there’s been much sulking and petting of lips. This recent emotional discombobulation is partly due to the seasonal shift – autumn’s settling its cloak of many colours over central Scotland, and that covering includes the steely skies of a rain-drenched September, signalling some

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Potential potential

Peak scaling, ladder climbing, podium mounting. Hell, even ruling the world. Must be brilliant being a young person in these heady ain’t-no-mountain-high-enough times. Apparently, each and every bairn, tween and teen has it in them to bulldoze barriers of class, circumstance and even apathy to reach for the stars when it comes to fulfilling their inbuilt potential. Good

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All aboard

There’s nothing weird about me. My transport of choice would hardly rank me high on the slightly strange register. Would it? Apparently, yes. Judging by the perplexed/”you’re kidding?” reaction I regularly witness, you’d think I’d done something very distasteful or outré indeed, but the social faux pas in question is using the bus. Seems that the very thought

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Silence is olden

Wrinkles, a spare tire, sag and spread. A light sprinkling of liver spots, the sprouting of some rather robust facial hair, a pair of creaky knees, a brace of aching hips, and the distinct droop of a once proud embonpoint. Another year is about to pass into the history books, adding another chapter to the litany of advancing

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Sector sectarianism

Taking sides. We all do it. And we Scots have got our side-taking skills down to a fine art. Fence-sitters we ain’t. We love a good rammy, a ding-dong, and a heated debate. We’ll argue ’til we’re blue (or indeed, green) in the fizzog, and stick to our side of the story long after the

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Brand Bowie

I blame David Bowie. For everything. For the record, it’s not just The Thin White Duke I’m pointing the finger at. Nope. Let’s not forget Joe Strummer, Bob Marley, Lux Interior, Phil Lynott and Poly Styrene to name but a few prime candidates. It’s all their fault. All their fault that I am the way

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Watch the birdie, wimmin

Photo courtesy Elaine Livingstone Photography Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the feministest of them all? Sorry sistas, but it’s certainly not me. Not this month, anyway. It pains and shames me to ‘fess up, but it looks like I might not register quite as highly on the sisterhood solidarity scale as I’d always

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Expletives for entrepreneurs

I love a good swear word, so I do, ya ***t. Yup, I’m a big fan of the Glesga vernacular, splattered as it so often is with spectacular swearies. Okay, sometimes the sheer scale of the effing and blinding is right over the top – 19 mentions of the “c” word in one short paragraph

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Leader of the pack

I am a leader. Apparently. I am a leader amongst women. Yup. Hey! Don’t knock it. This leadership stuff is rather intoxicating, I’m beginning to see the appeal of rampant megalomania. And anyway, I s’pose as a captain of industry (ahem), I am a leader of sorts. But as a sole trader “take me to

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A solid state of mind

It’s no laughing matter. Getting sick when you’re running your own business, that is. Touch wood, cross fingers and rub a rabbit’s foot but in the year since embarking on the insanity that is self-employment I have been tickety-boo healthwise. In fact, I have been feeling a whole lot better in body and mind since

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