Tag Archives: Scottish

Happy talk

Happiness, huh? Totally overrated if you ask me. Truth told, I’m a crabbit old cow. My natural state of grump has been embedded even more deeply lately by the omnipresence of the happiness industry. Even a cursory glance through certain social media platforms or a skim of the self-help section in your local bookshop confirms our apparently limitless search

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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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Ego chamber

My closest relationship involves a never-ending battle of wills. Don’t worry, this ain’t no agony aunt stuff. This month’s wordy shizzle is all about the struggle to achieve, and maintain, a firm sense of self despite a ceaseless egotistical ebb and flow. You know how it goes. One day you’re a world conqueror, the next you’re

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Awkward squad

You’d think I’d know better. After more than half a century of this mortal coil, anyone might think that I, a middle aged, middle class proper professional person of the female persuasion, am far too grown up and sensible to still be flicking the V to certain parts of society. Well, d’you know what? Bugger that.

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Pressure drop

Flat on my face. That’s where I’m going to end up if I don’t regain some perspective, pronto. Pride usually comes before a fall, after all. For a couple of weeks now, I have been well and truly failing to practice what I preach. Oh aye, I can pontificate from a lofty pedestal with the

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A swinging sporran

Getting on a bit is bobbins, intit? You’d think this much would be obvs, given the amount of coverage devoted on these here pages for my 50th birthday just a few short weeks ago. But even I, in my full-on in denial mode, am forced to admit, that technically, I am no longer in the

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I’m alright, Jock

The fairy dust was sprinkled about liberally. As was the laughter. Yup, greasepaint, bright lights and the roar of the crowd were much in evidence at The Word Up Wean’s place of learning this week. We watched on in admiration as the brave souls of P6 & 7 wowed us, their adoring audience, with their

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Wanna be in my band of believers?

Belief breaks my heart. Or, more accurately, the lack of it. In one week alone I have witnessed two smashing specimens of Scottishness show a really saddening lack of self-belief. One didn’t even want to big up his business. A business, by the way, which is well worth shouting about. I’m far from the full

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