Funny old things, humans. So simple and yet so utterly perplexing. Head-scratching and marvelling at human behaviour is one of my favourite pastimes, but I remain baffled at how some folks simply cannot evolve and adapt. And just when you think there are signs of real social progress, people go and do something a bit daft. It’s
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Tag Archives: small business
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
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
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
Most of the Word Up year is spent in a heid birlin’, plate spinning, perpetual motion state. If Word Up’s working life was animated, it would give cartoon legend the Road Runner a sprint for his small business money. Admittedly, there’s no Wily E. Coyote hot on my heels, but much of my self-employed existence is
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
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.
Choked up, streaming eyes, gasping for breath… No, dear hearts, not evidence of the widespread January lurg, or the intro to a tedious “sickness and small business” saga. These, my dears, are simply the symptoms of helpless and hysterical laughter. You know, the kind that’s utterly impossible to get a grip of. The kind that has
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
