teenie

Anyone?

Ummm, dat wid be me Pronto, being as how I wid hae tae drive up and doon past it each and every day of me life. I agree we dee in theory about the point you make aboot Shetland having some "control" over the project. I do not, however, feel it should go ahead at the level and scale it stands at. For one I have major reservations about the amount of time money and effort it will take to get the great and windy factory they propose off the ground and spinning so to speak. HOW do we ken that the project is viable in its present form? Yeah, I have read the figures and it all neatly ties up into a glorious green package but I would be much, much happier if they would trial the bl**dy thing first. Its an awful lot of money, risk and upheaval to take place based on some projections. I am afraid, for me, the figures dunna add up. Secondly, I live in a bit oh Shetland where I will, unfortunately, be surrounded by the twirling things. Yeah, they say they have "cut back" the project by a "substantial percentage" (ahem), but I still think it is too much too soon. As for fears regarding the fact oh we should get in their first before we get turned into a stationary wind factory by faceless companies coming up here to harness wir natural windyness (nae farts included in the proposals so far), I say we should stop fearing. Lewis has succesfully deflected a bid to have a great muckle monstrosity of a windfarm on their Isle and I think we should concern ourselves we the same. If we have to have it, lets think about the project in a rational manner and think about what would fit with wir natural environment. I fail to see how the Windylights project takes this into account, or fits in, no matter how muckle spin and boanny pictures they use on their booklets. God I could go on and on for days and days and probably spik meself roond in circles aboot this carryon. Viva la Lang Kames -

Burn baby burn...school book inferno...burn baby burn - Oh yeah. Happy firestarting!

- Yup, i would agree with you entirely on that one. If any of you happen to me near st andrews buy a copy of the new "student" magazine that has just made the light of day - The Andie. Will give you a good idea of what Mario - (and me in my ranting meanders) - is trying to describe. Oh how i will miss this interesting little microcosm of yah-ville. Right, sorry guys - i have gone sufficently off topic for today p.s. The Andie should be condemned to room 101 and burnt!

And then you can do a Phd if you really want to and spend another three years "thinking" about what your gonna do after that! Then go travelling, and think for another few years! Well done on finishing High school mate, i remember (vaguely cos it was a loooooong long time ago) feeling relief mixed with sort of "oh S**t" - because you have made it to the end of the conveyor belt system that has been your life in education since the tender age of five, and your like OH F**K - what am i going to do with meself! Take some time out, give yourself a pat on the back, and go have a beer or three - then burn your books and dance with glee in the moonlight! Three cheers for JA Stewart - Hip Hip.... P.S. ANY i REPEAT ANY careers officer / guidance teacher that tells you ya must go straight into uni, or it will all end in tears, is a darned liar. Dont you be forced into more education right away unless you are sure that is what you want - take a well earned break fae academia my friend.

"OR is your annoyance more to do with the uncomfortable realisation that deep, deep down in your soul you actually want to be like them - to have what they have and be part of that exclusive scene that transcends even the frivolous and vacuous culture of celebrity in terms of lifestyle? Weekends in Monaco, wintering in Venice with a few of your old public school chums and doing whatever you like, for the rest of your life. " - Well Ally, i get what you say, but my annoyance is in regards to their rudeness. Rich, oh yeah, they are, and i have spent four years watching them ski during reading week, pop off to California after exams, whizz down to the country estate whenever they feel like it, phone daddy for an extra four hundred quid to buy a new ball gown etc etc etc - and this isna really what bugs me. I dunna really care about the money, as long as i have enough to put a roof over me head and go on holiday occassionally i will prevail...what DOES bug the living deevil oota me is there distinct and total lack of manners - (AND the fact they call anyone with even a hint of a Socttish accent a "Ned" - had a great argument regarding this fact with one of the rugby lads in a pub one night, whereupon i offered to take him to Kirkton or Mid in Dundee and let him see firsthand what a real Ned is) I know some exceedingly posh totty, and what separates them from the rest of the ignorant little cretins is the fact they are well brought up. One of me best male pals went to Eton, and by all accounts has led a charmed and privaleged life - but he KNOWS manners. He has time for people, and that's what counts. Also i have found time and time again during my forays into having to live round the "upper" (nutter) classes that they ain't happy Ally. Not really, a large part of them were whacked into boarding school at a hideously young age (e.g. 5/6 years old), they saw their parents at holidays and were the fashionable accessories to the latest Prada outfit. They spent their lives having money chucked at them, and being dragged around the international "sets" estates, mansions and mountain villas...spending more time with the Nanny and the "help" then their own blood. On the face of it, they are "happy" but deep down they are miserable, they lead a shallow meaningless vacuous life, and all they are set to do is breed the next generation of money making / keeping machines. They must marry into money, or at least keep their own. I had a conversation we one of these privaleged kids last week, and she was so excited at the fact her mum and dad were flying in for a night - one night - to spend some "quality time" with her - it was the first time she would have spoken to them properly in around four months. I would not swap all the money in the universe, all the privalages of that lifestyle, for the experiences of my own childhood. They can keep their money Ally baby, they can wallow at the highest end of society till the end of time and i would not once, ever, wish to be in their shoes - for they have no real life. Oh they will make more money in one week then i could ever hope to scrape in three months of slogging me guts oot, but they dont know happiness honey, and that my little love, is why i will never EVER deep down in my soul wish to be like them. Okkkkkkkay, it is I who have had too much coffee today! I realise i may get ripped apart for making points which could, at best, be termed sweeping generalisations. But I only comment on my own experience of knowing those who shake it with the "jet set". Jeez Louise...off to have a herbal tea and try and deal with the jitters.

^^^^^ ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH. OR those bleeding self-service checkout things, with the "Please place the item in the bagging area" - most annoying voice in history...please place the item in the bagging area....have you scanned or swiped your club card????? Makes me want to head butt the machine.

^^^^ i may try that twerto, will let you ken how that one goes!!!!

Yahs princesses - pashmina wearing, white teethed, bright orange, ignorant little females who talk loudly on their mobiles as they are in the tescoes queue in front of you (buying moet and a bag of salad). The yah princess will continue to talk loudly on the phone ("oh yah, yah, eh-kay, yah, no, no, tilly cant make it tonight for supper, no, no, tarquin got caught sh***ing felicity again...yah...yah...).....THEN she'll spend five minutes searching her purse for daddys plastic (after making the "help" - i.e. checkout person, pack their bag of two items) - and of course this is ALWAYS at five p.m. when you have spent all day in the library and you hit tescoes when each queue is around twenty people deep. The Yah Princess will continue to talk loudly whilst trying to pick up the bl**dy bag and enter her PIN number at the same time....THEN she will spend an extra few minutes discussing the menu for this evenings "supper" (which you know will involve pigeon, vension and swathes of caviar) - at the end of the sodding checkout (ignoring you as you try to begin dealing with the three million items you have to pack up)....because she is soooooo important. She will exit tescoes with a swish of pashmina and air kiss all who come within a five feet radius of her (particularly if they are well connected Euro Trash, a rugger b*gger or a JYA of similarly tanned straightened variety and an "old money" family from the cotton plantations of the US of A....grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. (Methinks i have been to long in St Andrews and perhaps, just perhaps are becoming "intolerant" in my old age). Moderators feel free to delete this if you fear you may be sued fir slander....but i had to share that and get it off me chest! PIP PIP!

Methinks it is priceless poolhaddock, priceless, get the tin, get on the phone and see how much they would be willing to pay you, ooooh a strip of land in the borders and a title or three i think! Maybe even your own Island somewhere...

I am in agreement with fair Yowe, anybody out there harbouring the odd tin or two of creamola foam you must come forward. It is a matter of national security / pride / morale!!! We owe it to the generations to come to have a hangover cure that is foamy and sparkly and by jeez better than having to drink Berocca (which saves you from the depths of hungover despair, but to be frank doesn't taste half as good and actually makes your wee look radioactive)... Oh imagine, imagine the JOY the GLEE the sheer FANTASTICALLNESS (i ken its no a word but it soonds good) if we could have it remarketed!!!!! RIGHT...calm down girl calm down. Am actually slavering at the thought of a nice pint of creamola foam

^^^^^ Classic! Sure its the way ya tell em,

Sweetie you need to get out more 8O

Dude seriously, i'm blushing for dee.