Well I never. It’s here already, 2019.
Goodness, to think how I graduated in 1984, flitted away the rest of the 80’s, 90’s and early 21st century thinking about getting a career before finally flopping for the floristry business. And now, at the heady age of 56, I’m starting all over again as a somewhat writer, bistrot owner and born-again gambler.
It’s only been an ok year I’m afraid, with the only obvious highlight in me being still alive at its close. The very definite low point was in spending the night in a bush at Glenrothes Bus Station. Ironically, it fell after my second interview to become a Scottish Blue Badge Tour Guide and I think that they might well have made the right call in rejecting me. Albeit, this was a novel experience for sure but, I expect, would not a high seller on the tours front.
Glenrothes may well indeed have something to offer, but not that hedge adjacent to the bus station.
But onwards. First of all my predictions for 2019 as they’re always fun. Ok here we go.
May ousted, second referendum and No Brexit, Javid leader, Trump oot, Corbyn oot, Man City Premier, Wales to win 6 Nations Rugby and World Cup, Matt Wallace The Open, Tiger The Masters, Yankees Superbowl, a stock market crash, Boris caught with his troosers doon, Nigel Farage to win Strictly and have a short spell in the White House before becoming Mayor of London and possibly more unbearable than Piers Morgan. A rather nice eaterie opens in Murrayfield Place, One For Arthur wins the National, Skitter Scatter in the 1000 Guineas and that Van der whats-his-name wins the Darts again.
I will be giving cumulative odds of 230 to 1 on this and let’s say the book is now very much open. Please send your cash (min bet £100) to my bank asap.
My punting this year has a hundred per cent success rate may I say, albeit there’s only been one bet. I suppose it’s a bit like me birdying the first on the Old. Hypothetically of course, as I’ve never actually birdied the first on The Old. Has anyone?
Anyway the issues in my last post over Mourinho at Manchester United have been rectified by the new manager, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, who has shown the utmost common sense in putting the best players on the pitch. However, he is now being hailed as some kind of football super-hero guru, when in my estimation it wasn’t like, rocket science.
But I imagine the fans are singing wildly at Old Trafford now and so they should be.
But my worst fears are that it may be along the lines of,
‘Ole Ole, Ole Ole Ole, Ole, Ole …… ad finitum’
But I am such a cynic in these matters.