Greetings from near Pitlochry where I am trying out the WordPress application on my iPhone en route back from Edinburgh.

I feel should be doing something to celebrate this advancement in blogging technology, but there’s not a lot you can do on a hot, packed train with a dog sitting on your feet and a screaming kid opposite.

Ah well, not long until I get home and meet Niall, who is back from his rig and passing through Inverness for the night.

To pass the time before I get back to some work, here’s a wee anecdote I copied and pasted earlier.

While delayed for a couple of hours before going to Shetland, Nicole and I were sitting in a cafe at Aberdeen airport when we noticed a bit of a ruckus going on near us. A group of young guys were being accosted by various passengers and even airport staff who were keen to get autographs and photos.

Their attire, demeanour and the way they’d spontaneously start shaking their limbs to some silent rhythm, as if they were epileptics on dope, suggested to me they were dancers or rap artists of some sort. With their unnecessarily dark sunglasses, dreadlocks and self-confident swaggers, I wondered if it was perhaps even a support group for blind Rastafarians on the hip replacement waiting list.

Nicole and I had no idea what the fuss was about until they were all shepherded away by some officials, and as they moved past us I noticed they had badges on them which said “Britain’s Got Talent on Tour”.

Even though neither of us have a TV we are sadly not impervious to the dirge that is Britain’s Got Talent, and I vaguely recall that a Gordon Brown lookalike lost out in the final to a spoilt brat and a gang of street dancers.

This must have been them, I figured. What were they called? Diversity, or So Solid Juniors, or ^R-Selvz or something like that.

Good on them, though, and I hope their fifteen minutes are fun while they last until they break up and enter a lives of drugs and crime. Or, more likely, insurance or accountancy.

Needless to say, they didn’t recognise me.

Not that they let on, anyway.

2 thoughts on “Waiting

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