GOOD news for us wokies. The president of that well-known pit of leftiness, the Girls’ School Association, has said in a speech to her fellow heidies that they should actively challenge those who “dismiss this generation as woke, being part of a cancel culture or snowflakes.”
A WEEK ago, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Malala Yousafzai tweeted pictures of her wedding day: Two young people looking at one another with so much hope for their futures, standing against the fiery redness of the autumn leaves. His eyes were kind, hers at peace.
I DIDN’T wake up on Saturday planning to, but three hours later I found myself slipping through the mud, jumping over puddles in the sheeting rain at Glasgow's Kelvingrove Park waiting, along with several thousand people for the climate march to begin. I had planned on vacuuming, tidying and a bit of cushion-plumping. You know, the usual middle-aged, Covid Saturday fare. The kids were away and I had the house to myself but some days you surprise yourself – those are the best days.
“CAN ye no’ take a joke?” alongside the faux crumpled, offended face. How many times have we encountered this in the workplace or in social settings?
IN an intense rivalry that could easily put the Old Firm in the shade, two giants of the cricketing world, India and Pakistan, squared up to each other on Sunday in the Men’s T20 Cricket World Cup in the UAE. Pakistan in their trademark emerald green, and India in a Rangersy royal blue.
AS we come blinking out of the Covid restrictions, with or without our vaccine passports, there is a concern, continuously voiced by police and security experts, that the boredom associated with the long months in lockdown will have proven to be fertile ground for those seeking to radicalise vulnerable people online.
Global icon and singer Adele is one of those people you wished you were good mates with. You could imagine sitting around with her and the girls, laughing loudly, telling rude jokes, lots of swearing and a bit of not-really-inhaling, chain smoking.
A couple of months ago a close friend looked me square in the eye and told me, after three years of unemployment, he was “utterly useless”. I noticed the creases around his eyes seemed deeper than before, his posture slightly crumpled and his demeanour awkward.
WHAT would Malcolm Tucker have made of it? Front page on the Daily Telegraph – the red hair, the recalcitrant but impervious face and slender fingers holding an extra long fag, poised for a long, thoughtful drag.
THEY are back. Like an unwelcome, alt-right, second cousin twice removed who lives abroad but who thankfully hasn’t been able to visit for 18 months because of the pandemic. The random sweats or hot flushes, so much part and parcel of my early fifties, have returned.
