Nearly a year since I revolutionised my shopping and went online.
Eeee-ha! That’s me Covid-vaxxed. Fit a relief.
For those unconvinced that Scottish independence would be a panacea for all our woes, we can at least be assured help is at hand from a (very) unlikely source.
Anyone who has ever had the misfortune to sit through any form of grassroots committee meeting will have recognised the viral stars of Handforth.
Okay, I admit it. I haven’t taken this Covid business seriously enough; until now.
Thanks to Black Monday, it was tatties-ower-the-side to oor happy new year wishes.
A member of Parliament has been arrested, partygoers around the country have been heavily fined and even two mountaineers were penalised by the plods – all for breaking Covid restrictions.
Just three days left until we can finally put behind us the nightmare that is 2020.
How was it for you? Whether you were with family and friends or on your own, I hope you had a happy, relaxing day.
It's that time of year again when columnists wish their readers – even those who can’t quite come to terms that the writer’s opinions may differ from theirs – a Merry Christmas.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas... well, as merry as you can make it.
I wish you a very early merry Christmas. That’s because there’s no EE next Friday, but my column will be in Saturday’s Boxing Day paper.
What drama. Live on telly. William Shakespeare couldn’t have written it better. In fact, Oor Willie was responsible for the whole, amazing scenario and put himsellie at the centre of it.
Damnt masks are driving me skite. Of course they’re vital for battling Covid and I’m well hacked off with folk who shun them. But I can’t seem to find one that’s right for me.
Had he been around today, Noel Coward might have had a new version of his song, Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington.
Christmas is a time for giving, so shop, eat and drink local and give them the chance to keep their heads above water. You can even buy a Christmas tree from them. Just don’t put it up until mid-December.
Three momentous events in one week. Nice-but-nobody-special Joe Biden scrapes through to the US presidency. A lovely couple, who sound like the legendary scientific geniuses Louie and Marie Pasteur, crack the Covid vaccine. And … Mo finally gets her flu jab. Fit next? Trumpie conceding he wisnae swicked?
Are we heading for a happy ending to the Covid-19 story?
As all the clips of people celebrating the dumping of Donald Trump popped up on my timeline, I thought “I’ve seen this before”.
At last, sense has prevailed. After weeks of protests from the beach-loving public, Aberdeen City councillors have U-turned.
It can happen to anyone, often at the worst possible time.
Remember the Aberdeen nine? It’s just become 10.
Up hands if you’re desperate for a roarin’ good laugh to cheer you up?
My spies tell me the stress of lockdown is turning us into harrumphin’ al’ grumpfutticks.
It's like half a century is just yesterday away.
Where did it all go wrong? This week I should be laid oot on a sunbed perfecting my tan by an aquamarine pool, sippin’ a cocktail and thinkin’ o’ you peer folkies back in Aiberdeen as the autumn weather kicks in.
I am so excited for the brave new world of post-Brexit Britain and the myriad benefits it will bring.
Fit next? This pandemic is fair diggin’ in. Plunged into lockdown in March, most of us thought it would all be over by summer – autumn at worst.
It's been a week of Covid firsts. First time at the dentist since October, having missed my six-month check-up and hygienist rake-oot in April.
There may not be a Braemar Gathering tomorrow, but Her Maj seems to have had a superb gatherin’ of her ain folk over the past week.