Last shout for AB/CD

Part of my Christmas present from Sharon was two tickets to see the old tribute band stalwarts, AB/CD, through in Glasgow on Sunday. To make a day of it I went through to Glasgow early and picked up Paul Last from Cambuslang en route to Paisley to see the St. Mirren v Hearts game, my first league match in almost two years. Things started well with a goal in the third minute and a first half onslaught but the Buddies failed to capitalise and the match ended up 1-1 after a Hearts equaliser at the start of the second half. At least it was dry and not too cold.

I took Paul on the scenic route back through Paisley and Glenburn, up to Barrhead and then via Hurlet and Clarkston before he took over the directions to get us back to his house. The rest of the Lasts went through to Edinburgh to stay over at our house - I think Paul and I got the best of the deal! We got the train into Glasgow Central as the rain started to come on and eventually got into La Tasca for a quick (far quicker than Christmas Eve) tapas tea before heading down Union St to the Cathouse. I saw AB/CD a couple of times around 1999 and 2000 and, it transpired, this was their swansong, with the Monday night show in Glasgow the last they would be performing as singer Alan Moore has decided, at the age of 64 and with unspecified "health problems", to call it a day. All credit to him, he still managed to belt out a good 18-20 songs. It was deafening though! I'm not sure what Paul, as someone who had never heard any AC/DC stuff before, made of it, but it was a good blast from the past for me. We had to leg it before the end to catch the last train back to Cambuslang. It revived memories of running down Renfield St. from the Apollo and all the way up Glasgow Central station (it was always platform 13!) to get the last train back to Paisley after a gig!

Monday was absolutely miserable in Glasgow, wet and grey, so after a lazy morning and bacon sandwich with Paul, I headed back east and met up with Sharon in B&Q for some serious light, sink, tiles and taps shopping as we try to finalise the purchases required for the interior work which will recommence next week. Robert Lind babysat for the boys who were delighted as it meant they had an extended run of TV, Skylanders, Minecraft and so on. It's been electronic heaven over Christmas as we've been rising late (the boys haven't), the weather has been miserable and it's been dark by half three, so they've been indulged in inside play most of the time.

A taste of independence

Sean was delighted with himself for walking four times on his own on Friday! He and Finn walked home from school as Sharon realised she didn't have enough space in the car (there were other friends being transported), he went round to the shop on his own and then he walked over to Emma Bruce's house for an afternoon play and tea. Finally, he and Callum walked up to Scouts at Fairmilehead Parish Church. Sean was in his (too small) cub uniform for this transition night and will start the Scouts properly next week. Of course, off the back of this, he is now pestering us for his own phone. He says he'll settle for a Samsung Galaxy. Aye right! I'll look out one of my old work "feature phones" and see if we can use that for a basic text and calls pay as you go package.

On Saturday we drove into town for a pleasant tapas lunch at La Tasca. The children's tapas were excellent and Sharon and I fairly filled ourselves. We then wandered into the west end to get Finn a new guitar, partly for his birthday and partly because he wants to start lessons. We'll see how well he perseveres, knowing his reluctance to do anything that resembles work. Finally we picked up a new Scout shirt and belt for Sean at the Guide shop in Coates Crescent.

Sharon was doing training all day on Sunday and the boys were a bit of a handful. I had the first of the homework battles with Finn. "I just don't like reading and writing!" he wailed, all teary, as he took an hour to write one sentence of notes for his British Sign Language poster. I have pointed out to him that that may be a hindrance to him in his future education.

Angus and the boys were going mad for the pianos in Rae Mackintosh, where we bought Finn's guitar. Admist the cacophony, Angus ran across to a stool and shouted, "Mummy! I'm ready to rock'n'roll!" before hammering away at the keys. The spirit of Jerry Lee Lewis (and my brother Billy) lives on. So taken with the pianos were the boys that they have decided to ask Santa for a combined present of one. Sharon had a conversation with Sean during the week about Santa not being real. He had got to the point where he had twigged it but he'll be a good lad and keep up the pretence for his brothers. It's Finn we have to worry about on that score.

England coasted to their 3-0 Ashes success over Australia with a lively draw (thanks to an attacking declaration from Aussie skipper Clarke) that brightened up an otherwise lacklustre series. My own cricket sputtered to a stop with our exit from competitions back in June and, given the lack of Standard Life staff involvement (we have been heavily reliant on Indian contractors this year and last), whether the team goes the way of the dodo remains to be seen. I haven't really missed having to organise teams and opposition and keep an eye on the weather and have preferred the ease with which I can arrange a round of golf - on my own if need be. I shot my best score of the year (82) round Broomieknowe on a warm, still Monday afternoon without seeming to play that well. My putting was decent and a 300 yard drive to the last green that annoyed a couple of members was a good hit. Shame I failed to convert for a birdie! My handicap is down to 16.3 now.

London life

My foot calmed down surprisingly quickly but with a fine array of bruises along the base of my toes. It was just as well I could walk as I flew down to London late on Monday afternoon for a two-day Forrester Enterprise Architecture Forum at the Millenium Gloucester Hotel. I was staying in the Kensington Close Hotel with my colleague Andy Wilson, who plays cricket for Grange. We ate in Sticky Fingers, which was very busy for a Monday night and served very filling (and extremely unhealthy) food. Nachos and pulled pork with chips and salad was tasty but, eaten at 10pm, not the most digestible of meals. It was good to be somewhere lively on a Monday. The hotel was OK, initially overrun with Italian schoolchildren, but the usual street noise and closing of doors at 6am didn't make for a great night's sleep.

At lunchtime on the Tuesday I strolled up Gloucester Road which has some fantastic-looking Kensington townhouses just off it - you can just imagine a coach and four pulling up outside 150 years ago - spectacular blocks of flats surrounding well-kept courtyards and curving mews that ought to have minis parked in them and a young Michael Caine strolling nonchalantly along. It's a well to do part of London but as I walked up and down the road and around a section of Hyde Park I was struck by the amount of foreigners that evidently lived, worked and studied in the area. If England, and London, really was a hot-bed of racial tension then you'd expect it to be kicking off on a nightly basis. Dno't believe everything you hear in the media.

After the day's events had finished I visited the Kensington Whole Foods Market in Kensington High St. As a foodie, it brought a tear to me eye. Imagine all Edinburgh's speciality delicatessens and Real Food shops rolled into one with a butchery counter longer than a cricket wicket and you still probably won't cover the floor space and variety in this place. I sampled cheeses and nuts and salmon; they had lots of gluten-free stuff in the bakery and elsewhere (I was greeted by a stand the height of me packed full of Genuis bread); whole pigs; barrels of rice and coffee; eight different types of sea-salt; a vast range of spices; fresh fruit and veg; fish; wines... Had I not arranged to meet Andy back at the hotel I'd likely still be there now!

We ate at the Papaya Tree, a Thai restaurant with some mixed reviews. It served decent Thai food, fairly run of the mill and perhaps a bit tight on the meat content. The red duck curry seemed suspiciously short on duck and the Massaman and green chicken curry with noodles were a bit high on the ratio of sauce to content too, but no real complaints overall.

I left the conference at 1400 on the Friday and had a remarkably smooth trip, arriving home by 1745. Sean had been texting me while I was away, taking twenty minutes or more to compose his little missives which included telling me that Rowan hoped I was in a nice house and Mummy had found Angus in the potty!

Sharon and I wet to see Newton Faulkner in the evening, a first time visit to the Picture House on Lothian Road. It was a good seeing venue but, with the open bar area at the back, behind where we were standing next to the mixing desk, the competition between amplified acoustic guitar and bar chatter was a strain. Why do people pay money to go to gigs and then talk and drink during the performance? We moved down for the last few songs and it was a little better but the sound wasn't great. Newton was self-deprecating and still impressive on guitar and whatever other instruments he chose to employ. There's not many can do Bohemian Rhapsody on acoustic as an encore. He did it last time as well, so maybe he needs to freshen one or two things up.

Highway to hell

There are many reasons not to go to large outdoor gigs. AC/DC at Punchestown ticked most of the boxes. I have to say the band themselves were pretty tight and put on a typically straightforward AC/DC show. No chat between songs, two hours of most of the staples they've been playing live for decades now and five songs off the new album. Here's a crowd video of Highway to Hell. But it felt like budget AC/DC, despite the 76 euro ticket. The cannons were en route to Hampden Park, I presume, and the stage seemed small. Maybe this was a consequence of being so far away, at least 200m. There was a visible delay between the guitar, voice and drums on the video and the sound reaching us. Being so far away was a consequence of Punchestown, which was, quite simply, a dreadful venue.

The ground curves imperceptibly downwards from the stage before curving up again after about 200m so if you want to see the real live performance you either have to be up in the first tens of metres taking your life in your hands or so far away that you would need hawk-like vision to pick out the figures on stage. As Father Ted tries to explain to Father Dougal: "This guitarist is one inch high. Those guitarists are far away." As a result of being so far away there was little atmosphere, not aided by heavy rain showers and a capricious breeze which took the sound with it so that the laser-sharp Gibson SG sound and sonic blast you would expect to be pulverised with at an AC/DC gig only occasionally cut through the elements.

The midsummer timing didn't help either. Only the last few, post-11pm songs were played in something approaching darkness, despite the gloomy weather, which means the whole rock-as-religious-experience thing is lost, unless you're very drunk and swaying in the midst of a mad-for-it crowd, which I don't really fancy these days. Finally, the traffic and transport arrangements were at best shambolic and at worst could have resulted in serious disturbance, given the number of punters severely under the influence, staggering off coaches at the M50 to walk the remainder of the way or charging the barriers as we waited for the coaches home. Oliv and I were on the bus two and half hours before we quit and walked for another hour and a quarter to get to the venue itself. Afterwards, we queued for an hour in quite a crush before the crowd's patience ran out and the barriers were upended. It was every man and woman for themselves at that stage and fifteen minutes later we got on a bus just entering the car park and thankfully grabbed seats upstairs. It was 0045 by that time and it took about ninety minutes to get back to Dublin. The only bright spot was flagging a taxi immediately on alighting from the coach.

All in all, it's hard to set aside all the chaos of getting there and home and enduring the queues for food and standing about in the rain and say the performance made it all worthwhile. I'd liked to have been closer but didn't fancy the mayhem. The video feed wasn't great, one shot replicated on three or four screens which were all up by the stage.

Brian Johnston and Angus Young sounded and looked in good nick and I felt a tad emotional for times long past when Angus was up on the amps slicing out his Let There Be Rock solo. It's 27 years since I first saw them and that was part of the problem yesterday. AC/DC will always be "my band", the one that saw me through my formative years and beyond. I know every track, every drum-beat, every note of every solo. But last night was not a private experience. There were lots of people there for the day out, to hear a couple of songs, to say they'd seen AC/DC. The thousands who left after Whole Lotta Rosie confirmed that suspicion. I can't argue that they don't have a right to do that but it's almost why I enjoy a tribute band like Livewire more. A crowd of fans in a small venue, there to hear AC/DC's music played live, the way it should be heard, the way it started out 35 years ago as they slogged their way round the clubs of Australia.

The length and breadth of Scotland

Going to Aberdeen via the A93 in the afternoon and returning down the A90 at night is a lot of driving! We spent close to 7 hours in the Sharan on Thursday on a round-trip to see Snow Patrol at the Aberdeen Exhibition Centre. With Marie flown in to look after the boys we took the option of a more leisurely approach to Aberdeen by driving up the A93. This is something you do every few years. forgetting just how slow it is to negotiate the many bends and twists in the road up to Glenshee and beyond. We stopped for a most unsatisfactory dinner at the Waterwheel Inn on the edge of Aberdeen then located the AECC and fortunately got parked.

The gig was good without being great. FanFarlo were the support (we missed the first band on) and then Snow Patrol took to the stage. The venue is pretty much a flat, standing-room only cube but the sound wasn't too bad despite our position at the back wall (me for support and Sharon because she's not really into being jostled by a crowd when 26 weeks' pregnant). Sharon's the big Snow Patrol fan and she no doubt enjoyed it more than me. They were good, but their music is more for listening to than jumping about to and this, coupled to the wide demographic attending the gig and our position at the back (and the Aberdonians have a reputation for being a shade dour) kept the atmosphere low key. We were very tired by the time we'd driven home and tumbled into bed at 0145, not helped by Finn then appearing, unwell, at 0620.

Once we collected Sean from school on Friday we drove through to Largs to effect a houseswap with a family who Sharon has got to know through Pampered Chef. Their house is a fine three-storey Victorian terrace at the northern end of the prom with great views across to Cumbrae and down the Firth of Clyde. We had a typically blustery weekend with squally showers and bursts of sunshine. Sean and Finn had a great time collecting shells and sea-glass, Rowan nearly fell in the sea trying to throw the biggest stones he could lay his mitts on and we clung determinedly to Nardini's ice-creams in the freshening February breeze.

I met up with my Aunt May on the Saturday afternoon and brought her back for a cup of tea so she could see the rest of the family then Sean and I accompanied her over on the ferry to see my Uncle James in Millport. James hasn't been too well this winter and is looking more frail but still has the cheery disposition I remember. Although that was tested as we watched the scores roll in with St.Mirren losing 7-0 to Celtic. He was pleased to see Sean as I hadn't appreciated that Sean, Finn and Rowan are keeping the Wallace line going. My only other male Wallace cousin, Stuart, doesn't have any children, so I was the last hope. Looks like I came up trumps! May ran Sean and I back to the Cumbrae Slip for the return ferry. I was pleased Sean came with me as opportunities to meet and greet my side of the family are rare enough.

We had a fine lunch in Nardini's which is looking splendid now that it has re-opened. Sharon declared her pizza the tastiest she's eaten in many a long day and Rowan and Finn seemed in agreement. I had a creamy risotto and Marie a salad. Only Sean seemed less than enamoured with his macaroni cheese and the pieces of pizza offered by his brothers. There were no complaints on the ice-cream front of course!

On the Sunday we went for a walk up the gorge of the Kel Burn as most of the attractions of Kelburn Country House were locked up, partly due to the season and partly due to vandalism, unfortunately. The graffiti on the outside of the house is deliberate, however, and is quite eye-catching. Rowan described it as "the monsters on the house". "Monsters" seem to feature quite a lot in Rowan's playing. He did well walking up the path to the falls and only showed resistance when the rain came on on the return trip.

All in all we had a great weekend and the house was ideal for us and Marie, although her and Finn were a bit wary of the two cats. Given the place Largs has in my memory it would be good to repeat the swap some time in the summer. The Wilsons seem to have enjoyed our house so we'll see if this whets our appetite to do more swapping. Though it was hard work (but much needed) to get the house tidied before we left!

For those about to rock

It's getting to that time of year when fresh air is at a premium. The boys can be very hard work as they knock about the house getting increasingly bored yet are reluctant to head out when an opportunity does present itself. The problem too is if you don't head out in the morning then by the time Rowan has had his post-lunch nap then it's too late to get out in any decent spell of daylight.

On Saturday morning I took the three for a brief trip to Castlelaw Hill Fort. Rowan was miserable as he hates the wind and it was fairly puffing off the Pentlands as we clambered up the short path from the car park. In the afternoon I went with Sean in search of a music shop as he is desperate to get the names of some ABBA CDs for his letter to Santa. Sharon took Rowan and Finn swimming at Loanhead. Rowan was happy to wander about on his own, floating now and then with his armbands on. Finn continued his practice, doing dolphin kicks.

Yesterday I went out with Finn and Sean on a rare jaunt into town. We had a browse in HMV then a play in the Princes St Gardens playpark. Sean, unprompted, recalled the last time we were there when "we met Santa." It was a clear November day but the temperatures were dropping by the time we headed home.

I had a rare night out on Friday. Half my team met up in the Ensign Ewart at the top of the Royal Mile for a "rock night". We dined at the Kurdish restaurant Hanam's which was enjoyable enough (although I did belatedly find some egg noodle through my rice and couldn't have any of the naan breads and we could only purchase non-alcoholic wine: rock and roll!) then moved down to the Liquid Rooms for Live/Wire. Live/Wire are an AC/DC tribute band featuring both a "Bon" and a "Brian" and firing cannon for the For Those About To Rock encore. They played a good set, focusing mostly on the AC/DC live staples and throwing in the latest single for good measure. It was good to hear the music played live: they were a tight outfit and "Angus" pulled a few blistering riffs out of his cap. We retired, ears ringing, to the Bow Bar to mull over the conerts of yesteryear (five of us; combined age about 200). Everyone seemed to enjoy the night out. Better value than forking out three figures to some agency to see the real thing!

If You Want Blood

AC/DC are back! A new album entitled Black Ice is due out shortly, a mere 8 years since the last one, and they are embarking on a world tour with dates in the US announced up till Christmas. Will I go to see them? I don't know. I last saw them in 1991 in Glasgow and whilst they are undoubtedly my favourite band there is almost little point in seeing them live as I know their stuff so well. I have managed to convince my workmates to go and see Livewire, an AC/DC tribute band, here in Edinburgh in November. Seeing a band play that kind of music in a small venue rather than a football stadium is more enjoyable and there may be more chance of hearing rare live tracks rather than the standards. I'll buy Black Ice but I'll wait to see where (and at what price) AC/DC are playing in Europe before I commit to a concert ticket.

Not such a quiet week

At the moment, ask Rowan an open question like "What did you do at nursery today?" or "Who were you playing with?" and you will receive the measured response "Emm..." as though he is considering his answer. The answer never comes of course, unless you ask him closed questions. "Were you out in the garden?" "Yep." "Did you eat up all your dinner?" "Yep." He is stomping and running about the house these days, making an almighty noise if he is disgruntled, which generally comes as a result of some injustice at the hands of Finn, perceived or otherwise. Rowan bagins his mornings with a run through of the names of those who could possibly extricate him from his cot. "Dahhd! Dah-dee!" Pause. "Shaww! Shaw-nee!" and so on. When you do get him he starts reciting a lot of words as he spots things in his room. "Penny!" as he points at a money-box. "Jig-ahw! Cu-tin!" He was amusing everyone in Ireland with his rendition of the "Honkin' Bobo Blues", a little blues ditty I put together in honour of his stinky nappies. For a couple of months at least, Rowan has been able to tell us when he has a dirty nappy. He's a good way off potty-training but it's funny when he comes out with "on-kin bobo bloos" to indicate he needs a change. As a lady said at Spylaw Park. "What lovely dimples. I bet they get you out of trouble."

Needless to say, the house is no longer quiet and Sharon is certainly looking forward to the return to school next week, although getting up at 7am and marshalling Sean and Finn to get dressed instead of playing and to eat up their breakfast instead of yabbering silly verbal games and messing with their food, will be stressful enough after more than seven weeks of a relatively easy start to the day. Sean has been rather cheeky since returning home from Ireland and Finn has been throwing major tantrums too which has made for some trying days this week. They have been playing Abba songs to death, with the result that even Rowan can fill in the words at the end of lines. Mama Mia and Super Trouper are his favourites. One area in which we can't complain is the boys' compliance with babysitters. They always behave well and we made use of Les & Stu and a new option, Sarah, over the weekend to allow us two nights out on the trot: unheard of.

On Friday night we went to the Corn Exchange to see Newton Faulkner, a dreadlocked acoustic guitar virtuoso with a mellow voice and good repartee with the crowd. It was an excellent gig, despite the Corn Exchange's poor viewing options. My back held out better than at the Barrowlands last December. Saturday was a bit of a damp squib by comparison. It was our one Fringe night of the year and began with an attempt at a meal in Namaste in Forrest Rd. I say "attempt" since we had to abort the main course and take it away as a carry-out because it was taking so long to arrive. Admittedly it is Fringe time and the restaurant was very busy but you can only wait for so long to be fed. We had to dash down to the Pleasance (Sharon dispensing with her heels to move more quickly barefoot and me having to detour to the car to drop off the food) to see Tim Minchin. He was entertaining enough, an amusing songwriter with a good voice, but maybe not the tears-of-laughter type comic we could have done with to cheer us up. Something more in the Frankie Boyle vein would have suited me better!

Olivia is out of hospital at last much to everyone's relief, not least her own. Sadly she missed the chance to bring Sean and Finn back to Scotland. Sharon did drive up to Dublin with Sean to see her but Rowan and Finn were possibly carrying viruses and didn't get to see their auntie.

Off to break the bank

Just a quick entry before I dash off to the airport to fly down to London to join Sharon who flew down earlier today. We're off to Monte Carlo in the morning! It's been a hectic few days (so what else is new?). Olivia flew in for cover as Sharon undertook the Moon Walk on Saturday night. It was dry but cold and she completed the 26 miles 385 yards in 7 hrs 47 mins. She looked very washed out and was feeling faint when I collected her in the morning but she has recovered quickly without any physical hangover. Born with stamina that lady!

I took the boys away to St.Andrews for the day to let Sharon recover. With Olivia, they had made a "Well Done Mammy" banner for the front door. Sharon just about raised a smile; she was dead beat. Once in St.Andrews the boys had a great time romping about the Cathedral grounds, clambering over (and in Sean's case, reading) gravestones before we had our picnic. We then had a play down on the Castle Sands before moving on. The boys all fell asleep so I just drove home at that point.

Last night I was through at Glasgow to see Whitesnake and Def Leppard rocking the SECC. Whitesnake were disappointing: a poor set selection of mostly "metal" tracks, a rotten drummer and too much distortion on the bass and drums all detracted from 56-year-old Coverdale's working of the crowd. Def Leppard's sound was much better, thankfully, and they were very efficient at playing their catalogue of hits (you know more Def Leppard songs than you think you do) but it was very much stadium rock: tight, professional with a good show, but not that memorable.

Nana and Papa are in place to deal with the three lads so I'm off!

In Dire Straits

No-one was in particularly good form over the holiday weekend as a subtle, slow-acting virus seems to have been passing through the household. Rowan's continued wakefulness doesn't aid recovery either. When under the weather and tired then everything seems like a battle as the children mess about at mealtimes and try our patience to the limit.

Sharon and I escaped to see Mark Knopfler on Sunday night. The boy can play. I preferred the older, more familiar Dire Straits material as some of the newer stuff is a bit country and a bit diddley-i-dill, especially with seven of them playing. Good musicianship though and entertaining enough. We enjoyed a quiet drink in Kays Bar afterwards.

I did battle with the hedge by the garage on Tuesday, ripping most of it out, much to Sharon's horror. I've been spoiling with a fight with most of the hedges for some years now. A few of them are unshapely and unmanageable. Berberis at seven feet high and four feet deep is no fun to trim. Give me the old privet hedges of Raasay Drive any time.

Rowan is making great progress with his words and has become an avid Thomas (bo-bass) the Tank Engine fan. Shouts of "choo-choo!" as he demands one of the Thomas books or starts raiding the train track boxes and spilling their contents on the play room floor, are commonplace. He is now managing to say his own name, after a fashion, as he goes round everyone at the table - da-dee, ma-mee, nho-winn, dhinn, sohnn - and sometimes strings a couple of words together such as "bi-bye bo-bo" as his nappy gets changed.

Five days to go

The problem with buying the tree at the start of December is a feeling that we peak too soon. Are we there yet? Christmas should have been here by now. The boys' early December Christmas excitement seems to have abated and it's a matter of keeping them ticking over on a plateau before the final push when we get to Ireland on Sunday. Sean is still churning out cards, "posters" and sundry other decorations featuring angels, reindeer, trees, Santas and the odd baby Jesus. He had his school Christmas party today and has his nativity service tomorrow. Finn has his playgroup party tomorrow.

We wrote out the cards last night which was a step more than we managed last year. Sharon had her Pampered Chef salsa night at Cuba Norte and has a meal with ex-Standard Life colleagues tonight. I just had a sumptuous team lunch at Roti. The socialising bit is almost done; soon it will be time to draw up the menus and get stuck into the last-minute festive food shopping and cooking.

As a belated anniversary present we went through to Glasgow last Saturday to see the Saw Doctors. It must be 16 years since I saw them and probably 20 since I set foot in the Barrowlands which is still the preserve of the high-spirited, grab-a-partner, dregs-throwing mob. We kept up the back mostly and enjoyed the show from afar. A typically rousing Saw Doctors set featured most of the old favourites and plenty of singing along from the crowd.