My Ear Candy #21 Paula Young

I welcomed a splendid guest last Friday, local beautician Paula Young (although she took one look at me and claimed I was beyond repair. ‘You can put lipstick on a pig but it’s still a pig’ she said. Bloody charming.)

Regrettably, while Paula herself proved good company, she brought with her a gimp by the name of Keith Douglas, her latest squeeze. He’d been in touch through the week, bigging himself up as her agent and falsely leading me to believe she was a hairdresser not a beautician. I diligently prepared, therefore, a playlist of hair related tracks; Devil’s Haircut, Jesus Hairdo, Haircut 100 etc, only for them to prove futile. I had egg all over my face as Douglas sat in the corner of the studio grinning like a Cheshire cat while I ploughed through ill titled tracks, but he’ll get his comeuppance don’t worry about that.

Paula chose her six memorable songs, mercifully resisting the urge to choose a song by her (nearly) namesake Paul Young, opening instead with a merry Dolly Parton number, although it struggled to be heard above the din emanating from the town hall main stage a few yards away. The Chandeliers, a good but ear splittingly loud band, were mid-gig and taking the roof off, we really must get our radio studio sound proofed. Paula’s next selection, McFly, suffered a similar fate but let’s face it, it’s indeed a blessing when any of their songs are drowned out, even with one of Douglas’s guttural farts.

It’s kinda tough presenting a show but allowing guests to choose their own music. I’m something of a music snob and find certain artists insufferable, almost unplayable, so I have been known to refuse certain selections. Frankly this is something I need to get over, you wouldn’t invite someone for dinner and refuse the bottle of wine they’d brought, it’s just plain rude, but surely it’s beholden upon each guest to at least bring some faintly listenable material with them? There are some weeks when white noise would be preferable to the guff they serve up.

Any road up, thankyou to Paula for being a very pleasant guest, our conversation more than counter balancing her questionable music selections and those of her daughter Skye. You’re welcome back anytime Paula, but remember to leave your agent behind next time.

Paula’s Selections

1. Coat Of Many Colours - Dolly Parton
2. If You Think I’m Sexy - Rod Stewart
3. It’s All About You - McFly
4. The Most Beautiful Girl - Charlie Rich
5. Smile - Uncle Kraker 
6. Glasgow Star - Eddie Reader

The Ian Hastie experience

My guest on Friday evening was Ian Hastie, a semi-retired has-been from Stonehaven, a muso stuck in the 70s, amateur twitcher and purveyor of weak humour. As premium quality guests go he’d struggle to make Graham Norton’s invite list but here at Mearns FM we’ll take anybody so I shoved the headphones on him and away we went.

I first met Ian when he was the manager at Stonehaven Golf Club, residing in a wee office up the stairs, chapping away at his computer keyboard while tuned into his Spotify playlist. I’d gone in to apply for membership and was greeted by a Big Star track, the name of which escapes me, and knew then that we’d hit it off. His eclectic musical tastes were interesting but this can be a double edged sword, for every new discovery he unveiled to me there were a dozen turkeys and it’s taken me some time to whittle his recommendations down to a playable few. That said, he’s introduced me to some blinding music by King Creosote, Chuck Prophet and more recently Blue Rose Code who he appears to adore more than his wife. Warren Zevon was also a good tip (you have to listen to ‘Werewolves Of London’, class track that is.)

Anyhow, he ain’t the manager at SGC anymore, preferring to drift through his days in carpet slippers and smoking jacket, clicking his fingers when the brandy glass needs refreshing. It was good of him to take a break from his slothful lifestyle and join us on the radio, I’d asked him to bring tunes that my public would appreciate and he didn’t disappoint. Thanks Ian for your company and your choices, I might have you back when you’ve dealt with your halitosis. I’m not saying it’s strong but it’s come to a pretty pass when listeners call in complaining of the smell their wireless is giving off.

Stoney Baloney returns...

And it came to pass that Stoney Baloney, that erstwhile community radio show of worldwide repute, was triumphantly recommissioned by Mearns FM, Aberdeenshire’s foremost radio station. A long term break had been sanctioned by the station in order that the presenter ‘got his bloody heid agither’ but just ten weeks in, with all hope of such an outcome lost, the station has caved in to public demand and the show will now return earlier than anticipated. 

So set your watches for 9pm on December 15th when Alex Russon’s banal waffle will once again be interspersed with indie tunes on Mearns FM. Inaccurate whispers in the press had suggested the show’s rebirth would occur a week prior but the station’s studio, based at Stonehaven Town Hall, is instead needed as a dressing room by the Christmas panto cast. The ignominy of being trumped by Widow Twankey is proving a chastening experience for the returning disc jockey but, with characteristic grace, he’s fallen on his sword and agreed to a seven day delay (provided the costumes are left behind for him to try on.)

Only ten days remain before the show’s return, applications are therefore invited for regular weekly listenership. Candidates need to possess a pair of lugs, preferably waxed, and a craving for music of the highest order. Auditions will take place between 9-11pm* on Friday December 15th and successful applicants will be notified in due course as to whether their lugholes will be required on a weekly basis.

*regular listeners will be accustomed to Alex’s 7-9pm slot, this however has been rudely hijacked by a young punk by the name of Lewis Main who steadfastly refuses to relinquish the prime time slot to its original owner. The presenters’ agents are dealing with the matter, meantime Mr Main will continue as the mere warm up act in advance of the main event 😡.

Posers

When I was a kid my Dad spoke of the ‘good old days’ with such fondness that he convinced me his youth was a perpetual spiral of ecstasy. He’d get all misty eyed about going down the Holte to help suck the ball into the net alongside a collective fervour of thousands. He created such a romantic image of following Villa in those days that I wanted to be transported there right away, directly into the heart of it. Now it’s my turn to tell my kids of the glory days, when Sid trotted out to Hurricane Smith’s classic and warmed up in front of the Holte’s left side while I looked on from aboard an upturned milk crate, pie in hand, eyelids on stalks as my heroes prepared for action. And I’m talking proper heroes; the likes of Rimmer, Mortimer and Shaw. I doubt however that the youth of today will have reason to look back on the current crop with any sense of romance, denied the opportunity to wax lyrical about the wonder of following Villa thanks to the sports’s commercialisation and the world’s obsession with celebrity  squeezing  the life out of English football. While we cling onto our club like a husband refusing to relinquish an unfaithful wife, in our heart of hearts we know we’re going through the motions.

The latest lament I have to offer is the ludicrous histrionics of managers and players, their bodily contortions so exaggerated that second careers on the boards beckon. In some regards it’s amusing but in truth it’s demoralising to see grown men behave in such a manner, yet it’s established now as the norm and is so engrained in modern day football culture that there seems no way back. I blame Rivaldo, he started it when feigning receipt of a punch on the nose over by the corner flag that time when all he’d received was a funny look. The floodgates were opened and now it’s common practice for footballers to feign contact in order to win penalties, get opponents cautioned and let’s face it, cheat their way to victory.

Such tawdry behaviour from footballers doesn’t stop at ‘winning’ free-kicks (and I hate to hear the likes of Danny Mills on Radio 5 brazenly claiming such behaviour to be acceptable, part and parcel of the game etc, shame on him and others of his ilk). Players’ histrionics reach way beyond pretending they’ve been fouled, they extend it to all parts of the game; throwing themselves into mock despair when claiming throw-ins they know fine well aren’t theirs, the same with corners and goal kicks. I could puke as they nonchalantly amble into position after the ref’s decision, pretending they’ve not discovered the tragic news, then melodramatically halting in their tracks as it hits them that the referee has indeed found against them, a signal for their eyebrows to stretch heavenwards, their hands to alight on their heads before they turn to the lino for support. They wave their arms dismissively at the referee, yet all along knowing the truth, that they were indeed the last player to touch the ball. Born liars and cheats, their behaviour a terrible example to youngsters yet we have summarisers claiming it to be a part of the game. Pathetic.

A personal bugbear is the recent introduction of the ‘turf slap’, a player gets fouled and lies face down slapping the ground with the palm of his hand as if an agony stricken woman in the late throws of childbirth. Two minutes later, after the trainer has reset said player’s hair or given him a plaster, he’s berating the referee from the side of the pitch for not letting him back on quickly enough. These are the type of players too who swagger proudly to the six yard box in anticipation of a corner they’ve just ‘won’ when in truth they should be ashamed of themselves for not getting the cross in. How often do attackers get away with this routine conning of the crowd? The ‘winning’ of a corner received with rapturous applause by supporters when in reality the bloke had all the time in the world to get the ball into the mixer or put a striker through.

Managers are no better, the embarrassing example they give to their players succeeds only in making their charges worse. Hitherto respectable men, managers who interview well and come across as perfectly reasonable (eg. Hodgson, Moyes) can be found spinning like tops when goal chances are spurned, convulsing their bodies back to the dugout, facial expressions of fake shock, water bottles flying, assistant managers joining them in tantrums that toddlers would be consigned to the naughty step for. These managers kid no-one when trying to convince supporters with that they’re innocent of any outcome to the score line due to such missed chances, their shenanigans I often think are a deliberate attempt to appeal to us numbskulls that they have spent the entire week training the team professionally and they mustn’t be held accountable for strikers who miss open goals. They kid no one, these managers must carry the can and that’s the end of it.

But let’s return to the players since they’re the worst culprits. So grotesque has become their celebrity status, their fame and fortune, the hero worship and adulation they gleefully receive, that they spend their entire time during a ninety minute game of football believing that the television cameras are trained singularly on them and them alone. I will largely absolve goalkeepers and defenders here, it seems the further up the pitch you go the worse the posing becomes, midfielders are bad but strikers worser (I’ve strayed into WBA levels of grammar and intellect). Such players feel they’re on a perpetual televised catwalk, their hair preened to within an inch of its life with dye, designs and product, their tat sleeves polished, facial hair sculpted and odd luminous coloured boots gleaming under the floodlights as they chew gum Clint Eastwood style. It’s a chastening sight indeed to watch a squillionaire poser of such description shuffling onto the pitch as a sub for the last ten minutes, playing a couple of square passes and taking a throw-in for which he’ll receive a weekly salary totalling six figures, and yes, that’s before the decimal point. Hey ho, that’s life in English football today and we have to deal with it, though you might have noticed that I’m struggling to. Today’s youth we can only hope aren’t taken in by all of this sophistry but my hopes aren’t high. Not for them memories of a toothless Jimmy Rimmer gurning at hippy haired centre forwards or combover laden Ralph Coates’s as they bear down on goal. Instead they’ll look back on journeymen muppets like Leandro Bacuna, smirking his way to financial security beneath a blonde streaked barnet , all paid for by despondent onlooking supporters who just want their old Villa back.

Billy No Mates

This should be a review of my studio guests' appearance on Friday night but the damned lightweight pulled out last minute so I was guestless. Charming, you invite a friend on air, he's all for it then lets you down claiming a dose of the squits. I won't embarrass the guy by naming him, let's just call him Ian for the sake of argument, no, we'll call him Mr Hastie, the chap who may or may not work up at Stonehaven Golf Club. If he thinks he's getting another invite he can think again, prime time radio shows wait for no man. Not to worry, my listeners were triumphantly spoiled with two hours of my musical choices instead, a blessing really since I play the best stuff on the radio, FACT.

The show got off to a scorcher with Depeche Mode's 'Behind The Wheel' before rattling through jangly guitar indie courtesy of The Wedding Present, Inspirals and Smiths. I love indie music with a passion, can't get enough of it, but threw in a contemporary chart effort from Matt Simons along the way. Top music kept coming while the show was punctuated with score updates from Scotland and England's international matches, both winning handsomely away from home.

Mearns FM broadcasts from a studio at the back of Stonehaven Town Hall which itself was hosting a musical through in the main hall, that Dolly Parton gig, 9-5. In a moment of fantasy I imagined Dolly rushing into the wrong room for a costume change and landing in my lap but careful what you wish for, she must be ninety six years old by now.

No guest booked yet for next week so if you fancy it let me know, unless your name's Hastie.

My Ear Candy #20 Andy Duggan

I'm on a roll, that's two weeks running my guests have chosen good music on my Stoney Baloney show after weeks of sentimental guff and bog standard middle of the road snorathons (apologies previous guests but I'm not saying anything I didn't say directly to you.) This week's guest was Andy Duggan, a Stonehaven based tradesman offering DIY services to folk incapable of turning their hand to matters practical, i.e. folk like me. A nicer guy you couldn't meet (him not me) and we enjoyed a good hour's chat interspersed by his six song selections all of which were acceptable, not something we can usually claim.

Turns out he's an occasional bouncer too so not a bloke to be trifled with and he regularly DJ's at family functions and the like. Make you sick don't they these multitalented individuals. It doesn't leave much spare time when you're running three jobs though so our conversation about hobbies and interests lasted thirty seconds flat and didn't encompass much beyond watching telly. Speaking of which, I was simultaneously watching the box while broadcasting, Villa were playing Bristol City in an evening kickoff and, predictably, they did nothing to improve my mood. My football team are abysmal but I feel compelled to witness their awfulness each time they're on Sky, not for much longer though, much more of them I cannot stand.

On the way out of the building after the show I sneaked a peek at the horticulture show exhibits that had been laid out in the town hall ahead of the judges' scrutiny on Saturday morning. I've never been to a horticultural show before and it felt somewhat surreal viewing it in the dead of night in a dimly lit hall, trestle tables stretched out for yards containing all manner of flowers, foliage, fruit and veg. I was fascinated by the display and was drawn in particular to the enormous carrots, monstrous marrows and gargantuan onions, their smell thankfully overridden by the fragrant flowers that circled the room. Andy and I took one last look at the football sized cabbages and scarpered into the night, our pleasant evening ending in peculiar fashion.

Here's a link to the listen again service, its available till Sep 1st Listen Again Thanks for being a top guest Andy.

Andy's selections

Elvis Presley - Burning Love

Stevie Wonder - Higher Ground

Dre Dre - Next Episode 

Thin Lizzy - Dancing In The Moonlight

Rolling Stones - Gimme Shelter

Mud - Tiger Feet

Sent from my iPad

Being Dad #3

I was persuaded this week to play Monopoly for the first time in decades, my four and nine year old boys calling my bluff when I insisted they put down the Xbox. Out from beneath the bunk bed came the dusty Birmingham edition for us to spread out upon the living room floor.

The Birmingham edition by definition contains properties from my beloved city and not the smug London capital, Hurst Street is Mayfair and Cannon Hill Park is Old Kent Road. Mercifully there's no St. Andrew's, but, and here's where the problems began, there is a Hawthorns, home of the despicable West Bromwich Albion. By rights this dump should be Old Kent Road and has no right whatsoever to reside on the stretch of pink properties just after Jail corner, but at least it was in a cheaper plot than Villa's ground. The three of us circled the board a few times, Freddie buying up the coveted Villa Park and then purchasing the second of the three pink properties, its name I forget, he now needed just The Hawthorns for the full set.

I'd accumulated a few properties, nothing fancy, the only generous income I seemed to be collecting was the booty when landing on Free Parking (do you chuck the fine money in the middle as well?)I had a few quid handy and needed to get more of a toehold on the game so when I landed on The Hawthorns my immediate reaction was to buy it and prevent Freddie from compiling a full set, this compulsion did not last long. Despite this being a modest, inconsequential board game with two young sons, I simply could not bring myself to buy The Hawthorns. Further, I couldn't bring myself even to place my piece (I had the dog) upon the property, not even to cock it's leg. Had it been any other property I'd have snaffled it then extorted a high price from Freddie so he could make up his set but I could not reduce myself to buying the damned place so I placed my dog on the carpet adjacent to that part of the board.

The game went on and Freddie duly completed his pink set, Ernie bought The Hawthorns then sold it to Fred for a song. My cash was running thin as Freddie lined up a row of houses on his strip, not before I'd landed on Villa Park a couple of times and happily paid him my rent, indeed I offered to pay triple out of respect for the property. But then it happened. Rolling a double three, I advanced from Corporation Street towards The Hawthorns and once again couldn't bring myself to place the dog on it. Freddie and Ernie remained confused at my reticence, I'd not explained my reasoning as yet, but this time they demanded an explanation. I squirmed a little before folding my arms and giving them the full unadulterated explanation as to why I was not prepared to go anywhere near that part of the board in a month of Sundays. I referred them to the ramshackled construction of the ground, it's cheap look and rotten stench, the small time nature of the club which it hosted and the revulsion I had for its supporters. They didn't seem to understand so I just kept ploughing on until finally they asked me to stop. 

Freddie demanded more money from me than I possessed in order to pay my fine for landing on his flaming Hawthorns, he had three houses on it. I told him to bog off when he suggested I mortgage properties to raise the cash and called time on the game there and then. They returned to their Xbox and I retired to bed with a cold flannel upon my forehead. Not model fathering behaviour but I'd do it again, these children need to learn standards and morals, The Hawthorns is a no go area for any self respecting Russon male.

My Ear Candy #19 Sorcha Hume

My guest on Mearns FM this week was Sorcha Hume, an inspirational woman spearheading Charlie House, an Aberdeen based charity serving children with life limiting illnesses, their families too. I met Sorcha at a BNI breakfast meeting some weeks back, she was presenting the Charlie House story and vision to a room of business people who sat transfixed, the prospect of your children facing a life threatening ailment fair concentrates the mind. The work Charlie House currently carry out is remarkable but just wait until the new facility is completed by 2020, the provision for these kids then reaches another level. See http://www.charliehouse.org.uk/for details of the wonderful work they do and better still, get involved if you can, your time and commitment is equally as valuable as any money you feel moved to contribute.

Mercifully, after a procession of recent guests choosing music that hummed of the strongest Stilton, Sorcha selected half a dozen more than agreeable tracks so for once I was able to sit back and enjoy the music with my audience and a cup of coffee. Why was I drinking coffee given my guest and her father cracked open cans of lager? Well for the same reason as I reluctantly received Sorcha's kind gift of a bottle of wine, because I'm a recovering alcoholic of thirteen years standing and didn't fancy spoiling all that hard work despite my guest's best efforts. Charming, you invite someone on to your show out of the kindness of your heart and she attempts to lead you back onto the road to oblivion which you've worked so hard to step off.

Onto the music and we began with a pleasant easy paced Jeff Buckley number, a sublime track. The pace picked up a little with Radiohead next, though perhaps not the mood given the lyrics. A couple of obscure bands followed, very good ones mind, and conversation about Charlie House and the life of Sorcha Hume continued, she's training for a 175 mile bike run with her partner Tom, I recommended a tandem, she seemed keen.

Sorcha's father accompanied her in the studio but only intermittently since he punctuated every song with a visit to the lavatory, his bladder seemingly no stronger than Aston Villa's defence, but his company was as pleasurable as his daughter's and we ended the evening with a live Led Zeppelin track of which he approved. Well I say approved but in truth it provoked a deal of controversy, they thought I'd played a tribute band's version in error but I remain adamant that it was indeed the original band. Listen for yourselves and decide, this link to our listen again function lasts till Aug 26th, pick the Stoney Baloney show Listen Again link

Sorcha's Selections

Jeff Buckley - Satisfied Mind

Radiohead - Lift

Efterklang - The Soft Beating

Bibio - A tout a l'heure 

GoGo Penguin - Hopopono 

Led Zeppelin - Ramble On

My Ear Candy #18 Naomi Mearns & Karen Falconer

The moment my two radio show guests walked/staggered through the studio door on Friday evening I knew I was in for trouble. Naomi and Karen were in from Raeburn Christie which is literally across the road from our studio, but I believe a detour was taken between their front door and ours, a boozy detour for some Dutch courage. They weren't addled by any means but a pre-show loosener appeared to have been imbibed so their demeanour was rather more relaxed than it might otherwise have been. That said, they were exemplary guests and, despite rotten musical choices, we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

Friday night is desert island discs night, Naomi and Karen sharing six of their favourite tracks with my listenership, the numbers of which were boosted substantially by my guests' social media prowess, we had folk tuning in from Kentucky, Poland, Majorca, Ireland...and Brechin. I won't share the Facebook comments their appearance provoked but it's fair to say the show went down a storm, particularly when our chat moved from business speak to the stuff of life. We learned a little about their respective hobbies, though only a little since beyond cooking they just seem to watch telly or cavort around their living rooms dancing to Abba. Unfortunately for the listeners, the juicy stuff comes out when the tracks are playing and we're chatting off air, the pair of them had my hair standing on end, talk about earthy! I learnt plenty about life in the fast lane and for the second week running was given a free counselling service by female guests, although they contradicted the advice given by last week's guest so I'm now in a state of utter confusion.

Their musical choices were regrettably lame, when will I get a guest who knows proper music? We started with a middle of the road Snow Patrol track, matters improved with David Christie's 'Saddle Up', although I don't believe the two of them were entirely honest when explaining the connotations as to why this was the office anthem. The Black Eyed Peas were next then Michael Jackson restored order with 'Thriller' before I vetoed the playing of Bruno Mars in favour of a track by The Beat which Naomi endorsed given her leanings towards 80s ska. AC/DC closed the show with a bit of energy and we buggered off to The Market Bar which is where I last saw them. I didn't buy the paper on Saturday morning but I wouldn't be surprised if they featured, it looked like they were limbering up for a big night out.

Thanks so much Naomi and Karen for being terrific sports, you're welcome back anytime and perhaps during your next appearance we'll get the true story behind the office anthem 'Saddle Up'?

Naomi & Karen's Selections

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Saddle Up - David Christie

I Gotta Feeling - Black Eyed Peas

Thriller - Michael Jackson

Hands Off She's Mine - The Beat

Long Way To The Top - AC/DC 

Sent from my iPad

God's way not my way #1

I was painting a friend's garden fence this week, I'm out of work and was returning a favour for a favour, he's been very kind to me during a time of trial. This blinkin fence is enormous and the task is similar to painting the Forth Road Bridge, there are however a couple of shortcuts I've identified which can speed the job up. First, don't bother scraping off the thin film of weathering which covers plain timber beneath, just paint over it, and second, leave the awkward and non visible nooks and crannies unpainted, on both counts no-one will ever know. But to do this would be to execute a substandard job and the fence would remain unprotected in parts, less well protected in general, so I've diligently completed the task properly. Why tell you this? Well because it's a lesson in life I thought worth sharing, a reminder to me of a scripture I'm attempting to obey rather than pass over, although in one respect the recording here of my efforts completely contradicts this teaching but hey ho, the intention is honourable and God forgives me!

There's a passage in Matthew 6:1-6 link to Matthew 6:1-6 whereJesus challenges those who deliver long, flowery prayers in front of an audience and explains instead that the way to pray is alone in your room. No audience to acclaim your performance or wisdom, simply you and your maker. Similarly, your random acts of kindness aren't meant to be listed on a bill poster in the nearest town centre, humility would have you keep this between you and God. How tempting it is to buy a loud hailer when you do a good turn for somebody or offer a kindness with no expectation of reward, but we're asked to demonstrate modest humility not boastfulness. None of this is easy and opposes the human condition, we like to be liked, but just as presenting a gift to someone is as fulfilling, if not more so, than receiving one, our prayers in solitude and our unheralded acts of kindness are blessings from God, blessings to be enjoyed between you and Him, and his delight in you is worth so much more than anyone else's.

Being Dad #2

When I was a kid my father would, very occasionally, play football with my brother and I in the back garden. This would last ten minutes tops and be terminated by my Dad heaving the ball into next door's garden at which point he'd disappear back into the house while Stu scrambled through the narrow gap in the hedge to retrieve it. I remember feeling delighted that Dad played football with us but deflated when he ended it so soon. He gave himself to us, but, not wholeheartedly, we'd just get scraps of his time here and there, never for long.

I'm a father of young boys now and it's my turn to be harangued into the garden to deliver tame shots to gleeful goalkeepers but I commit to staying out there. I remember my Dad's approach too well, his eagerness for the final whistle, his impatient desperation to return to the hutch, so I try to be different. Your kids want your time, as much of it as possible, so while taking limp pot shots at a four year old goalkeeper might not get your sporting juices flowing, it's an invaluable period to the little man in between the sticks who simply wants to be with you.

The three of us (me, Freddie 9, Ernie 4) ambled up to the school playing fields on Saturday for a more expansive game than the titchy back garden would allow. Know the best part? It was the walk from the house to the fields, we held hands all the way, these moments will disappear before you know it, you've got to cherish them. Once at the pitch we managed to play two games of 'three and in' simultaneously. Using the tall wire mesh fence, we marked out two goals side by side, Fred protecting a standard sized goal while Ernie guarded a goal no more than eight feet wide. I had two footballs to shoot with; a proper caser for Freddie and a plastic Superman motiffed floaty thing for Ernie. I soon got confused. The idea was to strike firm shots at Fred and chip floaters at Ernie, unfortunately I got mixed up and drilled a pile driver at Ernie narrowly missing his head, it was at that moment he decided it was my turn to go in goal.

We stayed at the pitch for as long as the boys wanted us to. Yes I glanced at my watch and okay I was getting hungry but we stayed together on that pitch until they decided we'd move on. We walked slowly to the shop, no hurry, we talked about this, that and the next thing, all things inconsequential, but revelled in each other's company. We drifted slowly back home, again no hurry, stopping to hurl stones into the river and to smell the roses. It was blissful, I loved it and they did too. Why? Time, that's why, we shared unhurried, aimless time. This is what I'm learning in fatherhood, the value and importance simply of time! Time gentleman please, no not for last orders, for your children.

My Ear Candy #17 - Allison Stewart

I've had some wicked guests since I started my Stoney Baloney show a year or so ago, people from different walks of life, each with a fascinating tale to tell. This week I hit the jackpot, arise Dame Allison Stewart of Alli-Baba Cakes, the first guest I've had bearing gifts and providing an off-air counselling service while her tracks were being played, top bins. 

I'd been warned not to expect to get a word in edge ways and in this respect was not disappointed. My Granny knew how to blether God bless her but she was a mute in comparison to Allison who is of gold medal standard, indeed it was an achievement to cram her six songs in within the allotted time. And what did we glean about Allison's life? Well, she started out in Falkirk, moved with her family to the Middle East then alighted in Aberdeenshire, currently residing  in Newtonhill although she is planning to move closer to her business in Laurencekirk. That's the boring stuff out the way, the juicy stuff came when we got into her love life, or lack thereof. Despite being a prize catch, her luck with men has been akin to mine with the National Lottery and she candidly described her low point as the three hour date with a bloke who proceeded to spend the entire time talking about concrete. I'm no Romeo but if I'd have been in his shoes I might have been tempted to move the conversation on a little from the rudiments of concrete setting, he didn't feel it prudent so to do however. That said, Allison's confession that she'd taken her two pet dogs along to this first date so she could walk them thereby 'killing two birds with one stone' suggested that her approach to first dates could be sharpened a little too.

I ain't goin into detail because you never know who's reading this blog but Allison's counselling of me while her songs were spinning was much appreciated. What a woman, said all the things I needed to hear, tough love delivered with beautiful cake, a fine combination. Once her cake empire is fully fledged a career in counselling awaits, meantime Mearns FM is in negotiation with her agent regards her becoming an on air Agony Aunt but so far these have stalled because she's insisting her dogs come too.

Allison's song selections ranged from good to awful with an overall standard of meh. Any Oasis choice is okay by me but Gabrielle and Pink are barely forgivable, the full list is below. Thanks very much for being a terrific guest Allison, for those that missed it this link here is valid till August 12th, just choose Stoney Baloney Listen Again link

Allison's Selections

Stevie Wonder - Isn't She Lovely

Gabrielle - Sunshine

Wham - Club Tropicana

Pink - Rockstar

Oasis - Live Forever

Chumbawumba - Tubthumping

Being Dad #1

That's me back and reunited with my children after two weeks solitude in Florida. Kids are a blessing to us but I'm changing my approach having had a fortnight to think things over, I'm gonna try and be a blessing to them.

Sounds boastful doesn't it, maybe a touch arrogant claiming to be a blessing to your children? Well yes it would if you claimed such haughty status but not if you're simply acknowledging it as an aspiration. Ask any father what his priorities in life are and top of the list would be safety and security for his children, but what is he, what am I, doing about it? How am I contributing positively to the welfare of the children that rank number one in my priorities? This is the question two weeks of naval gazing has coughed up and I'm delighted that it did because just as a malady can only be corrected when diagnosed, so relationships can only be strengthened once you've spotted a deficiency. Hands up, I've not been a great Dad, I've been an adequate one but who wants adequacy when you can have splendor? It's time to step up and I'm excited about the journey ahead, the next step is working out where to start.

For guidance on fatherhood I can think of no better book than the bible to seek discernment, God after all is the father, the son and the Holy Spirit so if he can't assist then heaven help me. I don't know if you've heard of this 'bible' of which I speak but to give you a bit of background, it's the world's biggest selling book with 5 billion having been printed, don't take my word for it see this Guinness Book Of Records link 5 billion bibles . To my mind, if the bible is God breathed and God is our father, it seems a sensible place to start when establishing what it takes to be a good Dad. I haven't read it all, you try ploughing through the Old Testament without snoring, but with the cheeky use of a study bible I can offer myself a couple of insights and you too if being a better Dad is something you find attractive.

1. Time
Presents are nice, so are other random acts of generosity and all round niceness but what kids want most of all is your time and attention. They want to be in your company, receiving your undivided, not always possible but I can certainly make it happen a lot more than I have previously. In my language that means I need to spend time with my laptop closed, my phone on silent and quit the mindless channel hopping on the telly. My children deserve eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder, father to child one on one attention, your child wants your time.

2. Patience
Hmm, not good at patience in the modern world are we? Stresses of work, troublesome relationships, all manner of competing demands for our time, it leads to short fuses and short tempers. So when you get home and the kids are clamoring for your attention and you're not up for it, why not take a breath and decide to BE up for it! Have patience. Pull up on the driveway, turn off the engine and before you climb out of the car have a word with yourself. After hours apart you're returning to the arms of the children you chose to bring into your life, they'll pull at your trouser legs, gabble questions ten to the dozen and it'll be a whirlwind of an entrance but be patient, they're thrilled to see their Dad, you're special to them, count to ten, enjoy and embrace them.

3. Respect
Here's one I'm constantly having to work on, respect. When you're the all knowing, all powerful father figure, what you say goes, kids have to suck it up, but that doesn't mean you can throw your weight around as if the family home is your fiefdom in which you steamroller all-comers. My children have opinions, desires, wants and needs, they deserve to be listened to, fatherhood isn't just a case of delivering demands and decrees, catch yourself on, a good role model isn't an authoritarian, yes there there are times when order needs restoring but don't let that be your trump card in all situations. The time and patience you show your kids can be wrapped up in the respect that you show them.

I don't have all the answers, all I've got are the questions, the stuff I share above is purely the result of investigations made by an ordinary Joe seeking to be a better Dad and not the ramblings of a big heided, ken it 'a. I'm just like you, I wanna be a good Dad, it's there for us if we want it!

My Ear Candy #16 - Scott James

My guest on Friday's show was Scott James and great value he was too (this ain't him by the way, that's Ronan Keating.) It gives me a kick when guests are within walking distance of our Stonehaven studio although I have my doubts that Scott did indeed walk, by his own admission his stellar fitness years may be behind him. I can't speak mind you, I'm just back from my holidays having promised myself I'd go running every day and I haven't got off my fat backside so far other than to collect more chocolate from the kitchen cupboard.

Scott's residence in Stonehaven is the result of a steady journey south from his origins in Fraserburgh, or 'the broch' as he called it. He was brought up there and continues to enjoy friendships with a bunch of herberts from the town's football fraternity which he was once part of. He progressed to Stoney via Peterhead and Portlethen and has two young kids at Mill 'O Forest, if they play their cards right they'll get the chance to follow my footsteps into Mackie Academy one day but at least they'll be saved the savagery of corporal punishment 80s style for any misdemeanours. Scott and I discussed my belting at Mackie for the heinous crime of snowballing back in the day but I digress.

The Stoney Baloney show gives guests the opportunity to tell us a little about their lives and their livelihoods too. Scott has his own business, Scott James Wealth Management, which assists people who are looking for guidance on how best to invest their finances, something I believe we could all take advice on, he's very experienced and there's no better fellow to give you honest advice. His musical tastes on the other hand I feel less able to champion given the six tracks he presented to us, I can't expect everybody to be an indie fan but hells bells it'd be nice if just one of his six had a bit of edge to it. I had to play Ronan Keating for goodness sake, how does an aspiring DJ recover his street cred after that? Here's the list of woe in full, a couple of acceptable ones, a couple of borderline efforts and two downright stinkers. You're welcome back to Mearns FM anytime Scott, you're a natural on the radio, but you bring the patter and I'll bring the music.

Scott's Selections

Katy Perry- Fireworks

Ronan Keating - When You Say Nothing At All

Semisonic- Closing Time

George Ezra - Budapest 

The Kinks - Sunday Afternoon 

Walk The Moon- Shut Up And Dance

My Ear Candy #15 - Bob McAlpine

Who would appear on your list of the word's nicest guys and gals? Roger Federer undoubtedly, perhaps Michael Buble who appears to be a thoroughly decent chap and we'd surely all nominate our grannies. Well I've added Bob McAlpine to my list having enjoyed his company on my radio show last evening, a more modest and pleasant person you couldn't hope to meet.

Bob and his family set up a business called Dalriada Holiday Lodges which is constructing eight luxury lodges adjacent to Stonehaven Golf Club, they should be ready for occupancy by year end. They're situated where a derelict house slept for many a year, right behind the 9th green (or the 10th in old money), a piece of land that friends and I have peppered with ill directed approach shots for decades. The site commands incredible views across the North Sea skyline beyond the sweeping golf course greenery beneath and to the right the crescent shaped bay of Stonehaven guards the beautiful town. Take a look for yourself on their Facebook page or better still arrange a site visit with Bob on 01569 769189.

Bob was brought up in Fife and joined the armed forces before embarking on a career in the oil and gas sector and he now lives in Portlethen. He's very well travelled but confesses never to have visited Villa Park, clearly a major oversight, surely a venue for any self respecting bucket list. Bob's musical tastes match his personality to a tee, calm, pleasant and dependable. If you're looking for a haven of tranquillity and can't afford a sedate cruise around the Caribbean, do yourself a favour and spend an hour in Bob McAlpine's company, one of life's good guys. Good luck with the lodges Bob, put me down for the third week of next June, I'll use it as a base when winning the Stonehaven Golf Club Championship.

Bob's Selections

1. Voices In The Sky - Moody Blues
2. In The Summertime- Mungo Jerry
3. Vivo Per Lei - Andrea Boccelli
4. Everything- Michael Buble
5. All I Wanna Do - Sheryl Crow
6. Girl From Ipanema - J Gilberto

Sent from my iPad

My Ear Candy #14 - Gerry Robertson

This week's guest was Gerry Robertson who brought along a glamorous bodyguard in the shape of Laura, the pair of them rockers from Perth (Scotland not Australia) now living in Aberdeen. I must confess to a degree of apprehension having to play six tracks selected by a greaser but I found myself pleasantly surprised, who knew that heavy metal could be listenable?

I'm something of a music expert, my ears honed to only the best in indie music's cannon from yesteryear and the present day, I'm down with the kids and no mistake. Heavy metal has always passed me by, aside from the Ace Of Spades and Paranoid, not for me the ear shattering din of shaggy haired beardos, disappearing up their own rectums with their never ending screeching guitar solos. I remember a kid at school called Selwyn (who calls their kid Selwyn?) who wore a denim jacket with a 'Rainbow' badge sewn across the back and stank of petunia, he invited me to his house once and played this insufferable metal stuff and it put me off for life...or so I thought. For tonight, much to my surprise and I admit it, disappointment, I found myself enjoying heavy metal music. I'll say that again, I enjoyed heavy metal.

I didn't enjoy all of it mind you, the Aerosmith track got off to a decent start but petered out somewhat and Deep Purple was a bit of a dirge, the rest though wasn't bad at all. Thin Lizzy's track was familiar to me but I had egg on my face when announcing the lead singer had been married to Bob Monkhouse's daughter only to wiki it later to find it was Leslie Crowther (just to clarify, the lead singer married Leslie Crowther's daughter, not Leslie Crowther.) The AC/DC one was familiar too, but the biggest shock was listening to Ozzy Osborne sing melodically, something I wasn't aware he was capable of.

We rounded off the show with The Scorpions, a shared passion of Gerry and Laura's. Our chat during the show took in the subjects of football, any excuse for me to talk about Aston Villa, and the voluntary work Gerry and Laura do with Befriend A Child, taking a young lad out for a couple of hours every other weekend to give him some fun while his mum deals with the stuff of life. This charity does wonderful life affirming work, do get involved if you can because they need more volunteers.

9pm arrived, our signal to quit. A fun time was had by all and a poke of chips was had by me as I drove back to Aberdeen. Bad move, the car stank the next day.

Gerry's selections
Thin Lizzy - The Boys Are Back In Town
Aerosmith - Sweet Emotion
AC/DC - Highway to Hell
Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers
Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train
The Scorpions - The Zoo 

My Ear Candy #13 - Kristine Buchanan

I suppose it's come to rather a pretty pass when your radio show guest is a fellow presenter but I had good reason to invite Kristine Buchanan on to my Stoney Baloney show this week. That reason isn't springing to mind quite yet but perhaps by paragraph three it will come to me. Inviting fellow presenters on is an insidious business, somewhat grotesque in its' nepotistic tendency, but I won't say anymore on the matter because I've exhausted my library of big words.

So it came to pass that I played the five tracks which provide a soundtrack to Kristine's eventful life, 'eventful' perhaps something of an understatement. Here is a woman who left her American roots twenty plus years ago to reward the UK with her presence, her mystery tour of the island starting in Brighton, taking her further north to London, north yet again to her current home in the Mearns, next stop Wick? That's a question not an instruction, although if she ever returns to my show and plays that damned Bruno Mars song again I will personally drive her to Wick and leave her there. I give my guests carte blanche to select any tracks they like but my hospitality is regularly abused I'm sad to say, my listeners insulted with all manner of sub standard guff and tonight we had to suffer the white noise of Uptown bleedin' Funk, surely the most irritating song since Black Lace belched out Agadoo.

Kristine's other four tracks varied between bearable and impressive, indeed the Dan Fogelburg effort was something of a triumphant discovery, I might be tempted to hijack it myself. Willie Nelson's velvety voice is always a pleasant tonic so that track passed muster but Garth Brook's effort fell a long way short of acceptability. Kristine's description of people from Brook's home state of Oklahoma was priceless though, I thought I held yam yams (Black Country folk) in low regard but my disdain is nothing as compared to my Texan guest's opinion of Oklahoma's residents who would appear to be six fingered carrot crunchers with little respect for personal hygiene. There wasn't time for the sixth track Kristine had nominated since we'd prattled on too long discussing this and indeed that. She did manage to cram in a Lyle Lovett track, you must google him, the guy wears a bird's nest above his eyes and is potentially the ugliest man I have ever seen. Quite what his former wife Julia Roberts saw in the millionaire famous musician I'll never know. He was punching so far above his weight he surely used step ladders.

We broadcast from a studio within Stonehaven Town Hall and while we were on, the event being held in the main hall, plainly playing second fiddle to my radio show, was a Wizard Of Oz performance. Their audience were somewhat disappointed to find the Tin Man wearing just jeans and a t-shirt for which I blame event security who were asleep on the job when I took a fancy to Tin Man's shiny silver costume which I spotted when walking to the lavatorie, I couldn't resist broadcasting the show in it. If nothing else it provided a ready made excuse for my show were it too sound a little rusty (I theng yoo.)

Thanks to Kristine for being a super guest, you really must listen to her Lone Star Show 6-7pm on Thursdays, it's always a riotous affair and her beautiful American accent provides a happy alternative to my drab monotone Brummy drawl. Her music ain't as good as mine though, FACT! Next week I have Finn Marsden as my guest, another example of fellow presenter neopotism. Still, he's cheap and accessible and as last resorts go I suppose he'll just have to do. Meantime here's a link to my show this week, just select Stoney Baloney from the list Stoney Baloney- Kristine Buchanan

Kristine's Selections
'Buttermilk Sky' by Willie Nelson
'That's Right, You're Not From Texas' by Lyle Lovett
'The Leader of the Band' by Dan Fogelberg
'Uptown Funk' by Mark Robson ft Bruno Mars
'Papa Loved Momma' by Garth Brooks

Monkeying Around

I ticked something off my bucket list last week, a little something I've always wanted to do but never had the chance. I know it's bound to be on your bucket list too but I'm afraid I've beaten you to it, yes,  I've achieved a three hour radio broadcast dedicated to Depeche Mode.

I've been obsessed with this band for three decades, ever since my mate at that time, Jason Waddleton, played me a song called 'Leave In Silence', a song which was reprehensibly described by Paul Weller as having less melody than the sound coming out of Kenny Wheeler's arsehole. Now you know why I never play The Jam on my show. Any road, despite the misgivings of Mr Weller, I've been hooked on Depeche Mode since then and decided the Mearns FM listenership required educating.

I was aided and abetted by my good friend Ian Monk who had kindly travelled from Redditch (nr Birmingham) to share his DM devotion with me. The whole show was a blast, encompassing b-sides, album tracks, remixes and live recordings that covered the band's back catalogue dating to their first single in 1981 'Dreaming Of Me'. We had folk listening in from across the globe, modern day media capabilities enabling online listeners to share our output wherever they were, and the request I put out for favourite b-side amassed 240 votes in no time. It ain't just me and Ian who's obsessed with the band. Things perhaps got a little bit anal in that we discussed the finer points of DM's career including Martin Gore recording 'Somebody' while stark naked, my only marrying my first wife because she'd kissed Dave Gahan at an album signing and the co-presenters squabbling over the best track off the album Music For The Masses, all rather unseemly. Nevertheless, our passion shone through, it was just a shame the  studio didn't have a webcam to show us dancing manically to Never Let Me Down Again. Second thoughts, it's not a shame at all.

We're considering another instalment in coming months, maybe stretching it to four hours since three was never enough. DM's discography merits it and I won't rest until the wider world has had the opportunity to share the wonder that is Depeche Mode. I've travelled to Hamburg to see them, queued for a day to meet them, been to four of their gigs in seven days, written a fanzine about them and plastered my walls with their album covers. I won't go into the lengths of Ian's devotion but I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had their faces tattooed on his intimate parts. I know I have.

Thanks to Ian for sharing a memorable show with me and to the hundreds who contributed. The following night 80,000 people saw Depeche Mode play at the Olympic Stadium, so if you're reading this Paul Weller, send me a recording of Kenny Wheeler's anal announcements because they must be absolutely superb.

You can listen again by clicking this following link and choosing the 'Alex Russon - Stoney Baloney' show. It's available till Friday DM radio show

My Ear Candy #12 Amy Eley

I've not had any guests on these last couple of weeks what with the station hosting council election hustings one Friday and me off with gut rot the next (unrelated). Thankfully it was business as usual this week and I was joined by a beautiful person, Amy Eley, who played some less than beautiful music but hey ho, I've had worse (the week someone had me playing two tracks from Tina Turner for example, I ask you).

I met Amy sometime ago through our respective day jobs in the finance industry, we''ll leave the work speak there, don't want you falling asleep, that's reserved for the listeners. We talked about our shared musical tastes, soon establishing we haven't any, but Amy kindly accepted my invitation to share her favourite tracks with those who might be interested so it came to pass on May 5th that Mearns FM belted out Amy's top six songs and they're listed, appropriately, at the bottom. (Before I forget, I do hope that on the day prior to our radio broadcast that you remembered to take advantage of the annual opportunity to say 'may the fourth be with you' when greeting friends. Ah yes, there's no end to my comedic talent, it's why I've got so many friends).

I played my indie standards for the first hour then we tucked into Amy's set while chatting about her life which has incorporated Edinburgh, Inverurie but mostly Tarves, a place I must confess I'd never heard of before but then I don't suppose Amy has heard of Erdington either (an inner city enclave within spitting distance of Birmingham's greatest ever football club). It was gratifying to hear Amy had assembled a fan club in an Inverurie sitting room which had gathered around a radio and a case of Prosecco, I'm happy for my listening figures to be trebled by a lounge-full of giggling girls. Whether Amy had the bravery to visit them on her way home was another matter given she'd announced on air that her lifetime best friend was Emma... not present amomgst the Inverurie massive. Awwwwkward.

We had a good laugh, despite the music, the selections at least book ended by decent sounds, Travis to start and that all time classic by Foreigner to finish, but there was an obscure Queen track along the way, a mediocre Mumford & Sons effort and lamentably, I was forced to broadcast that shocker 'Black Velvet' by Alannah Myles. Dear oh dear the things you have to do for this radio station. I'd award a 6/10 to Amy for her musical tastes but 9/10 for her company (it would have been 10/10 but she didn't bring any biscuits). Thanks for coming and good luck in September when you become Chris's blushing bride, just make sure he gets to pick the music for the first dance 😏

Amy's selections
1. Travis - Turn

2. Alannah Myles - Black Velvet

3. Muse - Starlight 

4. Queen - Old Fashioned Lover Boy 

5. Mumford & Sons - Little Lion Man  

6. Foreigner - I Want To Know What Love Is

My Ear Candy #11 James McConville

Springtime, don't you just love it? Days are brighter, evenings longer, people chirpier, the torment of a bleak winter behind us, Spring provides a gateway into the Summer, bliss. Not, however, if you're a bleedin' Friday night community radio presenter. You try retaining your listening figures on a balmy Springtime evening when all folk want to do is walk on the beach or grab an ice cream at Aunty Betty's. Let's face it, my listening figures are paltry at the best of times, harsh winters at least give me hope with people locked in their homes like prisoners, they're more likely to switch on the radio. Persuading listeners to tune in though when glorious sunshine beckons is quite another matter, so I receive the onset of Spring with mixed emotions.

Still, those loyal enough to tune in this week were treated to the customary eclectic indie rock sprinkled with random classics (when I say classics I mean classics, not Simply The Best by Tina Turner or guff of that ilk, I'm talking Life's What You Make It by Talk Talk and Intergalactic by The Beastie Boys kind of stuff.) On this week's show I duly pleasured my listeners' ears between 7-8pm then welcomed my guest James McConville for the second hour as he played six tracks which are significant to him. I used to call this the 'Desert Island Disc' slot until someone pointed out the BBC had stolen my idea (fifty years prior) and it might be an idea to drop the label unless I knew a very good solicitor.

It would be fair to say the majority of James' choices would be unlikely to feature in my own top six, or indeed six thousand, however none of his selections offended me, except perhaps the System Of A Down racket which veered through five different genres in the space of four minutes. We chatted about James' life and his wife (more of her later) and enjoyed a very pleasant hour together. What did I discover about James in this period? Well firstly, our shared revulsion of football clubs wearing blue. My claret and blue tendencies insist that I won't rest until Birmingham City are demoted from league football until they reside in the abyss known as the Conference, similarly James had as much time for Rangers as he did of a dose of the squits. We learned too of the passion he has for his chosen vocation within the accountancy sector where he's happily employed by Johnston Carmichael in Aberdeen. 

James's Celtic support results from his Glasgow roots but he moved to the north east when his parents relocated and he met Claire/Clare (apologies, should have clarified the spelling) who he subsequently married. For how much longer they'll be married is a moot point given he dedicated the Queen track 'Fat Bottomed Girls' to her, which should see him down at the divorce courts within forty eight hours.

This blooper apart, I'd like to thank James for being a tremendous guest. If you brush up on one or two selections I'll happily invite you on again my friend, you'll be glad of the company given you'll be a single man.

James' Selections

1. Spirit in the Sky - Dr & The Medics
2. A Boy Named Sue - Johnny Cash
3. Black or White - Michael Jackson
4. Fat Bottomed Girls - Queen
5. Radio/Video - System of a Down
6.The Red Rose Café - The Fureys

Come uppence

Twelve months ago I found myself in the final of the Stonehaven Golf Club Pairs winter league competition having joined forces with Keith Douglas. We crashed and burned that day, ended up second, and our friendship never recovered from the subsequent recriminations. We ended up in court, before a judge as biased as they come. To this day I defend my position that Douglas contributed sweet bugger-all to our collective performance and I'll blame him for our demise in the final till the day I die, stinking the course out to such an extent that the adjacent herd of cows ran for the hills, their nostrils unable to cope.

Anyhow, letting bygones be bygones (while allowing myself a modicum of bitterness), Douglas today marked the anniversary of our runners-up spot by competing in the 2017 final alongside his new partner, Bruce Ferguson. That's right he sacked me off for someone else. Well chickens come home to roost Douglas and I've just been passed the results of your grand final which provides me with the joyful duty of announcing that you finished a pitiful third. That's right, when the heat was on, you and your partner couldn't cut the mustard, languishing amongst the also-rans. It really couldn't have happened to a nicer person. You thought you'd be better off with someone else eh? Well you've sure managed to move on from second place, just in the wrong direction you useless goon.

My hearty congratulations go out to messrs Riddell & McCallan (pictured). I ought to offer my commiserations to them too for having to spend three and a half hours on a golf course with a pair of cretins. I look forward to seeing the trophy held aloft on the back pages of the Leader, perhaps Kevin and Ross can fill it with champagne and once they've drank the contents, refill it with sewage and deliver it over Douglas's head. Make sure his mouth's open (that shouldn't prove a problem given it's perpetually spouting all manner of guff.)

I wrote a book about my fated partnership with Douglas last year. It's available up at the golf club for £7 and the proceeds go to RNLI and the Rotary. Or you can get it here Stoney Baloney book . Read it to discover just why today's result tastes so so sweet.

My Ear Candy #10 Dawn Ewan

At last, a radio guest on Stoney Baloney with a decent collection of tunes under her arm. I've had to tolerate some guff over recent months but this week I had a virtual full house of acceptable tracks thanks to my guest Dawn Ewan. Only the Guns n Roses selection was a disappointment, most folk enjoy Sweet Child O' Mine but I struggle with it given it's sung by Axl Rose, he grinds my gears and no mistake. It's the same with U2, some decent stuff but I can't listen to them because their lead singer is beyond irksome. Coldplay are another band I have reservations about but Dawn selected 'Yellow' from their triumphant first album, this I deemed acceptable. The other selections were Eagles, Oasis, Pulp and Prince so a healthy collection with which to spend an hour while we found out about Dawn's new business venture, Mucky Boots here's the website

Dawn lives with her family in Muchalls, a stone's throw from Stonehaven, on the road to Aberdeen. She has two children (Emily 8, Fraser 5) upon whom she can trial her outdoor educational ideas, they have landed on their feet being blessed by a cool Mum. For years Dawn has worked in this field (figuratively, not literally) and her new business opens the doors on April 25th in Maryculter, welcoming young children as they investigate what nature might teach them. I'm a southern softie so the prospect of hours in the bleak Aberdeenshire cold would horrify me but as Dawn explained, kids don't feel the cold and are delighted to be outside instead of being couped up between four walls, with boring adults like me. But Dawn aint boring and inspires the kids, I'm confident her business will successfully serve the community and add value to the lives of our young. If only there were similar companies operating in Birmingham back in the 70's, I might have become a better looking Alan Titchmarsh instead of a slobbish couch potato like Stan Ogden.

Dawn's Selections
1. Sweet Child 'O Mine - Guns n Roses
2. Disco 2000 - Pulp
3. Yellow - Coldplay
4. Hotel California - The Eagles
5. When Doves Cry - Prince
6. She's Electric - Oasis