I l



Three deserving Christmas

Aid Armenia directly via



charities which work at collecting boxes onthe home and abroad with Mound. Edinburgh or by people who are posting donations to the

short-changed throughout

National Westminster Bank.

the year are: Save the Royal Garden Branch. Children. 21 Alva Street. Kensington High Street. Edinburgh. 225 9491; Help London W8 (account

the Aged. 53 Blacklriars Street. Edinburgh. 556 4666; Shelter. 65 Cockburn Street. Edinburgh. 229 8771. You can contribute to


Giving Mrs Edwina Currie a Faberge egg lor Christmas. Sending David Jenkins a copy at Jimmy Boyle's book ‘A Sense otFreedom'. Giving The Proclaimers a copy ot ‘Correct English Usagei


number 03300390. sorting code 50-30-10). Credit card donations can be made on 01 937 8957 or 01 937 3965.

Glasgow‘s George Square tree is so laden down with gaudytinsel. it can hardly stand up. Edinburgh'stree on the Mound. bedecked



' .1 Jill



with plain light bulbs. shows exemplarytaste and relinement. Draw your own conclusions.



cunts HILL

Kristina Woolnough (words) SimonUooch (pictures) .

' No regrets. Sheena

McDonald reflects on the turn ofthe y ‘ar

Oh. there you are! I didn't see you down there.

What's the problem? A little woozy'

on the w assail. are we? Yup

~ know how you feel. Budge up while llie beside you - reckon wc'y‘e fairly earned our annual R 'n' R.

(Which reminds me before we float off on this seasonal raft of goodwill did I eyer tell you about the time I was sunbathing at Balmedie. North of Aberdeen? 'I'hese were the early days of the greenhouse effect. you'll recall: going for the all-oy er suntan at lunchtime amid the dunes was a regular enough eyent. So tlierel was. alone and palely' splayed. like a

stripped twig w hen oyer the sandy |

hummoeks appeared a man. Yes yes I'd seen one before. thank you yery much . . .'l'oo late. I sought entirely inadequate refuge behind my pocket edition of'l'he ()ch ('uriosity Shop. 'l'oo latc.l serunched my sun-squinting features into a yeritable medusa ot a seowl. in the hope that he might take me for a local troll (NOT trull. lid. ). and hurry past.

He didn't.

4'1'hel.istl3[)ec1988— 13 .lan 1989

What a great idea! he cried. as he reached me and took all his clothes off. and lay down beside me.

There's not a lot more to this one. Put me right off pocket fiction. I'll tell you that ney'er mind sunworshipping in the land of the northern lights. l’rctty' stupid when you think about it.

R 'n' R right? No. no » not rest and recreation. Regret and Resolution. ofcourse! 'l'he yin and yang of the turn of the year. Scots style. When you reach the last page of your diary and wish you'd kept it after all. this year. Looking back. it definitely had its moments. Ah well. next year. [7y en ifl don't manage to keep up with the '00! up had breakfast' catalogue. I can always record my scything hon mots. Nobody else will. alter all. Arrogance? Not at all look at Oscar Wilde. Dorothy Parker. ('hurchilll Modest folk. behind the surface extroyertigo. And surely a godsent inspiration should be recorded for future generations to puzzle oyer. No? Maybe not. I mean. who exactly do you think is going to read your diary. Who do you think you're writing it for? Yourself? Your dim and distant future publisher? Your (yes. of course) biographer. . .1"

In which case. you're pro‘ '

lying. Anthony l lowai'd of We ()bsei'yer opined iii a recent radio broadcast that autobiography was no more than a manipulation of the lacts of your own life

Nonsense. I thought. lfanyone's likely to manipulate the facts of your life. it's the outside forces who goy'ern your timid flourishing with their biographical misrepresentations: the teachers with their reports. the employers \KlllllllCIrilSNt3\\lthlll\.lllt‘thlk1(lrs with their diagnoses. the critics w itlt their chips.

But on second thoughts. he s probably got something. Where others get it wrong because they have such a paucity ol lactson which to base their simple linear theses. you get it w rong because you base such'a glut ’l o record eyery‘ moment is a proto l’roustian impossibility.

and so you select. And that enhancing or self-deprecating selection of facts of life is indeed a lairl\ (. ‘ude manipulation of :ill

’2 'uths about the person that

pUSN'li (

is you.

And is your version your fziy'oiirite'.’ Or do you secretly craye to see yoursel' as ithers see ye? I wouldn't »- it can turn you grim. if not grey. overnight. l‘ye seen it happen. on two occasions to two individuals

who had the misiudgcment to iead my diary secretly and find theinselyes pinned .iiid pressed therein. tiiirecognisable without their ow n familiar trappings.

'l'oo late. I sought inadequate coy er behind my assertion of the thumbnail mendacity ol tauto)biograpliy lW:ts remorselessly exposed in the w liile light ot inadyertent truth as a troll (y'es.'l'R()l.l )indeed

So much for that' got up and left.

Neyer mind you're still here You're still waiting for the Regret and Resolution? It's all between the lines.olcourse soiiiewlieie between dusk and dawn. the end and the beginning,

But I'll share one with you a Resolution this year. I shall not leay e it lying around No. no not the stripped twig the diary I Dear. dear '— how can you expect to keep up after all that liggy pudding .tlltl mulled 'poo" You're going to stop trying. are you" ( )h 7 you're actually leaving? Well. I'm glad I made you feel a little liyeliei

Sothat's it lor another year. then

Bye bye. t'yc‘l'y lttltly ltyc‘ ltyc'.

(llaye they gone? ( iieatl Hack to reality. ‘( iot rip had afternoon lCit.. f)

they cried. and