Archive | October, 2014


29 Oct

MMMMMmmmm . . . . . . Dinner !

Took Bella to river

to see the ducks.

All I could hear was

Mmmm dinner!

She also remarked

she was looking thinner.

My reply was

Look, look.

if you sell some more books, then certainly you’ll  be a winner.  Check it out;



17 Oct

#LISSEN.                                                                        IMG_0493_1

My son has a dog
its name is Bella
she is a girl
she’s not a fella

She’s a Scottish dog
and awfully clever
she fetches sticks
straight from the river

She is a cross
But has good looks
I wonder if,
she can help sell books.

Here is a picture
She is a winner
If she sells books
I can buy her dinner.


12 Oct

McNab bartab002_edited-1 copy

Farther adventures of Andy McNab (me) a simple Scottish traveler

in the wild west of Colorado in the United States of America.

(To be continued).

#LISSEN. Down memory lane.

11 Oct

I have been walking down memory lane again. My friend Dave called from Scotland this morning and we were both soon re-living some of the daft happenings when Dave played drums in my band, The Andy Russell Seven back in the sixties.

Dave reminded me of the time when the band played backing for the Beau Brummel show one night in Galashiels, Scotland.  Big Adam was the dance hall manager and he introduced the Beau Brummel show in his unique country style. He poked only his bald head through the stage front curtains and bawled at the startled audience. “Lissen” he commanded. “Here he is, direct from London, the man yez have been waitin’ for, the one and only, Bob Rummel!”. Our band could not even attempt to play for laughing.

Enough of this plain, simple and rough country talk. Dave sends his regards and asked me to send a pic. of the early rock ‘n’ roll days in sixties Scotland. He also reminded me to let you know that you can read all about these times by following this link;


That’s Dave Ewart on drums and I am playing tenor sax. Read all about it in my book, My Rock ‘N’ Roll Daze.


1 Oct

I have done it again.  It’s the old open mouth – insert foot thingie.

I was enjoying a pint of the Irish black stuff  with a new friend the other night at the club. This guy was telling me about a recent visit he had made to Ireland searching for details about his ancestors when he was briefly interrupted by a passing acquaintance. They both laughed at some corny joke before my new friend turned back to me and said,  “I’m a bastard” he blurted at me. Thinking he was apologising for the interruption to his Irish story, I joined in with the rough, manly banter by replying loudly in my Scottish accent, looking around to make sure others could hear me saying, “Aye, you are a right bastard”.  He leaned closer to me, looked all around to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, ” No, I mean I am a real bastard. My mother was Irish but she kept her mouth shut right up till the day she died and never told me. I only found out when I was in Ireland last week.

Oh dear. We had to have a couple more pints of the black stuff to sort this ancestry thing out.

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