Surprise was expressed (again) today that I somehow managed to end up with the stunner that was the late Mrs H (thanks, Sam).

It’s something that has reared its head many times over the years right back to when ladies were amazed that I was married, never mind punching so far above my weight.

Well, it’s actually quite simple.  Simple, albeit quite hard for the handful of folk who know me these days to comprehend.  Bear in mind I know no-one who knew me in the first 37 years of my life.  So the only people who do know me only know the curmudgeon that was left after a lifetime of fate beating me down.

But actually, in my younger days, I was a bit of a charmer.  I was still a bit of a bastard, mind, but when the need arose I could turn it on. It used to annoy the late Mrs H no end, when we returned from one of the social occasions that marriage demanded of me.

“Why are ye no like that aw the time?”  Easy.  If I’m out in your company I don’t want to show you up so that folk can say “I telt ye. He was ayeways a wrong yin.”

Having explained this (again) I recommenced Operation Clear Oot this eftie and at the back of the bottom drawer in Linda’s chest of drawers what should I find but the Walkman I gave her over 20 years back when she used to come visit me in London.  She’d even held on to a couple of mixtapes (ask yer Granda) for old times sake.

A quick scan of the tracklisting confirmed everything I’d ever thought about myself.  I really did know what the ladies liked.

Kid Rock, Dog Eat Dog, Blackstreet, Chemical Brothers, Fatboy Slim, Bone Thugs n Harmony, Goldbug, Foxy Brown, Definition of Sound, Freakpower, Rick James, Cameo, B-Legit and more. Granted, there was still room for some pop hits but I was a groove machine and Mrs H knew it.  All lovingly encased in an Easter Road depicting sleeve.

And you wonder why she kept me around?  Fools, the lot o’ ye.