I am a Scottish bird adrift in Vienna, where it's pretty but the streets are full of dogshit and moaning sausage munchers. I miss the threat of imminent violence that made going out in Glasgow so exciting. I'd give my right arm for a bag of crisps, a Ruffle bar, a can of Irn Bru and a copy of the Celtic View from the Pakistani shop near my old work. At the same time, I am quite content lying in a smelly sparkly bath, with the cat sitting on the edge, listening to NRJ and reading the Falter classifieds.
For a living I translate utter rubbish into medical English, ignore customer complaints and change 'feels like head exploding' to 'mild headache.' I have a fabulous office with a variety of stamps.
I love carbs and crabs, which are anagrams. I hate Tony Blair and Wir Sind Helden. I like the idea of transformations. I love chocolate, tofu, edamame, photos, baking, tattoos, the Sellik, trashy magazines, geography quizzes, kittens, Sweden, snow, plants, rice and dhal, swearing, wasabi peas and Xmas pudding.
