I defer to only one Scotsman, my hero Billy Connolly, which is why I was bowled over to get a signed copy of his autobiography. So it’s Happy Birthday to me, the Jim Yin.
What I didn’t know is that Billy’s birthday is tomorrow when he will still be 23 years my senior, at 79.
Billy is everything I admire and aspire too, a raconteur, a liberal and an adventurer.
And the Travel writer I want to be.
Glasgow belongs to us
Whether it’s in my Glaswegian genes or it’s because I’ve simply copied him I keep discovering random things we both enjoy.
And so in the first couple of pages he describes the garb he was wearing one day… and his own personal Jesus is my Homeboy T-shirt.
No doubt from the same batch as my own.
While he is also a devotee of the magic cloth, the bandana.
Both of which I’ve taken on many a journey.
Being a winter baby I’ve oft found myself confined to barracks in a dark old Northern European country when it comes to my anniversary.
The exception was my first year with my Scary One.
When she took me over to Amsterdam for the first time.
Have boots, will travel
But hundreds of kilometres of trekking has taken its toll on my boots (and liver).
And the Scary One has upgraded my boots, although it’s sad to say Adios to the old ones.
Throw in a pyjama and slippers set (although I do like my branded hotel ones) from the Outlaws and I’m a happy birthday bunny.
Of course on this day of days I always think of my Dear Old Mum as we did go through this journey together.
And she’s always been the first to wish Happy Birthday to Me, the Jim Yin