SEVERAL months have elapsed since my last entry so it's obvious I've been back at work!

Bank holidays aren't really a holiday in the Herald office as we still have to get the paper out on Thursday but the phones are quieter than usual - thereby given me a chance to do a bit of blogging.

I was flicking through some old files earlier today and noticed some pictures from past gala days. Sadly, most of them now no longer exist, which is a happy as they were great occasions, especially for the kids.

Perhaps it's time a few inrterested parties got together to organise one big event for the whole of the district. The Falkirk Herald would certainly be happy to play a part if anyone else out there was interested.

WELL that's the Christmas and New Year celebrations over - and I'm looking forward to a better 2008 as I return to work on Monday.

An article in one of our national newspapers last week asked Scottish celebrities if Christmas was taking over from Hogmanay as our big event of the year. Not surprisingly, the answer was a resounding 'Yes'. Most of us enjoy a family Christmas but, whenever you ask someone what kind of New Year they've had, the chances are the answer will be 'Quiet'.

It's a pity because I remember the great parties that used to be held in my gran's house each year. I was too young to stay up but I will remember the singing and laughing that went on until the wee small hours, and I looked forward to the day when I would be able to join in. Unfortunately, by the time I came of age, the parties had fizzled out and it was left to me and my friends to rekindle the Hogamanay knees-up. The first event wasn't much of a success - the first of our group left at around 10 p.m. (slightly the worse for wear) and the remainder of us were tucked up in our own beds before the bells!

We did have a few good New Years though and I fondly recall conga-ing down the street one early January 1 morning. But it's been a few years since that particular party and recent festivities have been something of a damp squib.

Perhaps it's time Falkirk planned another street party to mark the coming of the new year. Glasgow, Edinburgh and even Stirling can do it, so why can't we?

AS my rehabilitation continues, I decided to brave the biting wind and take a wee stroll before the sun set.

A few years ago - after another operation! - I regularly enjoyed a walk along a wooded footpath in Dunipace, returning via Denny town centre and, more often than not, stopping off at one of the local newsagents for some refreshments.

It was such an enjoyable half hour or so that I vowed I would continue on a weekly basis even after returning to work. However, you won't be surprised to know that I soon became caught up in everything else that was going on and never ventured near the footpath again.

That was until this afternoon when, unusually for me, I followed my wife's instructions to ''wrap up warm'' and ventured outside on my own.

Everything was going well until I reached the point where the path crosses the River Carron and found my progress barred by a wooden fence. There was no notice but I assumed that there was something amiss with the bridge and probably climbing the fence and testing its strength was not a good idea.

I had two options - retrace my steps or take I a route I had never been before. Not being blessed with a good sense of direction and still recovering from my operation, the choice was obvious. But then I'm also a stubborn mule, so off into the unknown I headed.

Thankfully the new path brought me out somewhere I recognised and I was able to make my way home without further mishap, albeit sans refreshements.

On making further enquiries, I have discovered that the bridge had, in fact, been blocked off for some time, ruining what once was a popular walk.

I think a call to my colleagues at the Herald is in order to see if our 'Get it Sorted!' column can come to my aid ...

GOOD news at the clinic today when I was given  the go-ahead to start driving again. That meant I was able to head home on my own rather than relying on my wife's taxi service. It also meant I was able to tune in to Five Live, giving the old heave-ho to Real Radio.

Of course, I was hoping for my daily dose of sports news, repeated every hour, but instead we got the Queen's Speech at the opening of Parliament. I say the Queen's Speech but it was really Gordon Brown's speech read by the Queen, setting out as it does what the Government plans to do over the coming year.

High on the agenda once again was education, with plans announced that would see all children in some sort of training - whether it be at school, college/university or in the workplace - until the age of 18.

Hopefully that will lead to a reduction in the huge numbers of youngsters leaving school without being able to read and write, but we have a long way to go if a woman quoted recently in the Manchester Evening News is anything to go by.

Apparently, Camelot has had to stop selling one of its scratchcards because it was causing so much confusion. To win, punters had to rub off a panel to reveal a temperature lower that the one featured on the front.

Quite straightforward you might think, but, when it got to temperatures below zero, it proved too much for some people, leading to the aforementioned classic quote: ''I phoned Camelot and they fobbed me off with some story that -6 is higher, not lower, than -8 but I'm not having it."

TODAY marks my sixth anniversary as editor of The Falkirk Herald but, instead of spending it with my colleagues debating what stories should appear in this week's edition, I am at home typing this, awaiting the arrival of a carpet cleaner and trying to avoid Jeremy Kyle on the TV.

Not that I'm complaining. Without wishing to be over-dramatic, I'm just glad to be here at all.

Back on July 18, my wife and I were out for a meal at the Coppertop celebrating our ninth wedding anniversary when she happened to mention my eyes were looking a bit yellow. I didn't think much of it but, over the next few days, several of my workmates made the same observation and it soon became clear that my skin was also turning a worrying shade.

I made an appointment to see my doctor who immediately diagnosed it has jaundice and arranged for blood tests to be taken. The results usually take a few days to come through so I made an appointment to see him later in the week and returned home. However, only a few hours had elapsed when the phone rang. It was the doctor who wanted to see me again ... and quickly.

It appeared that my liver count was sky high and he wanted me to go to Stirling Royal that day for further tests. To cut a long story short - and to skip forward a few weeks - I was later transferred to Edinburgh Royal where, after a failed attempt to control my liver count with steroids, it was decided a transplant was the only way forward.

However, the problem was that, by that time, I was too ill to be put on the list and it took several days of intensive treatment before, at 4 p.m. on Thursday, September 6, I was finally deemed fit enough. Luckily for me, I only had to wait a few days for a suitable liver to be found and I underwent my transplant on Monday, September 10. It was a long and complicated operation and I didn't wake up until the Wednesday when I was greeted by the news that Scotland had beaten France!

The recovery period was intially slow but, buoyed by the fact that the operation was deemed a great success, I eventually made it out of hospital on Saturday, September 29, and since then I've ditched my zimmer and walking stick and am well on the way to getting my life back to normal.

A few words of thanks here can never suffice but I would still like to pay tribute to all the hospital staff, friends and, most of all, my family for getting me through this difficult period.

Anyway, enough of the sentimental stuff. I'm now well enough to take an interest in what's happening at work and in the world at large so hopefully my future blog entries will feature plenty to keep you entertained.