BBC 2 are to screen The Wire (I presume Season One) starting next Monday evening (March 30th) at 11.20. Do give it a try and let me know what you think of it. But don't forget, you've got to give it a fair run as it can very much be an acquired taste.
But I'm so pleased that someone in the BBC thought it was good enough enough to screen.
Power to intelligent thinking!
Thursday, 26 March 2009
Thursday, 19 March 2009
BEING SIXTY !!!
drinking champagne through a straw
Lou and me and presents
my favourite position - horizontal
champagne bottle on left counter
contents of containers - water - honest
It's my birthday today and I'm the staggering age of sixty, which sounds far worse than it is. Didn't you know? Sixty is the new forty!
I've had a few wobbles in the last few weeks because this really is a difficult age to assimilate, mainly because pension decisions force you to face your own mortality.
Do you defer payment of the state pension, for example? And do you top up your fund to take into account any missing years of National Insurance contributions?
I've worked it out that it would take about twenty years before any top up would actually mean that I break even, given the thousands of pounds I'd have to pay now. So I ain't going to bother.
If being 60 means more days like today, then I'm all for it. I did a Pilates class this morning then had a swim then went to town to have my hair done. And while I was there, I was asked if I'd like to have their special offer of a manicure for £10 whilst having my hair done. Now this really was a no-brainer for me because I love being pampered, so there I was, having my hair and nails done, discussing suitable tattoos for some of my characters in my next novel - Winchester Blues. Pure bliss.
And then, of course, I had to have my feet done, too, just to balance things up.
The only down side was that I had intended to go to The Body Shop afterwards to get my free birthday gift and take advantage of their 20% off offer but I forgot. Lack of memory, sadly, is one of the downsides of getting older!
And then, because I'd promised him earlier, I had to take the dog for a walk when really I fancied a bit of a lie-down (another age thing).
However, since the Turkish army and air-force tried to get me in 1974 and, luckily for me, failed, I reckon that every day since then is an added bonus. Just wished I'd realised this earlier. But I've had such a full life - both good and bad things - I can really say that I've lived life to the full. And reaching sixty is a great achievement.
So, don't be frightened of sixty. I reckon that all those who reach this age are very lucky indeed. The news today has been full of the death of the beautiful and talented actress, Natasha Richardson, aged just 45, and poor, hapless Jade Goody is only 27. So seize life with both hands because you never know when it's going to end.
Now there speaks a person of wisdom. (It's an age thing!).
So, respect. That's what I want. Respect! And if anyone calls me grandma or expects me to behave like a geriatric, they can take a running jump.
By the way, I'm on the champagne at the moment and my hairdresser suggested I try drinking it through a straw so I'm off now to do just that.
Peace and good-will to all.
Maggie xxx
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Sunday, 8 March 2009
RED RIDING - A WHOLE LOAD OF HORSE MANURE
Like the American Series The Wire (just can't stop mentioning it!), the new British television drama series, Red Riding, has received a lot of publicity. For example, the Guardian television critic has been waxing lyrical about it. Here are just a few quotes:-
"Grown up noir, there's unlikely to be a better British TV drama all year"
"...utterly mesmerising..."
So, on that basis, I watched the first two hour episode of the trilogy. Apparently, it's based on the four novels written by David Pearce, set in Yorkshire during the seventies and eighties, highlighting widespread corruption in all walks of life, particularly the police. I have never read these novels and, having seen this first episode, have no intention of doing so, my reasons being as follows:-
1. It is slow and tedious with a large splattering of gratuitous sex and violence.
2. It's one dimensional. Shot in brownish colours to give a sense of history and decay, it stereotypifies the police, the baddies and the corruption. It's like a scruffy cardboard cutout.
3. There's nothing subtle or three dimensional. No character development, which is essential for good drama. Plus, no particularly likable characters so I didn't care one way or another what happened to them. And Sean Bean was so hammy as a corrupt murderous businessman that it was cringe-making.
4. The ending is so improbable and with so many anomalies that it's just not credible. Any dramatic impact is totally lost.
I don't blame the actors, many of whom are seasoned thespians, including Sean Bean, David Morrissey and Warren Clarke. I blame the script writers and the director and, probably David Pearce's original novels. Given my enthusiasms for The Wire, which is as brutal and hard-hitting as they come, I'm not adverse to such dramas. What I am adverse to is unrelenting bleakness that does not show or explain or provide any kind of balance.
Am I going to watch the next two episodes? As far as I'm concerned, life is too short. It's good in a way because it confirms my praise for The Wire, where there is just as bleak a scenario, probably even more so, but presented in such a thoroughly rounded way that you have sympathy for the drug-dealers and killers and understand why they are as they are. There is also much humour in The Wire and a sense of a shared humanity which is totally absent in Red Riding.
So, despite the fact that I have a degree in English and Education and all, the most appropriate way I can think of to describe this drama and my contempt for it is that it's a TOTAL LOAD OF HORSE MANURE.
IF YOU DISAGREE LEAVE A COMMENT, EXPLAINING WHY.
P.S.Am totally chuffed because Amazon asked me to write a commentary about The Wire Season Four on their website, which I did with great gusto. It should be up soon. I'm sure this is just standard procedure but I'm chuffed all the same. They probably had no idea what enthusiasm they had tapped into!
"Grown up noir, there's unlikely to be a better British TV drama all year"
"...utterly mesmerising..."
So, on that basis, I watched the first two hour episode of the trilogy. Apparently, it's based on the four novels written by David Pearce, set in Yorkshire during the seventies and eighties, highlighting widespread corruption in all walks of life, particularly the police. I have never read these novels and, having seen this first episode, have no intention of doing so, my reasons being as follows:-
1. It is slow and tedious with a large splattering of gratuitous sex and violence.
2. It's one dimensional. Shot in brownish colours to give a sense of history and decay, it stereotypifies the police, the baddies and the corruption. It's like a scruffy cardboard cutout.
3. There's nothing subtle or three dimensional. No character development, which is essential for good drama. Plus, no particularly likable characters so I didn't care one way or another what happened to them. And Sean Bean was so hammy as a corrupt murderous businessman that it was cringe-making.
4. The ending is so improbable and with so many anomalies that it's just not credible. Any dramatic impact is totally lost.
I don't blame the actors, many of whom are seasoned thespians, including Sean Bean, David Morrissey and Warren Clarke. I blame the script writers and the director and, probably David Pearce's original novels. Given my enthusiasms for The Wire, which is as brutal and hard-hitting as they come, I'm not adverse to such dramas. What I am adverse to is unrelenting bleakness that does not show or explain or provide any kind of balance.
Am I going to watch the next two episodes? As far as I'm concerned, life is too short. It's good in a way because it confirms my praise for The Wire, where there is just as bleak a scenario, probably even more so, but presented in such a thoroughly rounded way that you have sympathy for the drug-dealers and killers and understand why they are as they are. There is also much humour in The Wire and a sense of a shared humanity which is totally absent in Red Riding.
So, despite the fact that I have a degree in English and Education and all, the most appropriate way I can think of to describe this drama and my contempt for it is that it's a TOTAL LOAD OF HORSE MANURE.
IF YOU DISAGREE LEAVE A COMMENT, EXPLAINING WHY.
P.S.Am totally chuffed because Amazon asked me to write a commentary about The Wire Season Four on their website, which I did with great gusto. It should be up soon. I'm sure this is just standard procedure but I'm chuffed all the same. They probably had no idea what enthusiasm they had tapped into!
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
THE WIRE - AGAIN!
Hard to believe that initially I wasn't too keen on the American drama series, The Wire, (see previous blog for clarification). Well, the daftnotstupid team (John and myself) have just finished the box set of Season Four (from Amazon) and it was so tremendous that I want to watch it all over again, now.
There are still plenty of characters from previous seasons, who are now like old friends - goodies and baddies alike - but there are lots of new ones, too (as in all the seasons). Quite a number die on the way because this is a brutal portrayal of life in the slums/ghettos of Baltimore and I'm sad when they do get the chop (well, most of them) but then the new characters become like friends, too, and I get so involved in their lives that I'm actually in mourning that we've finished Season Four and that there's only one more season to go because there is absolutely nothing on television that gets so under your skin as this drama series. For me, there is nothing that shows the human condition as ruthlessly or as thoroughly as The Wire and I feel I'm learning more about people/drugs/gangs/poverty and the massive underclass in America (no doubt the same in the UK) /the police and politics watching this than any documentary.
The acting is so terrific that I don't see the characters as actors but as real people. Character development is utterly believable, the plot deceptively tightly structured, and there is a mid-boggling scale, range and diversity of stories in each season which inter-link more vastly than the imagination can take in at one go.
The structure of The Wire reminds me very much of JB Priestley's classic play, An Inspector Calls, because seemingly insignificant events can ultimately have such damaging consequences that it quite takes your breath away. And you just don't see it coming. As a writer, I know only too well how difficult it is to do that. In fact, if I could write just as fractionally well as Ed Burns and George Pelecanos, I would be a very happy bunny.
The emphasis of Season Four is the education system, plus the usual politics in local government and the police force, and it's the education part that has so engaged me, having once been a teacher.
The main plot centres around Four young black boys - Richard, Namon, Dukie and Randy - all of whom have horrendous home backgrounds and learn barely a thing from the state system of education, which is geared towards useless testing (ring any bells?), has a staggering inability to provide for the needs of its pupils, and is vastly under- resourced, although the need to help lift these children out of their dismal backgrounds and poverty of hope or any sense of meaningful achievement is immense.
Our four boys start off as reasonably innocent (as innocent as you can be living in a drug/gang environment) and their initial pranks are more typical teenage stuff than anything else. But by the end of the series, they are all in serious trouble, one of them, for example, having become a hardened killer, and it's not really of their own making or deserved. It's a consequence of living in a ghetto where the authorities are mainly incapable of stepping in and giving valuable support. In fact, it's heartbreaking, and I keep thinking about these kids and how their lives are in such a mess and what will happen to them in Season Five, if they do re-appear. I have to keep telling myself that it's just a television drama but so much resonates with my own teaching experience in an Educational Priority Area in Sunderland, where I constantly had to balance maintaining some kind of law in the classroom with a need to accept the kids as they were and to show understanding rather than being judgmental.
In Season One, I was horrified at what seemed to be a total lack of interest by the police in solving/preventing crime but now I know that it's the system that makes effective policing so difficult, in particular, policing based on positive stats rather than effective policing and protection, and that the police have, quite rightly, become cynical. But there are a few genuinely talented and dedicated officers, politicians, teachers, ex-offenders and church ministers who can make a difference, and their efforts, even if they face enormous difficulties and have only limited success, give the show little glimmers of hope, contrary to the "there's no room for hope in this show" claim of one of the writers/producers.
And you very much get the sense that the writers/producers are doing more than producing an enthralling show - they're deliberately highlighting the plight of this forgotten underclass in America. It's not just the drama that shows this, but also the commentaries available during some of the episodes and the special ones at the end, where they talk with passion about wanting to be as authentic as possible in their description of how people live in Baltimore. Many of those involved in the show, both behind the camera and in front, have worked in Baltimore in the police/education departments, as crime reporters or have, themselves, been drug dealers, even killers, so they are drawing from a vast range of experience.
They have only made five seasons, each with roughly a dozen episodes, so when we've watched Season Five, which I'm getting from Lou for my birthday soon, it'll be time to start watching them all over again.
We're now half way through re-watching Season Four and it's incredible how much new we're picking up (this is where the brilliance of the structure comes in), that we missed first time round. I'd say that that's very good value for money. But it's such a pity that The Wire was not put out on main time television in either America or Britain and so it didn't receive the coverage that it deserves. Or that it has not been recognised in any television awards. Apparently, a lot of viewers in America don't like The Wire. I can understand it if they couldn't get past the first three episodes of Season One (see my previous blog) because it is very challenging television. However, there have been plenty of suggestions that the main reason is that people don't want to acknowledge that the kind of problems portrayed in The Wire actually exist. And all I can say to that is SHAME ON YOU ! If we don't acknowledge problems, then we don't do anything to rectify them. What kind of a humanity are we if we allow children from deprived areas to stay right down in the cesspit of life?
In my opinion, The Wire is even better that some of the big hitting American dramas such as The Sopranos, Damages, ER or 24.
And finally, my own wish is that every self-righteous, judgmental, smug citizen who would automatically dismiss those involved in the seedier side of life in Baltimore as shown in The Wire, should be forced to watch this show to see that there is good and bad in everyone, whether on the right side of the law or the wrong side, and that for many, many people they have no choice but to do what is necessary in order to survive. And that those of us who are fortunate not to have been born into a life of abject poverty should not judge those who haven't. "There but for the grace of God," is a good motto to remember.
There are still plenty of characters from previous seasons, who are now like old friends - goodies and baddies alike - but there are lots of new ones, too (as in all the seasons). Quite a number die on the way because this is a brutal portrayal of life in the slums/ghettos of Baltimore and I'm sad when they do get the chop (well, most of them) but then the new characters become like friends, too, and I get so involved in their lives that I'm actually in mourning that we've finished Season Four and that there's only one more season to go because there is absolutely nothing on television that gets so under your skin as this drama series. For me, there is nothing that shows the human condition as ruthlessly or as thoroughly as The Wire and I feel I'm learning more about people/drugs/gangs/poverty and the massive underclass in America (no doubt the same in the UK) /the police and politics watching this than any documentary.
The acting is so terrific that I don't see the characters as actors but as real people. Character development is utterly believable, the plot deceptively tightly structured, and there is a mid-boggling scale, range and diversity of stories in each season which inter-link more vastly than the imagination can take in at one go.
The structure of The Wire reminds me very much of JB Priestley's classic play, An Inspector Calls, because seemingly insignificant events can ultimately have such damaging consequences that it quite takes your breath away. And you just don't see it coming. As a writer, I know only too well how difficult it is to do that. In fact, if I could write just as fractionally well as Ed Burns and George Pelecanos, I would be a very happy bunny.
The emphasis of Season Four is the education system, plus the usual politics in local government and the police force, and it's the education part that has so engaged me, having once been a teacher.
The main plot centres around Four young black boys - Richard, Namon, Dukie and Randy - all of whom have horrendous home backgrounds and learn barely a thing from the state system of education, which is geared towards useless testing (ring any bells?), has a staggering inability to provide for the needs of its pupils, and is vastly under- resourced, although the need to help lift these children out of their dismal backgrounds and poverty of hope or any sense of meaningful achievement is immense.
Our four boys start off as reasonably innocent (as innocent as you can be living in a drug/gang environment) and their initial pranks are more typical teenage stuff than anything else. But by the end of the series, they are all in serious trouble, one of them, for example, having become a hardened killer, and it's not really of their own making or deserved. It's a consequence of living in a ghetto where the authorities are mainly incapable of stepping in and giving valuable support. In fact, it's heartbreaking, and I keep thinking about these kids and how their lives are in such a mess and what will happen to them in Season Five, if they do re-appear. I have to keep telling myself that it's just a television drama but so much resonates with my own teaching experience in an Educational Priority Area in Sunderland, where I constantly had to balance maintaining some kind of law in the classroom with a need to accept the kids as they were and to show understanding rather than being judgmental.
In Season One, I was horrified at what seemed to be a total lack of interest by the police in solving/preventing crime but now I know that it's the system that makes effective policing so difficult, in particular, policing based on positive stats rather than effective policing and protection, and that the police have, quite rightly, become cynical. But there are a few genuinely talented and dedicated officers, politicians, teachers, ex-offenders and church ministers who can make a difference, and their efforts, even if they face enormous difficulties and have only limited success, give the show little glimmers of hope, contrary to the "there's no room for hope in this show" claim of one of the writers/producers.
And you very much get the sense that the writers/producers are doing more than producing an enthralling show - they're deliberately highlighting the plight of this forgotten underclass in America. It's not just the drama that shows this, but also the commentaries available during some of the episodes and the special ones at the end, where they talk with passion about wanting to be as authentic as possible in their description of how people live in Baltimore. Many of those involved in the show, both behind the camera and in front, have worked in Baltimore in the police/education departments, as crime reporters or have, themselves, been drug dealers, even killers, so they are drawing from a vast range of experience.
They have only made five seasons, each with roughly a dozen episodes, so when we've watched Season Five, which I'm getting from Lou for my birthday soon, it'll be time to start watching them all over again.
We're now half way through re-watching Season Four and it's incredible how much new we're picking up (this is where the brilliance of the structure comes in), that we missed first time round. I'd say that that's very good value for money. But it's such a pity that The Wire was not put out on main time television in either America or Britain and so it didn't receive the coverage that it deserves. Or that it has not been recognised in any television awards. Apparently, a lot of viewers in America don't like The Wire. I can understand it if they couldn't get past the first three episodes of Season One (see my previous blog) because it is very challenging television. However, there have been plenty of suggestions that the main reason is that people don't want to acknowledge that the kind of problems portrayed in The Wire actually exist. And all I can say to that is SHAME ON YOU ! If we don't acknowledge problems, then we don't do anything to rectify them. What kind of a humanity are we if we allow children from deprived areas to stay right down in the cesspit of life?
In my opinion, The Wire is even better that some of the big hitting American dramas such as The Sopranos, Damages, ER or 24.
And finally, my own wish is that every self-righteous, judgmental, smug citizen who would automatically dismiss those involved in the seedier side of life in Baltimore as shown in The Wire, should be forced to watch this show to see that there is good and bad in everyone, whether on the right side of the law or the wrong side, and that for many, many people they have no choice but to do what is necessary in order to survive. And that those of us who are fortunate not to have been born into a life of abject poverty should not judge those who haven't. "There but for the grace of God," is a good motto to remember.
Thursday, 22 January 2009
THE WIRE
Having read reviews about The Wire (American Detective T.V. Drama set in Baltimore) and about how it was an enormously popular cult show and how brilliant it was or 'you'll either love it or hate it', I decided to get a copy of the first season from Amazon.
From what I'd already read about it, I knew that it was going to be very different from regular cop shows, but I had no idea just how different.
So, I watched the first three episodes whilst John was abroad on business and took an instant dislike to it.
Firstly, I made the mistake of reading the summary on offer before each episode, losing the element of surprise. But, on the other hand, it did give me a clue as to what was going on because without it, I wouldn't have known what the hell was going on and who was who.
There were mainly five problems for me:-
1. I could hardly understand what people were saying because of the Baltimore slang used or general mumbling of lines.
2. The language I mainly understood was the pretty extreme swearing, which seemed to constitute much of the dialogue, and it seemed far too crude, even for me.
3. There were too many characters introduced very quickly and I got confused as to who was who.
4. This is not a nice world that's being portrayed. Apparently, one of the producers/editors said: "There's no room for hope on my show," and boy do you get that impression almost immediately, even if you don't understand what's being said. You have the Baltimore police, who are often corrupt or incompetent, and the few really efficient, dedicated, honest police, who are often pushed onto the sidelines and have to fight hard to get the resources they need. And then there are the politicians, who appear to be motivated by self-promotion. So what's new there, you might ask. It's just that it reaches right to the top and they don't give a damn about their actual constituents. Okay, so what's new there. And then you have the 'baddies' - the drug dealers - who are ruthless and violent. so, it's hardly a feel good show!!!
5. There are lots of short scenes - up to a hundred or so per episode - so it was difficult for me to follow and keep track. I'd still be wondering what the last scene was about and there would be another scene and then another so what I got was a misty idea of what was going on, unlike say The Bill which is pretty obvious, unless you fall asleep (a cheap crack, I know, because I do enjoy The Bill, but you'll see what I mean if you watch The Wire).
However, it's saving grace for me and what prompted me to give it a second chance was the character D'Angelo, the nephew of one of the drug gangs' bosses, Avon Barksdale, whose amazingly charismatic lieutenant, Stringer Bell, has an incredible presence on screen (appreciated after I realised who he was). But there was something I particularly liked about D'Angelo: a depth of character and a certain dignity of demeanor and vulnerability.
So, when John returned home, we started watching it together only this time, it wasn't new or too difficult for me to understand (John, of course, took to it immediately) and I started to 'get it'. The different characters became clearer to me and I began to see that they, too, had depth, with their own idiosyncrasies and noticeable differences and personalities. And I could also see that seemingly irrelevant scenes actually had a purpose. So I started to appreciate both the characterization and the intricate structure of each episode and also to appreciate what an adventurous series this in many ways: the brutal honesty in showing how life can actually be for both the police and drug dealers and also the way each scene is filmed, so carefully crafted. Apparently each scene is meticulously story-boarded. And I also learnt that I didn't need to understand everything, as long as got the gist. Sometimes, we stop the DVD just to clarify events with each other, but that's getting rarer now that we're into Season 3!
Yes, I got well and truly hooked and I'm so glad that I persevered and it's certainly the characters who make this show. Most, if they're not bumped off, progress into the next series so they become familiar friends - some likable, some not - whether they're police or drug dealers and some things that are left unresolved in the previous season are picked up in the next. It's also fascinating watching police procedures, particularly in setting up and using a 'wire' (phone tap), which is central to each series.
Dominic West is excellent as the maverick, alcoholic cop, central to each story, and I'm particularly fond of Bubbles, the hapless informant, and Omar, who steals drugs and money from drug dealers.
And I was particularly chuffed with Season Two, where the emphasis shifted to the port trade and trade unions, because several of the drug/crime bosses spoke in Greek, particularly when they were swearing and I could actually understand them!
But there doesn't seem so much swearing now or perhaps I'm getting used to it.
You have to really concentrate when watching this show but that's okay. So much television is banal and stupid and so a programme that doesn't treat its audience as complete idiots is most welcome. And I would say that, for me (and Barack Obama), this is the best television that there is. I can't praise it highly enough.
But, I wouldn't like to live in Baltimore!!!
From what I'd already read about it, I knew that it was going to be very different from regular cop shows, but I had no idea just how different.
So, I watched the first three episodes whilst John was abroad on business and took an instant dislike to it.
Firstly, I made the mistake of reading the summary on offer before each episode, losing the element of surprise. But, on the other hand, it did give me a clue as to what was going on because without it, I wouldn't have known what the hell was going on and who was who.
There were mainly five problems for me:-
1. I could hardly understand what people were saying because of the Baltimore slang used or general mumbling of lines.
2. The language I mainly understood was the pretty extreme swearing, which seemed to constitute much of the dialogue, and it seemed far too crude, even for me.
3. There were too many characters introduced very quickly and I got confused as to who was who.
4. This is not a nice world that's being portrayed. Apparently, one of the producers/editors said: "There's no room for hope on my show," and boy do you get that impression almost immediately, even if you don't understand what's being said. You have the Baltimore police, who are often corrupt or incompetent, and the few really efficient, dedicated, honest police, who are often pushed onto the sidelines and have to fight hard to get the resources they need. And then there are the politicians, who appear to be motivated by self-promotion. So what's new there, you might ask. It's just that it reaches right to the top and they don't give a damn about their actual constituents. Okay, so what's new there. And then you have the 'baddies' - the drug dealers - who are ruthless and violent. so, it's hardly a feel good show!!!
5. There are lots of short scenes - up to a hundred or so per episode - so it was difficult for me to follow and keep track. I'd still be wondering what the last scene was about and there would be another scene and then another so what I got was a misty idea of what was going on, unlike say The Bill which is pretty obvious, unless you fall asleep (a cheap crack, I know, because I do enjoy The Bill, but you'll see what I mean if you watch The Wire).
However, it's saving grace for me and what prompted me to give it a second chance was the character D'Angelo, the nephew of one of the drug gangs' bosses, Avon Barksdale, whose amazingly charismatic lieutenant, Stringer Bell, has an incredible presence on screen (appreciated after I realised who he was). But there was something I particularly liked about D'Angelo: a depth of character and a certain dignity of demeanor and vulnerability.
So, when John returned home, we started watching it together only this time, it wasn't new or too difficult for me to understand (John, of course, took to it immediately) and I started to 'get it'. The different characters became clearer to me and I began to see that they, too, had depth, with their own idiosyncrasies and noticeable differences and personalities. And I could also see that seemingly irrelevant scenes actually had a purpose. So I started to appreciate both the characterization and the intricate structure of each episode and also to appreciate what an adventurous series this in many ways: the brutal honesty in showing how life can actually be for both the police and drug dealers and also the way each scene is filmed, so carefully crafted. Apparently each scene is meticulously story-boarded. And I also learnt that I didn't need to understand everything, as long as got the gist. Sometimes, we stop the DVD just to clarify events with each other, but that's getting rarer now that we're into Season 3!
Yes, I got well and truly hooked and I'm so glad that I persevered and it's certainly the characters who make this show. Most, if they're not bumped off, progress into the next series so they become familiar friends - some likable, some not - whether they're police or drug dealers and some things that are left unresolved in the previous season are picked up in the next. It's also fascinating watching police procedures, particularly in setting up and using a 'wire' (phone tap), which is central to each series.
Dominic West is excellent as the maverick, alcoholic cop, central to each story, and I'm particularly fond of Bubbles, the hapless informant, and Omar, who steals drugs and money from drug dealers.
And I was particularly chuffed with Season Two, where the emphasis shifted to the port trade and trade unions, because several of the drug/crime bosses spoke in Greek, particularly when they were swearing and I could actually understand them!
But there doesn't seem so much swearing now or perhaps I'm getting used to it.
You have to really concentrate when watching this show but that's okay. So much television is banal and stupid and so a programme that doesn't treat its audience as complete idiots is most welcome. And I would say that, for me (and Barack Obama), this is the best television that there is. I can't praise it highly enough.
But, I wouldn't like to live in Baltimore!!!
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Ki-mani Marley: NO WOMAN NO CRY
If you're new to this blog site and want to understand this latest post (which I hope you do), you need to scroll down to my post about The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival 2008.
For regular readers, you may be wondering why yet again I'm writing about Ki-Mani Marley's rendition of this song at the festival.
The truth is that John gave me a CD of his recording of the Ki-Mani's performance (taken from the famous balcony) and I've been playing it none stop in my car and loving it more each time I play it.
And in particular, this track - "No Woman No Cry" - gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. And it's all to do with audience participation. At the beginning of the song, the audience cheer (and it was an enormous audience) but when they realise that it's this particular song, one of his dad's best, they roar with approval and it's just fantastic. And then we all sang along without him and then he joined in. And the more I hear it, the happier I am, and I can be driving along the M3 singing my heart out and reliving that fantastic evening and that fantastic festival.
You really get that 'roar' effect more clearly on just an auditory CD but it's certainly discernible on John's daftnotstupid You Tube site. You also get the visual effect of Ki-Mani Marley's energy and the dancing of the audience (although John's camera work is a little shaky at times).
So, I implore you to watch/listen to this track, especially exciting if you put the volume on high and I defy you not to feel uplifted.
And since John has shown me, just as I write, how to include a direct link on my blogs, all you need to do is click here and hey presto, you're on the actual track. If you don't do this, you're missing a treat! ENJOY !!!
John says: If you want to sing along, take a look at this site which has the words, and an embedded clip.
For regular readers, you may be wondering why yet again I'm writing about Ki-Mani Marley's rendition of this song at the festival.
The truth is that John gave me a CD of his recording of the Ki-Mani's performance (taken from the famous balcony) and I've been playing it none stop in my car and loving it more each time I play it.
And in particular, this track - "No Woman No Cry" - gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. And it's all to do with audience participation. At the beginning of the song, the audience cheer (and it was an enormous audience) but when they realise that it's this particular song, one of his dad's best, they roar with approval and it's just fantastic. And then we all sang along without him and then he joined in. And the more I hear it, the happier I am, and I can be driving along the M3 singing my heart out and reliving that fantastic evening and that fantastic festival.
You really get that 'roar' effect more clearly on just an auditory CD but it's certainly discernible on John's daftnotstupid You Tube site. You also get the visual effect of Ki-Mani Marley's energy and the dancing of the audience (although John's camera work is a little shaky at times).
So, I implore you to watch/listen to this track, especially exciting if you put the volume on high and I defy you not to feel uplifted.
And since John has shown me, just as I write, how to include a direct link on my blogs, all you need to do is click here and hey presto, you're on the actual track. If you don't do this, you're missing a treat! ENJOY !!!
John says: If you want to sing along, take a look at this site which has the words, and an embedded clip.
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Christmas 2008 and the ongoing battle between Hedonism and Humility
THIS BLOG HAS TAKEN FOREVER BUT IS NOW FINISHED AND MUCH AIDED BY THE OCCASIONAL GLASS OF FESTIVE WINE
And, of course, hedonism usually wins by a clear margin for 99.999% of us.In the Old Testament, God describes the Israelites as a 'stiff-necked and stubborn people' so many times that he's obviously making an important point. And I think it's true for all of us. Now, God doesn't actually use the term self-centred to describe us but I do, because the truth is that most of us are self-centred, self-serving, consumed with our own needs to a greater or lesser degree (apart from people like Mother Theresa, although I bet that she occasionally put herself first).
Christians are reminded time and time again that they need to 'die to self'and to do things God's way rather than our own, but it's a very difficult thing to do because, let's face it, it's human nature. I've been attempting for a number of years to 'die to self' and I haven't even chipped away at the tip of the iceberg. I describe myself as a 'work in progress', just like most of my writing .
But before you think I'm wearing a sack-cloth, smothered in ashes and in a state of fasting as atonement, let me say that I'm most certainly not. I'm just acknowledging that, and I'm repeating myself here, it's human nature to put ourselves first far more than is good for us or the rest of mankind, and I'm the first to put my hand up and declare: 'Yes, I'm like that.' We all are. And that's one of the reasons why Jesus Christ was born in the first place - to save us from ourselves because we're not very good at doing it for ourselves.
For anyone who has read all of my blogs, it's no secret that I have been a Christian for nearly twenty years and am eternally grateful to be so.
So, as a Christian, this is supposed to be 'my time of the year' and yet I just haven't been feeling excited about the Christmas Story during the long, slow, monotonous build up to Xmas, which started in SEPTEMBER !!!, until I heard the interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury on this morning's BBC Radio 4's Today programme. Not only did I agree with what he had to say about the world's financial crisis but also it got me really thinking about the Xmas story.
Basically, what he argued was that this financial crisis is a real opportunity for us to re-examine the way we live. He maintained that the Government's borrow and spend solution to our financial problems was not the right way to tackle the situation. We should think, instead, of what we need rather than than what we want and that this over-reliance on financial wealth, consumerism and speculation using the Stock Exchange ultimately does not aid a healthy, caring society. When pressed on this for details, he laughingly said that for him to give precise financial advice was 'suicidal madness', which I thought was a great expression to use, but the suggestion was there that there is an alternative and far more rewarding approach. And I think that that's true: spending our way out of financial recession is just repeating the same materialist mistakes which got us into this mess in the first place.
Clive James repeated this idea in his hilarious ten minute slot on Sunday on Radio 4 at 8.50: 'A Point of View'. Making and selling goods is one thing, but making money just from money (note this, all you bankers, hedge fund managers etc,) can only lead to disaster. (That was the serious bit of his talk after nearly ten minutes describing how difficult he found wrapping presents, bribes to a daughter to do it for him, and his delight in finding a service that actually wraps presents badly to avoid suspicion from family members, well used to his inept wrapping skills using not quite enough paper or ribbon.)
And, and this is my thought now, borrowing for material goods when we can't afford them is poor budgeting. But unfortunately, in introducing student loans some time ago, the Government has given a clear message to young people that it's okay to go into debt. Ugh???
And this borrowing, spending culture leads onto my Christmas theme. I've felt for a long time now that we certainly are too hedonistic when it comes to Xmas. In fact, it can turn your stomach seeing trolleys piled high with food at super-markets and hear just how much parents spend on their children. I think we have spoilt our children, me included, to think that they can have everything they want. And often this means that we just give them what they want, without them having to do anything, which, in turn, means that they don't learn how to save and plan and actually earn what it is that they want. And the Archbishop of Canterbury would say, anyway, that 'what they want' should be replaced by 'what they need.'
Of course, there are many countries where large swathes of the population don't even have what they need, making the hedonism of Xmas even more unpalatable, and this highlights the enormous imbalances between the western world and third world countries. Although there is poverty in the UK, it pales into insignificance when compared to a country such as Zimbabwe, which is an international disgrace.
Robert Mugabe, a defeated politician who clings onto an illegal presidency, seems to have no care for his people, who are dying at alarming rates because of lack of food and clean water, cholera and other diseases whilst most of the hospitals and clinics are now closed. This man, who struts around like a peacock, living a life of luxury, and using the race card in a way that reveals that it is he who is the racist, is probably the best example in the world of the disastrous effects of hedonism.
Why don't the African countries in the area open their eyes to the fact that he is no longer the great saviour of Zimbabwe, the freedom fighter who liberated his people, but is now a cruel dictator, guilty of war crimes against his own people? South Africa et al should do what is right and proper and apply pressure on him to leave office peacefully because he won't take any notice of 'colonial white people'. Certainly, the longer they condone his presidency, then the greater is their betrayal of the African people.
And so, from a false saviour to the real thing: the Christmas Story.
Jesus, in fact, was probably not born on December 25th or even at this time of the year. (Most recent thinking is that he was probably born in April and that The Star of Bethlehem was actually Jupiter). Christians just hijacked the pagan celebration of the sun in December. As the days of winter became darker, the pagans were fearful that their sun-god had deserted them and so they devised celebrations to woo him back, which actually occurred naturally near the end of December. I don't mind Christians hijacking celebrations and making them into their own or reclaiming symbols like rainbows and angels, which have been hijacked by new agers, but it means that Xmas is a very artificial celebration, rather like the Queen's official birthday. So, trying to conjure up some special magic of the wonder of Christ's birth on Christmas Day, is something I find difficult to do.
However, the story of Christ's birth is a brilliant one - any writer would give their right arm to re-create a story as good as this one, with so many twists and turns, a seemingly tragic defeat and then, three days later, a wonderful victory. But if you unravel the details, then a different picture comes into focus, far starker than the simple nativity scene that we present to children. I'm not knocking that at all - I love to see the manger scene - the crib, Mary and Joseph, the angels, the shepherds, the Wise Men. It's stunning and beautiful and totally right as a clear and simple representation. Forget the fact that the Wise men came much later, probably two years later. The crib scene is symbolic of it all.
But, for us adults, and, more pertinently, the present financial crisis, if we examine the early life of Jesus Christ, it's not the totally happy or comfortable scene that represents it. Because:-
a. Jesus's parents were unmarried at the time of his 'conception', which was more than sufficient reason for Joseph to ditch Mary, since she was supposed to be a virgin. He must have been a very special man to accept the excuse that the pregnancy of his fiance had been the result of Divine Intervention.
b. They were a very poor, very humble family - not the background that you would expect for a King.
c. They had to travel away from their home to Bethlehem for the consensus whilst Mary was heavily pregnant, risky with modern transport and even more so on a donkey on rough, unmade roads.
d. There was no comfortable room for them to stay in but a basic stable, which would have been uncomfortable, unhygienic and very smelly.
e. News of Jesus's birth enraged King Herod so much that he ordered the wholesale slaughter of all infants, thinking that this would include his rival, not realising that it was quite a different King who had been born; a King who had not come to rule but to sacrifice himself. It was only Joseph's dream warning of this slaughter, which prompted the family to escape to Egypt.
f. This meant that Mary, Joseph and Jesus were refugees in a foreign country.
I had hoped to have this blog finished well before Xmas but I've had flu and regretfully drifted into a total sleep-do-nothing fest. It's now Boxing Day and this is the first time I'm even wanted to go on my computer. So, I hope that what I write now makes sense. (If it ever did when sans-flu.)
g. Once back in Nazareth, Joseph died at some stage, we don't know when, so Mary was head of a one-parent family.
Now, what I find so relevant about the early experiences of Jesus Christ, was that they were both tough and dangerous. The joyful manger scene was short lived, to be replaced by persecution and difficulties. It's what I call 'the bitter-sweet' nature of life. Jesus had to live with this tension all his life and certainly at his death. But yet, he still enjoyed life and that's a wonderful example to us all and why I'm not wearing sack-cloth etc.
For we live with this tension, too. There will always be problems in our lives, no matter who we are, whether we are rich, well-off or poor, no matter what our age, gender, religion, culture or sexual persuasion. And even if everything is hunky-dory most of the time, then knowing that people are being killed, starved, enslaved and devastated by man-made atrocities or natural disasters in many parts of the world, leave an uneasy feeling for most people. The secret is to find the balance, like Jesus, within this 'bitter-sweet' existence: living as fulfilling a life as possible without being complacent and to do what we can to help as much as we can. We are certainly not asked to carry the world's problems on our shoulders, thankfully. That's Jesus's job.
And this 'bitter-sweet' tension is no more keenly felt on Xmas Day in this country. It should be a day of celebration, not only for the birth of Jesus but also enjoying the closeness of not just family and friends but also in acknowledging strangers to whom it is perfectly acceptable to greet on Xmas Day. But for many, Xmas Day is a nightmare to be endured: the pressures of providing too much food, too much drink, too many presents, everything being perfect, takes its toll on all those who are hosting the day (I should know - I've done it often enough. Xmas lunch is notoriously the most difficult meal to prepare because there's so much of it, all needing different cooking times. Luckily, John became the master of such planning, with a military precision that is a sight to behold, but even so, whilst your guests are getting merrier and louder, you, the providers, are reduced to semi-exhaustion in a hot, steamy kitchen.)
And then there are the family tensions, which often come to the surface with the emotion of the occasion and the surplus of alcohol; people who don't have family nearby or have no family at all; those who are homeless, in debt, have lost their job or about to lose their job, and so on and so on.
I guess that I'm making two points here. Firstly, the Xmas we celebrate in this country often has little to do with the birth of Jesus and, secondly, it is dreaded by many people. So, something's wrong. Big time.
And we seem to have forgotten that Jesus had a particular affinity to all those scorned by society: the poor, prostitutes, those who are ill, the homeless, those whose lives are in danger. And during the three years of his ministry, Jesus accepted and enjoyed the company of society's outcasts as well as those with money. In other words, not only did he come for everyone, rich and poor alike, but he was especially drawn to the unfortunates in life and although he did, on occasions, say: 'Go and sin no more' he often did not.
He came, as he said,'to save not to condemn'. And I'm just wondering here just how much the Christian Churches or Western Governments totally embrace that kind of message. My own church does a lot of work abroad, particularly in Africa, so I know that good work is being done. And St Martins in The Field, that famous church in the centre of London, does incredible work helping homeless people learn new skills, finding accommodation and jobs, and hopefully, will have raised a significant amount of cash after their Xmas appeal on Radio 4.
I acknowledge that sometimes church leaders speak out about Zimbabwe, Iraq, the direction the government is taking in this financial crisis etc. But, only too often we hear the condemning, dogmatic side of the church. Look no further than the Pope's recent condemnation of homosexuality, likening it to the destruction of our world due to global warming. These are people he is talking about!
I certainly don't remember, anywhere in the gospels, Jesus condemning whole swaves of people to eternal damnation because they were gay. Perhaps I missed that part and someone from the clergy could leave a message on this blog, quoting the relevant chapter and verse. Or the role of women in the church. I think that it's essential to re-examine our interpretations of the Bible from time to time to sort out what is valid today and what reflects cultural thinking of the time. For example, slaves were accepted in Jesus's era but we now legislate against it because slavery is disgusting. That is an abomination, I would say
So, back to Xmas. I'm definitely not saying that we shouldn't have fun. Jesus loved having a good time, eating and drinking and enjoying the company of friends and so should we. And giving and receiving presents at Xmas time can be a lot of fun but what I'm suggesting here is that we should tone down the expense and the hype and remember all those who are far worse off than us and actually do something positive. For example, Oxfam have a scheme called Unwrapped (oxfamaunwrapped.com) where you can donate animals, clean water supplies etc to families in third world countries and I'm going to do that next year and probably in January. Why wait until Xmas 2009?
And perhaps this looming recession will make us think about what is really important in life and that helping each other is far more rewarding than anything else. And we're already seeing it: electricians forsaking their own Christmas's to restore power to homes in Lancashire. This economic crisis is yet another 'wake up call', like 9/11, 7/11, the Boxing Day tsunami. Are we going to listen to it ? I really, really hope so.
And so to our Xmas here. I had originally intended to write about my childhood memories of Xmas, which give me great pleasure, and not this serious 'essay' about hedonism versus humility, but I guess my own 'bitter-sweet' thoughts on Xmas just hijacked the blog and I'm glad that it did so because, in my own mind, I've put a number of things into perspective.
Since I was 15, Xmas has always been a difficult occasion for me because my dad died just after Xmas in 1964 and since then, some pretty horrible things have happened to me around this time of the year. So, like it or not, with the excitement and plans come some pretty horrible memories. Some people can switch off from these things but I can't.
However, I have had some great Xmases in between the awful ones and this year has been notably enjoyable despite all our plans going array.
Morocco was not an option this year (now that's a fantastic way to spend Xmas) so originally John and I were going to have a very low-key day, taking the dog for a walk on Sandbanks beach and chilling out in the evening. But on a recent visit to Glastonbury to see John's new-found sister, she invited us to her Xmas do and we jumped at the chance. I adore everyone in our new found family - they are such amazing fun - and the thought of a large family Xmas with people I actually like gave me much pleasurable anticipation.
We booked a room for the night in a nearby hotel and stocked up on goodies for the meal - Xmas pud, creams, chocolates, cheeses and wine. And then I got this bl.... flu and was confined to bed. So we decided that John would go to the party because he had half the meal and I would be sleeping anyway and I stayed at home. I've never, ever spent Xmas alone before and to be honest, I really enjoyed myself. I slept all the day (getting up briefly to watch the Queen's speech) and then rolled out of bed to have a tele fest: Doctor Who, EastEnders, Strictly Come Dancing, Wallace and Gromit, and the fabulous Royal Family Xmas dinner, where, of course, everything went wrong but nobody minded and they ending up with a sing-song.
As someone famous said (was it Woody Allen or John Lennon?): life is what happens while you're busy making plans.
But the most enjoyable part of Xmas was listening, snuggled up in bed, of course, to the King's College Festival of Carols on Radio 4 at 3pm on Xmas Eve. And then the magic of Xmas and the miracle of Jesus flooded the room and I felt very, very content
It is now New Year's Day (I don't think I've ever spent so long on one blog but what the heck. I've enjoyed writing it and perhaps I've banished those nasty Xmas ghosts. And I'm certainly looking forward to next Xmas because I've definitely not had enough turkey.
So, all that's left to wish you all a Happy New Year and may you feel a sense of peace and the strength to tackle whatever is ahead.
And, of course, hedonism usually wins by a clear margin for 99.999% of us.In the Old Testament, God describes the Israelites as a 'stiff-necked and stubborn people' so many times that he's obviously making an important point. And I think it's true for all of us. Now, God doesn't actually use the term self-centred to describe us but I do, because the truth is that most of us are self-centred, self-serving, consumed with our own needs to a greater or lesser degree (apart from people like Mother Theresa, although I bet that she occasionally put herself first).
Christians are reminded time and time again that they need to 'die to self'and to do things God's way rather than our own, but it's a very difficult thing to do because, let's face it, it's human nature. I've been attempting for a number of years to 'die to self' and I haven't even chipped away at the tip of the iceberg. I describe myself as a 'work in progress', just like most of my writing .
But before you think I'm wearing a sack-cloth, smothered in ashes and in a state of fasting as atonement, let me say that I'm most certainly not. I'm just acknowledging that, and I'm repeating myself here, it's human nature to put ourselves first far more than is good for us or the rest of mankind, and I'm the first to put my hand up and declare: 'Yes, I'm like that.' We all are. And that's one of the reasons why Jesus Christ was born in the first place - to save us from ourselves because we're not very good at doing it for ourselves.
For anyone who has read all of my blogs, it's no secret that I have been a Christian for nearly twenty years and am eternally grateful to be so.
So, as a Christian, this is supposed to be 'my time of the year' and yet I just haven't been feeling excited about the Christmas Story during the long, slow, monotonous build up to Xmas, which started in SEPTEMBER !!!, until I heard the interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury on this morning's BBC Radio 4's Today programme. Not only did I agree with what he had to say about the world's financial crisis but also it got me really thinking about the Xmas story.
Basically, what he argued was that this financial crisis is a real opportunity for us to re-examine the way we live. He maintained that the Government's borrow and spend solution to our financial problems was not the right way to tackle the situation. We should think, instead, of what we need rather than than what we want and that this over-reliance on financial wealth, consumerism and speculation using the Stock Exchange ultimately does not aid a healthy, caring society. When pressed on this for details, he laughingly said that for him to give precise financial advice was 'suicidal madness', which I thought was a great expression to use, but the suggestion was there that there is an alternative and far more rewarding approach. And I think that that's true: spending our way out of financial recession is just repeating the same materialist mistakes which got us into this mess in the first place.
Clive James repeated this idea in his hilarious ten minute slot on Sunday on Radio 4 at 8.50: 'A Point of View'. Making and selling goods is one thing, but making money just from money (note this, all you bankers, hedge fund managers etc,) can only lead to disaster. (That was the serious bit of his talk after nearly ten minutes describing how difficult he found wrapping presents, bribes to a daughter to do it for him, and his delight in finding a service that actually wraps presents badly to avoid suspicion from family members, well used to his inept wrapping skills using not quite enough paper or ribbon.)
And, and this is my thought now, borrowing for material goods when we can't afford them is poor budgeting. But unfortunately, in introducing student loans some time ago, the Government has given a clear message to young people that it's okay to go into debt. Ugh???
And this borrowing, spending culture leads onto my Christmas theme. I've felt for a long time now that we certainly are too hedonistic when it comes to Xmas. In fact, it can turn your stomach seeing trolleys piled high with food at super-markets and hear just how much parents spend on their children. I think we have spoilt our children, me included, to think that they can have everything they want. And often this means that we just give them what they want, without them having to do anything, which, in turn, means that they don't learn how to save and plan and actually earn what it is that they want. And the Archbishop of Canterbury would say, anyway, that 'what they want' should be replaced by 'what they need.'
Of course, there are many countries where large swathes of the population don't even have what they need, making the hedonism of Xmas even more unpalatable, and this highlights the enormous imbalances between the western world and third world countries. Although there is poverty in the UK, it pales into insignificance when compared to a country such as Zimbabwe, which is an international disgrace.
Robert Mugabe, a defeated politician who clings onto an illegal presidency, seems to have no care for his people, who are dying at alarming rates because of lack of food and clean water, cholera and other diseases whilst most of the hospitals and clinics are now closed. This man, who struts around like a peacock, living a life of luxury, and using the race card in a way that reveals that it is he who is the racist, is probably the best example in the world of the disastrous effects of hedonism.
Why don't the African countries in the area open their eyes to the fact that he is no longer the great saviour of Zimbabwe, the freedom fighter who liberated his people, but is now a cruel dictator, guilty of war crimes against his own people? South Africa et al should do what is right and proper and apply pressure on him to leave office peacefully because he won't take any notice of 'colonial white people'. Certainly, the longer they condone his presidency, then the greater is their betrayal of the African people.
And so, from a false saviour to the real thing: the Christmas Story.
Jesus, in fact, was probably not born on December 25th or even at this time of the year. (Most recent thinking is that he was probably born in April and that The Star of Bethlehem was actually Jupiter). Christians just hijacked the pagan celebration of the sun in December. As the days of winter became darker, the pagans were fearful that their sun-god had deserted them and so they devised celebrations to woo him back, which actually occurred naturally near the end of December. I don't mind Christians hijacking celebrations and making them into their own or reclaiming symbols like rainbows and angels, which have been hijacked by new agers, but it means that Xmas is a very artificial celebration, rather like the Queen's official birthday. So, trying to conjure up some special magic of the wonder of Christ's birth on Christmas Day, is something I find difficult to do.
However, the story of Christ's birth is a brilliant one - any writer would give their right arm to re-create a story as good as this one, with so many twists and turns, a seemingly tragic defeat and then, three days later, a wonderful victory. But if you unravel the details, then a different picture comes into focus, far starker than the simple nativity scene that we present to children. I'm not knocking that at all - I love to see the manger scene - the crib, Mary and Joseph, the angels, the shepherds, the Wise Men. It's stunning and beautiful and totally right as a clear and simple representation. Forget the fact that the Wise men came much later, probably two years later. The crib scene is symbolic of it all.
But, for us adults, and, more pertinently, the present financial crisis, if we examine the early life of Jesus Christ, it's not the totally happy or comfortable scene that represents it. Because:-
a. Jesus's parents were unmarried at the time of his 'conception', which was more than sufficient reason for Joseph to ditch Mary, since she was supposed to be a virgin. He must have been a very special man to accept the excuse that the pregnancy of his fiance had been the result of Divine Intervention.
b. They were a very poor, very humble family - not the background that you would expect for a King.
c. They had to travel away from their home to Bethlehem for the consensus whilst Mary was heavily pregnant, risky with modern transport and even more so on a donkey on rough, unmade roads.
d. There was no comfortable room for them to stay in but a basic stable, which would have been uncomfortable, unhygienic and very smelly.
e. News of Jesus's birth enraged King Herod so much that he ordered the wholesale slaughter of all infants, thinking that this would include his rival, not realising that it was quite a different King who had been born; a King who had not come to rule but to sacrifice himself. It was only Joseph's dream warning of this slaughter, which prompted the family to escape to Egypt.
f. This meant that Mary, Joseph and Jesus were refugees in a foreign country.
I had hoped to have this blog finished well before Xmas but I've had flu and regretfully drifted into a total sleep-do-nothing fest. It's now Boxing Day and this is the first time I'm even wanted to go on my computer. So, I hope that what I write now makes sense. (If it ever did when sans-flu.)
g. Once back in Nazareth, Joseph died at some stage, we don't know when, so Mary was head of a one-parent family.
Now, what I find so relevant about the early experiences of Jesus Christ, was that they were both tough and dangerous. The joyful manger scene was short lived, to be replaced by persecution and difficulties. It's what I call 'the bitter-sweet' nature of life. Jesus had to live with this tension all his life and certainly at his death. But yet, he still enjoyed life and that's a wonderful example to us all and why I'm not wearing sack-cloth etc.
For we live with this tension, too. There will always be problems in our lives, no matter who we are, whether we are rich, well-off or poor, no matter what our age, gender, religion, culture or sexual persuasion. And even if everything is hunky-dory most of the time, then knowing that people are being killed, starved, enslaved and devastated by man-made atrocities or natural disasters in many parts of the world, leave an uneasy feeling for most people. The secret is to find the balance, like Jesus, within this 'bitter-sweet' existence: living as fulfilling a life as possible without being complacent and to do what we can to help as much as we can. We are certainly not asked to carry the world's problems on our shoulders, thankfully. That's Jesus's job.
And this 'bitter-sweet' tension is no more keenly felt on Xmas Day in this country. It should be a day of celebration, not only for the birth of Jesus but also enjoying the closeness of not just family and friends but also in acknowledging strangers to whom it is perfectly acceptable to greet on Xmas Day. But for many, Xmas Day is a nightmare to be endured: the pressures of providing too much food, too much drink, too many presents, everything being perfect, takes its toll on all those who are hosting the day (I should know - I've done it often enough. Xmas lunch is notoriously the most difficult meal to prepare because there's so much of it, all needing different cooking times. Luckily, John became the master of such planning, with a military precision that is a sight to behold, but even so, whilst your guests are getting merrier and louder, you, the providers, are reduced to semi-exhaustion in a hot, steamy kitchen.)
And then there are the family tensions, which often come to the surface with the emotion of the occasion and the surplus of alcohol; people who don't have family nearby or have no family at all; those who are homeless, in debt, have lost their job or about to lose their job, and so on and so on.
I guess that I'm making two points here. Firstly, the Xmas we celebrate in this country often has little to do with the birth of Jesus and, secondly, it is dreaded by many people. So, something's wrong. Big time.
And we seem to have forgotten that Jesus had a particular affinity to all those scorned by society: the poor, prostitutes, those who are ill, the homeless, those whose lives are in danger. And during the three years of his ministry, Jesus accepted and enjoyed the company of society's outcasts as well as those with money. In other words, not only did he come for everyone, rich and poor alike, but he was especially drawn to the unfortunates in life and although he did, on occasions, say: 'Go and sin no more' he often did not.
He came, as he said,'to save not to condemn'. And I'm just wondering here just how much the Christian Churches or Western Governments totally embrace that kind of message. My own church does a lot of work abroad, particularly in Africa, so I know that good work is being done. And St Martins in The Field, that famous church in the centre of London, does incredible work helping homeless people learn new skills, finding accommodation and jobs, and hopefully, will have raised a significant amount of cash after their Xmas appeal on Radio 4.
I acknowledge that sometimes church leaders speak out about Zimbabwe, Iraq, the direction the government is taking in this financial crisis etc. But, only too often we hear the condemning, dogmatic side of the church. Look no further than the Pope's recent condemnation of homosexuality, likening it to the destruction of our world due to global warming. These are people he is talking about!
I certainly don't remember, anywhere in the gospels, Jesus condemning whole swaves of people to eternal damnation because they were gay. Perhaps I missed that part and someone from the clergy could leave a message on this blog, quoting the relevant chapter and verse. Or the role of women in the church. I think that it's essential to re-examine our interpretations of the Bible from time to time to sort out what is valid today and what reflects cultural thinking of the time. For example, slaves were accepted in Jesus's era but we now legislate against it because slavery is disgusting. That is an abomination, I would say
So, back to Xmas. I'm definitely not saying that we shouldn't have fun. Jesus loved having a good time, eating and drinking and enjoying the company of friends and so should we. And giving and receiving presents at Xmas time can be a lot of fun but what I'm suggesting here is that we should tone down the expense and the hype and remember all those who are far worse off than us and actually do something positive. For example, Oxfam have a scheme called Unwrapped (oxfamaunwrapped.com) where you can donate animals, clean water supplies etc to families in third world countries and I'm going to do that next year and probably in January. Why wait until Xmas 2009?
And perhaps this looming recession will make us think about what is really important in life and that helping each other is far more rewarding than anything else. And we're already seeing it: electricians forsaking their own Christmas's to restore power to homes in Lancashire. This economic crisis is yet another 'wake up call', like 9/11, 7/11, the Boxing Day tsunami. Are we going to listen to it ? I really, really hope so.
And so to our Xmas here. I had originally intended to write about my childhood memories of Xmas, which give me great pleasure, and not this serious 'essay' about hedonism versus humility, but I guess my own 'bitter-sweet' thoughts on Xmas just hijacked the blog and I'm glad that it did so because, in my own mind, I've put a number of things into perspective.
Since I was 15, Xmas has always been a difficult occasion for me because my dad died just after Xmas in 1964 and since then, some pretty horrible things have happened to me around this time of the year. So, like it or not, with the excitement and plans come some pretty horrible memories. Some people can switch off from these things but I can't.
However, I have had some great Xmases in between the awful ones and this year has been notably enjoyable despite all our plans going array.
Morocco was not an option this year (now that's a fantastic way to spend Xmas) so originally John and I were going to have a very low-key day, taking the dog for a walk on Sandbanks beach and chilling out in the evening. But on a recent visit to Glastonbury to see John's new-found sister, she invited us to her Xmas do and we jumped at the chance. I adore everyone in our new found family - they are such amazing fun - and the thought of a large family Xmas with people I actually like gave me much pleasurable anticipation.
We booked a room for the night in a nearby hotel and stocked up on goodies for the meal - Xmas pud, creams, chocolates, cheeses and wine. And then I got this bl.... flu and was confined to bed. So we decided that John would go to the party because he had half the meal and I would be sleeping anyway and I stayed at home. I've never, ever spent Xmas alone before and to be honest, I really enjoyed myself. I slept all the day (getting up briefly to watch the Queen's speech) and then rolled out of bed to have a tele fest: Doctor Who, EastEnders, Strictly Come Dancing, Wallace and Gromit, and the fabulous Royal Family Xmas dinner, where, of course, everything went wrong but nobody minded and they ending up with a sing-song.
As someone famous said (was it Woody Allen or John Lennon?): life is what happens while you're busy making plans.
But the most enjoyable part of Xmas was listening, snuggled up in bed, of course, to the King's College Festival of Carols on Radio 4 at 3pm on Xmas Eve. And then the magic of Xmas and the miracle of Jesus flooded the room and I felt very, very content
It is now New Year's Day (I don't think I've ever spent so long on one blog but what the heck. I've enjoyed writing it and perhaps I've banished those nasty Xmas ghosts. And I'm certainly looking forward to next Xmas because I've definitely not had enough turkey.
So, all that's left to wish you all a Happy New Year and may you feel a sense of peace and the strength to tackle whatever is ahead.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Anniversary of John Lennon's Death
I heard the news today, oh boy... Yes, I heard on radio 4 - the Eddie Mayer Sunday Broadcasting House programme - that tomorrow is the anniversary of the death (murder) of John Lennon and it reminded me of how I first heard that news all those years ago.
Both Lou,who was about six, and I had bad colds and were in no fit state to go outside, where there was heavy snow and biting North East winds, so had stayed at home. This meant that Lou had not gone to her primary school not far from our home and I had not walked to my school where I was an English teacher. We both hated being off school (strange but true) so to cheer ourselves up, we were making Xmas tree decorations at the kitchen table, which was littered with coloured card, glue, glitter, cotton wool and felt tip pens.
This was in our little terraced single storey house in South Hylton, near Sunderland. It was a traditional North-East house: small garden at the front with a fence separating it from the road, or, in our case, the rough ground that was great for the kids to play on, bedroom at the front, hall way leading to small sitting room with a gas fire, smaller bedroom leading off the sitting room, long, narrow kitchen beyond the sitting room then a lobby with a cupboard and finally the bathroom. And at the back, down a fight of stairs, was a useless piece of grass (because it never got any sunshine.) That's where I kept my motor-bike until it got nicked, which was probably a very good thing because a. with me in control, I probably put my life in danger every time I rode it and b. I was forced to walk to work and very quickly lost half a stone in weight and c. it meant my mother could breath easy again.
The kitchen was definitely the warmest room in winter, the other rooms being very cold because we had no central heating but it was the first house I had ever bought and I loved it dearly. I had decorated it throughout, kept it very tidy and clean (to my mother's surprise!) and even, when I could afford it, had a phone installed!
This house cost the princely sum of £7,250 and I was lucky enough to get a 25 year mortgage with the council, which cost me £60 per month, because I was an employee. This was in the days when mortgages were not easy to get and your eyes may temporarily water at the thought of such low prices.
So, Lou and I were keeping warm in the kitchen, making these decorations and listening to Radio One when the news came on that John Lennon had been shot dead outside his block of flats in New York.
First I felt shock and then disbelief and then a sickening realization that the world had changed, yet again, for the worse,and that our lives would, in some way, be different. He was such a talented writer and musician and he had died so needlessly: shot by a guy who merely wanted fame. Sick. Very sick.
The Beatles were the most influential music group in my life became they burst upon the scene with such enthusiasm and excitement and it was just wonderful to be a teenager at the time. We could identify with these four dishy guys who came from ordinary backgrounds whose music was just fantastic. Still sounds good today, too. Classics. Most of the snogging parties I went to as a teenager had the Beatles songs playing loudly as an accompaniment. Wonderful, wonderful memories.
A couple of months ago, John and I were watching a late night music programme featuring a guitarist (whose name I can't remember) who played a solo instrumental version of 'I heard the news today...' and it was absolutely sensational. Inspired by this, I intend to get the sheet music so I can learn the lyrics and sing them in the bath and on the beach (with no-one else around.)
Who knows how John Lennon's music would have developed had he still been alive. But we were deprived of that on that awful day so many years ago.
For me, I will always remember that day.I no longer teach any more (yeah!) and Lou is now a teacher herself, the decorations lasted for years until they fell apart but that day will always remain an important part of my history.
There have been other days, too, that I still remember clearly because the events that happened on that day touched me greatly: the day we could have had a nuclear war over the Cuban Missile Crisis, the day John F. Kennedy was shot dead, the day Elvis Presley died, the day Natalie Wood died, the day Turkey invaded Cyprus, the day Princess Diana died, the day Paula Yates died, 9/11, 7/7, the Boxing Day tsunami. All terrible days.
But on a lighter note, I know exactly what I was doing on the day that Charles and Diana got married because I painted my back yard door green (my little terraced house in South Hylton), rushed in to watch Diana get out of her coach (couldn't believe how crumpled her dress was) and in the evening went to a very early Xmas party and met John. And reader, I married him...
P.S. If you have a special memory of some momentous day, write about it on this blog (under comments).
Both Lou,who was about six, and I had bad colds and were in no fit state to go outside, where there was heavy snow and biting North East winds, so had stayed at home. This meant that Lou had not gone to her primary school not far from our home and I had not walked to my school where I was an English teacher. We both hated being off school (strange but true) so to cheer ourselves up, we were making Xmas tree decorations at the kitchen table, which was littered with coloured card, glue, glitter, cotton wool and felt tip pens.
This was in our little terraced single storey house in South Hylton, near Sunderland. It was a traditional North-East house: small garden at the front with a fence separating it from the road, or, in our case, the rough ground that was great for the kids to play on, bedroom at the front, hall way leading to small sitting room with a gas fire, smaller bedroom leading off the sitting room, long, narrow kitchen beyond the sitting room then a lobby with a cupboard and finally the bathroom. And at the back, down a fight of stairs, was a useless piece of grass (because it never got any sunshine.) That's where I kept my motor-bike until it got nicked, which was probably a very good thing because a. with me in control, I probably put my life in danger every time I rode it and b. I was forced to walk to work and very quickly lost half a stone in weight and c. it meant my mother could breath easy again.
The kitchen was definitely the warmest room in winter, the other rooms being very cold because we had no central heating but it was the first house I had ever bought and I loved it dearly. I had decorated it throughout, kept it very tidy and clean (to my mother's surprise!) and even, when I could afford it, had a phone installed!
This house cost the princely sum of £7,250 and I was lucky enough to get a 25 year mortgage with the council, which cost me £60 per month, because I was an employee. This was in the days when mortgages were not easy to get and your eyes may temporarily water at the thought of such low prices.
So, Lou and I were keeping warm in the kitchen, making these decorations and listening to Radio One when the news came on that John Lennon had been shot dead outside his block of flats in New York.
First I felt shock and then disbelief and then a sickening realization that the world had changed, yet again, for the worse,and that our lives would, in some way, be different. He was such a talented writer and musician and he had died so needlessly: shot by a guy who merely wanted fame. Sick. Very sick.
The Beatles were the most influential music group in my life became they burst upon the scene with such enthusiasm and excitement and it was just wonderful to be a teenager at the time. We could identify with these four dishy guys who came from ordinary backgrounds whose music was just fantastic. Still sounds good today, too. Classics. Most of the snogging parties I went to as a teenager had the Beatles songs playing loudly as an accompaniment. Wonderful, wonderful memories.
A couple of months ago, John and I were watching a late night music programme featuring a guitarist (whose name I can't remember) who played a solo instrumental version of 'I heard the news today...' and it was absolutely sensational. Inspired by this, I intend to get the sheet music so I can learn the lyrics and sing them in the bath and on the beach (with no-one else around.)
Who knows how John Lennon's music would have developed had he still been alive. But we were deprived of that on that awful day so many years ago.
For me, I will always remember that day.I no longer teach any more (yeah!) and Lou is now a teacher herself, the decorations lasted for years until they fell apart but that day will always remain an important part of my history.
There have been other days, too, that I still remember clearly because the events that happened on that day touched me greatly: the day we could have had a nuclear war over the Cuban Missile Crisis, the day John F. Kennedy was shot dead, the day Elvis Presley died, the day Natalie Wood died, the day Turkey invaded Cyprus, the day Princess Diana died, the day Paula Yates died, 9/11, 7/7, the Boxing Day tsunami. All terrible days.
But on a lighter note, I know exactly what I was doing on the day that Charles and Diana got married because I painted my back yard door green (my little terraced house in South Hylton), rushed in to watch Diana get out of her coach (couldn't believe how crumpled her dress was) and in the evening went to a very early Xmas party and met John. And reader, I married him...
P.S. If you have a special memory of some momentous day, write about it on this blog (under comments).
Ky-Mani Marley song 'No Woman No Cry'
John has just posted Ky-Mani's live performance of 'No Woman No Cry' at the 2008 Essaouira World Music and Gnawa Festival on his You Tube site youtube.com/daftnot stupid. Have a dekka because it's pretty cool.
P.S. Over the Xmas holidays I plan to learn how to provide direct links on my blog so it should make life easier for anyone wishing to switch over.
P.S. Over the Xmas holidays I plan to learn how to provide direct links on my blog so it should make life easier for anyone wishing to switch over.
Monday, 13 October 2008
SEPTEMBER IN ITALY
View from our balcony at Albergo Teresa in Laigueilia (Yes! Yet another balcony!)
John and I were fortunate enough to spend a few weeks in Italy in September doing very little apart from being beach bums and propping up various bars and restaurants, reading (John read NINE books!) and enjoying the company of the friends we have made in Laiguelia over the many years we have holidayed there.
I know we're now well into October but since our return I have been v.busy rewriting my introductory letter and synopsis for my recently finished novel - Cyprus Blues (another rejection from an agent greeted my return and I reckoned I needed to totally revamp my pitch)- writing the first chapter of my new murder/mystery novel Winchester Blues (Yeah! I've actually started it!) and the laborious task of washing dirty clothes and putting them away.
Both my camera and i-pod, sadly, did not survive the holiday (too much sand, I fear) but I have now downloaded the pics I did manage to take and they're just too good to leave in a folder. And, I wanted to tell you about this wonderful Italian seaside town of Laiguelia that we discovered years ago, purely by chance.
John had been in Nice on a business conference and I had tagged along for the ride. And afterwards, we decided to spend the next week driving through Italy until we found somewhere nice to stay.
We took the coastal road and the scenery was absolutely magnificent. Both the coastal road and the autoroute are way above sea level (you have mountains to one side of you and deep drops down to the coast on the other side) so you get a birds eye view of Nice, Menton, Monaco and then, into Italy, Ventagmilia, San Remo (we have found a fabulous beach restaurant here - Hippocompo - where they do spaghetti with clams, homemade cake and ice-cream to die for) and lots of other Italian towns dotted along the coast where the river beds have gouged out valleys from the mountains to the sea.
Nothing, though, was what we were really looking for (somewhere small and unspoilt) until we rounded the bend of the road, several hours drive from Nice, and came upon a most glorious bay with two towns straddling either side: firstly Laiguelia (Colin Firth, apparently, spent a holiday here) and then the larger Alassio (Earnest Hemingway lived in Alassio for a while, Frankie Howard holidayed here (is that a claim to fame?) and there's a brilliant wall next to the park which has probably a hundred or so artistic ceramic tiles attached with all kinds of fascinating pictures and designs).
But it was Laiguelia that we loved straight off. We had lunch there, by the sea, and decided we'd like to stay there. Our first attempt at finding accommodation, though, was a disaster. We went into one of the many cake shops and asked if they had a room. The woman behind the counter must have thought that we wanted a room for the afternoon for a bit of illicit hanky panky and shooed us out of her shop with her broom! We've seen this lady serving behind the counter many times since then but she's made no sign of recognizing us.
Both Laiguelia and Alassio have roughly two sections: the medieval old town with narrow, traffic-free streets and ancient buildings, most of them shops, running parallel to the beach, and the more modern section beyond the road and railway line, rising up into the hills as far as modern technology can reach. (The railway line runs between Nice and Genoa, really close to the sea, and must be one of the world's most beautiful railway journeys.)
Entrance to the old town of Laiguelia
Anyway, we reckoned we'd find somewhere to stay on the other side of the road, in the modern section, and we very quickly discovered the charming little family-run hotel called Tre Ciuffi (three trees) with a small room with a balcony looking towards the sea. Sorted!
And we continued to return there for several years until, one year, our room was double booked and we stayed for a few days at Albergo Teresa, just a short distance away: another small, family run hotel. And, yes, they also have rooms with balconies facing the sea and, to our delight, a much better selection for breakfast (well, these things are important)and we liked the family a lot so we have continued to go there ever since. It does mean that I have lost the wonderful mirror on one of the floors of Tres Chuffi that always made me look at least ten years younger and several dress sizes smaller (must have been a trick of the light!) but one can't have everything in life.
View of Laiguelia from the beach
View of Alassio from La Scogliera
One of the things we love about returning to Albergo Teresa, is that we usually meet the same holiday makers every year and it's a real joy to meet up again, even just to shake hands and say a few greetings, most of us only really knowing our own languages, although John has learnt a smattering of Italian. But I need to say a big hi here to MICHAEL and CARLO, from Germany, who know quite a lot of English. We have discovered a shared love of dogs and proudly show photos of our dogs to each other. Also hi to JAN-FRANCO, TERESA, ESMERANDA and the fantastic KATALINA (Teresa's baby girl who is absolutely gorgeous.)
Also, a hi to DANIEL BYRNE and his partner from London. We were sitting next to them at Le Safari Restaurant in Nice on our first night and got round to chatting, as you do, and discovered a shared interest in music and so we 'educated' them about The Essaouira World Music festival. By the way, if you're looking for a great place to eat in Nice, look no further than Le Safari Restaurant in the old town: it has an incredibly wide selection of food, particularly speciality dishes from the region, and plenty of outside seating. It's usually chock-a block so we always book in advance. As you're probably realizing, food plays an important part of our lives!
Another view from the balcony of Albergo Teresa
John on the balcony with the railway station house in the background
Me on the balcony
Me on the balcony wearing my new Loominellie pashmena plus a hat I bought from a second hand stall in Laiguelia for 5 euros and a maroon body and black mesh top from Florence, costing significantly more than 5 euros!
We spend most of the day on the beach. Even if it's raining, which can sometimes happen (yes, even in Italy!), there are overhangs you can shelter under. And I swim in the sea several times a day which is far better than in a swimming pool although considerably more dangerous: I was told off by lifeguards this year for swimming too far out in rough water and I knew they were right so I switched to swimming parallel to the shore when the sea was particularly choppy. There have been times when the waves have been crashing one after the other way out to sea so it's almost impossible to swim so then we just 'play with the waves', trying to jump over waves as they break, getting knocked over and diving under the breaking crest. Scary but fun.
Me on the beach (I look much better out of focus!)
Most of the beaches of both Laiguelia and Alassio have small restaurants (serving excellent food!) with beach beds for hire but we always go to the public beach and lay out a large blanket, our lounger pads, various bags etc and literally camp out, which is far more enjoyable and allows us plenty of space.
For several years we saw the same couple, always in the same place, on the beach and speculated who they were because the guy looked, to us, like a personal bodyguard to the the woman he was with: usually standing with a cigarette in hand surveying the beach. Eventually, though, we plucked up the courage to say hello and they turn out to be a delightful couple - FRANKO and LOUISE - who both work for the Italian Post Office. So much for speculation then! We can manage a fair bit of conversation and it's always a pleasure to see them again.
When it's coffee time, we usually leave all our stuff and walk the several hundred yards to La Scogliera , a restaurant on the beach that denotes the start of Alassio. So another hi here to ETTORE and RENATA, who run the place, and OLGA, the waitress. Last year they had a Moroccan waiter called MOHAMMED and he, naturally, was a great fan of Gnawa music. John took his large i-pod player with us so Mohammed could listen to some of the Essaouira Festival recordings and so we had a little bit of Morocco on an Italian beach. Sadly, he wasn't there this year. I guess that that's the way of things in the catering business.
We usually have lunch at Bagni Lino , which is a fair old trek the other way and there's another hi coming up - to OLIVERO, LANDAR, LAURA and MARCO. They do fantastic salads (tuna, tomato, mozzarella cheese ; lettuce, carrots, sweet corn, mozzarella; tuna, butter beans and egg) and enormous foccacia sandwiches. Our favourite filling is anchovies with thick slabs of butter, which is scrumptious. I usually scrounge some of John's lunch and then have a Magnum, which is one of my many indulgences. (Sorry, did I say many? Of course, I mean few!) For years we would see a group of German and Swiss holidaymakers having lunch here and eventually started to say hi and this year we even got to talking and I scrounged a cigarette. So, hi to BERNARDO and UTE VOEGTLIN, from Switzerland. And guess what! They are music fans, too, and enjoyed the Essaouira Festival CD that John gave them.
Normally, there are so many people on the beach that we are quite happy leaving our things but there was one year, on a day when the weather wasn't so good and the beach was almost deserted, that some sod stole everything apart from my shoes. So now, if the beach is very quiet, we haul everything up to the car and then haul it down again. Generally, we feel very safe in Laiguelia but there are, sadly, thieves everywhere and it was foolish of us to think otherwise.
La Scogliera with one of the resident dogs (he was just a puppy last year)
Bagni Lino
John on the beach near La Scogliera
By late afternoon, when the sun is slowly sinking, most people, including us, head for the town and the beach becomes a rich source of dropped food for the seagulls.
Seagulls on the beach
Seagulls on the rocks
In town, now ready for yet more refreshments, we alternate between the main cafe, Al Mole, or the main pub, Al Galeone, run by another friend, Antonio, (both close to the beach) and watch the world go by. Here, there's usually still sunshine so there are still lots of people on the beach and children playing on the slide and it's a lovely sight to see the sun illuminating the towers of the church (which dominates the town), giving the illusion of shimmering gold.
Al Mole
Al Galeone
One of the waiters at Al Galeone
As for supper, there are so many restaurants in Laigueilia that it's impossible to get around them all in one holiday. By far the most popular place is Le Pecan, which serves the best pizzas you could wish to eat: very thin, crispy bases and a mind boggling choice of toppings.
But quite frankly, the best place to eat is at Albergo Teresa, where the chef makes pastry to die for. You get the traditional four courses of Italian cuisine: ante-pasta, pasta, il secondo (either meat or fish with veg) and desert. It's a very filling experience and one that we can't indulge in too often otherwise we'd get very fat but the food is absolutely scrumptious.
Because the town is hemmed in by sea and mountains, neither Laiguelia or Alasio can be over-developed, so it provides a much needed sense of consistency in this ever changing world of ours. But, even so, we do see changes e.g. shops or restaurants changing hands, but what was very striking this year was how expensive everything has become. Of course, there's the weak pound against the euro effect but the actual prices are much higher, too. Also, as with Essaouira, we've seen the rapid decline in the fishing industry. When we first started going to Laiguelia, there would be loads of little fishing boats chugging back to shore in the evening. Now there are very few and most of the fish in the restaurants is frozen.
Most if not all of the hotels and beach cafes will be closed now and perhaps some of the shops so the town is sure to have a different feel to it. But we'd still love to buy a house there so we can stay longer (this in spite of the fact that in principle I don't really approve of second homes because of the damage part-time residency does to an area). So, I'm buying a lottery ticket every week and we've found the house that we'd like and it is actually for sale. So fingers crossed!
P.S. Forgot to mention that Laiguelia was the inspiration and setting for my very first accepted short story for publication, called, unsurprisingly, September in Italy. (Quality Women's Fiction). It was rejected, at first, because there wasn't enough description and imagery so, somewhat peeved, I re-wrote it dripping with description and imagery and it worked! Yippee! So, thank you Laiguelia.
P.P.S. Since writing this, I had four numbers on my lottery ticket, which is a first for me. However, the £53 I won won't stretch as far as a house in Laigueilia!
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
POLLY AND THE BILLET DOUX + MR JAMES BRIGHT + STORNOWAY
On Saturday evening John and I and friend Hilary, who we met in Morocco in June, went to the Winchester Discovery Centre to watch these three acts. The place was absolutely packed and there were loads of people sitting on the stairs and at the side, which tells you something of the popularity of these artists.
It was quite a nippy evening when we went to the previous concert there, a few months ago, so I was quite togged up, but it would have to be the hottest evening of what I loosely term our summer, and very humid so it felt like a sauna to me. However, I was the one laughing when we went outside during the interval because all those ladies in sleeveless dresses looked frozen. Strange what silly things seem to stick in my mind!
However, the music was, yet again, excellent.
The first act was Mr James Bright,a sort of folk singer/guitarist accompanied by a super tabla player, who wore a ring on one of his toes.
The second act was a group called Stornoway, from Oxford, and they presented a very different style of music using lots of different instruments and sounds and occasionally featuring two excellent violinists. The lead singer, Brian, a skeleton of a man with an enormous voice and dressed straight out of Oxfam, with a jaunty Bob Dylan cap, was most charismatic in an unusual sort of way, with plenty of funny stories about his time with the RSPCA. They produced a very exciting sound and are about to release an album, which I hope does well.
And then, after the break, we had Polly and the Billet Doux.
Half of Winchester appear to have had some kind of virus that leaves an unpleasant cough (I am coughing, myself as I write although Corvonia seems to be helping a lot) and Polly was suffering similarly. Although hidden from sight, she had an array of medicinal aids in front of her which her group were keen to point out and joke about: an enormous piece of root ginger, lozenges, cough mixture, a liquid which looked like pee and a glass of red wine (which Polly claimed was helping her the most).
If it had been me, I would have cancelled and curled up in bed, but Polly is a real pro (in the nicest possible way) and the show went on. How she managed, I do not know, but apart from a couple of times when she opened her mouth and nothing came out, she belted out her numbers with an alarming and spine-tingling strength.
Boy, does that girl have a voice and a half!
This group not only sounds good but they look good, too. Polly was wearing her customary red dress, black cut-off tights, little black top and a red flower in her long, brown hair and she just looks special. They all do. When I get back form Italy, where I shall collapse onto the beach and stay there apart form eating, drinking and sleeping, I intend to send a sample of her music to Jules Holland and Loose Ends (Radio 4 (I am a radio 4 devotee)) because they would be great on both shows.
This is a group with a sparkling future.
To hear more, log onto youtube.com/daftnotstupid
Talking of which, John was in San Jose a few weeks ago on business and his hotel just happened to be opposite the San Jose Jazz Festival. He had taken his camcorder (his most treasured possession) to make some recordings for his work but he took the opportunity to record some of the gigs and they are pretty damn good.
You know, I'm thinking this about my writing as well as the music John records. I'm not so sure that I want to get involved with the big, commercial money-making, cynical business people in publishing/recording. It's much more fun to play/write direct to an audience. Might not make mega-bucks but it does mean that you can maintain integrity and not be bullied and bossed about by the guys in grey.
Answers on a postcard! (Sorry, Polly, I've stolen your idea but I did tell you on Saturday Night that it was a great saying that I'd like to pinch for my writing!)
It was quite a nippy evening when we went to the previous concert there, a few months ago, so I was quite togged up, but it would have to be the hottest evening of what I loosely term our summer, and very humid so it felt like a sauna to me. However, I was the one laughing when we went outside during the interval because all those ladies in sleeveless dresses looked frozen. Strange what silly things seem to stick in my mind!
However, the music was, yet again, excellent.
The first act was Mr James Bright,a sort of folk singer/guitarist accompanied by a super tabla player, who wore a ring on one of his toes.
The second act was a group called Stornoway, from Oxford, and they presented a very different style of music using lots of different instruments and sounds and occasionally featuring two excellent violinists. The lead singer, Brian, a skeleton of a man with an enormous voice and dressed straight out of Oxfam, with a jaunty Bob Dylan cap, was most charismatic in an unusual sort of way, with plenty of funny stories about his time with the RSPCA. They produced a very exciting sound and are about to release an album, which I hope does well.
And then, after the break, we had Polly and the Billet Doux.
Half of Winchester appear to have had some kind of virus that leaves an unpleasant cough (I am coughing, myself as I write although Corvonia seems to be helping a lot) and Polly was suffering similarly. Although hidden from sight, she had an array of medicinal aids in front of her which her group were keen to point out and joke about: an enormous piece of root ginger, lozenges, cough mixture, a liquid which looked like pee and a glass of red wine (which Polly claimed was helping her the most).
If it had been me, I would have cancelled and curled up in bed, but Polly is a real pro (in the nicest possible way) and the show went on. How she managed, I do not know, but apart from a couple of times when she opened her mouth and nothing came out, she belted out her numbers with an alarming and spine-tingling strength.
Boy, does that girl have a voice and a half!
This group not only sounds good but they look good, too. Polly was wearing her customary red dress, black cut-off tights, little black top and a red flower in her long, brown hair and she just looks special. They all do. When I get back form Italy, where I shall collapse onto the beach and stay there apart form eating, drinking and sleeping, I intend to send a sample of her music to Jules Holland and Loose Ends (Radio 4 (I am a radio 4 devotee)) because they would be great on both shows.
This is a group with a sparkling future.
To hear more, log onto youtube.com/daftnotstupid
Talking of which, John was in San Jose a few weeks ago on business and his hotel just happened to be opposite the San Jose Jazz Festival. He had taken his camcorder (his most treasured possession) to make some recordings for his work but he took the opportunity to record some of the gigs and they are pretty damn good.
You know, I'm thinking this about my writing as well as the music John records. I'm not so sure that I want to get involved with the big, commercial money-making, cynical business people in publishing/recording. It's much more fun to play/write direct to an audience. Might not make mega-bucks but it does mean that you can maintain integrity and not be bullied and bossed about by the guys in grey.
Answers on a postcard! (Sorry, Polly, I've stolen your idea but I did tell you on Saturday Night that it was a great saying that I'd like to pinch for my writing!)
Monday, 25 August 2008
THE BEIJING OLYMPICS HAVE FINISHED
Despite my initial doubts about these Olympics, as recorded in an earlier blog, (the human rights issues, Tibet, the smog, the cynicism about drug cheats etc), I am not too proud to say that I got it wrong.
The Beijing Olympics were, in my opinion, absolutely fantastic and I'm very sad that they have drawn to a close but extremely excited that London will be hosting the next Olympics in 2012.
So, what changed my mind? How was I so seduced into singing lyrical about it all now?
Well, firstly that opening ceremony. How could anyone not have been overawed by the sheer sumptuousness of the colours, the costumes, the choreography, the inventiveness of the movement that ebbed and flowed, creating tableau representing aspects of China's history?
And then, when the Games started for real, suddenly, dramatically and wonderfully, it shifted from being all about China and completely about the athletes and their events...
And on the second day, Team GB (sorry, Northern Ireland - it should, of course, be Team from The United Kingdom and Northern Ireland and sorry, also, to the Isle of Man etc. It would seem that giving an all-inclusive name for the team has not, as yet, been devised) got its first gold medal in the cycling road race, in the rain, which bodes well for 2012. Good idea for athletes to expect and cope with rain in Beijing because they'll get LOTS of it in 2012!
And then the medals just kept on coming at an alarming rate and I, like the majority of people, was gob smacked at just how well the GB team were doing and it wasn't just all the medals: so many athletes were in finals, sometimes coming fourth, which is pretty bloody good, performing personal bests or having a valuable taste of the Olympics, like Tom Daley, in preparation for 2012, or just being selected in the first place.
We are so used in Britain to thinking that when it comes to such things as world sport, we're very much the poor relations and losing, often badly, has become second nature to us. I'm thinking here particularly of the English football team. My heart sinks when I know that they're playing because I know what's going to happen and then I'll shake my head and wonder how so many talented footballers can hardly kick a football accurately on a football field, never mind win. Are they too pampered, too rich, or too wagged out to give a damn?
Try as I may not to be partisan, just wanting the best athlete to win, whatever country they represent, there's nothing quite like watching your own countryman/woman winning a medal, particularly a gold. I guess it's that primitive tribal instinct we all have of wanting our 'tribe' to win. And far better that countries compete like this instead of fighting each other. (I thought it was really sneaky of Russia to invade Georgia at the beginning of the games when the world's attention was elsewhere: it reminds me so much of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974 when the Turkish army took advantage of an internal situation to cause utter devastation.)
But back to the Games. Because of the time difference, I didn't see too much of the action live but I did see most of the rowing because that was when I was having breakfast and it was wonderful to watch these races with the bows going forwards and backwards in a relentlessly challenging rhythm and how vital it was to get the timing right. Shouted myself hoarse, of course. My favourite image was when one of the GB coxless four pulled off his hat at the end of the race, when they had just grabbed gold, his long bleach-white hair cascading around his face in slow motion.
I also saw live the disputed Taekeedo (is that how you spell it?) match where the GB girl should have won her quarter-final because of her kick to her opponent's face (charming) but wasn't initially given the 2 marks for such a move, enabling her to win. The commentators were getting really excited about the prospect of controversy (so important in journalism these days) and the Chinese crowd were obviously getting agitated, thinking that their girl had won. It was really good that the decision was reversed but hardly surprising that the GB girl lost in the semi-final amidst a chorus of booing. However, she did win a bronze in the play off bout which was something of an achievement.
Another memory that stays with me is the amazing way that Usain Bolt sauntered past the finishing line in the 100 metres, striking his chest with pride. Now that really is a cool way to win. One thing that puzzled me, though, was where were all the bulky black American guys in the sprint races because they usually dominate. I must admit to wondering whether improved drugs testing has had a beneficial result in putting off the cheats. I don't know enough about the science of such tests and no doubt performance enhancing drugs are being/are already developed which are difficult to detect but I hope the technology to detect them is also being developed. There were only about 6 athletes who tested positive for drugs this Olympics, which has to be on the low side compared with previous Games, and it does give us some hope because when you suspect that cheats are winning, it devalues the Games. And I also think that drugs cheats should be banned for life, particularly given new evidence that the enhancing effects of such drugs remain long after a 2 year ban has been completed.
And now to the closing ceremony!
I was so determined to watch this ceremony, particularly the 8 minute GB slot, that I not only missed church but also my usual daily swim and John had to take Archie for his walk all by himself whilst I had a total Olympics fest.
I have to firstly mention Boris Johnson, because I was so chuffed that he was representing London and, for me, his eccentric, casual, slightly buffoonish manner was so refreshing to witness. "We're bringing pin-pong home!" he declared triumphantly, adding some humour into what was essentially a humourless Games. And this is where one of London's strengths lies: we're not going to get our faces so up our arses that we can't laugh at ourselves!
Having seen Boris Johnson on 'Have I got news for you' on a number of occasions, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that there was a steeliness to him that sometimes emerged briefly through all the buffoonery. I know he's made a few very public gaffs but at least the guy says it as he sees it, which is almost unheard of in a politician, so I hope he makes a good show as mayor of London.
And then we had the 8 minutes slot.
I already knew about the bus and David Beckham but I had no idea how it would all materialize, wondering how on earth it was going to match the grandeur (like an extravagant 1930's Hollywood movie) of the Chinese displays. Would there be hundreds of dancers in fancy costumes performing a ritualised dance routine, perhaps?
Of course not.
What we had was a pacy video reflecting aspects of London life, featuring a red double decker bus which appeared, as if by magic, in the stadium and a small group of dancers acting out the process of waiting for a bus by a zebra crossing. Perhaps it's because I'm British and it was all so familiar to me, but I absolutely adored it. It was low-key, very 'street theatre' (which we do so well) and it was immediately recognizable as reflecting ordinary life in Britain. So the pitch for the 2012 London Olympics was sending out an important message: the 2012 Olympics are going to be fun and we're not even going to try to present ourselves as something that we're not. For all the 'wow' factor of the Chinese routines in the opening and closing ceremonies, I doubt if anyone thought, for one minute, that what we were seeing was a reflection of typical Chinese life.
I'm not particularly a fan of the type of music that she sings, but Leona Lewis, dressed in a fantastic gold costume that so reminded me of Bodicea, and singing so beautifully was, to me, just breathtaking. Love them or hate them, reality shows are very popular in Britain so, again, the involvement of the X-Factor winner again reflected the country. And, of course, when Jimmy Page started to play his guitar with all the trademark Led Zepplin sound, with Leona Lewis belting out the vocals, I was ecstatic. We really do have a fantastic music tradition, second to none, and it was great to experience world class rock and roll in Beijing, promoting our own country.
The little girl stepping out of the bus and into the dance sequence again reflected our hope for the Games that the young will be inspired, and there was none of this 'we need a token child who can't actually sing but looks good' nonsense.
And, yes, David Beckham did look like a wooden top, albeit it very handsomely, and he's way past his best in terms of football, but the reaction from the crowd was wonderful because he's such a well loved and recognizable figure. And when he kicked the ball into the athlete's section and a Chinese athlete caught the ball, you could see on his face that he was absolutely delighted: a personal memory that will stay with him forever.
I then watched the beginning of the concert in London, after the Games had officially closed and that strikingly extravagant flame had been extinguished, and they would have to start with Queen's 'We will rock you' and 'We are the champions' because I love Queen's music and that sealed it for me: the Olympics now belong to us. Thank you and goodbye Beijing - we've got the Games now and we're going to show the world just what we can do well (and possibly badly!)
If you detect a hint of patriotism in this blog, then you are right. We have been so ground down with the negatives of this country, and I'm thinking here of the calamitous recent foreign policy that has severely affected Iraq and Afganistan and the foul behaviour of some of our young people abroad, on holiday, that it's a real joy to think positively, at long last. We have something to look forward to in the 2012 Olympics. It's a great responsibility but also a great privilege and an opportunity for our young to be inspired in a positive way and, hopefully, to become fitter.
I must add a word of caution here because I remember only too well what happened on July 8th, just a day after we were given the 2012 Games. I was so happy that I put my Union Jack flag on my car and enjoyed hearing the swish as I drove along, on that Thursday, to my Bible Study group. We had just started when one of our members received a mobile phone call from her daughter, who lives in London. London was under terrorist attack, bombs had been exploded and it was a national emergency.
We immediately put the television on and saw, with our own eyes, the chaotic scenes at the the underground and the area where the bus was destroyed. At this time, we had no idea how extensive the attacks were and we were all horrified. Lou lives in London and I had to really suppress my desire to worry about her.
It's times like this that I'm so grateful that I am a Christian and can draw upon a supernatural strength. I firmly believe that when your time on this earth is up, then there's nothing you can do about it. (You might ask why a loving God allows such things to happen but I am in no doubt that the terrible things that happen in this world are meant to be a wake up call for those of us still alive: to see that there are more important things than life itself and to examine ourselves and consider that maybe we humans can't do everything for ourselves. Life on earth for Jesus was pretty tough so why should we imagine that it won't be for us? This isn't heaven, after all.)
So, my main concern for the 2012 Olympics is the threat of terrorist attacks but I will not allow it to dominate my thoughts. Probably the concern that the venues won't be ready on time is another issue but if the Greeks could manage it (and I've lived in Cyprus so I know how slowly things are usually done in Mediterranean countries) then I'm sure we can. And perhaps the government might see fit to encourage an expansion of the school curriculum to include training in the practical skills that not only will be necessary for a successful 2012 Games e.g. carpentry, construction work, engineering, professionalism in the service industries (a good waiter is worth his/her weight in gold as is a friendly, efficient hotel receptionist, top class chefs - the list is endless) but also for life before and after the Games.
Yeah, and pigs might fly!
By the way, I took the flag off my car before returning home on that awful Thursday and a phone call to Lou confirmed that she was okay. How many times have I said this in my blogs? - that each day is precious because you don't know what the next day will bring. 'Seize the day' and all that. Sometimes it's hard work but it's the best way to live.
Of course, now we have the big debate, which I'm enjoying immensely, about whether the London 8 minute slot was a success or a failure and whether having the Games is a scandalous waste of money: people like Arthur Smith and Peter Hitchens banging on about how awful it all is. Luckily, we live in a democracy so we can have such debates but, for myself, I think that the feel-good-factor that has accompanied the Beijing Games and the excitement and anticipation of 2012 is invaluable to a country that has had very little to smile about otherwise.
And finally, one of the things that struck me with Beijing was how little cultural diversity there appeared to be - everyone looked distinctly Chinese - in sharp contrast to the cultural diversity reflected in the London 8 minute slot. So I think that it's about time that we stopped criticizing the mix of cultures in Britain and celebrate it instead.
And now to my suggestions for the London 2012 Games!
1. London and all the other venues should be cleaned up and the careless habit of littering addressed. We already have the legal powers to do so so let's use them.
2. Public transport should become first-class. (Can't help but laugh at this suggestion.)
3. Knife crime and gang culture in London should also be targeted and these 'sink estates' revitalized. Let's give disaffected youngsters positive things to do.
4. It goes without saying that security should be tight, tight, tight
5. Opening and closing ceremonies should be very different from Beijing. I hear that Tracy Kelly is in charge and after hearing a programme about her on Radio 4, she seems to be an exciting choice, keen to involve communities. In fact, I did hear that it's under consideration that the ceremonies will not be restricted to the main auditorium and I think that that's an excellent idea.
6. In this spirit of far more audience participation, why not have Elton John in the middle of the stadium with his enormous white piano and large screens with the words displayed so that there could be an enormous sing-along? (This idea has been received with mixed reactions but I stick to it.)
7. Also, those gorgeous Scottish soldiers in kilts playing bagpipes would surely be spectacular, plus 'River Dance' dancing. In fact, traditional entertainment from all corners of the British Isles etc so everyone feels that they are being represented and the diversity of these small islands celebrated.
8. I hope that Paula Radcliffe has another baby and then concentrates on training for the London Olympics - it could be third time lucky for her: she certainly deserves it.
9. Finally, no more pictures of Myra Hindley, thank you very much, and PLEASE keep Jade Goody out of it. I hope she recovers from the cancer that she has been diagnosed with but the revelation of her illness on reality TV and the subsequent numerous 'exclusive' interviews in the trash mags is, in my opinion, tacky. Come on, folks, we all know that there are some aspects of our culture that should not get the oxygen of publicity. It's not a question of trying to hide things - rather an emphasis on what is positive, which is so often neglected by our media. Bad news travels fast but good news lifts the spirit.
If you disagree with any of this, which is, after all, only my opinion, then leave a comment and we can have a good old barny about it!
.
The Beijing Olympics were, in my opinion, absolutely fantastic and I'm very sad that they have drawn to a close but extremely excited that London will be hosting the next Olympics in 2012.
So, what changed my mind? How was I so seduced into singing lyrical about it all now?
Well, firstly that opening ceremony. How could anyone not have been overawed by the sheer sumptuousness of the colours, the costumes, the choreography, the inventiveness of the movement that ebbed and flowed, creating tableau representing aspects of China's history?
And then, when the Games started for real, suddenly, dramatically and wonderfully, it shifted from being all about China and completely about the athletes and their events...
And on the second day, Team GB (sorry, Northern Ireland - it should, of course, be Team from The United Kingdom and Northern Ireland and sorry, also, to the Isle of Man etc. It would seem that giving an all-inclusive name for the team has not, as yet, been devised) got its first gold medal in the cycling road race, in the rain, which bodes well for 2012. Good idea for athletes to expect and cope with rain in Beijing because they'll get LOTS of it in 2012!
And then the medals just kept on coming at an alarming rate and I, like the majority of people, was gob smacked at just how well the GB team were doing and it wasn't just all the medals: so many athletes were in finals, sometimes coming fourth, which is pretty bloody good, performing personal bests or having a valuable taste of the Olympics, like Tom Daley, in preparation for 2012, or just being selected in the first place.
We are so used in Britain to thinking that when it comes to such things as world sport, we're very much the poor relations and losing, often badly, has become second nature to us. I'm thinking here particularly of the English football team. My heart sinks when I know that they're playing because I know what's going to happen and then I'll shake my head and wonder how so many talented footballers can hardly kick a football accurately on a football field, never mind win. Are they too pampered, too rich, or too wagged out to give a damn?
Try as I may not to be partisan, just wanting the best athlete to win, whatever country they represent, there's nothing quite like watching your own countryman/woman winning a medal, particularly a gold. I guess it's that primitive tribal instinct we all have of wanting our 'tribe' to win. And far better that countries compete like this instead of fighting each other. (I thought it was really sneaky of Russia to invade Georgia at the beginning of the games when the world's attention was elsewhere: it reminds me so much of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974 when the Turkish army took advantage of an internal situation to cause utter devastation.)
But back to the Games. Because of the time difference, I didn't see too much of the action live but I did see most of the rowing because that was when I was having breakfast and it was wonderful to watch these races with the bows going forwards and backwards in a relentlessly challenging rhythm and how vital it was to get the timing right. Shouted myself hoarse, of course. My favourite image was when one of the GB coxless four pulled off his hat at the end of the race, when they had just grabbed gold, his long bleach-white hair cascading around his face in slow motion.
I also saw live the disputed Taekeedo (is that how you spell it?) match where the GB girl should have won her quarter-final because of her kick to her opponent's face (charming) but wasn't initially given the 2 marks for such a move, enabling her to win. The commentators were getting really excited about the prospect of controversy (so important in journalism these days) and the Chinese crowd were obviously getting agitated, thinking that their girl had won. It was really good that the decision was reversed but hardly surprising that the GB girl lost in the semi-final amidst a chorus of booing. However, she did win a bronze in the play off bout which was something of an achievement.
Another memory that stays with me is the amazing way that Usain Bolt sauntered past the finishing line in the 100 metres, striking his chest with pride. Now that really is a cool way to win. One thing that puzzled me, though, was where were all the bulky black American guys in the sprint races because they usually dominate. I must admit to wondering whether improved drugs testing has had a beneficial result in putting off the cheats. I don't know enough about the science of such tests and no doubt performance enhancing drugs are being/are already developed which are difficult to detect but I hope the technology to detect them is also being developed. There were only about 6 athletes who tested positive for drugs this Olympics, which has to be on the low side compared with previous Games, and it does give us some hope because when you suspect that cheats are winning, it devalues the Games. And I also think that drugs cheats should be banned for life, particularly given new evidence that the enhancing effects of such drugs remain long after a 2 year ban has been completed.
And now to the closing ceremony!
I was so determined to watch this ceremony, particularly the 8 minute GB slot, that I not only missed church but also my usual daily swim and John had to take Archie for his walk all by himself whilst I had a total Olympics fest.
I have to firstly mention Boris Johnson, because I was so chuffed that he was representing London and, for me, his eccentric, casual, slightly buffoonish manner was so refreshing to witness. "We're bringing pin-pong home!" he declared triumphantly, adding some humour into what was essentially a humourless Games. And this is where one of London's strengths lies: we're not going to get our faces so up our arses that we can't laugh at ourselves!
Having seen Boris Johnson on 'Have I got news for you' on a number of occasions, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that there was a steeliness to him that sometimes emerged briefly through all the buffoonery. I know he's made a few very public gaffs but at least the guy says it as he sees it, which is almost unheard of in a politician, so I hope he makes a good show as mayor of London.
And then we had the 8 minutes slot.
I already knew about the bus and David Beckham but I had no idea how it would all materialize, wondering how on earth it was going to match the grandeur (like an extravagant 1930's Hollywood movie) of the Chinese displays. Would there be hundreds of dancers in fancy costumes performing a ritualised dance routine, perhaps?
Of course not.
What we had was a pacy video reflecting aspects of London life, featuring a red double decker bus which appeared, as if by magic, in the stadium and a small group of dancers acting out the process of waiting for a bus by a zebra crossing. Perhaps it's because I'm British and it was all so familiar to me, but I absolutely adored it. It was low-key, very 'street theatre' (which we do so well) and it was immediately recognizable as reflecting ordinary life in Britain. So the pitch for the 2012 London Olympics was sending out an important message: the 2012 Olympics are going to be fun and we're not even going to try to present ourselves as something that we're not. For all the 'wow' factor of the Chinese routines in the opening and closing ceremonies, I doubt if anyone thought, for one minute, that what we were seeing was a reflection of typical Chinese life.
I'm not particularly a fan of the type of music that she sings, but Leona Lewis, dressed in a fantastic gold costume that so reminded me of Bodicea, and singing so beautifully was, to me, just breathtaking. Love them or hate them, reality shows are very popular in Britain so, again, the involvement of the X-Factor winner again reflected the country. And, of course, when Jimmy Page started to play his guitar with all the trademark Led Zepplin sound, with Leona Lewis belting out the vocals, I was ecstatic. We really do have a fantastic music tradition, second to none, and it was great to experience world class rock and roll in Beijing, promoting our own country.
The little girl stepping out of the bus and into the dance sequence again reflected our hope for the Games that the young will be inspired, and there was none of this 'we need a token child who can't actually sing but looks good' nonsense.
And, yes, David Beckham did look like a wooden top, albeit it very handsomely, and he's way past his best in terms of football, but the reaction from the crowd was wonderful because he's such a well loved and recognizable figure. And when he kicked the ball into the athlete's section and a Chinese athlete caught the ball, you could see on his face that he was absolutely delighted: a personal memory that will stay with him forever.
I then watched the beginning of the concert in London, after the Games had officially closed and that strikingly extravagant flame had been extinguished, and they would have to start with Queen's 'We will rock you' and 'We are the champions' because I love Queen's music and that sealed it for me: the Olympics now belong to us. Thank you and goodbye Beijing - we've got the Games now and we're going to show the world just what we can do well (and possibly badly!)
If you detect a hint of patriotism in this blog, then you are right. We have been so ground down with the negatives of this country, and I'm thinking here of the calamitous recent foreign policy that has severely affected Iraq and Afganistan and the foul behaviour of some of our young people abroad, on holiday, that it's a real joy to think positively, at long last. We have something to look forward to in the 2012 Olympics. It's a great responsibility but also a great privilege and an opportunity for our young to be inspired in a positive way and, hopefully, to become fitter.
I must add a word of caution here because I remember only too well what happened on July 8th, just a day after we were given the 2012 Games. I was so happy that I put my Union Jack flag on my car and enjoyed hearing the swish as I drove along, on that Thursday, to my Bible Study group. We had just started when one of our members received a mobile phone call from her daughter, who lives in London. London was under terrorist attack, bombs had been exploded and it was a national emergency.
We immediately put the television on and saw, with our own eyes, the chaotic scenes at the the underground and the area where the bus was destroyed. At this time, we had no idea how extensive the attacks were and we were all horrified. Lou lives in London and I had to really suppress my desire to worry about her.
It's times like this that I'm so grateful that I am a Christian and can draw upon a supernatural strength. I firmly believe that when your time on this earth is up, then there's nothing you can do about it. (You might ask why a loving God allows such things to happen but I am in no doubt that the terrible things that happen in this world are meant to be a wake up call for those of us still alive: to see that there are more important things than life itself and to examine ourselves and consider that maybe we humans can't do everything for ourselves. Life on earth for Jesus was pretty tough so why should we imagine that it won't be for us? This isn't heaven, after all.)
So, my main concern for the 2012 Olympics is the threat of terrorist attacks but I will not allow it to dominate my thoughts. Probably the concern that the venues won't be ready on time is another issue but if the Greeks could manage it (and I've lived in Cyprus so I know how slowly things are usually done in Mediterranean countries) then I'm sure we can. And perhaps the government might see fit to encourage an expansion of the school curriculum to include training in the practical skills that not only will be necessary for a successful 2012 Games e.g. carpentry, construction work, engineering, professionalism in the service industries (a good waiter is worth his/her weight in gold as is a friendly, efficient hotel receptionist, top class chefs - the list is endless) but also for life before and after the Games.
Yeah, and pigs might fly!
By the way, I took the flag off my car before returning home on that awful Thursday and a phone call to Lou confirmed that she was okay. How many times have I said this in my blogs? - that each day is precious because you don't know what the next day will bring. 'Seize the day' and all that. Sometimes it's hard work but it's the best way to live.
Of course, now we have the big debate, which I'm enjoying immensely, about whether the London 8 minute slot was a success or a failure and whether having the Games is a scandalous waste of money: people like Arthur Smith and Peter Hitchens banging on about how awful it all is. Luckily, we live in a democracy so we can have such debates but, for myself, I think that the feel-good-factor that has accompanied the Beijing Games and the excitement and anticipation of 2012 is invaluable to a country that has had very little to smile about otherwise.
And finally, one of the things that struck me with Beijing was how little cultural diversity there appeared to be - everyone looked distinctly Chinese - in sharp contrast to the cultural diversity reflected in the London 8 minute slot. So I think that it's about time that we stopped criticizing the mix of cultures in Britain and celebrate it instead.
And now to my suggestions for the London 2012 Games!
1. London and all the other venues should be cleaned up and the careless habit of littering addressed. We already have the legal powers to do so so let's use them.
2. Public transport should become first-class. (Can't help but laugh at this suggestion.)
3. Knife crime and gang culture in London should also be targeted and these 'sink estates' revitalized. Let's give disaffected youngsters positive things to do.
4. It goes without saying that security should be tight, tight, tight
5. Opening and closing ceremonies should be very different from Beijing. I hear that Tracy Kelly is in charge and after hearing a programme about her on Radio 4, she seems to be an exciting choice, keen to involve communities. In fact, I did hear that it's under consideration that the ceremonies will not be restricted to the main auditorium and I think that that's an excellent idea.
6. In this spirit of far more audience participation, why not have Elton John in the middle of the stadium with his enormous white piano and large screens with the words displayed so that there could be an enormous sing-along? (This idea has been received with mixed reactions but I stick to it.)
7. Also, those gorgeous Scottish soldiers in kilts playing bagpipes would surely be spectacular, plus 'River Dance' dancing. In fact, traditional entertainment from all corners of the British Isles etc so everyone feels that they are being represented and the diversity of these small islands celebrated.
8. I hope that Paula Radcliffe has another baby and then concentrates on training for the London Olympics - it could be third time lucky for her: she certainly deserves it.
9. Finally, no more pictures of Myra Hindley, thank you very much, and PLEASE keep Jade Goody out of it. I hope she recovers from the cancer that she has been diagnosed with but the revelation of her illness on reality TV and the subsequent numerous 'exclusive' interviews in the trash mags is, in my opinion, tacky. Come on, folks, we all know that there are some aspects of our culture that should not get the oxygen of publicity. It's not a question of trying to hide things - rather an emphasis on what is positive, which is so often neglected by our media. Bad news travels fast but good news lifts the spirit.
If you disagree with any of this, which is, after all, only my opinion, then leave a comment and we can have a good old barny about it!
.
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Sunday, 17 August 2008
THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY August 2008
WORK IN PROGRESS
We've had such a lovely few days that I wanted to write about them:-
THURSDAY 14th
Picked Lou up from the station and we went to THE BLACK BOY PUB, which is my favourite pub in Winchester (serves v good food) and sat outside under the canopy and had coffee. It was chucking it down so we stayed put and had even more coffee. Archie (dog!) was with us and being an absolute pain so we bribed him with a stream of omega biscuits just so we could chat in peace.
(THE BLACK BOY pub, by the way, is utterly unique- no noisy apparatus like gambling machines, loud music etc - it's a warren of interesting rooms splattered with settees, pictures, posters, books and memorabilia, including a stuffed donkey and a stuffed baboon and two live dogs, and the outside L-shaped area is great for us smokers. It also has, I have to tell you with relish, an old-fashioned chocolate minstrels machine and for 20 pence you can get about 5 minstrels (which obviously isn't enough - but the bar staff will happily give you plenty of change) and I have been know to put as much as 80 pence in this wonderful machine!)
The rain stopped and we took Archie for a walk along THE RIVER ITCHEN. It's absolutely beautiful down there: all part of Winchester College grounds and they maintain it really well (they are dredging the river at the moment - essential to get rid of the silt and so avoid too much of a build up of water and prevent the kind of flooding that we now see regularly in the UK).
There are usually swans and ducks on that part of the river but even they dislike the present murky water. But all around are trees and water meadows and a wildlife area (where deer live) and it's so peaceful and soothing to the nerves apart from the steady distant hum from the M3 (thank you government planners - a tunnel would have been far more appropriate.) There's St Catherine's Hill beyond and the Cathedral and St Cross Hospice on the other side of the river, plus very attractive homes along and near to the river.
It's our favourite walk and if we win the National Lottery, I'd like to live there.
(A few weeks ago, Archie and I were walking past the large Edwardian/Victorian house at the end of the private road just before the tennis courts, and there was a party in full swing outside (probably an end of A level exams celebration) and Bob Marley's 'No woman, no pain' was blaring out. John and I had just returned from the Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival and had seen one of Bob Marley's sons - Ky-mani - wow the audience and I was tempted to go along and say: 'Hey you guys, I've just seen Ky-Mani Marley perform live, including the track you've been playing.' But time was pressing on and I didn't but note to self: next time I take Archie round there, I'll give them a daftnotstupid card so they can check out John's recording of Ky-mani. Why have blogs and You Tube sites and not promote them!)
FRIDAY 15th
Such a busy day having fun: shopping, coffees, manicures, pedicures etc etc. We were all ready for an early night: John had flown in from America in the morning and Lou and I were pretty shattered but we had been invited to the official opening of LOOMINELLIE'S at the end of Stockbridge Road so we thought we'd pop along there, say 'hi' to Ellie, grab a take away from Shaad (Indian takeaway) on Stockbridge Road, watch The Tudors on BBC2 and have an early night. Oh,'the best laid plans of mice and men!' The three of us staggered home, clutching take away bag, well after 10 0'clock, having met friends along the way and generally behaving like tipsy teenagers. It was brilliant! Never had Stockbridge Road as 'the place' to be, but it was on Friday night.
LOOMINELLIE is a small textile company, owned and run by a friend of ours, Ellie Gosse, whose family home is just a few houses down from us. Having studied textiles in London, Ellie set up her own business after graduation designing and producing exquisite scarves, pashmenas, cushions and wall hangings, originally working from her boy-friend's house and then her parents. But she has now set up shop in a workshop behind the row of shops on Stockbridge Road and Friday Night's opening was a celebration of this.
If you like beautiful textiles which are a dream to touch, wear, clutch, look at, all handmade and original and not costing the earth, then Ellie's the designer for you.
Check out her website at: Loominellie - Bespoke handmade textiles
You won't be disappointed but do it soon before she becomes mega-popular! We've got in quick: I bought a beautiful purple scarf which looks totally different on the other side so I have two scarves in one; Lou bought a purple/light green lavender cushion which smells divine; and John is going to order a scarf when he 'gets round to it'.
Anyway, the evening was a great success. How lucky we all were - Friday was the only day that week that it didn't rain so we were able to be outside in the large courtyard, which filled up pretty quickly. We never got round to the barbecue because we were too busy drinking the continual glasses of champagne and wine that seem to appear in our hands, as if by magic, on a regular basis.
And when we started to chatting to Simon and Juliette, who are neighbours of Ellie, we found that we had so much in common and so much to chat about, that we forgot all about our originals plans. And, of course, when they expressed an interest in the Essaouira Festival, caution, time, decorum and 'polite conversation' was thrown to the wind. I have a sneaking suspicion that I was slightly drunk, but what the heck - it doesn't happen often in my austere, controlled life (!!!)
The row of shops on that section of Stockbridge Road is actually very useful. It consists of:-
*NFU Mutual
*Cartridge Plus
*Joanne's Florist (I get a lot of plants and vases from here.)
*The Heather Mitchell Beauty Clinic
*Five Star Cleaning
*Pickards/Patel's Newsagents
*Hair Nouveau
*An empty shop propped up by scaffolding (because the owner, a building company, owns this plus many of the other buildings with a view to knocking the whole lot down to build flats!!!)
*Ripples Bathroom Shop
*Shaad (Indian take-away - superb)
*Jade Garden Chinese take-away
*Rapport hairdressers
*Direct Denture Care (luckily, don't need this shop yet and I hope I never do!)
SATURDAY 16th
I can't remember the last time I felt as bad as this after an evening out (or in). Could hardly talk, standing upright was difficult and everyone seemed to be shouting. Revived briefly to cheer the GB rowing teams to either victory or near victory (what an exciting sport to watch - it would seem that race strategy is as important as fitness and I found myself swaying in time with the movement of the prows)and then sank back into self-pity and self-admonition.
This was hardly the day to see MAMMA MIA at the cinema but I'd already booked the tickets and so off Lou and I went in the afternoon. 'It's going to be LOUD!' I complained, but she managed to chivvy me along.
As it was, the film was an absolute hoot and I laughed and sang and swayed and tapped my feet and generally smiled happily throughout. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've always liked Abba's music - it has a unique style and it seems to hit the 'feel good factor' spot and boy do we all need that! And the film is such good fun - worth at least another watch. I reckon it's the kind of film that you want to watch whenever you need cheering up, so the DVD sales will be phenomenal. And who would have thought that such serious actors like Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosman and Colin Firth would be game for such a film and carry it off brilliantly. And the very best part?...probably Pierce Brosman taking off his shirt...or am I being terribly sexist?
SUNDAY 17th
A day of recovery!!! I wish someone could invent an alcoholic drink that doesn't leave you with a hangover. What's that I hear you say? 'Don't drink so much next time.' Very good advice.
And, finally, happy birthday to all of you with a birthday on this day - apparently it's very lucky to be born on August 17th.
We've had such a lovely few days that I wanted to write about them:-
THURSDAY 14th
Picked Lou up from the station and we went to THE BLACK BOY PUB, which is my favourite pub in Winchester (serves v good food) and sat outside under the canopy and had coffee. It was chucking it down so we stayed put and had even more coffee. Archie (dog!) was with us and being an absolute pain so we bribed him with a stream of omega biscuits just so we could chat in peace.
(THE BLACK BOY pub, by the way, is utterly unique- no noisy apparatus like gambling machines, loud music etc - it's a warren of interesting rooms splattered with settees, pictures, posters, books and memorabilia, including a stuffed donkey and a stuffed baboon and two live dogs, and the outside L-shaped area is great for us smokers. It also has, I have to tell you with relish, an old-fashioned chocolate minstrels machine and for 20 pence you can get about 5 minstrels (which obviously isn't enough - but the bar staff will happily give you plenty of change) and I have been know to put as much as 80 pence in this wonderful machine!)
The rain stopped and we took Archie for a walk along THE RIVER ITCHEN. It's absolutely beautiful down there: all part of Winchester College grounds and they maintain it really well (they are dredging the river at the moment - essential to get rid of the silt and so avoid too much of a build up of water and prevent the kind of flooding that we now see regularly in the UK).
There are usually swans and ducks on that part of the river but even they dislike the present murky water. But all around are trees and water meadows and a wildlife area (where deer live) and it's so peaceful and soothing to the nerves apart from the steady distant hum from the M3 (thank you government planners - a tunnel would have been far more appropriate.) There's St Catherine's Hill beyond and the Cathedral and St Cross Hospice on the other side of the river, plus very attractive homes along and near to the river.
It's our favourite walk and if we win the National Lottery, I'd like to live there.
(A few weeks ago, Archie and I were walking past the large Edwardian/Victorian house at the end of the private road just before the tennis courts, and there was a party in full swing outside (probably an end of A level exams celebration) and Bob Marley's 'No woman, no pain' was blaring out. John and I had just returned from the Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival and had seen one of Bob Marley's sons - Ky-mani - wow the audience and I was tempted to go along and say: 'Hey you guys, I've just seen Ky-Mani Marley perform live, including the track you've been playing.' But time was pressing on and I didn't but note to self: next time I take Archie round there, I'll give them a daftnotstupid card so they can check out John's recording of Ky-mani. Why have blogs and You Tube sites and not promote them!)
FRIDAY 15th
Such a busy day having fun: shopping, coffees, manicures, pedicures etc etc. We were all ready for an early night: John had flown in from America in the morning and Lou and I were pretty shattered but we had been invited to the official opening of LOOMINELLIE'S at the end of Stockbridge Road so we thought we'd pop along there, say 'hi' to Ellie, grab a take away from Shaad (Indian takeaway) on Stockbridge Road, watch The Tudors on BBC2 and have an early night. Oh,'the best laid plans of mice and men!' The three of us staggered home, clutching take away bag, well after 10 0'clock, having met friends along the way and generally behaving like tipsy teenagers. It was brilliant! Never had Stockbridge Road as 'the place' to be, but it was on Friday night.
LOOMINELLIE is a small textile company, owned and run by a friend of ours, Ellie Gosse, whose family home is just a few houses down from us. Having studied textiles in London, Ellie set up her own business after graduation designing and producing exquisite scarves, pashmenas, cushions and wall hangings, originally working from her boy-friend's house and then her parents. But she has now set up shop in a workshop behind the row of shops on Stockbridge Road and Friday Night's opening was a celebration of this.
If you like beautiful textiles which are a dream to touch, wear, clutch, look at, all handmade and original and not costing the earth, then Ellie's the designer for you.
Check out her website at: Loominellie - Bespoke handmade textiles
You won't be disappointed but do it soon before she becomes mega-popular! We've got in quick: I bought a beautiful purple scarf which looks totally different on the other side so I have two scarves in one; Lou bought a purple/light green lavender cushion which smells divine; and John is going to order a scarf when he 'gets round to it'.
Anyway, the evening was a great success. How lucky we all were - Friday was the only day that week that it didn't rain so we were able to be outside in the large courtyard, which filled up pretty quickly. We never got round to the barbecue because we were too busy drinking the continual glasses of champagne and wine that seem to appear in our hands, as if by magic, on a regular basis.
And when we started to chatting to Simon and Juliette, who are neighbours of Ellie, we found that we had so much in common and so much to chat about, that we forgot all about our originals plans. And, of course, when they expressed an interest in the Essaouira Festival, caution, time, decorum and 'polite conversation' was thrown to the wind. I have a sneaking suspicion that I was slightly drunk, but what the heck - it doesn't happen often in my austere, controlled life (!!!)
The row of shops on that section of Stockbridge Road is actually very useful. It consists of:-
*NFU Mutual
*Cartridge Plus
*Joanne's Florist (I get a lot of plants and vases from here.)
*The Heather Mitchell Beauty Clinic
*Five Star Cleaning
*Pickards/Patel's Newsagents
*Hair Nouveau
*An empty shop propped up by scaffolding (because the owner, a building company, owns this plus many of the other buildings with a view to knocking the whole lot down to build flats!!!)
*Ripples Bathroom Shop
*Shaad (Indian take-away - superb)
*Jade Garden Chinese take-away
*Rapport hairdressers
*Direct Denture Care (luckily, don't need this shop yet and I hope I never do!)
SATURDAY 16th
I can't remember the last time I felt as bad as this after an evening out (or in). Could hardly talk, standing upright was difficult and everyone seemed to be shouting. Revived briefly to cheer the GB rowing teams to either victory or near victory (what an exciting sport to watch - it would seem that race strategy is as important as fitness and I found myself swaying in time with the movement of the prows)and then sank back into self-pity and self-admonition.
This was hardly the day to see MAMMA MIA at the cinema but I'd already booked the tickets and so off Lou and I went in the afternoon. 'It's going to be LOUD!' I complained, but she managed to chivvy me along.
As it was, the film was an absolute hoot and I laughed and sang and swayed and tapped my feet and generally smiled happily throughout. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've always liked Abba's music - it has a unique style and it seems to hit the 'feel good factor' spot and boy do we all need that! And the film is such good fun - worth at least another watch. I reckon it's the kind of film that you want to watch whenever you need cheering up, so the DVD sales will be phenomenal. And who would have thought that such serious actors like Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosman and Colin Firth would be game for such a film and carry it off brilliantly. And the very best part?...probably Pierce Brosman taking off his shirt...or am I being terribly sexist?
SUNDAY 17th
A day of recovery!!! I wish someone could invent an alcoholic drink that doesn't leave you with a hangover. What's that I hear you say? 'Don't drink so much next time.' Very good advice.
And, finally, happy birthday to all of you with a birthday on this day - apparently it's very lucky to be born on August 17th.
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