Dedication to the Loveless

As I am sure is the case for the majority of my fellow loveless Valentiners, I have spent so many years frantically hiding from the grand bullshit festival of love and loneliness. It never works, though; the incessantly blissful will need to share their joy, the miserable needing to share how down-hearted they feel thus bringing you down; not into their pit of despair, rather to the ground in order that you can dig your own.

No, far better to acknowledge the day so you can really piss in its face!

So as a tribute to the Valen-lones everywhere; a tale or two and a few images I have scratched from the internet.

The pictures here are clearly not my own. I have linked each to the place I stole it from, so if you like the image at all please visit its rightful home, it’s only fair to those who created them.

I have never been lucky enough to receive a Valentine’s Day card. No, wait; there was that one, accompanied by a mediocre excuse for an engagement ring.




I was sixteen and truly believed that having risked his employment to slip the cash from the till with which to buy the ring was the most romantic thing a guy could ever do; we were like Bonnie and Clyde… no, better than that- he was my St Elmo’s Rob Lowe. He would be the Brad Pitt to my Juliette Lewis in that Bonnie-and-Clyde-based film… you know the one? The one which hadn’t been released yet…
Most importantly; my parents hated him. And supremely important: once he suggested engagement, they banned him.

The reality was that I didn’t much like him at all; I mistrusted everything he said, loathed his syrupy bullshit ‘poetry' and despised his (had the word been invented then) chavvy family. Seriously, were Jeremy Kyle around then spouting his bilious arrogance, yelling opinion-disguised-as-fact at the drug-infused, booze soaked benefit fraudsters across the nation, this family would have been prime candidates for weekly stage seats. No doubt.

But did I mention that my parents hated him? And that they had forbidden me to see him? In all honesty, that ban would have made me marry him, just to show them I was in charge of my own life.

And so it was that a few days after a romantic dinner in an otherwise empty restaurant (not actually on Valentine’s of course, everyone knows they up the price of their food on the day – and midweek dining out is always better!) I accepted his ring in spite of my parents. And gave him my own token gift in return.
Now it is said that if you give the greatest gift of all for the wrong reasons it leads to remorse, regret and self-loathing. In all honesty, for me it was a box ticked. One less thing all my friends had done that I hadn’t. And we all know how I like to complete my lists.

Days later, his thieving caught up with him, causing him to lose his job. And what I mean is that after I mentioned it to another waitress who happened to have her eyes on the newly vacant Head Waitress post it became subject to pillow-talk between her and the husband of our boss; she was promoted, my ‘fiancé’ was escorted from the grounds by some burly builder friends of the boss.

It will come as precious little surprise that in spite of our resolve otherwise, this relationship crumbled to be already on very shaky ground by my birthday less than a month after, he laying the coffin-lid in place by Easter and I firmly nailing it closed weeks later, but there are other stories of no consequence to anyone there.

So that is it; my one romantic Valentine’s story. I hope the sentiment hasn’t truly quashed the anti-Valentine tone here! I do genuinely hope it hasn’t dragged you down. It isn’t supposed to. I embrace that memory firmly as a part of who I have become and what my life represents. In fact, one thing that makes me think about how great my life has actually been is when I think on what I would have become had I stuck out that relationship, overlooked what he did, not slept with that other guy – or done the other thing. And I believe that is the point of these Valentines of Loneliness; a point of reflection, to assess how well you are actually doing and learn the lessons you haven’t learned from the past.

I hear you calling out: This is all very well, but you are focussing on what you have received… what have you given? After all, if you do not give Valentines, how can a person complain at not receiving any?
Well, for a few years at Primary school (okay, two, maybe three) I gave anonymously as was the way back then to the one now referred to as the Dark Destroyer of Dreams . Although I outgrew that particular infatuation once we moved to ‘Big School’ and found there were a great deal more boys than the fifteen or so at my school – you know, when there is a greater selection we can afford to be a little more picky!

And I may once or twice have sent a card to my neighbour. Bear in mind, this is a rural neighbour, so was almost a mile away and rarely seen. He did that clever trick all people we see infrequently can do, whereby he’d get more and more attractive until I actually saw him again when it was all "I thought he was better looking than that!" and “was he always quite that ginger?”

Oh, and for the first five or so of the twenty years I have been with the hub-person I gave him cards; before realising he would never surprise me with a return card or that huge romantic gesture I always anticipated; at which point I decided I could either continue to give, feigning no interest in receiving anything yet still expecting it and being deeply disappointed or I could resign myself to reality.

Reality sucks ass; but is cheaper and doesn’t take time out of my day or cause the expectation/disappointment peak and trough.

I hope this Valentine brings you all what you truly need; but remember that as in all things, it may be that what you need right now is not actually what you want, so be patient. And be happy. Whatever your situation, remember that it could be a whole lot worse.

Piff and Waffle...

I have noticed of late that much of what I write seems to hold better as a spoken piece than written. It’s an odd thing, but I can sit and read it back to myself and it seems to have no grounding; yet if I read it aloud there is substance and context… not sure what to do with this realisation such as it is, but there you go.

Were I the kind of person looking to tout notoriety, I guess I would be taking these works out as performance pieces or something… but we know I am not so instead I guess they will resign to the deeper corners of my hard-drive with all those other things I have cast aside until I find an appropriate voice for them.

I know why this is the case. I have been busy of late, so have not been facing a blank sheet of paper or computer screen to do my writing; everything is coming to me as I perform the idle tasks of my life. I used to drive a lot as part of my work and found that often I would have composed reams of poetry on my journey which all sounded fantastic at the time but was forgotten about once I reached the end of my journey. This led me to carry a dictaphone, recording what came to me to transcribe later (which in turn led to some very interesting journeys when I found myself commissioned to write some of those piece you don’t tell your mum about… but we shan’t say more about that…) and I now find I am almost constantly talking to myself as I go about such mundanities as cleaning windows, mowing lawns and hoovering.

*Digressing slightly, the little attention-deficient child within me feels the need to draw attention to the fact that whenever I try to type the word ‘hoovering’ Microsoft in its wisdom seems to think I mean ‘hovering’… I know it’s a proper noun, blah blah, but really do you think I am flying around my living room holding onto my little digi-dictaphone recording these ramblings? –well not this one, as this is purely written at my desk… but you know what I mean! Were I able to hover, I’d be using the skill more constructively than that – maybe getting the cobwebs off the ceiling, cleaning light fittings, reaching stuff on high shelves… you know, all the kind of stuff you need a tall guy around for – or a stepladder… but you can’t watch a stepladder do the work for you, can you?*

But anyway, in case you were wondering; that is why I have been quiet of late. I am writing. Loads. It’s just not particularly relevant here. Or maybe it is, but because it’s stuff I see as more than the rambling nonsense I think you expect of me I am looking for an excuse not to share; just in case you don’t see what I do in it.

If anyone watched Kevin Bridges’ new show “What’s the Story” last night (ok, a more diligent person would have probably reviewed it first before assuming you may have just seen it, but there are people who watch things without waiting to be told to, I am sure!) I guess I can liken it to his therapy session.

For those who didn’t, the set up is such:

Kevin visits a psychologist who happens to mention she recently saw him live. He asks “Did you enjoy it?” Her response: “Is that important to you?” And like a pair of squabbling siblings, they continued in this “What are you doing?” “What’s it to you?” way for quite some time, Bridges refusing to move on until she admitted to having found it funny; which then elicited the somewhat predictable “You are just saying that”.

This makes me view the whole after-show ‘meet and greet’ most comedians do slightly differently. Is the intention as we perceive it; to show how down-to-earth they are, to give something back to the audience in the form of photos, signatures, hugs and handshakes; or is it an attempt to still the doubts and insecurities of someone needing the constant approval of others? After all, the first thing anyone says to the comedian at these sessions is some gushing statement at how great the show was, how funny, that you liked them already from that thing on TV but love them even more now – those who didn’t enjoy a show won’t queue to say so; they are the ones slipping out of the theatre before the lights are even up just in case they bump into the star accidentally and are asked what they thought about the performance. No, we don’t want their opinions. These people happy to queue for an age in spite of having been stuck in a dodgy theatre seat, doing the awkward arm-rest wrestle with an invasive stranger for a couple of hours (or even worse, with one of those irritating guys who also insists on sitting with their knees spread wide leaving no leg-room either!); these are the ones to tout for compliments and praise.

Anyhoo… packing away the waffle-iron now, as believe it or not I do have more constructive things to write about!

Pantheon of Heroes

Maybe it’s just me, but were I reading a review blog which lauded something and promised a proper review at a later date, I probably wouldn’t wait for the review before actually listening. But it seems that some of you have been. So I am sorry to have made you miss the first three episodes of this brilliant radio show, but I take no responsibility for your lack of aptitude to just listen and make up your own minds. In fact, it is sometimes better if you land on a review with some idea of your own thoughts, as that creates a space for debate (as borne out in my review of the Irish show, Sketchy and the ensuing conversation – and the rather interesting list of search terms on my google report which lead people to that particular post!)

I didn’t lie to you, it was written long ago. In fact, I first wrote it immediately having listened to the initial episode… and have re-written many times since. It seems that whenever I think it’s done, I have one last read-through before posting and just think it sounds as though I am fangirling in the worst way – and I am not. I can offer little as evidence but for my own words but that should be enough. You can see the blatant signs of my fangirl nature in many posts here (not naming names, as that messes with the search engine thing, but regular readers will know well enough… and the tag cloud probably has an inkling!)

I do love Elis James’ work though; he just oozes a natural funniness which is most apparent in the fact that whilst most comedians will hit with some and fail with others I have yet to meet anyone who claims not to find him funny.

With that in mind, I shall attempt one last time to hammer something out for you…

The principle behind the show is thus:

Elis James, ably assisted by Ben Partridge and Nadia Kamil and with the use of the custom-made totaliser, is setting up a pantheon dedicated to the heroes of Wales. In each episode, we are given a breakdown of the achievements of a group of candidates to represent a category of history via sketches and dialogue before one icon is chosen to be immortalised in the garden of statues.

There really isn’t an element of the show that isn’t funny. The interaction between the three stars is natural and really funny, the sketches are hilarious and indeed the whole concept is just brilliant!

There is not much more I can say than that, really.

I have tried and the more I say the more it gets gushy and ridiculous until it comes across as completely insincere… so just listen and make up your own mind. I have struggled to find a clip to embed, mostly because much of the content relies on what comes before and after it but also because when everything is funny it is hard to find a moment which stands out. This particular clip from the Religion episode features Elis affecting a brilliant Irish accent to impersonate the singer, Enya which very much made me chuckle! Enjoy!



Catch the show on I-player, or on BBC Radio Wales (available outside Wales via Sky TV or through "Listen Live" on the BBC Radio Wales website). New episodes air on Fridays at 7pm.

Tribute

It is claimed by some that being a mum is a difficult job; it’s not. Being a wife is hard work, which is why I don’t bother: being a mum is easy.That is not to say there aren't those who are far more brilliant at it than I, but to just be a mum really is the simplest thing in the world.

There are women who announce themselves thus, for instance if asked their job: “Oh, I’m a mum!” as though that warrants automatic praise. Carrying the title of Mum says nothing more about someone than that you are capable of ejecting a tiny person out of your cootch… and even that will happen regardless of effort from the mother; after all, how often do you hear tales of a fifteen year old being dragged out of his lazy mother by a social worker: “Well, we just decided it was time we stepped in since she just wasn’t bothered about pushing” You don’t. And why? Because the body will do all of that by itself.
It’s the same with growing up. As is borne out by all the sad tales of neglected children surviving lives of want; scavenging bins for scraps, getting themselves to school in spite of the lack of parental input; they survive, they grow older and go on to have children of their own without a mum’s influence.

I am a mum. I do not introduce myself as one, though, because it isn’t a career or even a job; it’s just another thing I do. In reality it is the part of my life I love the most; the part that makes all the other shit worthwhile and the part that gives greatest return but it is the part that warrants least recognition on my part because it just happens. The kids get to where they need to be, food gets to the cupboards, dirty clothes get to a neatly folded pile of cleaned laundry to adorn bedroom floors and somehow everyone remains (mostly) sane and normal-looking - no thought to the hows and whys, it just happens.

And it is in this spirit that it being baby’s birthday today I give tribute to the smallest yet loudest factor in my mum-ness

Before I do, though; this little moment from the first born on our return from shopping today.

“There’s another reason I won’t ever have kids. I can’t carry anything; I’ve got twiglet arms!” This reminded me of my awe as a youngster at the strength of my own mum. I would be sent out for coal, to end up dragging the huge bucket across the yard and through the kitchen. Mum would appear as I approached the house and just snatch up the bucket as though it were one of those takeaway coffee cups. She could quite literally carry a full bucket of coal in one hand and a stack of logs in the other, whilst having a bundle of lightings under each arm and still stop to stir a pot of food on the stove as she passed through. It amazed me as a kid and it was a bizarre moment to find that my daughter thinks about me in the same way. Of course, I can lift a lot. It’s a while since I did weight training so I can’t remember now what I lift, but the hub-person is 15 stone plus some and I can lift him when he falls; I fill a trolley with shopping, put it all in one of those giant shopping bags and carry that into the house; I will easily move bags of compost about the garden without a second thought. Although I still shamefully do that girly thing in a shop: “Is there someone who can carry it to the car for me?” But we all do that, don’t we?

But anyway:

There is an inherent problem with our reference points to speech being “indoor” and “outdoor” voices… trying to encourage a child to use an indoor voice when they are out of doors gives way to great confusion and what you end up with is a child who even approaching nine has no concept of the fact that some things should be said quietly and will set you up in certain situations; such as the time we were walking behind a very large lady and she says “Mum, we don’t like fat people like that lady, do we?” -shocked glare, I didn’t know what to say- “Not in a mean way; just that she’s going to die and that’s sad!” The woman went to a nearby house and scowled at us very red-faced as she turned to close the door. The trouble is, she genuinely was not being cruel, she really was concerned for the health of this lady, but “indoor voice, please, baby!”

Part of me would love to have that freedom to just tell a person they look exactly like that woman who was on Jeremy Kyle last night and that I hope her boyfriend is nicer to her and to have the pure self-belief that leads to comments like “Drop me here, mum, I’ll walk to [friend]’s house and then come home” – noting that we just happened to drive past on our way home from an outing and that the friend lives almost on the other side of town – “It’s ok, I know karate [3 lessons!] so I’ll just kick any strangers that try to steal me!”

I think it possibly stems from being so much younger than her sisters that she feels more grown up than her years. If I am going somewhere, she insists on being left behind: “I am nearly nine, you know! I don’t need looking after!” In fact, I had a huge argument with her just recently based on the fact that she felt the babysitting arrangement with our neighbour is unfair. The older daughters alternate in looking after the children [seven and ten] but baby felt this should be a three-way rotation: “I’d like to have some money too, you know!”

She even speaks to her friends commanding authority, giving such sage advice as heard recently after her little friend announced she had a new friend and he said he would marry her: “What the one who never does his work? Why him? He’d, like, get a job and never do anything so you’d be all poor… what’s the point? Marry [another boy] instead!”

Baby has very strong ethical beliefs and speaks out quite loudly (as you would expect!) about all “things in general which harm the environment”; for instance passing the garage as she heads to and from school will elicit a very vociferous coughing fit and much waving of the arms, as does being passed by any car churning out the vaguest plume of smoke from its exhaust. She gets incredibly involved in such things as Children in Need, watching the videos carefully before thinking how the world’s imbalances can be resolved and having a cry at the fact that she cannot instigate that change and as for the over-hunting of rare animals: “They should stop hurting the animals, because it makes me cry!”

She isn’t all serious, though. She has a demon sense of humour with an imagination to match! She once announced quite boldly: “I do know when someone is being sarcastic, you know. I can see sarcasm; I can smell it; I just can’t hear it.” But she does hear it perfectly and is so immensely quick-witted that she will always fire back with something equally funny and can halt the most mischievously teasing granddad dead in his tracks.

Her biggest quirk is food. All three of my children have had peculiar tastes (glossing over the first-born and her penchant as a child for peanut butter and sprout sandwiches!) but baby really is the oddest, eating things most children will turn away from. She absolutely loves canned mackerel, to the point where we seem to go through it like water. On a recent shopping trip I bought two tins after being told we were out but upon our return, she started to pack away the cans and laughed aloud, saying “Mummy, I tricked you! I told you we’d run out of mackerel so you’d buy two tins, now we have three so I can eat lots, that’s just how I’m rolling!” She will devour a punnet of mushrooms raw in seconds, likes to dip drumstick lollies in raspberry instant porridge and insists she can (and will!) only ever eat one prawn in a sitting.

It goes without saying that I have imparted every last ounce of my sporting knowledge to her… regular readers will be aware of the extent of the data I have at my disposal and will be unsurprised at such glimmers of wisdom as: “Which team are we voting for? Oh, the green ones. Can’t we vote for the red one and his friends?” – “No, because he is the referee!” or the fact that she sorts her football cards by shirt colour, choosing to swap the ones with dull shirts because they don’t look nice and I am sure you all remember well her wisdom from the Rugby World Cup.

So what else does she teach us?

We learn that one of her sisters is a butterfly; beautiful, graceful, elegant and brightly coloured and that this sister looks “all pretty and shiny” when she cries even if she does live in a room that “stinks like a kangaroo going to the toilet in Canada”; we learn that the other is more a bumble bee; always busy, slightly chaotic but with a clear purpose, colourful, misunderstood and under-rated – but that wearing a bra makes her angry although “she is always so nice when she doesn’t have one on”.


And I know, 1500 words about the wonder of one child makes me the biggest baby bore in the world, but since I started this post talking about being a mum, I will close now with some of her brighter Mum-moments, such as drawing such an accurate image of me she even included the double chin; her announcing that she is reporting me to the police for “murdering [her] to death” after trimming an inch off her hair; the time she woke me before eight on a Saturday declaring her loneliness, to decide once I had dressed and moved downstairs that she might just take her dad’s Ipod and go back to bed; her demands that if I must sing along with “such horrible bad language at least be quiet for the naughty bits”.

But the two things that truly stick in my mind:

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I noted that my jumper was baggy and decided it must have stretched. To which baby’s response was “You may have lost weight, turn sideways.” So I did and received a peculiar side-on hug. “Yup. Lost weight. Definitely. You used to be cuddly and snuggly.”

And the last (for now):

Snuggled on the sofa in our PJ’s, she suddenly announced: “I’m going to go and hug my big teddy now. It’s just like hugging you, but he’s fluffy, not spikey. Just saying, not being mean or anything!”

And off she went.


I am aware of how fleeting these moments are, especially facing the prospect of child one leaving home this summer with two not far behind her. I love that I have this space to share them with you all and hope that you have at least raised a smile or two on my behalf!

And if nothing else, she will be able to read this back in years to come and think “Did I really do those things?” – and you all know how much I love embarrassing my kids!

Have a wonderful day. Celebrate every small joy, for they each truly are a blessing.

One Cloud in a Clear Blue Sky

Okay, I’ll ‘fess up! I am hiding. Badly, I’ll admit, but hiding nonetheless.

In fact, the only way to describe my current hiding mode would be in the form of a tiny anecdote:

I have a brother-in-law who was only three when our families first encountered one another. I used to entertain him when his parents visited mine and one of the things he loved was hide-and-seek. I being a teenager far more interested in chilling on the sofa secretly listening in to the grown-ups’ conversation would let him be the perpetual hider. It suited me, as I had more time of playing without really engaging in the game but it also was good for him – he was effectively an only child, his brothers being more than twenty years his senior and had precious little chance to play his favourite game, so loved to hide.

So he’d hide. And count. And wait. And call out “You can’t find me!” And wait some more. Then I’d call his name. “Yes?” “Where are you?” “In the kitchen; under the table!” And I’d ‘find’ him. And act surprised when I did. And he never learnt to ignore my call; neither did he tire of being found in this way. So we played for hours – every time he visited.

That’s how I am hiding right now… maybe not under the table having seen the amount of food my kids drop in one meal, perhaps behind the full-length curtains – that seems a fitting place to be… but if you call me I’ll surely answer… if you are a person I want to engage with, of course. If I so choose, I may just follow the rules and not respond. Such is the power of choice.


The cloud of post-Christmas seems to be descending which I know will remain until some time just after my birthday in March. It is a little later than usual but hopefully it will not remain longer to makeup for it: I have plans for April/May for which I need to be functioning! I hadn’t actually realised I was succumbing at all until yesterday when having decided to break for a coffee at around half-one I was awoken by a phone-call from the mum of one of baby’s school friends “Do you want me to bring her home?” SHIT!!! It was twenty past three… school finishes at five past. Thankfully, that friend was coming our way anyway and there is a contingency plan baby knows to follow just in case there is ever an emergency with the hub and I don’t get to the school in time, but nevertheless to sleep through the school run is the worst kind of bad parenting!

In my defence (if there is justification for such an occurrence) I have been ill; beyond the non-flu of the last couple of weeks I have not slept for more than three hours at a time since shortly before Christmas and at some point became a person who sleeps on the sofa (detachment and other excuses) In all honesty, the stress of waking so regularly and feeling the need to check for signs of breathing is just too much so I chose to remove myself from the situation. I thought I might start to sleep properly, but after almost a month that does not seem to have happened. It is nice, though, to have the freedom to walk around the house, to maybe read my book for a while or listen to a little music without worrying that my noisy efforts to be quiet will disturb the hub-creature. But I realise this is far from normal.

So that is how today finds me; having started the year in a fairly positive way, now sinking into a pit of self-doubt, insecurity and worthlessness.

Oh, and it’s baby’s birthday this weekend – for which I have done no preparation beyond buying presents. Luckily, though, I spent two days earlier in the week doing some recipe development on a healthy sponge cake for a food blog I work on so at least have my baking head on!

But anyway…

More upbeat stuff to come, I promise… just needed to vacuum this fluff and fuzz out of my head to give room for the other thoughts to bounce around!

And because I love her music and feel more people should be aware of her existence, here’s a tune from Amy Newton:

Sunday Summary 29/01

I’ll be honest; I am closing this week in Quandary Lane, somewhere just off the intersection with Indecision Street.

There are a couple of things I have been working on of late of which I am quite proud and would really like to include here; I am concerned though because the subject matter is … well, it’s crude, sweary and likely to offend some… but I know some of you will like it as much as I do… so do I drag this blog into a pit of iniquity and risk losing some of you for the sake of sharing a few pieces of work?

I have been trying to re-write in a less -I guess graphic would be the right word- way… but I just can’t see the funny in it when it has been watered down; and were I writing a guide on how to be funny, I am fairly sure step one would be something along the lines of writing things which seem funny to yourself.

In terms of achievements this week:

• Not that I am number-driven, but my visitor stats have reached an all-time high here this week. Don’t get me wrong, I have done the research and know exactly how I could have hundreds of people passing by this blog on a daily basis; the steps I would need to take though would take me away from what I really want this blog to be, so I choose to plod along in my own way; and it’s always fabulous to be able to stick two fingers at the ‘experts’!
• Whilst TV and radio seems to hold little that is new right now, I have been looking further afield. I know some of you are tiring of my constant Welsh references, but there is some fabulous stuff to be found there right now. Starting with the brilliant “Gwlad yr Astra Gwyn” which I reviewed earlier this week and “Elis James Pantheon of Heroes” which is to follow (well, the review is ready to upload, just that I have to select a sample file to upload with it, which is proving tricky when the entire thing is so bloody funny!) amongst other things. I am trying to cover things which aren’t being covered on quite literally every review site, mostly because we do all become creatures of habit and I would like to help you break that even for just half an hour!
• There has been something of a resurrection of some old favourites on the BBC IPlayer – in particular, sitcoms Everyone Quite Likes Justin and Claire in the Community as well as Chris Addison’s The Ape That Got Lucky, sketch show The End of the World Show … the list is endless, so take a look for yourself at the comedy section of the listings and see if your old favourite is there.
• I have completed a huge chunk this week of that darker piece I have been referring to… I will try to post some sort of abridgment here, but I am not sure how that will work out without losing the full context. To be honest, with this being a fairly surreal piece, I am not sure whether to see it written down makes it seem a little silly… as a spoken word piece, it works really well, though! (I guess you’ll have to just take me at my word on that!)
• Oh, I finally filed my tax return too! That’s got to count as an achievement I think!!

So another pretty good week in spite of near zero sleep and general apathy… imagine where I could be by now if were a little more driven, eh?

Another something to think on, I guess!

And because I love it… here’s a clip from Everyone Quite Likes Justin, written by Justin Moorhouse and Jim Poyser.

This clip features Justin Moorhouse, Susan Cookson, Paul Copely and Lloyd Langford:

A Matter of Politics

Generally, I avoid making intentional political statement. Not through any deliberate avoidance of the subject, more a lack of confidence in my own opinion I guess, that and that I really feel my own political stance is of little consequence, there being others far better qualified to express and analyse the thoughts and opinions of the population.

I have in my time encountered a great many people who hold blindly to the all-politics-is-bullshit ethos; those who refuse to vote because ‘voting makes no difference’; who will hate on a politician simply because of their role in society rather than their opinions or actions; those who shout loudest about the way ‘the system’ does not give enough of what they want and only benefits others. These people, it will not surprise you to learn, grill my goat in the worst way possible. If you refuse to participate in a system designed to (usually) give voice to the majority you cannot complain about it not performing in the way you want – END OF!!

A short time ago, I discussed the important role comedy had played in my own political education and I have since learned this is the case for many other people brought up in similarly apolitical and disenchanted households. Off the back of that particular post and the commissioned article which had led to the investigation, I began to look at things in a different way and looked for new sources of comedic political statement.

And here is where I started to realise the bigger problem. We had only three, then four, later still (occasionally) five television channels, four national radio stations and one local. Those and a far smaller selection of newspapers was the full extent of availability of information and entertainment; thus we often ended up watching things which would not ordinarily hold our interest and become informed on more diverse subject matter. Nowadays, with a 24-hour bombardment of hundreds of television and radio channels and the internet yelling incessantly from the corner of the room we can always find exactly what we want; so if politics does not interest you, it can be avoided quite easily. We truly have become an ADHD society, unable to watch more than a few seconds of anything before deciding “not for me!” and moving on.

I am perfectly aware, of course, that it is this same response that has many of you landing here now as you frantically jab at the “next blog” button looking for something worth reading. If this is the case and you are still with me, I feel I should acknowledge your efforts, so Thank You!

But back to point…

If we are to seek out our politically-based comedy, how do we firstly know where to look and secondly encourage the disaffected to also find it?

The answer, as with most things in modern society, possibly lies in the social networks. In a spirit of double standards which seems to be very much the model nowadays, I find myself loathing the loss of my own privacy brought by the new ticker feed whilst praising it for the fact I see every click of the ‘like’ button by my friends and it is that very feature that has led me into my current phase of renewed interest in political statement and satirical comedy. I noted that a friend regularly ‘liked’ posts by the comedian Tiernan Douieb and soon found myself subscribing to his blog, checking out some of his work online and taking more of an interest in politics off the back of his commentary. Incidentally, Tiernan Douieb has recently started a blog at the news site, Huffington Post which you should really check out! Another friend whose posts I generally pay little attention to was posting many links to a particular video to which I eventually succumbed. In reality, this person is not one known for her sense of humour and possibly believes whole-heartedly in every word of the video concerned, but regardless I found it funny… and in one of those rare Youtube journeys that ended in a positive place, I want to share a brilliant video of that same comedy character, Sir Ian Bowler:



So I guess the message for today is to pretend like it’s 1985, find the thing which interests you least and start your own google journey… or pay greater attention to what your facebook/twitter/tumblr friends are up to… or to be slightly deeper:

If you wish to express an opinion about immigrants, the benefits system, how we all pay too much for fuel, taxes being too high, wages being too low, schools performing badly, kids being given limited options/too much freedom, bankers and/or politicians receiving too high a wage and too many ‘extras’ or any similar bandwagon statements of opinion you have to contribute more than a re-hashed Daily Mail headline… so teach yourself something before you speak out. What’s that quote often misattributed to Twain? (or some would say “attributed to”, I think it depends on your source) …something about keeping quiet and having people think you a fool vs speaking and proving them correct… it would be relevant to professionally quote that now, but I have already spent longer than intended writing this after a simple exercise in transcription became a major re-write so we shall assume you all know the one I mean rather than trawling off on another Google voyage!

In short, if you think there is a chance you could be one of those people who after the riots of the past summer were claiming a political reason for their actions in spite of not having a clue what they were talking about: really, stop now. Do not speak. No. Stop. Not one word.

You know the ones… we all watched them and laughed at their stupidity… well, I hope you did anyway! Those claiming that they had a right to take a 3D television as recompense for the taxes they were paying out of their benefits; those declaring that rioting was a nation making themselves heard in spite of not knowing what it was they were trying to say; those who believed that somehow their actions were going to change the government stance on immigration. Listening to interviews with participants trying to justify their actions with such an outpouring of misinformation really grated at me at the time. Even now with so much time passed, I am getting angry again just remembering them….

So thank you, people. I was feeling kinda good today, but giving you all something worthwhile to read has really quashed my nice.


Find a happy place…find a happy place…find a happy place

Getting Your Sag On

I saw quite possibly the most ridiculous sight ever this morning!

It was pouring with rain as I returned home from town and walking towards me was a youngster on his way to college (well, he had books… ) battling to keep the hood of his sweatshirt up against the blustery wind. That was not the ridiculous thing, although it is peculiar bothering to struggle so with an item of clothing not at all waterproof… but anyway:

He was also wearing black low-rise jeans and a pair of black boxers with a picture of *a* Muppet character… note I do not know which; it would have been indecent to have looked too carefully since he was little more than a child, but I am sure I could have easily seen had I felt so inclined. I know it is not a new look, but this was by far the lowest I have seen a pair of jeans go without gravity taking over. And I have to say, for a moment even the poor boy himself seemed concerned as he frantically scrabbled to hold onto both his hood and his trousers whilst simultaneously supporting the bag slung across his shoulder. I would have laughed aloud, were it not for the mum-instinct kicking in and feeling just a *little* sorry for the poor kid!

So I am sure you know where this particular middle-aged rant is going… I don’t even need to say it, do I?

• If your mum is still buying your pants for you (and his clearly is!)
  : Pull your bloody trousers up!
  
• If you can feel the rain and/or wind on your tackle as you battle the elements
  : Pull Your Bloody Trousers Up!
  
• If you need to walk like you’ve
  
  1. Cr@pped yourself
     
  2. Ridden forty miles into town on the back of a donkey
     
  3. Cycled over a mile of cobbles with a flat tyre
     
  4. Spent the entire preceding night embracing a new lifestyle choice
  : PULL YOUR BLOODY TROUSERS UP!
  
  

I am not a narrow-minded person. I can appreciate that fashion changes and that things we find ridiculous are cool to today’s youths in the same way that our own fashions were beyond the comprehension of our parents … I do not need to look far for a reminder of that fact as I think back over my own teenaged years and the amount of stresses my choice caused my parents. I am reminded in particular of having a skirt purchased on my behalf at an open-air market and being made to change in the back of our three-wheeler car as my father was embarrassed by the clothes I had chosen to wear on that day – the irony of that situation was lost on me at the time! And I do admit that the low-rise jean, on the right person can look less than ridiculous; in fact, having gone off on a free-image search for a picture to accompany this post I have to say that there are some men who look mighty fine with a classy pair of hipster jeans barely clinging to their lower torso… but the lower the jeans fall, the greater the chance you look less of a hunk and more of a dick… that’s just the way it is, I’m afraid!

So if your jeans are more no-rise than low-rise, for pity’s sake
: PULL YOUR BLOODY TROUSERS UP!

Ethically Challenged

I know you will have looked at the image accompanying this post and be thinking “Here we go again!” but I promise, this is not just another post about the luscious Mr Corcoran… there is a bigger issue here altogether which has really got me irked.

I set off on one of those peculiar Google journeys this morning… I wasn’t even looking for him, I promise… I was happily researching a completely unrelated topic when I saw the name pop up in a result, not a page of any consequence to my research, but today being a fairly productive one thus far I thought I deserved a little diversion… then I find myself on another search tangent, which eventually had me at this Ebay listing for Chris Corcoran's Random Thoughts:



Even those amongst you (how?) who are as yet unfamiliar with the book itself can clearly see the label: £1.99… that is all this book costs… yet this store is selling it on for a whopping £4.69.

“Fair enough,” you say, “the seller has to cover costs” – um, no actually… because firstly this seller is clearly representing a book store given the huge volume of stock he is carrying so is even making a profit by selling at £1.99. Also, his allowance of £2.99 for postage is MORE than it costs to ship from the UK to the US… I checked...and the packaging itself is going to cost pennies to someone mailing out a high volume of goods so what is the justification for blatantly ripping people off in this way? Especially given that these US buyers could easily order from Amazon for $0.68! (In itself another irritation… sixty-eight cents for all that effort! Gah!!)

The thing is it isn’t just the buyer being sold short here; whilst the prospective buyers are paying double the value of this book is anyone mailing off a cheque to Mr C in recompense for the inflated royalties? Um, doubt it!

And don’t think I am only complaining because it is this book in particular, it’s just that I noticed it because I know the book; truly, it would have irritated the crap out of me whatever book it may have been… but you will have to take me at my word on that one!

I am all for free enterprise and people being allowed to earn a living, but this really takes the piss… in a BIG way!

I mean, is it really so different to someone who buys a DVD, copies it and sells both on? The financial boost to the seller is exactly the same, yet only one is technically illegal. Time for artists to make a stand, I feel!

Sunday Summary 22/01

It’s been a funny old week for us at FE-HQ! The hub-creature and child-shaped people were all wiped out with the flu… which of course meant more running around than usual for me! Not good since I was hit with a minor version of their virus later in the week. Spending a day with no other symptom that a husky voice, I thought I was getting off lightly, but it seems not, since my energy has been zapped and I am now stuck with the worst case of vertigo ever! But I have done some work regardless, because that’s the level of commitment you can expect from me!

Highlights of the week:

• I had plenty of peace as no-one wants to visit the Plague House!
  
• I managed to set an all-time record for reading Chris Corcoran’s Random Thoughts … 34 minutes, don’t you know! And still laughed aloud throughout… really it doesn’t get old at all!
  
• I did some more work on a particularly dark project which is panning out to be something I am really proud of! (more on that another time, though!)
  
• I finally figured out a way to (legally) include content other than that from Youtube, so can better highlight my reviews now!
  
• Having a heap of downtime, I was able to complete a batch of reviews and an abridgment of a bigger piece to include here
  
• I have managed to spend some time tidying up the blog, adding media to posts without it and coding in the all-new “Related Posts” widget… what do you thnk?
  

There’s a load of other stuff that’s gone well this week… far too much to go into really, but you get into picking apart every small aspect of life and it’s just ridiculous really!

Let’s just say that in spite of the viral attack, this week has been a good one!

And because it really made me laugh, I want to share this with you!

A new show written by and starring Jason Byrne, starting Saturday 4th Feb at 10pm on Radio Two.

Gwlad yr Astra Gwyn

I doubt any of you will have caught this show, but really you must.

Ok; it is in Welsh, but to be honest I think if a person is so narrow-minded that they will avoid things just because they might have to read a subtitle or two they are restricting themselves in the worst way.

As a person new to speaking Welsh, I have to say the best thing by far for me was that there was no complexity in the language, so it was easy to keep up with, but I am aware this makes me a niche market! If I were to have a complaint it would be that this programme didn’t have subtitles ‘yn Gymraeg’ because I find that helps!

But this is not a Welsh review, so I’ll get to the point…

It’s a simple premise:

Trefor runs a taxi service, aided by his unseen sister on the radio. The show is shot entirely inside the taxi as we meet his regular customers going about their daily lives. The characters we meet are extremely funny and there is a high energy to the programme, with almost the feel of a sketch show; possibly testament to the show’s origin as part of a sketch show itself, but regardless it keeps a good pace throughout.

The humour is puerile, crude and base, but is hilariously so, drawing the viewer into Trefor’s world and making us feel very much a part of every fare.

Trefor is brilliantly played by Rhodri Meilir, who will be best known to English audiences from BBC appearances in My Family and Dr Who but has a huge range of credits on Welsh-language television and there are a few other familiar faces amongst the cast of customers.

It is a brilliant show! You should know by now that I do not say anything I don’t mean, so click the piccy below to watch online, or catch it on Sky channel 134 on Thursday nights at 10pm.







Update:5th Oct 2012

Series two is currently airing on Wednesday nights at 9.30pm with repeats on Fridays at 11.35pm. This new offering is every bit as funny as the first series, so be sure to check it out!

That is all!

House of Rooms

I tried to come into watching this void of any preconceptions… something thankfully made far easier by its being so completely different than could possibly be expected that the moment it started I forgot all about Milton’s fantastic stand-up and was whisked away into his little world.

Being a surrealist at heart, I loved the bizarreness of the whole affair as we see the down-beaten Milton struggle to cope with the popularity of new tenant Paul, especially from his love interest, Alice, and has a brilliantly thought-out sub-plot I shan’t detail for fear of ruining it for you!

I will be honest, there were parts of it which put me in mind of ‘Flight of the Conchordes’… not for the content but for the general ambience of the show, with subtle sound effects and the occasional musical backing track. Not that I consider that a bad thing, by a long stretch… Conchordes is fabulous! Suffice it to say that if you liked one, you would most likely feel the same way about the other!

To my mind, Jones proved brilliantly that his one-liner style can fit perfectly into a sitcom with script which is absolutely hilarious in the most understated way.

As a pilot offering, I really hope this becomes a full series at some point… I for one will be very much looking forward to it!


Click the image to view the show on 4oD

Stella

Stella is a brilliant new comedy drama written by and starring Ruth Jones. Jones’ character is a single mother trying to work hard to provide for herself and her children in spite of the issues life throws in her way.

Ok, if you have been waiting on this review to decide whether to watch this series or not, you will be disappointed to have missed the first few episodes! Not to worry, though, I am sure they will be repeated at some point and one of the joys of this show is that you really can just step in anywhere so no need for an extensive catch-up session; there are no complexities in the plot, no twists or surprises - it really is quite a simple story of one woman struggling to do her best by her family against all the normal stresses of modern life.

This show is equally hilarious and poignant, giving me personally many a teary moment of empathy towards our eponymous heroine, played brilliantly by Ruth Jones. It is always a tricky act to follow a hugely successful project such as Gavin and Stacey but Jones has managed it perfectly with this offering, being both beautifully written and really well executed.

I personally love the backdrop, too, as we see the amazing Welsh scenery – and I know, you will think I am biased, but honestly I do believe that it further adds to the dichotomy of the show in that we see this almost idyllic scene in spite of which there are people really struggling to get by. It yells to me of a deeper message about taking note of our surroundings and being grateful for what we have rather than lamenting what we don’t… but this may just be incidental! It has often been said though that I think too deeply about things which really do not matter!

The cast are all fantastic, playing their characters wonderfully to the point where even exaggerated traits seem perfectly normal.

I really struggle to find a weak point in this series at all, so watch and enjoy!

You can watch videos of the show here: Sky One.com Stella Videos and new episodes air on Fridays at 9pm.

Zombie Apocalypse

I know, reviews promised… but my head is far too fuzzy, so for now make do with my ramblings instead. In case you are worrying; no, I do not have the flu which has floored everyone else… thankfully! I awoke yesterday feeling just fine to the sound of the phone ringing and as I answered thought “That’s not me!” At some point overnight, I had developed a peculiar huskiness you normally couldn’t achieve without blackened lungs and a shrivelled liver. With no other symptoms than a vague loss of energy, I found myself in a position where running a premium rate sexline suddenly seemed a very viable business opportunity. Today, however, that loss of energy has become an all-round vagueness, my head feels as though it is stuffed with bubblewrap with an over-excited child popping a few cells just often enough to cause discomfort and whilst the sultry voice remains, along with it comes a breathlessness and chesty cough that has others cowering away in fear… so not so sexy then!

It is very much feeling as though we are living in one of those apocalypse movies… I stocked up on groceries on Monday ‘just in case’ and we quarantined ourselves in order to prevent a spread – now we are at the point of preserving stock and rationing food so as to avoid going out… not that I am too ill for a trip to Tesco, but I really do not want to!

But anyway, in case you were worrying at the lack of posts, that is the situation here; hope you don’t catch the virus from reading this!

The radio is keeping me going at the moment, so I will share this with you all… because having listened far too many times to count, I am still laughing every time I hear it… a little Andrew Lawrence:

Andrew Lawrence discusses being described as 'Misanthropic': From his radio show 'What To Do If You Are Not Like Everybody Else'

Fruity Ponderings and Flu Avoidance

I feel as though I am living inside an old vaporub jar at the moment – that smell really permeates everything, doesn’t it!

I’ve managed to be cold-free for something like fourteen years now and really do not plan on succumbing to the one currently flooring the hub and kids; so this morning I did what any sensible person should do and went shopping!

Don’t panic, I’ve not been hit with an attack of spontaneous materialism, it was a purely survivalist excursion to nowhere more exotic than Lidl! Don’t judge me, though; I do not have the constitution to fight off pensioners at the market and Lidl’s is very much the next best thing in terms of gathering fruit and veg which can be eaten on the day of purchase – besides which, the benefit-bound aren’t even out of bed yet, so I can head there without fear of encountering any unsavouries! So I have stocked up on plenty of vitamin loaded, virus beating yummies and am now enjoying a (rather late) breakfast of hot buttered toast, grapefruit and ‘proper’ chocolate (94% cocoa - because I am hardcore!!)

And much like floating in an oarless canoe toward a waterfall, I now drift effortlessly towards my point:

Just who was it who made the decisions as to how we should eat certain foods? I don’t mean people coming up with recipes, but the real stuff – things we eat with minimal interference besides chopping, peeling etc.

Why do we play at the Giant’s teaparty eating grapefruit with a tiny spoon whilst we segment oranges of the same size to eat with our hands?
Why is it considered appropriate to sprinkle sugar over a grapefruit and eat it, whilst equally unpalatable fruits such as lemons are resigned to the rank of ingredient/decoration?
Who decided pineapple and coconut were worth the effort needed to reach the flesh?
Who declared the grapefruit a breakfast food, tomato and cucumber to be used for salads and squashes to be vegetables?

And most importantly, who the hell ever thought a piece of fruit could constitute dessert?


These are the things I found myself pondering over whilst packing away my purchases and painstakingly scoring my grapefruit.



In fact, I was reminded a few days ago of being given my first pomegranate as a youngster. As baby and I walked home from school, we caught up with the little girl next door. She was eating one as she walked (hence her being so slow that we caught up with her!) and baby asked her “Are you using a spoon?” “No, it’s a pomegranate fork!” – Actually, it was a chip-shop fork, but I’ll let her off since the poor girl has probably never seen the inside of a chippy! It seemed a strange thing though to give a child as part of their packed lunch… what ten year old has the stamina to eat a pomegranate? I was probably around twelve when I first saw one and was given a threaded needle with which to eat it. We were hardcore beach scavengers, ‘catching’ a lot of winkles and such so eating with a needle wasn’t a big deal but nevertheless I soon bored of the repetitive process: choose, spike, eat, choose, spike, eat, choose, spike, drop… it seemed unending and eventually I just couldn’t be bothered so had an apple instead. Coming from the home of “waste not, want not” though, my fruit was placed in the breadbin and I was expected to return to it as often as necessary until it was gone; day three, I cast it over the garden wall to ‘feed the birds’ living in the trees beyond because nothing is worth that much effort!

But anyway – such ponderings have me lusting after a strong cup of tea and I still have to complete those reviews I have promised you all. (Plus I am working on a contingency in case I should find myself floored by this strain!)

That and you find when there is a case of flu within the household that people visit less and "Can't stay". Add a second patient and they will only chat on the doorstep until by victim number four you are completely in quarantine... so knowing my time will be my own for a couple of days at least I should also have time for another read of this:



Did I mention, it's a great book ?! ...

Sunday Summary 15/01

I do have some proper posts to put up later, but I know those of you only here after the closure of my other blog are used to the Sunday Summary and as such here ‘tis! (not that I make any promises to maintain the regularity or promptness you are used to, but I shall try!)

So:

Highlights of the week:

• A brilliant new focus which has me with a brimming folder of character profiles, new ideas, different ways of making old ideas work etc.
  
• I have developed a new resolve after whiling away some of the time I had allocated for not completing my tax return on calculating the costs of freebies over the last year – and as such sent a few people on their way. Odd to call this a highlight I know but in actual fact it’s a mark of a newly strengthened character, since the ability to say no has long eluded me (read into that what you will!)
  
• The re-enforcement of just how fantastic my girls are as they (the older ones, anyway) tried to persuade me that I should take the trip I was planning for the summer and broke down exactly how they would cope without me! (I’m not going, because I can’t justify the huge cost for just a week away, but regardless the fact they are so supportive is amazing!)
  
• I know I have said it before, but I have found the perfect house! And it falls in a location approved by the Dark Destroyer of Dreams, so even better! (oh and I will be in Wales in a few weeks; hopefully it will still be available then so I can go have a snoop!)
  And for relevance here:
  
• Some real moments of funny in:
  
  • Some time of reminiscence as well as a few laughs from my rediscovery of the hilarious Harold Lloyd
    
  • Obviously, The Rhod Gilbert Show which was absolutely hysterical this week – which great though that is, meant I was unable to work whilst listening as I usually do… but I needed to laugh more than I needed to write!
    
  • Stella, the fab new comedy drama from Ruth Jones
    
  • House of Rooms – this week’s brilliant channel four offering from Milton Jones
    
  • Some true old-school chuckles on Sky Arts in the form of Saturday Night Live episodes from the late ‘70s and the fabulous Monty Python films
    
  • The return to the Iplayer of series one of ‘What To Do’!
    

So all-in-all, a pretty good week as they go!

Now to complete the coding on those other posts and make them ready to upload…

Silent Movies Rediscovered

You know how every once in a while you stumble across something and it just re-ignites a dormant passion you’d long forgotten about?

This is where I am after a recent research journey for a commission piece on silent movies.

It had never occurred too much until a conversation with one of the child-shaped people, but when I grew up there were often silent movies on the television; nowadays they seem to never be on unless part of a clip-run during a documentary.

Laurel and Hardy were always lauded as the best during my childhood, but I never much liked them; possibly part of my anti-hype nature (Yes, maybe my hipster personality started that long ago!) but I really do not remember why now, nor is it particularly important; the films I loved were those of Harold Lloyd. And so it was that during my research for this article, I found myself whiling away hours watching and re-watching Youtube clips featuring some of the funnier moments of his movie career.

I am not going to analyse the whys and wherefores – it seems quite obvious really that with verbal comedy there is a delay as we wait for the build up to an inevitable punchline but silent comedy has to keep hitting to hold the focus of the audience hence we are given far more laughs per minute. Of course, being denied a punchline means we are also denied the big laugh at the end, with these films often just fizzling out but I personally think it’s worth the trade-off.

I do worry about the fact that there no longer seems the chance to view these films en masse; with the huge volume of television channels available to us, you would think they’d be shown somewhere and add that most cinemas nowadays have multiple screens so could surely show older films alongside new releases. When you think about the fact that an entire generation has absolutely no awareness of the existence of silent movies, not just the fabulous comedies but such aging classics as Ace of Hearts, Camille and of course the amazingly dark Nosferatu it makes you wonder what will become of these volumes over the next twenty years. Will anyone remember them or will they be lost forever?

But anyway… little whinge over!

And as a reminder of (or introduction to) some of the work of the utterly amazing Harold Lloyd, here’s a little clip video for you:



Incidentally, for those who are interested, there are a huge amount of 'proper' old films available in full on You-tube... Nosferatu being one! I know what I will spend my weekend doing!

Character Profiling...

It’s a tricky balance sometimes, the need to lock oneself in a room alone to write conclusively vs the obvious need to be out finding things to write about.

My previous existence managing a sports facility gave me plenty of character ideas and stories to tell, but provided little in the way of constructive time to actually commit any of them to formal text; thus I found myself in search of a voluntary role in order that I can simply step away and write when I feel the need to.

I spend one day a week working at a brilliant place which runs computer-based courses for all, teaches life skills to those let down by a failing education system and assists the unemployed in making themselves employable; searching for jobs, completing applications, preparation for interview and so on.

I have the opportunity to meet a huge range of people of different class, nationality and intellect and thoroughly enjoy every minute of the work I do as much for the amazing array of characters I encounter as for the chance to put my skills to better use than the usual waffle and twad I churn out!


At the present time, I am writing at my previous place of employment; no other reason for this than “Because I can”. It tends to be my go-to place; somewhere to hide from those who feel working from home means having nothing to do but hand out free coffee and chatter all day; somewhere to be around people who no longer ask “when will you?” “why didn’t you” “couldn’t you just?”; somewhere to simply write for the hell of it. Alright, they do throw me the odd free coffee from time to time, but I put in a lot of hours for them over the six years I worked here, I earned a few coffees at least!

So here I am; writing character profiles on those around me; making judgments as to their habits and hobbies; inventing jobs and families based purely on the fact they have chosen to come out today in a red jacket or that they arrived in a beaten down Vauxhall Corsa.

There are times I suddenly realise I am knuckling down and taking my work more seriously and this really is one of them. For the most part, people think I spend my days hiding in the office doing nothing more constructive than refreshing my social networks; and I’ll admit, there are times I realise I could take on far more work were I better able to focus and aim for a faster turnover. Spending a couple of hours scribbling in my notebook, though, and finding myself with a heap of transcribing to do and some new ideas to work up I can see just how differently I am coming at the whole process than this time last year. Maybe this is the year I actually decide to package myself into one of those neat little straight-edged, pointy cornered boxes people are so keen on... or maybe not.

Fairy steps, I think... a few character profiles and a couple of really exciting new ideas are really not enough to warrant choosing a genre, are they? ... especially given that the new ideas are so very different from one another!

But changes are afoot, nevertheless...

As always, watch this space!


Seriously, keep watching....


Don't look away, now!

Ambition-fuelled Nonsensical Whimsy

I am not quite sure what has happened to me this year.

You will gather from my “I hate New Year” post that I don’t do the renewed vigour, the gritty determination to make more of my time, decisions to lose weight and get healthier or any other such clichéd resolution-type bullshit.

Why, then, am I now writing this at 9:15am, having already cleaned the kitchen, eaten breakfast, sorted some paperwork, packed away a little of Christmas and finally finished a deadline-free article I had hoped to complete last month but for it being a difficult one to write on?

Oh, and here is another thing… I went for a run the night before last, which I’ve not really had time to do since some time in November and did some pilates and a bit of Wii fit last night – I soon put paid to the Wii fit smugness though: “You’ve not been here for ages, fatty! Do you want some workout tips? – Oh my bad, you’ve lost 16 pounds since you played last, maybe you don’t need me after all… I’ll be under the coffee table should you change your mind!” Not that I particularly feel the need to lose weight, but it’s still good that I have. In fact, losing it when you aren’t trying is a real bonus; a freebie from karma to me… so in your face to all those people who are spending the next two or three weeks at the gym whilst nagging at those of us who prefer to workout somewhere void of the condescension of being surrounded by the young and healthy-without-even-trying as we sweat, pant and wheeze our way through the most sedate circuits we can create.

I found myself writing a list, too; a “things to do this year” type of list. It’s not a particularly creative one, nor is it anything too taxing… in fact there is no reason any of the things on the list are not attainable… but I am worried it smacks a little of a resolution of sorts.

You see, I do always find myself with accidental resolutions.

One year, I sat alone at the turn of the clock having had to stay up for the inevitable family phone calls and just cried. As with all years, there had been plans, but they fizzled out as one-by-one everyone else fell asleep until by the turn of the calendar I had been moping in my own misery for almost two hours; so I cracked. I was horrendously overweight at the time, although did not care much about it and started to wonder about how many calories I had consumed in the bottle of cheap celebratory fizz I had drunk alone so hit the internet in search of calorific values of various wines etc to find myself landing eventually on what turned out to be quite a life-changing website . I read about how this website could change everything I hated about my life by teaching me to create healthy habits. The website also had a calorie-counter, into which you could enter the food you had in a day and it would give a full nutritional breakdown.

I hadn’t wanted to lose weight really; I knew I needed to, but there is a certain comfort in being bigger. Mainly in my case, as I was to learn much later, the fact that by staying fat (read: unattractive) I could go out without attracting unwanted attention from other guys, so did not need to think too much about whether or not I was happy with how deeply morose my home-life was. That said I found myself signing up, as much to use the calculator to work out my alcohol-calories for the day as anything else and found myself working through the stages to self-betterment.

Being as anti-cliché as I am, I was determined not to start a diet; especially on New Year. I was also very much of the impression that in order for any life-style change to stick it had to be as much like the norm as possible and as such, I did nothing to change my life initially, choosing to simply log my normal diet and activity just to see where I was; and that was the shocker.

In order to lose a healthy two pounds a week, the system told me I needed to consume 1250 calories a day; excluding that New Year’s Eve, I was taking on around 250. In fact, over the first two weeks, I was only able to break 300 on one day – and that was a day I had felt immensely stuffed and lethargic. I had always taken great pride in having beaten an eating disorder completely unaided at the age of 17, but the more I looked at it the more I realised that in actual fact all I had beaten was the need to weigh myself in fifteen minute intervals. At this point I was thirty years old, weighed almost two hundred pounds and decided enough was indeed enough.

The website had the most amazing wealth of information and experts you could chat with on-demand. It was (and still is!) completely free to use which amazed me, having seen how much some other sites were charging for a far less helpful service. I found myself learning about starvation mode, about the nutritional necessity of specific minerals and most importantly for me which foods offered high calories without adding fat, sugars, salt and other nasties. I gradually brought my intake up until eight months into the regime I found myself celebrating a first full week of hitting my target calories every day. That in itself was a big day for me, but also represented the most important message the site endorses; “Slowly, slowly; catchy monkey.” You cannot change your life in one day, it takes time. By starting with the small target of taking breakfast each day, I got into the habit of eating. Once that was set, I determined that breakfast had to be before ten which meant that I was starting to get hungry by mid-afternoon so would eat lunch. I had not felt hungry in such a long time, so that was a huge achievement for me and over time I was able to build up to regularly taking three meals, with a handful of nuts or seeds in the evening to punch the calorie target. I learnt so much about fitness, nutrition, goal-setting and more importantly about myself and I am eternally grateful for that.

But it does not change the fact that without intending to, I had stumbled into a weight-loss resolution.

Other years have passed in a similar fashion, like the year the girls and I had seen in the New Year singing along with the music channels on TV and had decided to have more family time, so opted for a weekly “Family Night”. That drifted off the radar after a few weeks when it became more a “mummy and baby” night.

There was also the year I had a New Year phone call from my gran, which had left me determined to make more effort to visit my older family members more often; but time was hard to come by and I never really managed to visit anyone.

And the year I decided to clean the house whilst awaiting my mum’s call and happened across my book of lists; I decided I no longer needed lists, so threw the book away and determined to never list anything again. That was the worst year ever; I forgot everything, was horrendously disorganised and life just became immensely chaotic until the moment I started to plan a birthday party for one of the kids and just knew without a list it would be the worst party ever.

You see, I accidentally make life-changing decisions at New Year and head down the pathway to Resolution-ville without a second thought.


And this year?

I seem to be accidentally working out

And losing weight

And taking a more organised approach to my work

And after having looked back through my list, gained some sort of ambition and drive unheard of before.

So now I have to make a decision:

Do I determine to achieve all I want and hope for success?

Or…

Do I throw the list away now before the thought of failure and Clichédom become too much to bear?

New Year Aspirations

New Year befalls us again!

And so it is that I once again find myself stumbling down the pathway into Clichédom with accidental intentions of self-improvement and an end to bad habits.

I hate the concept of resolutions and work hard to avoid them; nevertheless as the clock strikes midnight, calendars are opened and a new chapter begun I always find myself alone; stuffed from the over-indulgence of a meal and a bottle of wine intended for five which I have taken alone, maudlin from the heartbreak of making plans which as always come to nought and far too introspective to trusted in charge of my own life for any period of time. Thus I find myself listing all that is wrong with my life, all that I need to change and most importantly all that I have the power to change in an attempt to make the most of the next year.

And yes, I understand that decisions made tonight will leave me feeling virtuous for few weeks before realising that nothing I can do will change the things about my life that most need alteration and resigning to yet another failure… but still I know I will awaken tomorrow in the midst of an accidental detox plan with a beautifully formatted list of hopes and dreams for the coming twelve months (or more realistically, days).

But anyway …

I truly hope 2012 brings each and every one of you all the health, wealth and happiness you deserve.