Ken Clarke dancing with Ann Widdecombe

I can’t help thinking about how celebrity seems to subside when it reaches the House of Commons: there have been ‘celebrities’ who have entered parliament and found themselves pushed to the background in a place where looks are largely irrelevant.  Although it’s worth noting that Milliband and Cameron share the same bland-featured physiognomy as Blair, many others are more individual: Teresa May and Harriet Harman are individually recognisable; Brown, though repellent in every aspect, was instantly knowable – whereas, when you look at the latest – and, please God! the last – batch of ‘slebs’ on Big Brother it’s hard to tell them apart.  ’Who’s that?’ I say to Holly.  ’Chagara,’ she says, nonchalantly.  ’And who is Chagara?’ I enquire.  Holly shrugs.  ’Singer,’ is all I can get out of her.  What these people are  - ie famous – is obviously far more important than what they do (if anything).  There are at least two on the current BB who must be clones of each other *, though the men, of course, have more freedom to be ugly, so long as they make up for it by being muscular and having the requisite number of tattoos.  So I am happy with the tendency of parliament to render these features irrelevant.

On no Account

If I banked with RBS I would move my account after hearing today’s news:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-16752358

Except that I can’t because I have an overdraft.  Can you move overdrafts from one bank to another?  Has anyone done this?  What were your experiences?

It’s cold today – in fact it’s decidedly parky – and this leads me to wonder what the origin of the word ‘parky’ might be.  I doubt whether it’s anything to do with being in the park.  Let us consult the oracle:

‘Mark?  Mark?  What’s the origin of the word ‘parky’?’

‘I dunno’, he says.  ’Sounds like rhyming slang to me.’  He thinks about it.  ’Parkinson’s disease – freeze.’

LOL.  Anyone know the origin of the word ‘parky’?

I hope it’s rhyming slang – I’m a great fan of that particular argot, especially as it’s a living thing, still being invented.  My favourite is George Cole’s character in ‘Minder’ saying ‘Me Chalfonts are killin’ me’.

So: today’s prize question is – what are Chalfonts?  The first person to comment gets a special mention in tomorrow’s post.

Kirk out

*sadly I have since found out that they are twins

Hey! I’m flying by the seat of my pants!

I’m starting this blog post without a thought in my head and just seeing where it takes me.  Wow!  Exhilarating.  The reason being that I slept late, the N154 virus (or whatever it is) still draining my energy.  So I am here in my dressing-gown and slippers trying to dredge a word or two from what I am pleased to call my consciousness.  And nothing is coming.

I read another blog post this morning about whether characters can surprise you – in other words, when you write, does a character refuse to do a thing you wanted them to do and insist on doing something completely different?  By which I mean that, when you write, there is a resistance – the words refuse to come until you rethink the situation and go in a different direction.  Well, the writer of the blog thinks it doesn’t happen – or at least, not to her – whereas I think it does.

http://betsylerner.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/hey-hey-mama-said-the-way-you-move-gonna-make-you-sweat-gonna-make-you-groove/

Not sure why she put a line from Led Zep as the title though.  I think very carefully about my titles…

Finishing off the memoir for Fish about my childhood.  It’s not bad, I think, but even being good is no guarantee they will like it.  ’Study the magazine,’ they all say.  That’s all very well but there are only so many hours in a day and no money at all in my bank account, so there’s a limit to how many magazines, web sites, e-zines and competitions you can ‘study’.  Perhaps I should set aside a few weeks just for this at some point.  Might not be a bad idea.

The radio play is coming on – I’ve got a rough time-line sorted and should be ready to start writing it properly soon.  I am also convinced (and I don’t think this is just ego) that judging by the current crop of sitcoms on Radio 4 at 6.30, I could do better;

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0126bw5

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01bgnxm

Honestly.  They’ve got every cliche in the book and no new ideas.  ’Clare in the Community’ is about the only decent sitcom I’ve heard for a long time.

OK Mark is champing at the bit; or at least, at the bit of toast (he breakfasts late) as he hasn’t finished his blog post yet, so I must away!

http://homeedandherbs.blogspot.com/

Kirk out

Thank you for choosing this virus

Thank you for choosing the N154 strain of ‘cold’ virus.  Your body is important to us and we will endeavour to deliver on our stated guarantee as set out below.  Please don’t forget to check the terms and conditions in order to verify your guaranteed status.

Our Commitment to You

With N154 strain of ‘cold’ virus you can expect:

• a guaranteed FIVE weeks minimum of illness
• at least TWO weeks of  streaming - runny nose and sneezing 24/7
• a further two weeks of coughing, spluttering and wheezing (asthma subscribers have a bonus here)
• the bonus feature: when symptoms have elapsed you can expect at least a full WEEK of fatigue and listlessness

You can sign up more easily in the future – to subscribe to other, similar viruses you need do nothing – they will be made available and you will be informed in due course.

LOL

Update: Daniel had four teeth out yesterday under general anaesthetic.  It’s weird seeing your child go under; one minute they’re lucid and the next the eyeballs turn upwards and they’ve gone.  Disturbing.  When he had his leg operated on we had a nurse take care of us afterwards as we found it quite upsetting the first time.  The staff were all great at the Royal, if a little patronising in Daniel’s eyes as they’re geared to looking after smaller children.  But at least they try.  Anyway, everything was quite straightforward and he should recover well.

Today I shall be mostly… enjoying my fourth week of subscription to the N154 virus.

Kirk out

Torturing Animals for Pleasure and Profit

Apparently battery hens no longer exist in the EU, which is a Good Thing.  I hadn’t noticed there weren’t any non free-range eggs; only that it was easier to get hold of the free-range variety than it had been.  But according to Mark they have been universally banned.  Cheers.  However, people can always find new ways to torture animals for pleasure or profit (or both) viz. the latest factory-farming story in the Archers where Brian (‘Oh, Brahn!’) Aldridge along with Borchester Land wants to construct a huge warehouse full of cows who never see daylight or eat grass.  Repugnant; but of course Brian responds to any criticism in a hurt and aggrieved tone as though no-one in their right minds could possibly oppose such a benevolent and humane scheme.  Frankly, I’m very disappointed in Debbie, whose idea it was in the first place.

I don’t think you have to be sentimental or anthropomorphise animals to believe them capable of suffering.  In yoga philosophy all living things are considered to be interconnected and to harm one living thing is ultimately to damage yourself.

You have been warned.

Daniel has to go to the hospital today to have a couple of teeth out.  He is not happy.  We had to wait about 9 months for the appointment to come through; he will be nil-by-mouth from 11 and the appointment is at 1.  Gwyneth is giving us a lift back.  What would we do without Gwyneth?

I don’t know.

And finally, a sobering incident.  Last night Holly let out a wail for no apparent reason.  ’What’s the matter?’ I said.

‘I’ve just realised,’ she said.  ’In 12 years I’ll be 30!  That’s so old!’

 I thought about it.  ’In 12 years I’ll be nearly 60,’ I said.

‘No, Mum,’ she corrected me.  ’In 12 years you’ll be nearly 70.’

And while I collapsed on the sofa in a near-death experience she continued to wail, ’30!  That’s sooo old!!’

Loll

Kirk out

SOFA, SOPA, OSFA

What connects the above?  I’ll tell you in a mo…

I am finding the news particularly depressing and anxiety-inducing at the moment, so instead I am listening to this.  Highly recommended, especially if you are worried about anything:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d63COahIpVM

Today I have a yoga session with a student: I also have to complete the work of historical fiction – I mean, memoir – that is my tax return.  Why is it that doing my tax return makes me feel as though someone is sticking red-hot daggers into my liver?  I mean, it’s just figures on a bit of paper – or in this case, a screen: so why should it feel as though I am allowing complete strangers to enter my house and poke around in my entrails?  Cos that’s how it seems – I have to gird my metaphorical loins every time I broach the website.

On the plus side, I have finally persuaded Mark to download skype so that we can talk to Mary in Mexico.  Apparently we have missed the Tulsa window and she is now back in Baja California (this is not California but the bit of Mexico with a long arm.  It won’t save the page so go here and put in Baja California:

http://maps.google.co.uk/

So: to SOFA etc.  Well, SOPA, the US-interfering-with-everyone bill, has been killed by Obama.  Hurrah!  Finally the Prezza does something good.  OSFA stands for One Size Fits All and SOFA used to be a furniture-recycling place which helped homeless people, refugees etc set up home.  The whole thing, frankly, was just a way of cobbling together a title for this blog.

Mea culpa.

Speaking of culpae, to be honest with you, I have decided to be a little less self-righteous – for the truth is, I don’t know what I would do in any given situation and, though I am fairly sure I wouldn’t have diverged from the planned course of a ferry in order to ‘salute a friend’, I am not 100% convinced what I would do when threatened with death by drowning.  I’d like to think I’d help others and save children first – but the truth is, till it happens, I don’t know.  And that, not knowing, makes me profoundly uneasy.  We all want to think well of ourselves, and one easy way to boost our own self-regard is to criticise others.  Hence the success of the tabloids.

Have to go now as I need to send an email to an address I’ve lost.  It’s not easy to send an email to an address you’ve lost.

Kirk off

Round-up of the week

It being Sunday, here is a round-up of the week.

Definition of the week: immutable.  Meaning – someone who can’t be silenced

Punctuation mark of the week: the comma

Soundbite of the week: a handbag?

Disappointment of the week: Ed Milliband

Rat of the week: the captain of the Costa Concordia

Worrying legislation of the week: SOPA

Film of the week: The Iron Lady

Theft of the week: The Waterstones apostrophe

and finally, misunderstanding of the week: Boko Haram are responsible for bombings in Nigeria, not Procul Harum.

LOL

Have a good Sunday

Kirk out

And the winner is…

Tabby Wood, who got the punctuation test right first time.  The answer is:

That that is, is.  That that is not, is not.  That that is, is not that that is not.  That that is not, is not that that is.  That is that.

Well done Tabby!

Good night last night at the Musician listening to Dawson Smith and the Dissenters at the Musician http://www.myspace.com/dawsonandthedissenters, a sort of blues-rock band, very competent and with a good following in Leicester.  Some good beer – at least, I think it was good: my taste-buds have gone weird since I had this cold.  Better than having my thumbs go weird like Withnail (don’t ask).  Everything tastes like cold porridge at the moment.  Anyway, happy birthday to Peter and I shall make the most of the next five months when he is 55 and I am 54.

LOL.

Dawson Smith is about the same age as us and therefore plausible, in an old-fart sort of way, as a blues-rock singer; however, the band which supported them were all in their 70′s.  They sounded great but there’s something quite incongruous about men of that age singing about ‘waitin’ to meet my baby’.  Reminds me of that joke on Futurama about the Rolling Stones ‘Steel Wheelchair’ tour (can’t find a link for that).  One person who remains plausible, however, no matter how old he gets, is my hero Cohen.  In fact he gets more plausible the older he gets – but then he never was a ‘rock’n'roller anyway.  His new album, ‘Old Ideas’ comes out at the end of the month and has been pre-ordered for me as a Xmas present:

http://www.leonardcohen.com/uk/oldideas

There is also a Leonard Cohen evening at the same Musician to mark the launch.  Mark and I will be launching ourselves (LOL) down there:

http://www.themusicianpub.co.uk/listings_jan12.html

OK that’s it.  Happy Saturday everyone.

Kirk out

 

Take the Great Punctuation Test Here!

As I write the draft of this blog at 7.15, the raindrops on the window are lit up by the security lights of the garage opposite, making the window look sprinkled with glitter.  I need some illumination this morning because I slept insufficiently: like Macbeth I could murder a good sleep.

LOL

I really must get out of the habit of checking the stats on this blog every day – sometimes I can’t make sense of them at all.  They’ve been going up for a while; then suddenly yesterday, only a few readers.  Why?  Perhaps everyone is like the denizens of Ambridge and has had their cables stolen.  Mm.. I think I should put metal thieves in their own circle of hell in my radio play.  A circle where someone keeps nicking the earth to sell…

I had thoughts this morning about the comma and why it matters.  Lynne Truss, as I’ve said before, has written far more eloquently than I on the subject (http://www.lynnetruss.com/pages/content/index.asp?PageID=8) but when I was a teacher of English to adults I used the following exercise to illustrate the importance of punctuation.  Here’s the great test: see if you can make sense of the following passage using just three items: the full-stop, the capital letter, and the trusty comma.  I’ll post the answer tomorrow:

that that is is that that is not is not that that is is not that that is not that that is not is not that that is that is that

Clue: it’s philosophical!

Mark showed me some writing this morning which was written from left to right on one line and then from right to left: it’s supposedly quicker, writing backwards and forwards.  Then that phrase reminded me of Nella, a glass-collector in a pub where I once worked.  She was an elderly lady who earned a few quid by collecting glasses when we were busy and every night without fail she would come up to the bar and wheeze: ‘I’ve been – gasp – backwards and – forwards – gasp - and - gasp – (putting two empty glasses on the bar) give-us-a-bottle-of-Guinness-please-love?’

My memoir ‘VK’ is coming together well for the end of the month.  31st Jan is also the closing date for my tax return, another historical memoir, though sadly stripped of poetic language.  Come on with those figures, Mark!

Perhaps I can persuade him to alter his filing system from the ‘haphazard stack’ method to an ACTUAL FILING SYSTEM!!!!

…deep breaths… deep breaths…

Kirk out

O Captain My Captain

There may be greater arseholes on the planet but none has come to our attention recently who is greater than the captain of the Costa Concordia.  He did not ‘make an error’ and run the ship aground, he deliberately deviated from the course, sailing closer to the coast so that he could ‘salute a friend’.  Following this instead of helping passengers and overseeing the evacuation of the ship, he fled – or, if you believe his version, ‘fell into a lifeboat’.  In yesterday’s Times a conversation with the coastguard was reported in which the latter yelled at him to get back on board and help people.  The captain agreed, only to hail a taxi and go into town, allegedly asking the driver where he could buy some socks.  I can’t think of a single thing to say for him.  They will probably hang him out to dry – and so they should.

By contrast, I am rather pleased with a radio play I started yesterday which is a sort of modern Dante’s Inferno.  A man falls asleep listening to the radio and finds himself being guided through hell by a man who calls himself ‘Doctor’ – not The Doctor, just a doctor – and in the various circles of hell he finds, and talks to, speculators in world food prices, serial adulterers, arms dealers and terrorists, though not necessarily in that order.  It’s less judgemental than Dante and unlike his version there is a way out – except that most of the damned – who are kept in hell by their own blindness and stubbornness – can’t see it.  Perhaps I ought to be preparing a place down there for the captain of the Costa Concordia..

On a lighter note, I’ve just found out how you spell that thing in darts.  I have not the remotest interest in that game, which I find tedious in the extreme, but you can’t help noticing that they stand on a thing which is referred to as ‘the ockey’.  That’s how I always thought it was spelt – assuming it was some kind of slang word – but in the Times (and they should know) it is spelt ‘oche’, which Mark claims is Greek.  Who’d ha’ thowt?

And finally – apparently a Leonardo sketch has been made into a design for a handbag, which seems fairly typical of the commodification of art these days.  Though I suppose you could argue that ’twas ever thus.

http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/TMG9021847/Leonardo-da-Vinci-handbag-sketch-brought-to-life.html

A handbag?

LOL

Kirk out

Not a blackout but a protest

After not posting yesterday I didn’t want to black out this blog in protest at the SOPA proposals; however a ribbon should appear somewhere which indicates my displeasure.  More on this anon…  Meanwhile, it has come to my attention that Mark is immutable.  By which I mean you can’t shut him up: this morning we’ve had hedgehogs throughout Europe, why he’s uneasy about the ‘Footpaths’ initiative; and WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH ED MILLIBAND?  Actually, I’m with him on that one: what the hell does Milliband think he’s doing?  Who is he supposed to represent?  And where the *** are working people supposed to go now?  I have a whole rant emerging about the zeitgeist, so hold onto your hats – oh!  That reminds me – I need to take my hat out of the freezer.  (Don’t ask.)  Anyway, back to Mark – it’s not just that he’s grumpy: he’s eloquently grumpy.  Imagine Victor Meldrew crossed with George Orwell and you’ve got the picture.  Mark is the anti-Candide, for whom everything is for the worst in this the worst of all possible worlds.

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/candide/canalysis.html

On the news yesterday, as if to spite Mark, someone claimed that we are ‘hard-wired’ to be optimistic: in other words, that it is a survival strategy.  I will quite happily (!) believe this as I am convinced I would not have survived to the age of – well, the age I am – without my innate optimism: I certainly wouldn’t survive the chorus of rejection slips and editorial silences which currently greets my creative output unless I was essentially hopeful about the future.  It is also heartening to hear optimism being described as a Good Thing, rather  than having it decried as foolishness, naivete or some kind of long-term short-sightedness, even blindness.  I don’t know how Eeyores survive in this world, I really don’t.  If you are an Eeyore, please let me know how you do it.   But vis-a-vis the ‘hard-wired’ aspect of this, I think it’s interesting that, now we no longer believe in destiny being determined by race, caste or gender, genetics seems to have taken over that space in our consciousness.  ’You can’t escape your genes,’ seems to be a truism of the age.  I dislike this idea as I believe human beings are nothing if not mutable.  In the proper sense, that is – which is pretty much where we came in.

Before I go I just want to air some thoughts on SOPA, the latest US attempt to run the world from its own swivel-chair.  I find it very disturbing that the US can extradite people who have never set foot there, generally trampling over the laws and customs of other, supposedly free, countries while our government does no more than raise a faint bleat in protest.  If that.  While I was feeling poorly yesterday I watched a programme fronted by Richard Wilson about automation; on the phone, in supermarkets and – worst of all, in parking.  What I found utterly outrageous was that Westminster Council’s bloody useless machines give people a crap time and the profits don’t even go into public services.  They go back to the company who owns the machines.  That is indefensible.  I will never use automated supermarket checkouts – I hate them because they make staff redundant and because I like to interact, however briefly, with a human being.  Remember human beings?  I have an Orwellian fear that our lives will be taken over by unelected, unaccountable, non-tax-paying multi-nationals over whom no-one has any control.  So let’s do what we can: grow our own veg.  Shop at the Co-op.  Protest SOPA.

Don’t be mute.

Kirk out