The weather's been shite, and everyone's a bit down in the dumps and needs cheering up, SO...
...how about seeing a bloke play a saw to the tune of Wichita Lineman by Glenn Campbell? "Hooray", I hear you cry...
Take it away Rhodri Marsden, writer of this consistently entertaining blog and all sorts of other stuff. And a thoroughly nice chap, to boot.
Click here to be musically fulfilled (it takes a moment or two to load, but it's worth every second of the wait)...
Monday 2 July 2007
Saturday 16 June 2007
Me old Cocker
Friday night was fantastic. Despite getting stuck in a traffic jam on the A14 for a whole hour way past midnight (delays at that time of night are against the rules, in my book), it couldn't take the shine off a great evening at the music venue the Luminaire in Kilburn, north west London.
Like father, like son, my dad and I are loyal creatures when we give our hearts to a particular artiste's music. Me, the ethereal-voiced Green Gartside of Scritti Politti; him, Bob Lind, an American folk singer with a special talent for a clever lyric.
Both have careers and lives that run spookily parallel in many ways. Neither can be considered prolific, each with only a handful of studio albums to substantiate their long service in the music business. Both have had well-documented problems with substance abuse. They've had just enough commercial success to make a living over the years, but tend to find more acclaim from their peers and critics than from the masses. Both are exponents of beautifully crafted, meaningful songs that often touch the heart.
After his 26 years of refusal to gig due to crippling stage fright and panic attacks, a dream came true when I finally got to see Green play live last year, also at the Luminaire. It's a great place to watch music - Time Out magazine's live venue of the year for 2006, no less, and the very definition of "up close and personal". This is the ideal venue to mingle with your heroes; it's like having a gig in your (slightly larger than average) front room.
Finally seeing (and meeting) Green was great, but it got me wishing that, somehow, my father could have a similar experience with Mr Lind one day. It seemed that a trip to Lind's native Florida, where most of his gigs seem to be, would be the only way to make this happen.
But then the unexpected happened. During a phone call with my sister, she casually mentioned "Oh, have you seen that Bob Lind's playing at the Luminaire?" I hadn't, the regularity of the weekly email from the venue to advertise what's on meaning that I don't always read it as throughly as I used to. We had to go. I called Dad to announce the amazing news - amazing indeed, as Lind hadn't played live in England before, and hadn't even visited since 1966 when he laid down some tracks in a London studio. Dad initially fussed over how he would get the day off work, before coming round to his son's thinking that life's too short to miss opportunities like these.
So, to last night. Dad's wife Dinah joined us for the trip. Having become quite a fan of Bob's myself, I got that same, I-never-expected-this-to-happen feeling as I did when I first set eyes on Green in the flesh, as Bob casually wandered into the room to take in the female support act. It's strange to be in the close presence of your heroes.
He proceeded to play a superb set to a full house, young and old, who whooped and applauded the veteran performer throughout the evening. Bob, clearly touched by the warmth of the audience, wore a smile as wide as the Mississippi as he basked in deserved adulation. Later, he was joined by the fabulous Richard Hawley, (of Longpigs, High Llamas and solo fame) for three songs, who ad-libbed most brilliantly on guitar (he'd only met Bob earlier that day for the first time, with no time for rehearsal).
Fluent in his patter and repartee with the crowd between each song, Lind expressed his gratitude to artists such as Hawley and Jarvis Cocker for helping to raise awareness of his music on this side of the Atlantic (there is a Pulp song titled "Bob Lind"), just two of over 200 bands and artists to cover his music.
After a third encore, he left the stage for the last time. Dinah, rarely shy in coming forward and determined that Dad should get to meet with Bob, decided to steal a march on those loitering hopefully by the bar for Bob to appear, instead inviting herself through the curtain behind the stage in search of the man himself. She re-appeared seconds later and called to me to "Get your father through here!"
Bob Lind, alone in the Green Room, greeted us warmly. Dad shared a conversation with him whilst I just leant on the doorpost and and savoured the moment. Like father, like son. Some people joined us in the room. It was Richard Hawley and an instantly recognisable, bespectacled, painfully thin bloke. "This is Jarvis, Bob", he said. Bob acknowledged them, but was in no hurry to finish his chat with Dad. I lit a cigarette and tried to look cool. Fucking hell, we're alone in a room back-stage with three musical legends. The Pulp front-man looked nervous as he waited his turn with Bob. Hawley tucked into some red wine. Bob readily agreed to a couple of photos with Dad, and we all shook hands and left.
Bob Lind, Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley. And us. In a small room. I must admit to feeling slightly star-struck by the whole, bizarre encounter. Outside, I tried explaining to Dad and Dinah what had just happened, as, other than Bob, they clearly had no idea what exalted company they'd just kept.
During the journey home, Dinah was still grappling with her lack of recognition of a megastar. "Well, I have heard of Joe Cocker", she claimed, "but I've no idea what he looks like".
I just smiled and kept driving. Nights like these don't come around too often.
Like father, like son, my dad and I are loyal creatures when we give our hearts to a particular artiste's music. Me, the ethereal-voiced Green Gartside of Scritti Politti; him, Bob Lind, an American folk singer with a special talent for a clever lyric.
Both have careers and lives that run spookily parallel in many ways. Neither can be considered prolific, each with only a handful of studio albums to substantiate their long service in the music business. Both have had well-documented problems with substance abuse. They've had just enough commercial success to make a living over the years, but tend to find more acclaim from their peers and critics than from the masses. Both are exponents of beautifully crafted, meaningful songs that often touch the heart.
After his 26 years of refusal to gig due to crippling stage fright and panic attacks, a dream came true when I finally got to see Green play live last year, also at the Luminaire. It's a great place to watch music - Time Out magazine's live venue of the year for 2006, no less, and the very definition of "up close and personal". This is the ideal venue to mingle with your heroes; it's like having a gig in your (slightly larger than average) front room.
Finally seeing (and meeting) Green was great, but it got me wishing that, somehow, my father could have a similar experience with Mr Lind one day. It seemed that a trip to Lind's native Florida, where most of his gigs seem to be, would be the only way to make this happen.
But then the unexpected happened. During a phone call with my sister, she casually mentioned "Oh, have you seen that Bob Lind's playing at the Luminaire?" I hadn't, the regularity of the weekly email from the venue to advertise what's on meaning that I don't always read it as throughly as I used to. We had to go. I called Dad to announce the amazing news - amazing indeed, as Lind hadn't played live in England before, and hadn't even visited since 1966 when he laid down some tracks in a London studio. Dad initially fussed over how he would get the day off work, before coming round to his son's thinking that life's too short to miss opportunities like these.
So, to last night. Dad's wife Dinah joined us for the trip. Having become quite a fan of Bob's myself, I got that same, I-never-expected-this-to-happen feeling as I did when I first set eyes on Green in the flesh, as Bob casually wandered into the room to take in the female support act. It's strange to be in the close presence of your heroes.
He proceeded to play a superb set to a full house, young and old, who whooped and applauded the veteran performer throughout the evening. Bob, clearly touched by the warmth of the audience, wore a smile as wide as the Mississippi as he basked in deserved adulation. Later, he was joined by the fabulous Richard Hawley, (of Longpigs, High Llamas and solo fame) for three songs, who ad-libbed most brilliantly on guitar (he'd only met Bob earlier that day for the first time, with no time for rehearsal).
Fluent in his patter and repartee with the crowd between each song, Lind expressed his gratitude to artists such as Hawley and Jarvis Cocker for helping to raise awareness of his music on this side of the Atlantic (there is a Pulp song titled "Bob Lind"), just two of over 200 bands and artists to cover his music.
After a third encore, he left the stage for the last time. Dinah, rarely shy in coming forward and determined that Dad should get to meet with Bob, decided to steal a march on those loitering hopefully by the bar for Bob to appear, instead inviting herself through the curtain behind the stage in search of the man himself. She re-appeared seconds later and called to me to "Get your father through here!"
Bob Lind, alone in the Green Room, greeted us warmly. Dad shared a conversation with him whilst I just leant on the doorpost and and savoured the moment. Like father, like son. Some people joined us in the room. It was Richard Hawley and an instantly recognisable, bespectacled, painfully thin bloke. "This is Jarvis, Bob", he said. Bob acknowledged them, but was in no hurry to finish his chat with Dad. I lit a cigarette and tried to look cool. Fucking hell, we're alone in a room back-stage with three musical legends. The Pulp front-man looked nervous as he waited his turn with Bob. Hawley tucked into some red wine. Bob readily agreed to a couple of photos with Dad, and we all shook hands and left.
Bob Lind, Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley. And us. In a small room. I must admit to feeling slightly star-struck by the whole, bizarre encounter. Outside, I tried explaining to Dad and Dinah what had just happened, as, other than Bob, they clearly had no idea what exalted company they'd just kept.
During the journey home, Dinah was still grappling with her lack of recognition of a megastar. "Well, I have heard of Joe Cocker", she claimed, "but I've no idea what he looks like".
I just smiled and kept driving. Nights like these don't come around too often.
Tuesday 29 May 2007
Sunset over Mumbai
The sun is setting to the left of me over the Arabian Sea, with only the Braborne cricket stadium in between me and the cloudy waters of Back Bay in Mumbai. In an hour or so's time, I shall be running the gauntlet of negotiating a fair cab fare for the long drive north through the city's suburbs to Chatrapati Shivaji international airport. This is the end of my short trip to India.
It's been a useful time for me, time to get away and have some space to think, to relax; to not think, sometimes, and just go with the flow; to feel both privileged with the life I am afforded in the West, but also, on occasion, to wonder who has got it right, the peasant with very little, or me, with a whole host of "modern conveniences" but, conversely, precious little time in the hectic world I occupy back home.
India is a place that can shock, frustrate, delight, amuse and sadden you all within the course of one day. You will curse the heat of the midday sun, yet a couple of hours later enjoy the warm blanket of the early evening and an orange sunset. There will be crowds, but also space sometimes for peaceful reflection or a quiet conversation with a stranger, who will more often than not be genuinely pleased to take time to engage you in conversation and find out about your world. A smile here goes a long way, and you will find plenty in return.
It's been good to meet new people and make new friends, plus to see old ones, both in planned meetings, but also meetings of total and utter chance. For all these things, I am grateful, and they have certainly been the highlight of my visit.
It will be quite a change to leave the airport in Norwich tomorrow morning and experience cool temperatures again, after the heat of India, save for the occasional coastal breeze if I've been lucky. I will both miss, and enjoy, the lack of the constant cacophony of traffic noise that has awoken me each morning in the cities here. I will miss life as you've never seen it, from the poorest of the poor to the affluent
Mumbaiker who rides around in their top-of-the-range Mercedes, observing this vibrant city through designer shades that could be traded for enough to feed a slum-dwelling family for I shudder to think how long.
This is the ultimate land of contrast, and its possibilities are huge. India is developing at rapid pace, but I hope it retains its underlying values and does not get totally immersed in rampant commercialism, or prize possessions and wealth above all else, something I feel we are often guilty of in the world which we inhabit in the West. India certainly reaffirms to me the value of the gift of family and friends, if ever I should forget.
Until the next time...
It's been a useful time for me, time to get away and have some space to think, to relax; to not think, sometimes, and just go with the flow; to feel both privileged with the life I am afforded in the West, but also, on occasion, to wonder who has got it right, the peasant with very little, or me, with a whole host of "modern conveniences" but, conversely, precious little time in the hectic world I occupy back home.
India is a place that can shock, frustrate, delight, amuse and sadden you all within the course of one day. You will curse the heat of the midday sun, yet a couple of hours later enjoy the warm blanket of the early evening and an orange sunset. There will be crowds, but also space sometimes for peaceful reflection or a quiet conversation with a stranger, who will more often than not be genuinely pleased to take time to engage you in conversation and find out about your world. A smile here goes a long way, and you will find plenty in return.
It's been good to meet new people and make new friends, plus to see old ones, both in planned meetings, but also meetings of total and utter chance. For all these things, I am grateful, and they have certainly been the highlight of my visit.
It will be quite a change to leave the airport in Norwich tomorrow morning and experience cool temperatures again, after the heat of India, save for the occasional coastal breeze if I've been lucky. I will both miss, and enjoy, the lack of the constant cacophony of traffic noise that has awoken me each morning in the cities here. I will miss life as you've never seen it, from the poorest of the poor to the affluent
Mumbaiker who rides around in their top-of-the-range Mercedes, observing this vibrant city through designer shades that could be traded for enough to feed a slum-dwelling family for I shudder to think how long.
This is the ultimate land of contrast, and its possibilities are huge. India is developing at rapid pace, but I hope it retains its underlying values and does not get totally immersed in rampant commercialism, or prize possessions and wealth above all else, something I feel we are often guilty of in the world which we inhabit in the West. India certainly reaffirms to me the value of the gift of family and friends, if ever I should forget.
Until the next time...
Thursday 24 May 2007
Some like it hot
The first thing people here in India have been bemused about, upon meeting me, is why on earth I would want to travel here at this time of year, when the temperature is reaching its annual peak and the locals cower in the shade waiting for the sun to relent as day turns to evening.
Well, it is certainly good to get away from home for a bit, for a start, but one thing there is no getting away from is that it is swelteringly hot in India just now, as many parts of the country count down the days until the monsoons hit. Thankfully, this has not happened yet, although there has been some fairly heavy rain storms whilst I have been in Chennai and (briefly) in Bangalore; in the case of the latter, the plane which I was sitting in, bound for Goa, was stranded at the top of the runway for around 45 minutes as it waited for a storm to pass before it could take-off.
I have spent a few days down in the south-west state of Tamil Nadu, in Chennai, where I spent time with Balaji in this heaving metropolis. Indian cities aren't the most comfortable places to be, with suffocating pollution, furnace-like heat and sheer weight of population making for a claustrophobic experience - certainly not for the faint hearted. Despite this, I made the effort to see as much of the city as I could, from the ridiculously busy T. Nagar shopping district (I have never seen so many people in one place in my life), to the sweeping sands of Marina beach, one of the longest city beaches in the world. I also enjoyed the opportunity to visit both Hindu and Christian places of worship; the Kapleeswarar temple in the district of Mylapore is a stunning feat of architecture, with its amazingly intricate artistic detail; and I felt suitably humble when I visited St Thome Cathedral, one of only three cathedrals in the world built over the tomb of one of Jesus' disciples - the original "Doubting Thomas" in this instance.
Travelling around Chennai for a few days, it was strange not to spot a single Westerner - not that I seek out those of my own colour, you understand, but in most world cities you tend to find a cross-section of nationalities. It turns out that they tend to favour air-conditioned western-style hotels as refuge from the 40 degrees heat, before being chaffeured to air-conditioned offices in the morning. I only know this having spent my last evening in town dining in the roof-top restaurant of the opulent Rain Tree hotel, enjoying the company of Balaji and his friends Sriram and Vidhi, whilst business men and women discussed the events of the working day on adjacent tables over bottles of chilled wine. Not a city for the casual sight-seer at this time of year, Chennai.
I spent the vast majority of yesterday in airports and on planes, encountering various delays before finally arriving in Goa for 6pm. One surprisingly hassle-free transfer later (perhaps unfair - hassle and Goa rarely go hand in hand, unlike the other 99% of this country!), and I find myself in a sleepy village by the beach from where I write this. I have until Sunday until I fly back up to Mumbai - whether I can summon the energy to move onto another resort between now and then remains to be seen, although the heat may mean that I just loll around here, strolling on the beach, catching up on some reading and indulging in the delicious local seafood. It's a tough life...
Well, it is certainly good to get away from home for a bit, for a start, but one thing there is no getting away from is that it is swelteringly hot in India just now, as many parts of the country count down the days until the monsoons hit. Thankfully, this has not happened yet, although there has been some fairly heavy rain storms whilst I have been in Chennai and (briefly) in Bangalore; in the case of the latter, the plane which I was sitting in, bound for Goa, was stranded at the top of the runway for around 45 minutes as it waited for a storm to pass before it could take-off.
I have spent a few days down in the south-west state of Tamil Nadu, in Chennai, where I spent time with Balaji in this heaving metropolis. Indian cities aren't the most comfortable places to be, with suffocating pollution, furnace-like heat and sheer weight of population making for a claustrophobic experience - certainly not for the faint hearted. Despite this, I made the effort to see as much of the city as I could, from the ridiculously busy T. Nagar shopping district (I have never seen so many people in one place in my life), to the sweeping sands of Marina beach, one of the longest city beaches in the world. I also enjoyed the opportunity to visit both Hindu and Christian places of worship; the Kapleeswarar temple in the district of Mylapore is a stunning feat of architecture, with its amazingly intricate artistic detail; and I felt suitably humble when I visited St Thome Cathedral, one of only three cathedrals in the world built over the tomb of one of Jesus' disciples - the original "Doubting Thomas" in this instance.
Travelling around Chennai for a few days, it was strange not to spot a single Westerner - not that I seek out those of my own colour, you understand, but in most world cities you tend to find a cross-section of nationalities. It turns out that they tend to favour air-conditioned western-style hotels as refuge from the 40 degrees heat, before being chaffeured to air-conditioned offices in the morning. I only know this having spent my last evening in town dining in the roof-top restaurant of the opulent Rain Tree hotel, enjoying the company of Balaji and his friends Sriram and Vidhi, whilst business men and women discussed the events of the working day on adjacent tables over bottles of chilled wine. Not a city for the casual sight-seer at this time of year, Chennai.
I spent the vast majority of yesterday in airports and on planes, encountering various delays before finally arriving in Goa for 6pm. One surprisingly hassle-free transfer later (perhaps unfair - hassle and Goa rarely go hand in hand, unlike the other 99% of this country!), and I find myself in a sleepy village by the beach from where I write this. I have until Sunday until I fly back up to Mumbai - whether I can summon the energy to move onto another resort between now and then remains to be seen, although the heat may mean that I just loll around here, strolling on the beach, catching up on some reading and indulging in the delicious local seafood. It's a tough life...
Monday 7 May 2007
Amazing Grace
There are some pieces of music that can truly bring a tear to the eye, but in a good way. A hymn that particularly stirs me is John Newton's "Amazing Grace", which has recently been enlivened by Rick Wakeman (of Yes fame), his daughter Jemma and the English Chamber Choir, for his DVD/CD compilation of the same name. Quite beautiful, and if you've a place in your heart for well-played piano as I do, all the more special, and Mr Wakeman more than obliges on that front.
Take a few deserved, quiet moments for yourself and enjoy this quite magnificent rendition...
Take a few deserved, quiet moments for yourself and enjoy this quite magnificent rendition...
Monday 23 April 2007
The Beach
I have a constantly evolving list of places I want to travel to; as things stand, many countries in Africa head the shortlist, some undiscovered corners of both eastern and western Europe follow closely behind, and then you can count numerous random places around the rest of this beautiful world of ours jockeying for position on my globetrotting calendar, but probably having to wait more patiently for their turn than if I was, say, decadently minted and able to drop my responsibilities and don the shorts and flip-flops of eternal freedom tomorrow.
Alas, I can't, just now (bugger). But I'm working on it ;-)
Sometimes though, places get unexpectedly elevated up the wish-list, often simply because they offer something a bit quirky. Today, for example, I was thinking that I hadn't viewed some of the stunning photos on this site recently, but then I had the brainwave of seeing what I could find by visiting THIS site to maybe help me bring some of my favourite ever stunning images to life, of St Maarten in the Netherlands Antilles, where holidaymakers are terrorised/treated (depending on your particular viewpoint) to the spectacle of hulking great passenger airliners swooping shit-poopingly low over the golden sands of Maho Beach, which sits right at the end of the island's airport runway.
Looks cool to me, and seems like a perfectly reasonable excuse (in my book) to visit the Caribbean someday (yeah, like I needed one - when do England next play the West Indies?!)
Surely, this is one of the world's most unique beaches...it's either be thrilled, and/or be deaf as a post for the rest of your life...
What I love about this next piece of footage, other than the sheer power of the thrust from the engines of the Boeing 747 that is making waves (literally), is the fact that I've no idea whether the people on the beach are taking advantage of the artificial "surf" like any committed board-head perhaps would, or simply being blown into the sea involuntarily (I hope it's the latter, if I'm honest ;-):
Monday 16 April 2007
He got game...
This track is the bomb...Public Enemy at their best :-)
He Got Game
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
this cut goes out to all y'all that's been missin us for mad years
One love y'all
Yeah that's right, He Got Game
PE 1998
[Chuck D]
If man is the father, the son is the center of the earth
In the middle of the universe, then why
is this verse comin six times rehearsed?
Don't freestyle much but I write em like such (Word)
Amongst the fiends controlled by the screens
What does it all mean all this shit I'm seein?
Human beings screaming vocal javelins
Sign of the local nigga unravelling
My wanderin got my ass wondering
where Christ is in all this crisis
Hating Satan never knew what nice is
Check the papers while I bet on ices
More than your eye can see and ears can hear
Year by year all the sense disappears
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
[Chorus - both]
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but damn the game if it don't mean nuttin
What is game? Who is game?
Where's the game in life behind the game behind the game
I got game, she's got game
We got game, they got game, he got game
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it ain't sayin nuttin
[Chuck D]
Damn, was it something I said?
Pretend you don't see so you turn your head
Ray scared of his shadow, does it matter?
For the reparations got him playin with the population
Nothin to lose, everything's approved
People used, even murders excused (You preach to em yo)
White men in suits don't have to jump
Still a thousand and one ways to lose with his shoes
God takes care of old folks and fools
while the devil takes care of makin all the rules
Folks don't even own themselves
payin mental rent, to corporate presidents (My man my man)
Ugh, one outta million residents
bein dissident, who ain't kissin it
The politics of chains and whips
Got the sickness and chips and all the championships
What's Love Got To Do with what you got
Don't let the weight get to your head or lost to your heart (Word)
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
Chorus
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
Everybody got game
But we just here to let y'all know
that PE, is in full effect, from right now till the year 2000
Aiyo my man sing it
[Stephen Stills]
There's something happening here (Yeah yeah)
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man, with a gun over there (Yeah that's right hah haha)
tellin me, I got to beware
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
(Aiyo, I don't think they heard you Stevie
Kick it to em again one more time)
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
[Flavor Flav]
Haha, that's right boy, PE in full effect boy to the year 2000 yo
[Shabach Community Choir of Long Island]
Stop, look, what's that sound
Everybody knows what's goin down
*repeat to fade*
[Flavor Flav - over top of choir]
Come on sing it
Sing it again y'all come on
Hey!
He-hey!!!
Aiyo, these are some serious times that we're livin in G
And a new world order is about to begin, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Now the question is - are you ready, for the real revolution
which is the evolution of the mind?
If you seek then you shall find that we all come from the divine
You dig what I'm sayin?
Now if you take heed to the words of wisdom
that are written on the walls of life
then universally, we will stand and divided we will fall
because love conquers all, you understand what I'm sayin?
This is a call to all you sleepin souls
Wake up and take control of your own cipher
And be on the lookout for the spirit snipers
tryin to steal your light, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Look within-side yourself, for peace
Give thanks, live life and release
You dig me? You got me?
He Got Game
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
this cut goes out to all y'all that's been missin us for mad years
One love y'all
Yeah that's right, He Got Game
PE 1998
[Chuck D]
If man is the father, the son is the center of the earth
In the middle of the universe, then why
is this verse comin six times rehearsed?
Don't freestyle much but I write em like such (Word)
Amongst the fiends controlled by the screens
What does it all mean all this shit I'm seein?
Human beings screaming vocal javelins
Sign of the local nigga unravelling
My wanderin got my ass wondering
where Christ is in all this crisis
Hating Satan never knew what nice is
Check the papers while I bet on ices
More than your eye can see and ears can hear
Year by year all the sense disappears
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
[Chorus - both]
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but damn the game if it don't mean nuttin
What is game? Who is game?
Where's the game in life behind the game behind the game
I got game, she's got game
We got game, they got game, he got game
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it ain't sayin nuttin
[Chuck D]
Damn, was it something I said?
Pretend you don't see so you turn your head
Ray scared of his shadow, does it matter?
For the reparations got him playin with the population
Nothin to lose, everything's approved
People used, even murders excused (You preach to em yo)
White men in suits don't have to jump
Still a thousand and one ways to lose with his shoes
God takes care of old folks and fools
while the devil takes care of makin all the rules
Folks don't even own themselves
payin mental rent, to corporate presidents (My man my man)
Ugh, one outta million residents
bein dissident, who ain't kissin it
The politics of chains and whips
Got the sickness and chips and all the championships
What's Love Got To Do with what you got
Don't let the weight get to your head or lost to your heart (Word)
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
Chorus
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
Everybody got game
But we just here to let y'all know
that PE, is in full effect, from right now till the year 2000
Aiyo my man sing it
[Stephen Stills]
There's something happening here (Yeah yeah)
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man, with a gun over there (Yeah that's right hah haha)
tellin me, I got to beware
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
(Aiyo, I don't think they heard you Stevie
Kick it to em again one more time)
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
[Flavor Flav]
Haha, that's right boy, PE in full effect boy to the year 2000 yo
[Shabach Community Choir of Long Island]
Stop, look, what's that sound
Everybody knows what's goin down
*repeat to fade*
[Flavor Flav - over top of choir]
Come on sing it
Sing it again y'all come on
Hey!
He-hey!!!
Aiyo, these are some serious times that we're livin in G
And a new world order is about to begin, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Now the question is - are you ready, for the real revolution
which is the evolution of the mind?
If you seek then you shall find that we all come from the divine
You dig what I'm sayin?
Now if you take heed to the words of wisdom
that are written on the walls of life
then universally, we will stand and divided we will fall
because love conquers all, you understand what I'm sayin?
This is a call to all you sleepin souls
Wake up and take control of your own cipher
And be on the lookout for the spirit snipers
tryin to steal your light, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Look within-side yourself, for peace
Give thanks, live life and release
You dig me? You got me?
Thursday 12 April 2007
Futile
I'm at home this morning, watching BBC News 24 and the return of another four British servicemen's dead bodies to RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire.
I don't know why, but today's images of the coffins and pallbearers has really hit a nerve with me.
The war in Iraq sickens me. It has achieved basically nothing, yet spawned a host of new problems in an already unstable region. Our leaders see progress in hanging a man who, ultimately, was convicted of killing 148 people, yet ignore atrocities such as, say, the state-sponsored genocide in Sudan in which 200,000 people have been killed in the last two years. This cannot be right.
What gives the likes of Tony Blair the right to abuse the privilege of their position and deceive the electorate as they have in bringing to bear this futile war?
Our vote, I guess...
Sunday 8 April 2007
Earth from the air
There's a fascinating outdoor exhibition of photographs at the Forum in Norwich at the moment.
The images are aerial shots taken around the world by the French photographer Yann Arthus-Bertrand for his Earth from the air project, and he has captured some breathtaking scenes. Well worth a look if you can make it.
A nice touch, too, is the interactive map (pictured above); it was certainly proving a hit with the kids. I have to admit I like the idea of simple activities like this that help get children interested in the world around them from a young age.
One of the images that particularly caught my eye was this shot of villagers in Bangladesh, who are resigned to adjusting their lifestyles for many months of the year as the waters rise in the floodplains at the foot of the Himalayas:
Saturday 7 April 2007
A Good Friday indeed...
We decided to make the most of the bank holiday Friday by heading off to the Norfolk coast on Friday (by "we", I mean myself, Craig, Shelley, Simon, Lindsay and the boys Thomas and Oscar), to Horsey.
Horsey attracts a large grey seal population, and we witnessed hundreds of them both lining the shore and lazily bobbing around in the shallows, a wonderful sight.
The boys (for which read both young and old!) busied themselves with typical "boys activities", with beach cricket, football and kite flying all undertaken.
Speaking of the latter, Oscar earned his "kite wings" for the first time as well - and how nice it was to be there to witness it...!
Horsey attracts a large grey seal population, and we witnessed hundreds of them both lining the shore and lazily bobbing around in the shallows, a wonderful sight.
The boys (for which read both young and old!) busied themselves with typical "boys activities", with beach cricket, football and kite flying all undertaken.
Speaking of the latter, Oscar earned his "kite wings" for the first time as well - and how nice it was to be there to witness it...!
Thursday 5 April 2007
A question of etiquette
Today sees the start of the 71st US Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia, an event that effectively marks the start of the golfing calendar for 2007.
I read with interest the official Masters website, and in particular the section that explains the necessary conduct for spectators at the tournament. The list of stuff that you can't take into the course is comprehensive to say the least, and only just stops short of requiring you to attend the tournament without any clothing, though it is I suppose heartening that they choose to mention that "weapons of any kind" are banned - "Oh, really?!"
The interestingly titled "President in Perpetuity" (sounds like the self-imposed title of several African dictators over the years) of the Augusta club, Bob Jones, has made a statement regarding spectator etiquette on the site:
"In golf, customs of etiquette and decorum are just as important as rules governing play. It is appropriate for spectators to applaud successful strokes in proportion to difficulty but excessive demonstrations by a player or his partisans are not proper because of the possible effect upon other competitors."
So, in addition to mobile phones, folding chairs, cameras and periscopes (I shit you not!) to name a few of the banned items, can we expect to see outlawed also that most annoying of cat-calls "IN THE HOLE!!!!!!" that American fans seem to love so much, to the point of yelling it at every green?
Sort them out, Bob.
Wednesday 4 April 2007
Playing the game
I breathed a sigh of relief this evening upon reading the news that the 15 navy personnel captured by Iran are to be released to their families ahead of this weekend.
But my relief was not only for an end to an ordeal for the captives, but also that the stand-off has thankfully not escalated into a situation where the bloody-thirsty George Bush deemed there to be "just" cause to sharpen the knives of war, and direct his oft-wilful slashing towards Tehran.
It is no secret that the man who effectively invented the notion of WMD's in Iraq would be just as happy to whimsically invent another case for war, this time against Iran, if the opportunity presents itself; indeed, Bush has gone on the record in blaming Iran for many of the woes currently being experienced by its neighbour, and is clamouring for an excuse to foster anti-Iranian sentiment in the western world.
What Bush fails to point out that, in the tumult of mass-insurgency in Iraq, exactly how many Iranian suicide bombers have in fact launched attacks in the country? When, say, compared to the thousands of deaths caused by the terrorists acts of the Sunni-Arab insurgents? Reportedly, none, is the answer.
Whilst not wishing to turn this post into a debate about a conflict that is threatening to split Islam from within, it should be pointed out that Saudi Arabia (a country seemingly beyond criticism from the USA, despite its shocking human rights record, not to mention the homeland of Osama bin Laden) is a predominantly Sunni country, whereas Iran hosts a mainly Shia population, the very people that are bearing the brunt of insurgents' attacks in Iraq.
Discuss.
Again, I sympathise with the plight of the sailors since their capture, I also feel the need to question quite why the Islamic Republic of Iran should be demonised as it is?
Why should a country not have the right to use nuclear technology to provide itself with power? Are the US, or anyone else, right to self-appoint themselves as judge and jury in deciding who "is nuclear" and who is not? And if the US should be given such jurisdiction, then when will it start to throw its weight around in the environs of arguably more pressing scenarios such as Korea and China, to name but two?
Let us not forget that Iran's nuclear programme was started in the first place in conjunction with the US. Years later, the world observed, without condemnation, the battering that Iran took during their war with Iraq, as Saddam unleashed chemical weapons upon the innocent Iranian people, but it collectively chose silence. Could you blame Iran if it was indeed trying to arm itself against belligerent neighbours?
The issue around the maritime boundary between Iran and Iraq is, for me, hilarious. The facts are that no such demarcation has ever been officially determined, and such woolliness (especially when you're talking about margins of a half of a nautical mile here and a cats whisker there) quite obviously suggests that neither side can categorically state that they are correct in their assertions with regard to the "trespass" - the shifting mouth of the Shatt al Arab river notwithstanding (interested? Click here if so...)
I have enjoyed the theatre of the last few days when I've donned my PR hat, but not the dread that this situation might well have sparked a conflict that could, potentially, precipitate a world war, such is the delicate balance between Western/Middle Eastern relations just now.
Iran has juiced every last drop of political capital from the hostage situation over which it has smugly presided, yet more power to them for it. The hypocrisy of Blair and Bush's insistence that "unconditional release" was the only outcome is scarily arrogant in a world in which the disgrace that is the Guantanamo Bay detention facility exists.
The Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmedinejad, was quick to pounce on every PR opportunity available to him as he announced the crew's release today, heralding it as "a gift to the British people".
Tony Blair was swift in his retort, claiming "no ill will" against the people of Iran.
So there we have it. A diplomatic stand-off resolved? I really, really hope so.
I also pray that Blair, or whoever succeds him, can retain a balanced view when the warmongers of the US, who he has regrettably kow-towed to during his term in office, next come knocking for this country's support for a futile, yet immeasurably damaging conflict.
I remember some politician saying recently that the UK's involvement in the war in Iraq had once again earned them the "fear and respect of the world". I see little evidence of that where Iran are concerned, and I cannot help but secretly admire them for their reticence.
Tuesday 20 March 2007
A trip down memory lane
I was fortunate enough not only to have the luxury of a day off today, but also the privilege of a hire car at my disposal in order that I could drive to the Walsall hotel room from where I'm writing this, ahead of an early start at RAC Towers tomorrow morning.
Not, of course, that there's too much excitement in merely driving to the West Midlands - but, with time on my side, it meant that I could set off a little earlier than usual and have a bit of a day out somewhere.
I had planned to visit Stratford Upon Avon, but I couldn't leave Norwich early enough in the end to do the birthplace of Shakespeare justice (I've never been, but I'm guessing it deserves a bit of exploring rather than a flying visit).
Instead, I ended up somewhere I have spent significant time in recent years, namely the beautiful village of Newnham on Severn in Gloucestershire.
As the name implies, it is set upon the western banks of the River Severn, a water famous for a naturally occuring phenomena known as the "Severn Bore" - a tidal wave (literally) that sweeps up river as the tide swells in the Severn estuary, which incidentally has the second highest tidal range in the world.
It really is quite a sight, with the banks of the river thronged with onlookers, and the river itself attracting daring surfers who attempt to ride the wave as it surges past.
Today, I was lucky enought to be there in the evening for what was predicted to be the second most powerful bore of the year, and quite a sight it was, despite viewing it in the dark - most atmospheric. And a sizeable wave, too - the surfers weren't disappointed - well, except those who buggered off their boards the moment the wave reached them!
My camera wasn't able to do tonight's bore justice given the failing light, but I post a couple of examples of the bore in all its glory beneath. Plus you can click here for more information on today's bore...
Prior to the pleasures of standing round in the dark and freezing cold on a river bank with other hardy, like-minded souls, I had the time to take a wander round the village, visiting some of my favourite spots.
I have an especially great affection for St Peter's church in Newnham, where I spent some very pleasant summer's days a couple of years back, helping run the church summer school. I found this to be a very rewarding experience, amongst many I experienced in Newnham.
The church and its grounds are a beautiful, tranquil place, with amazing views high up over the river, and it was a really peaceful way to spend a sunny, if wintry, afternoon.
Fond memories and reminiscences indeed. It felt weird to be back there, but sentimentality won the day, and I'm glad it did...
Monday 12 February 2007
Farewell, Pigeon
I felt somewhat emotional on Sunday morning. The unimaginable had slowly, almost unbelievably unfolded before my eyes as I watched Sky Sports from the early hours - England won the Commonwealth Bank one-day series Down Under.
This was a remarkable achievement, for so many reasons. Firstly, when it comes to the one-day version of the game of cricket, England tend to suck, and have done for quite some time now.
Secondly, in terms of on-field successes on this long tour of Australia - well, there haven't been any. Suggest to anyone with an appreciation of cricket but one week ago that we would have pulled off a 2-0 victory in the final of this series, and you would have been looked at as if you had two heads.
Thirdly, we were playing the best side on this planet, in their own back-yard, with what was arguably an under-strength side of our own.
Fabulous times. It feels like ages ago that I turned up at the Gabba in Brisbane for the first test, eagerly anticipating something resembling a defence of our Ashes crown. Alas, it was not meant to be. But it made me smile to see the Barmy Army hardcore, Jimmy (pictured) et al, bouncing around in the rain at Sydney on Sunday morning. The best fans in the world (not to mention the most resilient)? Of that, there is no doubt.
I'm not going to start getting carried away about how this may bolster our chances of success in the Caribbean during March/April's World Cup, but I'm sure pleased that we leave Australia with some measure of pride intact.
In closing, thank you, too, to Aussie stalwart bowler Glenn "Pigeon" McGrath, the man England fans love to hate, for providing me with some hilarious moments in his penultimate international game in Australia, as he prepares for retirement. Best of all were the dropped dolly of a catch that effectively gifted the first match of the final to England, plus his masterclass in fielding the ball with his head when attempting a stumping. Priceless :-) We'll miss you, Glenn, though perhaps not your bowling figures against England...
Here's a couple of funnies to finish with: Sri Lankan wicket-keeper Kumar Sangakkara with some top-notch sledging in the world cup in South Africa, 2003, plus that old tart Mark Nicholas - professionalism (some might say cheese!) personified, he can't even bring himself to drop the theatrics for two half-cut lads' home video.
Wonderful viewing!
Monday 5 February 2007
The roof of Africa
I had originally intended to further indulge my passion for watching the England cricket team overseas in Feb/March 2008, on their tour of New Zealand. However, I have recently decided to scrap those plans, and do something somewhat different with my time instead (bit of an understatement? I'll leave you to judge!)
In exactly a year's time from today, I will just have finished a climb to the highest point on the African continent, the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It's going to be exhausting, hard yards, but I've got this feeling that it may turn out to be the best experience of my life to date, God willing :-)
Why am I doing this? Well, principally to raise money for Scope, the cerebral palsy charity, who are committed to achieving equality for disabled people - a worthwhile cause if ever there was one.
If I am allowed a bit of self-indulgence too, I will then take time after the climb (and descent!) to do some exploring in Uganda and Rwanda, something I've been wanting to do for some time now, but haven't quite got round to yet.
All that remains now is the small matter of raising £3000 between now and November in order to qualify myself for the climb (gulp). However, I'm sure I have enough friends and contacts to make this happen, although not without a lot of determination and commitment on my part.
Should you like to contribute to the cause, please leave a note in the comments section of this post with an email address, and I'll be in touch...your kind donation, no matter how big or small, will be hugely appreciated by many people, of that you can be sure.
I'll keep you all updated with progress towards my target right here on the blog.
To close, a declaration from a lady called Maureen Gaunt, who has made the epic climb for Scope already:
"To climb to the roof of Africa is the most overwhelming, emotional and physical achievement of my life.
"It will never be forgotten."
Tuesday 30 January 2007
It's like that
A little known fact about yours truly (even amongst some of the people closest to me) is that I have always had an appreciation and fondness for hip-hop music.
Right now I'm experiencing a real resurgence in my love of the genre and am actively getting right back into it - buying CD's a-plenty, and really enjoying listening to the music.
One artist I'm particularly impressed with just now is 22-year old east London rapper "Plan B" (real name Ben Drew). His debut album "Who Needs Actions When You've Got Words" was released in June last year to much critical acclaim, and it's fantastic.
He's touring this year, playing Norwich Waterfront on Feb 14th - I've got tickets, and can't wait!
Click here to check out Plan B's official (not to mention impressive) site.
Also, check out the video to the excellent track "No Good" beneath; if you're not feeling the tune itself, you may just admire the state-of-the-art "stop-motion" film technique that the video employs...
Right now I'm experiencing a real resurgence in my love of the genre and am actively getting right back into it - buying CD's a-plenty, and really enjoying listening to the music.
One artist I'm particularly impressed with just now is 22-year old east London rapper "Plan B" (real name Ben Drew). His debut album "Who Needs Actions When You've Got Words" was released in June last year to much critical acclaim, and it's fantastic.
He's touring this year, playing Norwich Waterfront on Feb 14th - I've got tickets, and can't wait!
Click here to check out Plan B's official (not to mention impressive) site.
Also, check out the video to the excellent track "No Good" beneath; if you're not feeling the tune itself, you may just admire the state-of-the-art "stop-motion" film technique that the video employs...
Sunday 28 January 2007
A fare deal?
Working as a press officer for a large motoring organisation as I do, I observe with interest the ongoing developments in the government’s policy on transport. At the present time, I am drawn to the proposed ramping-up of road charging (more toll roads, pay-per-mile driving etc) in the UK, of particular interest as it is one of the hottest motoring topics of the moment.
The strategy behind introducing such measures, of course, is to try to solve the problem of chronic overcrowding on this small island nation’s roads (there are 39 million vehicles in the UK at the last count, and rising). The theory is that, by hitting motorists in the pocket each time they drive, it will force people into contemplating whether their journey is absolutely essential, or perhaps whether public transport could be used as an alternative.
In the case of the latter, this would directly address the overcrowding issue (just look at how many cars are occupied by just one person next time you’re out in rush hour), not to mention make valuable inroads into the threat to the environment caused by vehicle emissions.
However, as we all know, public transport as it stands in the UK is, for many people’s needs, a totally unviable option. Poor coverage (you should try getting a bus to see my grandma in her village a mere 13 miles from Norwich) and ludicrously high fares are real barriers to the average citizen leaving their vehicle at home in favour of the bus or the train. Travel to most any country outside of Great Britain, and one is often stunned by how much cheaper a far better service is than back at home. The transport system in New Delhi certainly wins hands down when compared with the my local rail operator, One Railway, who provide a disgraceful service.
Looking at rail fares in particular, what steps can be taken to reduce them? Well, one important measure is to make sure that everybody who travels on a train actually buys a ticket, meaning that train operating companies ensure they have the best chance of covering their operating costs, and are at least in a position whether to consider to give some of their money back, effectively. Whether they do or not is, of course, an entirely different matter. (The fact that train fares are, arguably, so high in the first place due to a combination of a post-British Rail cartel of money-grabbing private operators and a fundamentally weak, roll-over-and-tickle-my-belly approach from the government to awarding franchises is a discussion for another day).
It’s called “revenue protection” in the trade, and it is the job of the on-train conductor to ensure that each and every person has paid for the right to be sat on the train.
It came as rather a surprise to me today, therefore, that on my journey to Blackpool to watch Norwich play in the FA Cup, I was able to travel from Norwich to London, and then from the capital to Rugby (Warwickshire) before I first saw a conductor, let alone was asked to show my ticket. Were I unscrupulous enough to consider fare-dodging, on the journey described I would have saved myself the not-inconsiderable sum of £151.00 (based on a open first class single fare), incidentally.
Hmmmm.
On a different note, by the time most people read this Norwich City fans will either be celebrating the prospect a rare appearance in the 5th round of the FA Cup, or nursing their wounded pride after being unceremoniously dumped out by a team from a lower division. I haven’t been travelling in high hopes, I’ll be honest.
To distract myself from my feelings of impending doom, along with reading the Independent and listening east London rapper Plan B’s excellent debut album “Who Needs Actions When You’ve Got Words”, I have been counting how many major football grounds I can see from the window of my Virgin train on the journey between London Euston and Preston, where I change trains.
So far, I’ve clocked up Wembley, Northampton Town’s Sixfields ground, and Birmingham City’s St. Andrews. There’s Crewe Alexandra’s Gresty Road to come and I think that I’ll be able to spy Wigan’s JJB Stadium too, if my memory of this route serves me correctly. Ooh, and as we speak, looking to my left as we crawl through the eyesore that is Wolverhampton, I’ve just spied Molineux. However, I’ve a suspicion that I might have been too busy typing to give myself a chance of catching a glimpse of West Brom’s Hawthorns a few minutes ago…
Er, I’ll get my coat… :-)
Postscript: I’m posting this Sunday after all, as I didn’t find an internet connection in Blackpool. City escaped with a draw - phew. Hopefully the quality will tell at home in the replay, and we’ll reach the last 16 of the cup - we‘re in the hat for tomorrow‘s draw, at least. Today, my train ticket was first inspected just after leaving Crewe, so I wouldn’t have been quite so well off if I’d fare-dodged in this instance - a first class single costing for this journey costing only a £37.00. Peanuts, clearly (I wish)…..
PPS: It's Monday, and the draw has just been made live on the BBC. If we can beat Blackpool, we get to play....(drum roll).....Chelsea away!
I knew it all along - Norwich's name is on the cup! :-)
Friday 26 January 2007
The moral of the story?
A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, play the guitar, and sing a few songs...I have a full life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard, and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."
"And after that?" asked the Mexican.
"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City , Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings doing what you like and enjoying your friends."
The moral of the story?
Know where you're going in life...you just might already be there...
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, play the guitar, and sing a few songs...I have a full life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard, and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."
"And after that?" asked the Mexican.
"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City , Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings doing what you like and enjoying your friends."
The moral of the story?
Know where you're going in life...you just might already be there...
Monday 22 January 2007
Of national importance?
I have a confession to make, yet one I’m extremely comfortable with if I‘m honest - I loathe the TV show Big Brother with a passion. I can think of few ways I’d less rather spend any of my (rare) free time than to watch a group of largely mindless individuals whiling away hour after hour doing nothing of any use, interspersed with inane “entertaining tasks” set by the show’s producers, and garnished with a never-ending stream of verbal diarrhoea from said inhabitants. I would be disappointed if, in the general course of events, I genuinely couldn’t find a better way to entertain myself for an hour or so. But, hey, each to their own.
However, I surprised myself this weekend - for once, Big Brother started to fascinate me. Taking a keen interest in the media as I do, I found it incredibly interesting to see the whole charade pan out as it did across the newspapers and TV, as in fact it still is. I noticed on the front page of one of the tabloids today the call from the paper for Channel 4 “chiefs” (good tabloid word, that!) to resign, presumably because of the apparent sin they have committed in allowing Jade Goody not only to reappear on our screens, but to be allowed to behave deplorably in the process.
Absolutely priceless!
For me, there is a delicious irony in the media rounding so fiercely on Ms Goody as it is presently doing. She is an entity that was entirely created by the media in the first place - somebody who is on telly simply (no pun intended) because she was once on telly - a remarkable feat in itself. Moreover, however, Jade has served the creator of her Frankenstein’s monster of a celebrity very well, providing it with a wealth of absurdly hilarious moments over the years - not to mention some distinctly less-savoury ones - contributing to thousands of column inches that, in dubious honour to her, have practically written themselves, plus soaring viewing figures, most notably for the show that propelled her into the nation’s psyche in the first place. A journalist’s dream, that Jade lass.
But in the twisted media circus we must unfortunately suffer in these fair isles, there is no room for sentiment. Jade has served her purpose - and is now serving it again, albeit for different reasons. From the tabloid press to the broadsheets to the internet to television, Jade is once again headline news in a nation where sensationalist attitudes are both fed and encouraged by the media, and the journey from hero to zero can be over as quickly as the time it takes to pop to the newsagents to buy a copy of the Sun.
In my opinion, the issue isn’t racism here, though I feel that Jade’s bullying of a woman who dared not to conform to an existence she can comprehend saw her use totally inappropriate phraseology - referring to someone as “Poppadum” is as pig-ignorant as the French referring to the British as “Johnny Roast Beef“, and us calling them “Frogs“ in return. No, the worrying thing is that Jade Goody is far from a lone agent - she is merely the most famous, not to mention most visible example (thanks to the media) of a despicable one-eyed attitude that pervades large swathes of our society.
Ours is a society that is often far too ready to take an insular view of the world around us, and the different peoples that inhabit this small planet. We are scared by what we don’t know, or find unfamiliar, and instead of trying to educate ourselves, we often simply close our minds and condemn people and cultures as “bad” or “not right”. Rarely, however, is introspection a talent that we master; rather than reviewing our own behaviours and gaps in our understanding, often we instead try to delegate our own ignorance by offensively casting misinformed judgements about issues that, in reality, we're not really qualified to mouth off about. This is failing which is ultimately our personal moral duty to put right, or at least try to. Does travel broaden the mind? You betcha.
How can we be proud of our nation when we tolerate such attitudes? Jade’s ill-informed views and, frankly, total inability to embrace somebody else’s culture if it doesn’t fit in with the rules of life in Basildon is a sad indictment on modern life, especially in a day and age when ignorance of other cultures, nationalities and religions is pushing the world closer and closer towards self-destruction as each day passes. But she is clearly not alone in living in an ignorance-is-bliss, “not in my back yard”, “send them all back” state of mind. Far from it.
This will continue to be an issue for as long as I’m alive, I’m sure, though perhaps we’ll be spared having to suffer it again with Channel 4 acting as facilitator/mouthpiece for the diatribe of a stunningly under-educated loudmouth and her cronies. Indeed, if the nation, having just successfully voted in what effectively proved to be an impromptu referendum on the nation’s tolerance of racist attitudes, chooses to cease to watch the televisual garbage that is Big Brother altogether, then there would be no show, and therefore zilch media interest, and we could all get back to reading about something more meaningful in the papers.
The time saved, might I suggest, could perhaps be re-invested in educating ourselves about the world around us; if we do, and do it at every opportunity, then perhaps one day this beautiful planet of ours will become a far more peaceful place upon which to live.
Sunday 21 January 2007
Family movements
Reading the New Statesman the other day, I happened upon a fascinating article about the movement of families across the UK in the last century.
This site - www.spatial-literacy.org- allows you to type in your surname (or anyone's, for that matter), and see a map of where that family name can be found in the UK as per the 1998 general census, plus compare it with the whereabouts of the name after the previous census in 1881.
It also provides interesting facts such as which urban centre contains the greatest concentration of a surname (mine can mostly be found in Stevenage, of all places!), plus which overseas communities contain the largest expatriate community of a particular name.
To use:
- Log onto www.spatial-literacy.org
- Click on the "search for a surname" button on the right-hand side of the screen
- Click on the "start a surname search" link at the top of the screen
The rest is self-explanatory...
Hope you enjoy it - it was a fascinating experience for me personally :-)
Speak soon...
This site - www.spatial-literacy.org- allows you to type in your surname (or anyone's, for that matter), and see a map of where that family name can be found in the UK as per the 1998 general census, plus compare it with the whereabouts of the name after the previous census in 1881.
It also provides interesting facts such as which urban centre contains the greatest concentration of a surname (mine can mostly be found in Stevenage, of all places!), plus which overseas communities contain the largest expatriate community of a particular name.
To use:
- Log onto www.spatial-literacy.org
- Click on the "search for a surname" button on the right-hand side of the screen
- Click on the "start a surname search" link at the top of the screen
The rest is self-explanatory...
Hope you enjoy it - it was a fascinating experience for me personally :-)
Speak soon...
Monday 15 January 2007
Laughed? I nearly bought a round....!
I bought a book today. It's one I've been eyeing up for a while on lunchtime visits to Waterstone's in Norwich, and I can't quite work out why I haven't bought it 'til now, especially when I can now say that is THE funniest thing I have ever read - period (as they say "Stateside").....
It's by one of my favourite, if not in fact my favourite comedian, Ricky Gervais. I could go on, but I won't, except to say BUY THIS BOOK!!!!!!!!! To help things along, it's on offer at half price in Waterstone's just now at a mere £5.oo. Not much money to wet yourself laughing, I'm sure you'll agree!
I was reading it on the khazi at work today (too much information I know, but it's a bloke thing :-), giggling like a loon. Those coming in the door to hear my ecstatic wheezing from must have thought they'd walked in to toilet where a deranged masturbator was going about his deviant business...
Anyway, here's a taster - judge for yourselves!
It's by one of my favourite, if not in fact my favourite comedian, Ricky Gervais. I could go on, but I won't, except to say BUY THIS BOOK!!!!!!!!! To help things along, it's on offer at half price in Waterstone's just now at a mere £5.oo. Not much money to wet yourself laughing, I'm sure you'll agree!
I was reading it on the khazi at work today (too much information I know, but it's a bloke thing :-), giggling like a loon. Those coming in the door to hear my ecstatic wheezing from must have thought they'd walked in to toilet where a deranged masturbator was going about his deviant business...
Anyway, here's a taster - judge for yourselves!
A very good day...
Setting up a blog has taught me one thing, at least - if you are to make it worth visiting, one key thing you need to get right as its author is to make sure you've the time to update on some sort of regular basis.
I'm working really hard to fulfil my new year's resolutions. One was to set up a blog in the first place; another is to re-organise my life so that I have enough time to do things that will really add value to my health, wellbeing and karma in general. Trust me, this work is already underway, but I am acutely aware that despite having already ditched one major commitment that I, Jon Day, lead a very busy life.
This is all a very long winded way of saying "sorry!" for not having updated the site since my first post, but I hope those who read this will understand. Not to mention cut me a bit of slack whilst I try my hardest to make time for this venture!
Today, meanwhile, has been a fantastic day for me, for the following three (pictorial) reasons:
I'm working really hard to fulfil my new year's resolutions. One was to set up a blog in the first place; another is to re-organise my life so that I have enough time to do things that will really add value to my health, wellbeing and karma in general. Trust me, this work is already underway, but I am acutely aware that despite having already ditched one major commitment that I, Jon Day, lead a very busy life.
This is all a very long winded way of saying "sorry!" for not having updated the site since my first post, but I hope those who read this will understand. Not to mention cut me a bit of slack whilst I try my hardest to make time for this venture!
Today, meanwhile, has been a fantastic day for me, for the following three (pictorial) reasons:
These are pictures of RAC patrolman Dave Goodall, who went the very definition of the "extra mile" to wade into flood water at New Buckenham, Norfolk, to rescue not only our member who called him out, but also two non-members - stripped down to his underpants!
As you'll know, my job is to generate publicity for the RAC through the media, and I'm lucky to have been successful in securing extensive national and local coverage through both the newspapers, TV and radio on the back of Dave's heroics.
The managing director of RAC is so pleased that she called my phone this evening to personally thank me, and assert that "this is the best PR I've ever seen". Those kind of moments don't come along too often, so I am feeling very proud and enjoying the moment immensely. It makes all the hard work worthwhile (and believe me, my phone didn't stop ringing all weekend with national press interest!!)
I had the pleasure of spending this morning with Dave, as we toured round filming news items and doing radio interviews, and can say that he is one of the most decent, genuine blokes I've ever met - modest to a tee, and so calm in the face of some daunting media work, completely different to what he's used to. It ain't easy the first time you do it, believe me...
So, it's been a good day!
If you are interested in reading a sample of the coverage, click on the following link:
http://www.radiobroadland.co.uk/distributor/Local_News/article/-/fbbc1121-32c4-4833-98bf-d2bbe81ccc84
Oh, and the one that particularly pleased Debbie, our MD at RAC (in which the AA, our main rivals are criticised, and us praised in the same article!!):
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/topstories/tm_method=full&objectid=18470971&siteid=94762-name_page.html
Speak soon....
Tuesday 2 January 2007
A fond farewell
A happy new year to all!
Welcome to my blog - the first of my new year's resolutions was to start one up, so I'm pleased to have chalked one off the list so early in 2007 (oh yes, there's more, but they're a secret!!)
My inspiration to start a blog came from three people, really. Firstly, my good friend Balaji, who first introduced me to the concept, when my comprehension of "blogging" was limited to simply knowing that I was reading the word more and more in the press.
Balaji's random ponderings make for very entertaining and often thought-provoking reading, and I urge you to dip in and out when the fancy takes you: http://www.puranijeansaurguitar.blogspot.com/
Secondly, it was my equally good friends Geoffrey and Debs, who came up with the fantastic idea of setting up a blog to complement our recent trip to Japan, Australia and Thailand together (which can be found here, for those who'd like to take a look: http://www.agentsontour.blogspot.com/
To be honest, before the holiday I'd begun to think that I was losing my passion for writing. Having written more or less exclusively about football for 4 years (most recently at my website http://www.yarmy.co.uk) , to be honest I've become sick of it, at least doing it on a regular basis. When a hobby becomes a chore, then it surely has to be high time to find a new one.
But filling spare moments in time abroad by writing about my experiences became a incredibly enjoyable, fulfilling and sometimes therapeutic experience, which is when the idea hit me - why not start a blog of your very own upon your return to Blighty? So here it is.
With regards to the Y'army site, it won't lie dormant forever. Despite my wish not to be anywhere near as "hands on" involved as I once was, we have some cunning plans regarding how to take it forward and (hopefully) make it as entertaining as it (hopefully) once was. Watch this space.
So, what will this blog be about? To be truthful, I don't know just yet. In my mind's eye, I see it as a platform for my - well, just what the title says - thoughts, musings and observations. Or perhaps I might simply write about something I've been up to, or somewhere I've visited. Who knows? We'll see!
You may not identify with the blog whatsoever. You may get very quickly bored and never visit the blog again! Or perhaps you might enjoy it. Whatever the weather, I'd love to have your feedback via the site, whether you know me well already, or just happen to end up here by chance or invitation.
So, what to write for the first post? Actually, it wasn't as difficult a decision as you might think.
A very dear friend of mine, the aforementioned Balaji, left England for his home in Kerala, India yesterday, possibly never to return, or at least not for his work.
Balaji has become such a popular guy in and around the fair city of Norwich, where it's been my pleasure to have worked with him for over a year, but also to share my cricketing Sundays with, have long chats with, go to gigs with, to name but a few things. To say that Balaji has touched many people's lives would certainly be no understatement :-)
I was dreading the big man leaving for home (I'm crap at goodbyes), but we agreed to not acknowledge it as such, instead merely as a "See you soon mate!". Fitting, really - I will always keep in touch with Balaji, and hold him very dear to my heart.
That said, my affection for the boy didn't preclude my corrupting him thoroughly during his time here (come on, what did you expect?!!), so gambling, smoking and drinking became regular pastimes for Bala - and although he was often at odds with his own moral conscience, I know he secretly enjoyed them all!
So, thanks once again for visiting. Expect plenty of posts both as the blog starts its life and as it matures that, hopefully, you'll enjoy reading as much as I, God willing, will enjoy writing :-)
Some of you may be curious as to the name of the blog. Well, if you are, please feel free to ask me and I'll explain...
There's at least one person reading who'll know exactly what it means already ;-)
Speak soon...
Welcome to my blog - the first of my new year's resolutions was to start one up, so I'm pleased to have chalked one off the list so early in 2007 (oh yes, there's more, but they're a secret!!)
My inspiration to start a blog came from three people, really. Firstly, my good friend Balaji, who first introduced me to the concept, when my comprehension of "blogging" was limited to simply knowing that I was reading the word more and more in the press.
Balaji's random ponderings make for very entertaining and often thought-provoking reading, and I urge you to dip in and out when the fancy takes you: http://www.puranijeansaurguitar.blogspot.com/
Secondly, it was my equally good friends Geoffrey and Debs, who came up with the fantastic idea of setting up a blog to complement our recent trip to Japan, Australia and Thailand together (which can be found here, for those who'd like to take a look: http://www.agentsontour.blogspot.com/
To be honest, before the holiday I'd begun to think that I was losing my passion for writing. Having written more or less exclusively about football for 4 years (most recently at my website http://www.yarmy.co.uk) , to be honest I've become sick of it, at least doing it on a regular basis. When a hobby becomes a chore, then it surely has to be high time to find a new one.
But filling spare moments in time abroad by writing about my experiences became a incredibly enjoyable, fulfilling and sometimes therapeutic experience, which is when the idea hit me - why not start a blog of your very own upon your return to Blighty? So here it is.
With regards to the Y'army site, it won't lie dormant forever. Despite my wish not to be anywhere near as "hands on" involved as I once was, we have some cunning plans regarding how to take it forward and (hopefully) make it as entertaining as it (hopefully) once was. Watch this space.
So, what will this blog be about? To be truthful, I don't know just yet. In my mind's eye, I see it as a platform for my - well, just what the title says - thoughts, musings and observations. Or perhaps I might simply write about something I've been up to, or somewhere I've visited. Who knows? We'll see!
You may not identify with the blog whatsoever. You may get very quickly bored and never visit the blog again! Or perhaps you might enjoy it. Whatever the weather, I'd love to have your feedback via the site, whether you know me well already, or just happen to end up here by chance or invitation.
So, what to write for the first post? Actually, it wasn't as difficult a decision as you might think.
A very dear friend of mine, the aforementioned Balaji, left England for his home in Kerala, India yesterday, possibly never to return, or at least not for his work.
Balaji has become such a popular guy in and around the fair city of Norwich, where it's been my pleasure to have worked with him for over a year, but also to share my cricketing Sundays with, have long chats with, go to gigs with, to name but a few things. To say that Balaji has touched many people's lives would certainly be no understatement :-)
I was dreading the big man leaving for home (I'm crap at goodbyes), but we agreed to not acknowledge it as such, instead merely as a "See you soon mate!". Fitting, really - I will always keep in touch with Balaji, and hold him very dear to my heart.
That said, my affection for the boy didn't preclude my corrupting him thoroughly during his time here (come on, what did you expect?!!), so gambling, smoking and drinking became regular pastimes for Bala - and although he was often at odds with his own moral conscience, I know he secretly enjoyed them all!
So, thanks once again for visiting. Expect plenty of posts both as the blog starts its life and as it matures that, hopefully, you'll enjoy reading as much as I, God willing, will enjoy writing :-)
Some of you may be curious as to the name of the blog. Well, if you are, please feel free to ask me and I'll explain...
There's at least one person reading who'll know exactly what it means already ;-)
Speak soon...
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