I had an email a couple of weeks ago, forwarded by a friend, who shall remain nameless, about the new film adaptation, The Golden Compass (the movie version of Philip Pullman's excellent "Northern Lights" - book 1 of the His Dark Materials trilogy).
This email went on to explain how damaging for children this movie is.
The sole basis for this claim? That its author has previously admitted that there are atheist themes and aspects in the novels - and that the theme of battling against organised (or in this case, regimented and forced) religion intentionally represents the Catholic Church. Apparently, this is enough to believe that this film will turn kids away from God, should they be dragged to the cinema to see it.
I am, again, appalled by this attitude - displayed by Christians. It is a load of puffed-up, self-satisfied, unfair, unbalanced propaganda drivel, and I am just as shocked that people, especially Christians, are buying into it. I've talked about this before... see here and here.
I am in no doubt that films and TV programmes can and do influence the opinion and behaviour of children. I am also a Christian who has read the 'Dark Materials' trilogy.
Forgive me, but as I was reading the books as FICTION, I took everything in them just as such. But its not just fiction. It is a FANTASY world, with FANTASY and FICTIONAL people, animals, customs, lives and places. And it has to be said that it's a very good fantasy fiction trilogy. Plus, this is a Hollywood movie - any actual themes or moral intentions will have been thoroughly diluted along the way.
I disagree completely with the author's views on religion. But that doesn't mean I should ignore everything he does. I disagree with our troops being in Iraq, but that doesn't mean I don't respect them for being there and doing a job that I certainly wouldn't be keen on doing.
I don't remember reading any criticisms of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe as being "too Christian" when the film came out a couple of years ago. So why should Christians, who are meant to believe in and practice tolerance, be allowed to level that at a film that mentions the possibility that there might not be a God?
No matter how much I disagree, or I think there is a God, I would not dream of stopping someone else holding a contrary view. This essentially boils down to the argument over whether Harry Potter is "anti-God" because some people think it teaches kids that dark magic is real... I loved Harry Potter too. Why? Because it was a hugely enjoyable FANTASY FICTION... (spot the pattern?)
Just as Harry Potter was not about teaching kids about dark arts, Dark Materials is not about teaching kids to be atheists. They are, purely and simply, about good and evil. They just have different approaches into it.
My last thoughts are a couple of questions:
1) why do people who haven't seen films/plays or read the books feel that they can criticise them like this?
I have the same issue with some of the people who objected to Jerry Springer: The Opera and Paul by Howard Brenton.
2) why do other Christians believe this sort of unfair propoganda?
Some atheists do tend to go over the top with their criticisms of religion, but that doesn't give us the right to use the same tactic. I think the quote is "turn the other cheek"...
Get over yourselves and allow yourself to relax and your imagination to do some work for once. These are stories designed to entertain, not change people's beliefs. And people wonder why churches are losing people when we have this kind of attitude being shouted around?
Monday, November 26, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
How I learned to shut up and just accept that I am who I am.
I feel like I’ve been away for a while. (from looking at the last time I wrote on here... I have - sorry!)
Since Luke was born, I’ve been on a strange and winding path. At times I have acted and reacted in ways that I never thought would be part of my make-up and that I am thoroughly ashamed of. I hate the fact that I started running away from addressing problems that needed to be sorted, and that some of the obstacles we face now are completely my fault for being a spineless idiot a year ago and not waking up quickly enough.
But, I feel like I’ve turned a corner. I’m not going to forget the shame I feel, because that’s an important lesson that I need to remember, but I’m trying to move on, I’m trying to make things right.
And that started because I began reading again.
Not just any reading, either. Sure, I read all the time, and I read a wide array of books – my favourite writers are people like Bill Bryson, Michael Palin, Roger McGough, Adrian Plass, Alan Bennett, Terry Pratchett (there are SO many more that I’ll stop. If you want to know, email me)…
It was an old Adrian Plass book that turned my thoughts to sorting things out. I found my copy of the original “Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass aged 37 and ¾” while clearing some things out from mum and dad’s house. It is a book that brings back warm memories (not least because I was given it one Christmas and I devoured it over the next couple of nights – wrapping myself up in a duvet to protect myself from the cold), and it’s now something of a comfort.
Adrian’s character is a bumbling idiot, essentially. I loved his son, Gerald, in these books – he’s a great outlet for the caustic and cheeky humour that runs through the diaries, and more importantly, the character that I wanted to resemble when people met me. I think I knew what I am about to say when I originally read it, but convinced myself of being an heir to Gerald’s throne to ignore this:
I am Adrian. Completely, utterly, without exception, I am the bumbling but well-meaning fool that loves his family and loves his church, and loves his life, and tries hard while leaving catastrophe in his wake.
But my behaviour was not like that. I wasn’t being well-meaning but showing my family just how much I love them with every turn. I was finding it very hard to shake off old habits and in many ways, behave like an adult. So I began to do something about it.
The main thing I had been missing, I think, was faith. My winding path had been winding ever-further away from church. I don’t necessarily mind that. I had always been told that you cannot be a proper Christian without having any contact with a church. At university, I felt like I was bucking that trend. I was trundling along a churchless, but not Godless, path.
My faith is very important to me. It shaped and still shapes the person I am, and even at university, when I did let myself get out there and just have fun, I still limited myself, I still stopped short of the things that I am either opposed to or frightened of (or both). I didn’t go to church during those three years, except when I was at home – although my connection to God had sort of evolved from that.
Suddenly, it wasn’t about going to a thronging building, singing hymns just as quietly as the person next to you so you weren’t noticed if you sang the first line of the wrong tune. It wasn’t about healing services and parade Sundays.
Suddenly, it was just about me and God. There was no one else – no back row to slouch in, no loud organ to drown out my singing. It was just me and Him.
It was strange to begin with. I’d never really got that far into spiritual thought before. I was a pretty naïve young man, I think. I believed I was a Christian far before I realised what it meant to be one and that now you came to mention it, yes, I think I do want to follow…
There’s a lot of things I don’t like about church. I can’t stand prayers (particularly intercessionary prayers – a favourite of the URC - I fall asleep in them), healing prayers and services make me incredibly nervous and suspicious, and I don’t get along with the octave that every hymn seems to start in. That’s just three. A fourth would be that I dislike the tendency to cling on to a building as the church, instead of the people. A fifth would be that I really dislike the herd mentality that any large group tends to develop.
I have always disliked stopping worship for an offertory. It’s so public and it puts money (or “gifts”) at the centre of the worship time.
I get annoyed with the amount of unnecessary things that “need” to be in each service.
I remember that when we did an youth group evening service in advent one year (in a church where prayers of intercession were an average of about 10mins long), my prayer of intercession was three lines long. And I didn’t get any complaints – far from it, I got people thanking me.
Healing prayers provoke an unfortunate feeling of deep scepticism, and a lot of others irritate me for the tendency to dwell on our shortcomings as people. Yes, we sin, we make mistakes – but to me confession is personal. Let’s try and be thankful.
That’s one of the things I like about going to church - a lot of my prayers can be about more private things, wrong actions or thoughts, not doing something I know that I should have done. That sort of thing. But church has always been somewhere I can go to praise.
And then I found a second-hand copy of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I’d heard of Donald Miller. I’d heard that this book has had a deep effect on a lot of people. My curiosity got the better of me, while that charity shop got £1.50 out of me.
For a long time, I never got past the introductory passage. I kept flicking the book open, reading it, and then getting rather lost in thought. I’m slowly dipping in and working through, because, yes, this is powerful stuff to me, but it’s throwing up so many images and thought strands that I feel I need to follow, to investigate. So I’m going to share this one passage with everyone who’s not read the book. This passage has triggered more in me than anything over the course of the last two years (with the exception of Nikki and Luke), and I don’t think I’ve been quite as affected by something since I first read through Much Ado About Nothing or read The Thirty Nine Steps when I was little.
I’m still new at being a dad. OK, so it has been two years, but I am only just showing what I am good at. A lot of that comes from working full time. But taking Miller’s passage, even on the most basic levels, strikes more chords than a busy piano tuner. For whatever reason, I needed someone to show me the way.
I think I will be a new dad for a while yet. I’ll probably just about have it mastered just in time to celebrate Luke turning 18.
I don’t think I will ever stop being a learner Christian. I am not perfect – far from it. But I do know my limits, I have remembered and fixed on to my priorities, and I do kind of know where I am headed.
But I will always need that helping hand. So I’m happy to stay a beginner, thank you.
Since Luke was born, I’ve been on a strange and winding path. At times I have acted and reacted in ways that I never thought would be part of my make-up and that I am thoroughly ashamed of. I hate the fact that I started running away from addressing problems that needed to be sorted, and that some of the obstacles we face now are completely my fault for being a spineless idiot a year ago and not waking up quickly enough.
But, I feel like I’ve turned a corner. I’m not going to forget the shame I feel, because that’s an important lesson that I need to remember, but I’m trying to move on, I’m trying to make things right.
And that started because I began reading again.
Not just any reading, either. Sure, I read all the time, and I read a wide array of books – my favourite writers are people like Bill Bryson, Michael Palin, Roger McGough, Adrian Plass, Alan Bennett, Terry Pratchett (there are SO many more that I’ll stop. If you want to know, email me)…
It was an old Adrian Plass book that turned my thoughts to sorting things out. I found my copy of the original “Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass aged 37 and ¾” while clearing some things out from mum and dad’s house. It is a book that brings back warm memories (not least because I was given it one Christmas and I devoured it over the next couple of nights – wrapping myself up in a duvet to protect myself from the cold), and it’s now something of a comfort.
Adrian’s character is a bumbling idiot, essentially. I loved his son, Gerald, in these books – he’s a great outlet for the caustic and cheeky humour that runs through the diaries, and more importantly, the character that I wanted to resemble when people met me. I think I knew what I am about to say when I originally read it, but convinced myself of being an heir to Gerald’s throne to ignore this:
I am Adrian. Completely, utterly, without exception, I am the bumbling but well-meaning fool that loves his family and loves his church, and loves his life, and tries hard while leaving catastrophe in his wake.
But my behaviour was not like that. I wasn’t being well-meaning but showing my family just how much I love them with every turn. I was finding it very hard to shake off old habits and in many ways, behave like an adult. So I began to do something about it.
The main thing I had been missing, I think, was faith. My winding path had been winding ever-further away from church. I don’t necessarily mind that. I had always been told that you cannot be a proper Christian without having any contact with a church. At university, I felt like I was bucking that trend. I was trundling along a churchless, but not Godless, path.
My faith is very important to me. It shaped and still shapes the person I am, and even at university, when I did let myself get out there and just have fun, I still limited myself, I still stopped short of the things that I am either opposed to or frightened of (or both). I didn’t go to church during those three years, except when I was at home – although my connection to God had sort of evolved from that.
Suddenly, it wasn’t about going to a thronging building, singing hymns just as quietly as the person next to you so you weren’t noticed if you sang the first line of the wrong tune. It wasn’t about healing services and parade Sundays.
Suddenly, it was just about me and God. There was no one else – no back row to slouch in, no loud organ to drown out my singing. It was just me and Him.
It was strange to begin with. I’d never really got that far into spiritual thought before. I was a pretty naïve young man, I think. I believed I was a Christian far before I realised what it meant to be one and that now you came to mention it, yes, I think I do want to follow…
There’s a lot of things I don’t like about church. I can’t stand prayers (particularly intercessionary prayers – a favourite of the URC - I fall asleep in them), healing prayers and services make me incredibly nervous and suspicious, and I don’t get along with the octave that every hymn seems to start in. That’s just three. A fourth would be that I dislike the tendency to cling on to a building as the church, instead of the people. A fifth would be that I really dislike the herd mentality that any large group tends to develop.
I have always disliked stopping worship for an offertory. It’s so public and it puts money (or “gifts”) at the centre of the worship time.
I get annoyed with the amount of unnecessary things that “need” to be in each service.
I remember that when we did an youth group evening service in advent one year (in a church where prayers of intercession were an average of about 10mins long), my prayer of intercession was three lines long. And I didn’t get any complaints – far from it, I got people thanking me.
Healing prayers provoke an unfortunate feeling of deep scepticism, and a lot of others irritate me for the tendency to dwell on our shortcomings as people. Yes, we sin, we make mistakes – but to me confession is personal. Let’s try and be thankful.
That’s one of the things I like about going to church - a lot of my prayers can be about more private things, wrong actions or thoughts, not doing something I know that I should have done. That sort of thing. But church has always been somewhere I can go to praise.
And then I found a second-hand copy of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I’d heard of Donald Miller. I’d heard that this book has had a deep effect on a lot of people. My curiosity got the better of me, while that charity shop got £1.50 out of me.
For a long time, I never got past the introductory passage. I kept flicking the book open, reading it, and then getting rather lost in thought. I’m slowly dipping in and working through, because, yes, this is powerful stuff to me, but it’s throwing up so many images and thought strands that I feel I need to follow, to investigate. So I’m going to share this one passage with everyone who’s not read the book. This passage has triggered more in me than anything over the course of the last two years (with the exception of Nikki and Luke), and I don’t think I’ve been quite as affected by something since I first read through Much Ado About Nothing or read The Thirty Nine Steps when I was little.
“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve.
But I was outside the Baghdad Theatre one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes and he never opened his eyes.
After that I liked jazz music.
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it
yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve.
But that was before any of this happened.”
(Donald Miller – Blue Like Jazz)
I’m still new at being a dad. OK, so it has been two years, but I am only just showing what I am good at. A lot of that comes from working full time. But taking Miller’s passage, even on the most basic levels, strikes more chords than a busy piano tuner. For whatever reason, I needed someone to show me the way.
I think I will be a new dad for a while yet. I’ll probably just about have it mastered just in time to celebrate Luke turning 18.
I don’t think I will ever stop being a learner Christian. I am not perfect – far from it. But I do know my limits, I have remembered and fixed on to my priorities, and I do kind of know where I am headed.
But I will always need that helping hand. So I’m happy to stay a beginner, thank you.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Will the real David Cameron please shut up, please shut up, please shut up...
I've always been suspicious of David Cameron. I am now officially sick of him.
One gimmicky, vomit-inducing speech and everyone thinks the sun shines from an impossible place.
And then there’s the incessant whingeing about Gordon Brown's non-election... So he didn't call an election. Oh dear - I didn't get the boat I wanted for Christmas when I was ten, and I didn't score a hundred last time I played cricket. I didn't go crying to a conveniently placed TV camera and make myself look like a whiny idiot in the best traditions of the Conservative playground ("It's not fair, mummy - the big boy took my policy on inheritance tax!")
It's up to the PM (right or wrong) to choose the date of the election. Personally, I support the Lib Dems in their bid to get the parliamentary term fixed (and therefore the date of every election fixed) so PMs can't call elections to suit their party's own interests, but as it stands, it is Gordon Brown's right to choose when to hold the election. He never said he was going to - everyone else interpreted it the way they wanted to and (in the case of some newspapers - as well as Mr Cameron) practically wet themselves with anticipation.
Never has the chance to lose something been so exciting to so many people. Well, not since the 80s, when Neil Kinnock was supposedly the nation's great hope...
And the speech...
"Two years ago I stood on this stage and I gave a speech, a short speech, about why I wanted to lead our Party. Today I want to make a speech about why I want to lead our Country.
I am afraid it is going to be a bit longer and I haven't got an autocue and I haven't got a script, I've just got a few notes so it might be a bit messy; but it will be me."
As Francis Wheen said on last Friday's news quiz, "Go to any school play and you see people speaking without an autocue. It's not that difficult, you just learn your lines..."
Fill an hour with electorate-pleasing promises that they'd no more fulfill than the Labour government would, some self-deprecating charm and the "viruoso" ability to walk AND talk at the same time (bravo) and you're no more impressive than Jim Davidson...
And I can't stand Jim Davidson.
Just because you can remember your lines, it doesn't mean you're fit to run a country. And its certainly not enough to win my vote.
One gimmicky, vomit-inducing speech and everyone thinks the sun shines from an impossible place.
And then there’s the incessant whingeing about Gordon Brown's non-election... So he didn't call an election. Oh dear - I didn't get the boat I wanted for Christmas when I was ten, and I didn't score a hundred last time I played cricket. I didn't go crying to a conveniently placed TV camera and make myself look like a whiny idiot in the best traditions of the Conservative playground ("It's not fair, mummy - the big boy took my policy on inheritance tax!")
It's up to the PM (right or wrong) to choose the date of the election. Personally, I support the Lib Dems in their bid to get the parliamentary term fixed (and therefore the date of every election fixed) so PMs can't call elections to suit their party's own interests, but as it stands, it is Gordon Brown's right to choose when to hold the election. He never said he was going to - everyone else interpreted it the way they wanted to and (in the case of some newspapers - as well as Mr Cameron) practically wet themselves with anticipation.
Never has the chance to lose something been so exciting to so many people. Well, not since the 80s, when Neil Kinnock was supposedly the nation's great hope...
And the speech...
"Two years ago I stood on this stage and I gave a speech, a short speech, about why I wanted to lead our Party. Today I want to make a speech about why I want to lead our Country.
I am afraid it is going to be a bit longer and I haven't got an autocue and I haven't got a script, I've just got a few notes so it might be a bit messy; but it will be me."
As Francis Wheen said on last Friday's news quiz, "Go to any school play and you see people speaking without an autocue. It's not that difficult, you just learn your lines..."
Fill an hour with electorate-pleasing promises that they'd no more fulfill than the Labour government would, some self-deprecating charm and the "viruoso" ability to walk AND talk at the same time (bravo) and you're no more impressive than Jim Davidson...
And I can't stand Jim Davidson.
Just because you can remember your lines, it doesn't mean you're fit to run a country. And its certainly not enough to win my vote.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Reasons To Love Ben Folds (Pt 1 of an endless series)
Philosophy
won't you look up at the skyline
at the mortar, block, and glass
and check out the reflections in my eyes?
you see they always used to be there
even when this all was grass
and I sang and danced about a high-rise
and you were laughing at
my helmet hat,
laughing at
my torch
go ahead you can laugh all you want
I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I trust it like the ground
that's why my philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
I see that there is evil
and I know that there is good
and the in-betweens I never understood
won't you look at me, I'm crazy,
but I get the job done
yeah, I'm crazy, but I get the job done
and I say:
go ahead you can laugh all you want
but I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I trust it like the ground
that's why my philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
I pushed you 'cause I loved you guys
I didn't realize
you weren't having fun
and I dragged you up the stairs
and I told you to fly
you were flapping your arms
you started to cry, you were too high
no, too high
now you take this all for granted
you take the mortar, block, and glass
and you forget the speech and moved the stone
but it's really not that you can't see
the forest for the trees
you never been out in the woods alone
so you can laugh all you want to
but I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I love you, you're my friend
but you got no philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
won't you look up at the skyline
at the mortar, block, and glass
and check out the reflections in my eyes?
you see they always used to be there
even when this all was grass
and I sang and danced about a high-rise
and you were laughing at
my helmet hat,
laughing at
my torch
go ahead you can laugh all you want
I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I trust it like the ground
that's why my philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
I see that there is evil
and I know that there is good
and the in-betweens I never understood
won't you look at me, I'm crazy,
but I get the job done
yeah, I'm crazy, but I get the job done
and I say:
go ahead you can laugh all you want
but I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I trust it like the ground
that's why my philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
I pushed you 'cause I loved you guys
I didn't realize
you weren't having fun
and I dragged you up the stairs
and I told you to fly
you were flapping your arms
you started to cry, you were too high
no, too high
now you take this all for granted
you take the mortar, block, and glass
and you forget the speech and moved the stone
but it's really not that you can't see
the forest for the trees
you never been out in the woods alone
so you can laugh all you want to
but I got my philosophy
[keeps my feet on the ground]
and I love you, you're my friend
but you got no philosophy
[my phil]
it keeps me walking when I'm falling down
[los-o-phy]
Sunday, August 26, 2007
New Intentions and weddings...
I realise that I've been lax at updating this blog in particular. I never meant it to be a regular weekly update or anything, but certainly more frequent than I've managed. So now I'm going to try and concentrate. I'll put down thoughts and beliefs - I'll even try to rationalise what I've been thinking. I'll talk about music, comedy, books. All that I think about in day-to-day life... So that includes Nikki and Luke (my little family, for those who don't know).
As a bit of background, the last two weeks have made me rather thoughtful (when time has allowed) - Nik was rushed to A&E with appendicitis Tuesday before last and was operated on the evening after. She was then kept in (despite the doctor's wishes) until Friday evening. But that's meant that most, if not all, of the caring for Luke has been done by me while she's been in hospital and at home, recuperating from the op. And I've loved it. Not the fact that Nik's been in a lot of pain and has to rest a lot, obviously, but spending so much time with Luke and Nik is wonderful...
It has not been easy. Not by a long chalk. Looking after a toddler would never be anything but that, but its been enjoyable. Something in me completely enjoys the running around and keeping busy - and it does mean that any time I get to sit and just think is either taken up by a sneaky reading session, or by working out solutions to something that hasn't quite gone as planned instead of leading me down a dark and depressing path!
And that's made me think about who I am. I'd be foolish to ignore the fact that I've made plenty of mistakes, and even plenty since Luke was born, but I have been pretty lucky with how those mistakes have turned out, I think. So far, anyway. Learning the hard way is not pleasant. But then, its also the only sure-fire way to make sure I get the message, for some reason...
I went to my brother Paul's wedding on Saturday. It was a very strange day for me (so I can't imagine what it would have been like for him, or mum and dad...) but not for any bad reasons. I always thought that out of the two of us, I would be the first to get married. Not because I think I'm better looking or that I find it easier to get someone to go out with me because the first is completely relative and the second false... But because I always seemed to be the more likely. Things didn't work out that way, and I think its for the best. If I was married before now, I think it would have been a mistake - I haven't quite managed to sort out what to do with myself in the grown-up world, let alone what to do as part of a couple, or even part of a little family...! He does seem more sorted for what he wants to do.
So on Saturday, I was very proud. For all the hostilities between us over the years, for all the petty arguments and silly dislikes, he's a good brother. And sitting in the church we grew up in, watching him marry the woman he loves was a very nice way to pass an afternoon.
Brought back a few nice nostalgic thoughts, and reminded me of the song that always reminds me of him - "Disembodied Voices" by Neil and Tim Finn:
Talking with my brother
When the lights went out
Down the hallway
Forty years ago
And what became much harder
Was so easy then
Opening up and letting go
Disembodied voices
Floating in the air
This place in the darkness
Could be anywhere
Talking to each other
As we wait for sleep
The angel in the detail
Soon arrives
Spreading her wings over
Every memory
And keeping all our hopes alive
Disembodied voices
Floating in the air
This place in the darkness
Could be anywhere
We all made our choices
Let's work out what we're going to do
Disembodied voices
Revealing what we know is true
And so much is here
If we all disappear
We could be anywhere
The reception was interesting too. Kerry - if you read this... There will be revenge for making Paul and I sing Nelly The Elephant during the karaoke...
Anyway, here's to Paul and Debbie. May they be happy for a very long time...
As a bit of background, the last two weeks have made me rather thoughtful (when time has allowed) - Nik was rushed to A&E with appendicitis Tuesday before last and was operated on the evening after. She was then kept in (despite the doctor's wishes) until Friday evening. But that's meant that most, if not all, of the caring for Luke has been done by me while she's been in hospital and at home, recuperating from the op. And I've loved it. Not the fact that Nik's been in a lot of pain and has to rest a lot, obviously, but spending so much time with Luke and Nik is wonderful...
It has not been easy. Not by a long chalk. Looking after a toddler would never be anything but that, but its been enjoyable. Something in me completely enjoys the running around and keeping busy - and it does mean that any time I get to sit and just think is either taken up by a sneaky reading session, or by working out solutions to something that hasn't quite gone as planned instead of leading me down a dark and depressing path!
And that's made me think about who I am. I'd be foolish to ignore the fact that I've made plenty of mistakes, and even plenty since Luke was born, but I have been pretty lucky with how those mistakes have turned out, I think. So far, anyway. Learning the hard way is not pleasant. But then, its also the only sure-fire way to make sure I get the message, for some reason...
I went to my brother Paul's wedding on Saturday. It was a very strange day for me (so I can't imagine what it would have been like for him, or mum and dad...) but not for any bad reasons. I always thought that out of the two of us, I would be the first to get married. Not because I think I'm better looking or that I find it easier to get someone to go out with me because the first is completely relative and the second false... But because I always seemed to be the more likely. Things didn't work out that way, and I think its for the best. If I was married before now, I think it would have been a mistake - I haven't quite managed to sort out what to do with myself in the grown-up world, let alone what to do as part of a couple, or even part of a little family...! He does seem more sorted for what he wants to do.
So on Saturday, I was very proud. For all the hostilities between us over the years, for all the petty arguments and silly dislikes, he's a good brother. And sitting in the church we grew up in, watching him marry the woman he loves was a very nice way to pass an afternoon.
Brought back a few nice nostalgic thoughts, and reminded me of the song that always reminds me of him - "Disembodied Voices" by Neil and Tim Finn:
Talking with my brother
When the lights went out
Down the hallway
Forty years ago
And what became much harder
Was so easy then
Opening up and letting go
Disembodied voices
Floating in the air
This place in the darkness
Could be anywhere
Talking to each other
As we wait for sleep
The angel in the detail
Soon arrives
Spreading her wings over
Every memory
And keeping all our hopes alive
Disembodied voices
Floating in the air
This place in the darkness
Could be anywhere
We all made our choices
Let's work out what we're going to do
Disembodied voices
Revealing what we know is true
And so much is here
If we all disappear
We could be anywhere
The reception was interesting too. Kerry - if you read this... There will be revenge for making Paul and I sing Nelly The Elephant during the karaoke...
Anyway, here's to Paul and Debbie. May they be happy for a very long time...
Friday, August 03, 2007
Taking the easy option... and knocking Eastenders...
I just read the following comment on this Guardian blog
I don’t see any better reasons for getting rid of it, do you?!
“It is easy to knock Eastenders, but without this soap, non of the other soaps would be where they are today without nicking all the best things about Eastenders from a while back.”
I don’t see any better reasons for getting rid of it, do you?!
Thursday, July 05, 2007
NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
Why the blinkin’ hell do we let bishops open their mouths in public if they spew this sort of crap?!
Floods are judgement on society say bishops
What next? “David Beckham’s latest bad haircut is punishment for the Spice Girls reunion says curate”?
On a lighter note, the story of how the only entrant in a village fete’s cake competition came second…
Floods are judgement on society say bishops
What next? “David Beckham’s latest bad haircut is punishment for the Spice Girls reunion says curate”?
On a lighter note, the story of how the only entrant in a village fete’s cake competition came second…
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Logo Nogo... So what?
I’m getting really sick of the ignorance and the cynicism of the people who aren’t in favour of the Olympics, and the newspapers who continually criticise some of the elements of the funding.
Particularly the people who think that we’re moving too slowly. We’re on track to be ready well in time. Athens wasn’t anywhere near this stage this far ahead, and that came off. So why on earth do they think that the UK can’t do it? We all seem to be of the opinion that Greece is a disorganised and inefficient country when it comes to major events (something seemingly borne out by the Champions League Final debacle last month), and that we’re highly capable. So what’s the issue?!
I’m particularly sick of the people who assume that things like the cost of the Olympic logo were only so high because it factors in things like corporate jollies and focus groups and that everyone in the government had a whizzo jolly time and then designed it in 10 minutes using clip art.
I don’t like the logo either, and I work for the Dept now defending it, the one responsible for the Olympic Games going ahead. And none of us had a wonderful time at anyone’s expense. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we all have to pay tax too…
Its not the objection to the logo that I can’t stand – I totally understand that bit. It’s the assumption that every civil servant working on anything remotely linked to the games is spending the budget on fine wine and caviar and getting pissed at their desks.
Or the people who phone or write to us to complain and when they get an answer to their letter, no matter how true or complete our response, constantly accuse us of lying, or covering up, or being ignorant of what the country as a whole thinks. I forget when we selected them to talk on the country’s behalf, but there we go. We don’t express our own opinions when answering letters, just the policy. So why do they assume we are? Is everyone really as thick as that? Surely not…
We work bloody hard for very little public respect, often, and then get criticised for anything and everything – including trying to ensure our job security when thousands of civil service jobs are being cut - by newspapers who make a lot of their information up and morons who read and believe every word they say.
And as for the people who think that we shouldn’t have an Olympics because they can’t see what benefit it will have on their area, they should stop being so damn selfish. Londoners are paying more council tax to help fund the games when everyone else isn’t. The benefits will be best for Londoners, yes, but you can’t put a price on a few weeks of sport inspiring a whole new generation. Luke will be 6 when the Olympics come to town, and if he’s interested and wants to go, I’ll take him if I can. Its one of the best and high-profile events in the world, and I don’t see the point in being all po-faced about it.
Particularly the people who think that we’re moving too slowly. We’re on track to be ready well in time. Athens wasn’t anywhere near this stage this far ahead, and that came off. So why on earth do they think that the UK can’t do it? We all seem to be of the opinion that Greece is a disorganised and inefficient country when it comes to major events (something seemingly borne out by the Champions League Final debacle last month), and that we’re highly capable. So what’s the issue?!
I’m particularly sick of the people who assume that things like the cost of the Olympic logo were only so high because it factors in things like corporate jollies and focus groups and that everyone in the government had a whizzo jolly time and then designed it in 10 minutes using clip art.
I don’t like the logo either, and I work for the Dept now defending it, the one responsible for the Olympic Games going ahead. And none of us had a wonderful time at anyone’s expense. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we all have to pay tax too…
Its not the objection to the logo that I can’t stand – I totally understand that bit. It’s the assumption that every civil servant working on anything remotely linked to the games is spending the budget on fine wine and caviar and getting pissed at their desks.
Or the people who phone or write to us to complain and when they get an answer to their letter, no matter how true or complete our response, constantly accuse us of lying, or covering up, or being ignorant of what the country as a whole thinks. I forget when we selected them to talk on the country’s behalf, but there we go. We don’t express our own opinions when answering letters, just the policy. So why do they assume we are? Is everyone really as thick as that? Surely not…
We work bloody hard for very little public respect, often, and then get criticised for anything and everything – including trying to ensure our job security when thousands of civil service jobs are being cut - by newspapers who make a lot of their information up and morons who read and believe every word they say.
And as for the people who think that we shouldn’t have an Olympics because they can’t see what benefit it will have on their area, they should stop being so damn selfish. Londoners are paying more council tax to help fund the games when everyone else isn’t. The benefits will be best for Londoners, yes, but you can’t put a price on a few weeks of sport inspiring a whole new generation. Luke will be 6 when the Olympics come to town, and if he’s interested and wants to go, I’ll take him if I can. Its one of the best and high-profile events in the world, and I don’t see the point in being all po-faced about it.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Dance Tonight - Paul McCartney
The new Paul McCartney video - directed by Michel Gondry, guest starring Natalie Portman and Mackenzie Crook... It's great, and the song is great too... To me, anyway...
Huh?
Newsround used to be one of my favourite programmes when I was younger. And even when I was at university, I’d still watch it, because it was just a bit nicer to watch than the news.
These days, however, it annoys me.
This morning’s edition is a good example of why.
Take a few seconds to think about all the news in the world at the moment. Wars in Afganistan, Iraq, the Middle east. Terror suspects absconding. Human rights abuses all over the world, change of Prime Minister in a month’s time, North Korea test-firing missiles, the underwater dinosaur tracks showing that they could swim and the first results of this year’s Spingwatch survey. If you’re pushed, there’s the Big Brother controversies both here and in Australia, Blue Peter losing a show a week, the results of the Ivor Novello Awards, and even a story about an escaped Orangutan running riot at a zoo.
This was the 3-story order for the stories on this morning’s Newsround:
1, Michael Owen will captain the England B team against Albania tomorrow.
2, A boy who lives in a tent is interviewed
3, a bird poos on George W Bush during a press conference.
Now, granted, the third is a very funny story and would always make my personal running order, but is this really the best we can do?
I know that not all kids would be interested in a lot of the heavy news that’s been cropping up, and the editors need to do what will interest their target audience, but surely we don’t have to dumb things down so much that we get to this stage?!
Sigh.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Judge not lest you be judged...?
Theologian damns most Britons to hell
Why is it that the Conservative side of Christianity has a far bigger mouth?
Why is it that the Conservative side of Christianity has a far bigger mouth?
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Eurovision Political Contest
Sigh.
We're not in a Balkan country. Or an ex-Russian territory. Or a Baltic country. In short, we're unlikely to win the Eurovision Song contest until everyone else has forgotten about Iraq - or been forced to vote according to the quality of the song entry, not whether or not they're mates with another country.
It's sad - there were some intruiging songs in there, not great, but interesting. And ours wasn't bad, you know. I am aware that the papers have criticised Scooch for their performance (especially the Daily Mirror), but they did well - the performance was funny, they weren't out of tune, and the song was a good one in Eurovision terms - it was silly, fluffy pop, subtly filthy, and accompanied by daft costumes and at least one permatan. In fact, all we needed was for the two guys to be sporting healthy beards and we'd be able to claim we'd followed the Abba formula...
And we, the humble voting public of the UK did vote this through as our representative. We can hardly blame Scooch for not winning - we sent them there, and they don't decide to mount illegal invasions of other countries. We should be proud of them, I think - they certainly deserved to do a lot better in the voting than they did.
The voting is ridiculous. It always was, but its worse now. There were always the predictable love-ins: Greece and Cyprus; Norway, Denmark, Finland, Iceland and Sweden; Portugal and Spain. But now we have countless countries voting, and surely we can't be sure that there's not some rigging going on somewhere...
The song that won, quite simply, was awful. It was dirgy, had perhaps the least exciting performance of the show, and a performer who had the on-stage charisma of a squashed ant. It's neatly summed up by her views on music:
'I listen to music - I don't want to watch it, I want to listen to it.'
Which misses the entire point of Eurovision, surely.
Scooch had a catchy song, and maybe it was a little out of date in that sense (as Tim Moore argues here). But hang on, a lot of the other songs were rocky power ballads - a staple from the 1980s... And the only differences that spring to mind are Ireland (awful as it was, it was a truely Irish pop song - folky and twee. And in need of stronger vocals), Estonia (hmm. It was just an old drag queen - the song was not at all memorable), and Sweden (an interesting 60s throwback with a man who looked a bit ridiculous).
Oh, and the French. That was worse than awful with a small bald man resembling Richard O'Brien running round and round the band shouting into the mic, completely distracting from the act.
The German entry was very good as I remember though, nice to see something as different as swing making it onto the Eurovision stage. but that disappeared too.
I'm a quiet Eurovision fan, but I'm no less disappointed with this year's show. Something needs to change. If the people running the show were there on Saturday and heard the boos coming from the audience, maybe they'll get the message somewhere along the line.
I love music, and I love the art of songwriting, and that is what this is meant to showcase. Instead, its a daft circus which is followed by a biased and allegedly corrupt method of determining a winner.
Time for a regime change, George and Tony?
We're not in a Balkan country. Or an ex-Russian territory. Or a Baltic country. In short, we're unlikely to win the Eurovision Song contest until everyone else has forgotten about Iraq - or been forced to vote according to the quality of the song entry, not whether or not they're mates with another country.
It's sad - there were some intruiging songs in there, not great, but interesting. And ours wasn't bad, you know. I am aware that the papers have criticised Scooch for their performance (especially the Daily Mirror), but they did well - the performance was funny, they weren't out of tune, and the song was a good one in Eurovision terms - it was silly, fluffy pop, subtly filthy, and accompanied by daft costumes and at least one permatan. In fact, all we needed was for the two guys to be sporting healthy beards and we'd be able to claim we'd followed the Abba formula...
And we, the humble voting public of the UK did vote this through as our representative. We can hardly blame Scooch for not winning - we sent them there, and they don't decide to mount illegal invasions of other countries. We should be proud of them, I think - they certainly deserved to do a lot better in the voting than they did.
The voting is ridiculous. It always was, but its worse now. There were always the predictable love-ins: Greece and Cyprus; Norway, Denmark, Finland, Iceland and Sweden; Portugal and Spain. But now we have countless countries voting, and surely we can't be sure that there's not some rigging going on somewhere...
The song that won, quite simply, was awful. It was dirgy, had perhaps the least exciting performance of the show, and a performer who had the on-stage charisma of a squashed ant. It's neatly summed up by her views on music:
'I listen to music - I don't want to watch it, I want to listen to it.'
Which misses the entire point of Eurovision, surely.
Scooch had a catchy song, and maybe it was a little out of date in that sense (as Tim Moore argues here). But hang on, a lot of the other songs were rocky power ballads - a staple from the 1980s... And the only differences that spring to mind are Ireland (awful as it was, it was a truely Irish pop song - folky and twee. And in need of stronger vocals), Estonia (hmm. It was just an old drag queen - the song was not at all memorable), and Sweden (an interesting 60s throwback with a man who looked a bit ridiculous).
Oh, and the French. That was worse than awful with a small bald man resembling Richard O'Brien running round and round the band shouting into the mic, completely distracting from the act.
The German entry was very good as I remember though, nice to see something as different as swing making it onto the Eurovision stage. but that disappeared too.
I'm a quiet Eurovision fan, but I'm no less disappointed with this year's show. Something needs to change. If the people running the show were there on Saturday and heard the boos coming from the audience, maybe they'll get the message somewhere along the line.
I love music, and I love the art of songwriting, and that is what this is meant to showcase. Instead, its a daft circus which is followed by a biased and allegedly corrupt method of determining a winner.
Time for a regime change, George and Tony?
Monday, May 07, 2007
Down and Out With A Whimper
Charlton were relegated tonight after losing 2-0 to Spurs at the Valley.
OK, so there’s the scandal of West Ham fielding allegedly inelligible players and being given the luckiest break of all football history by not being docked points when they would have done in any other situation and having a set of fans who inexplicably seem to think they have some divine right to be in the Premiership.
But have Charlton complained? Despite Wigan setting a pathetic precedent by whingeing their endangered little heads off about everybody else, all Charlton have complained about is their own performance.
I have a few worries about the season… I think Iain Dowie should have been given a better chance with this group of players – after all, he brought them in with a vision in mind. I’m concerned that for the first time, Charlton seem to have made a knee-jerk reaction with his firing, instead of showing faith. However, I think Alan Pardew is a very good man to have in his place, and maybe a season (or two) in the Championship is what he and the club need to truly begin working together. We saw what he’s capable of through the post-christmas revival, when we traditionally fall away disgustingly.
However, I’m still proud to be a Charlton supporter. I’m still proud at the honesty and dignity with which Pards has accepted the fate. We asked for it, gave survival our best short, nearly made it but lacked the quality to manage. Again, as with Saints being relegated in Rugby Union, maybe the ticket prices will go down a bit and I’ll be able to get along to see a game…
OK, so there’s the scandal of West Ham fielding allegedly inelligible players and being given the luckiest break of all football history by not being docked points when they would have done in any other situation and having a set of fans who inexplicably seem to think they have some divine right to be in the Premiership.
But have Charlton complained? Despite Wigan setting a pathetic precedent by whingeing their endangered little heads off about everybody else, all Charlton have complained about is their own performance.
I have a few worries about the season… I think Iain Dowie should have been given a better chance with this group of players – after all, he brought them in with a vision in mind. I’m concerned that for the first time, Charlton seem to have made a knee-jerk reaction with his firing, instead of showing faith. However, I think Alan Pardew is a very good man to have in his place, and maybe a season (or two) in the Championship is what he and the club need to truly begin working together. We saw what he’s capable of through the post-christmas revival, when we traditionally fall away disgustingly.
However, I’m still proud to be a Charlton supporter. I’m still proud at the honesty and dignity with which Pards has accepted the fate. We asked for it, gave survival our best short, nearly made it but lacked the quality to manage. Again, as with Saints being relegated in Rugby Union, maybe the ticket prices will go down a bit and I’ll be able to get along to see a game…
The Definition of a Bad Loser?
There’s been an unusual request made over the weekend.
Let me fill you in.
The last game of the “Millennium Magic” event at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff was between two of the stronger teams in Super League – Bradford Bulls and Leeds Rhinos. Its usually a good match between them and this time was no exception. Bradford led 38-36 with a minute left to go. Leeds were awarded a penalty, and Kevin Sinfield kicked for goal to tie the game.
The kick rebounded off a post, a Leeds player collected the ball and got over the line to score a try, which turned out to be the winning points. The referee, Steve Ganson, wasn’t aware of any problems with the play and awarded the try without referring to the video referee.
It now seems that after viewing video evidence, the try-scorer, Jordan Tansey, was clearly offside when chasing the kick down, and therefore the try should have been disallowed. But the move was not referred, the video evidence not analysed by officials at the time, and nothing done. Since the game, Steve Ganson has seen the video, and backed by the Rugby Football League, publicly apologised for the mistake and said that he wished that he had referred the decision. Fair enough, you might think – its sport, played and regulated by human beings, and sometimes these things happen.
But, this is clearly not the way Bradford Bulls think about sport. The below is quoted on the BBC Sport website:
For the record, the Leeds Rhinos’ response is perfect (in my opinion) – again quoted on the BBC Sport website:
In the cricket world, Sri Lanka have complained to the ICC about Adam Gilchrist’s use of a squash ball in his batting glove while playing. For those of you who don’t know, AG used a softened squash ball in one of his gloves to prevent the bat from turning in his hands when playing a shot throughout the World Cup. It didn’t come up as an issue at the time presumably because his performances in the first 10 matches they played were modest by his standards. But since his record-breaking 149 from 104 balls in final helped the aussies beat Sri Lanka by 51 runs, it is apparently something the losing finalists have decided should be reported to the ICC. They claim that they aren’t saying its illegal, just that its not in the “spirit and tradition of the game.”
The Australian response is typically Aussie and thoroughly fair comment:
Let me fill you in.
The last game of the “Millennium Magic” event at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff was between two of the stronger teams in Super League – Bradford Bulls and Leeds Rhinos. Its usually a good match between them and this time was no exception. Bradford led 38-36 with a minute left to go. Leeds were awarded a penalty, and Kevin Sinfield kicked for goal to tie the game.
The kick rebounded off a post, a Leeds player collected the ball and got over the line to score a try, which turned out to be the winning points. The referee, Steve Ganson, wasn’t aware of any problems with the play and awarded the try without referring to the video referee.
It now seems that after viewing video evidence, the try-scorer, Jordan Tansey, was clearly offside when chasing the kick down, and therefore the try should have been disallowed. But the move was not referred, the video evidence not analysed by officials at the time, and nothing done. Since the game, Steve Ganson has seen the video, and backed by the Rugby Football League, publicly apologised for the mistake and said that he wished that he had referred the decision. Fair enough, you might think – its sport, played and regulated by human beings, and sometimes these things happen.
But, this is clearly not the way Bradford Bulls think about sport. The below is quoted on the BBC Sport website:
“The Leeds Rhinos club is justifiably a proud club, with a great tradition, andFor goodness sake, do us all a favour and grow up. These things happen - it’s what sport does to you. You don’t always win and you are not always happy with everything. Just grow up, swallow it and get on with the next game.
a club which above all values its reputation for right and fair dealing in everything it does.
"For these reasons I shall be inviting the Leeds Rhinos to do the right thing again now, for the benefit of their own reputation certainly, but also for the good of the great game of rugby league, to voluntarily hand over to Bradford Bulls what is, as the whole game now acknowledges, rightfully ours - the two points so cruelly taken from us by Mr Ganson's failure to act.”
For the record, the Leeds Rhinos’ response is perfect (in my opinion) – again quoted on the BBC Sport website:
“It's an unusual request to be asked to consider.In other words, just stop complaining and get on with it.
"The Bulls will have another chance for two points on 29 June when the two teams meet at Carnegie Headingley.”
In the cricket world, Sri Lanka have complained to the ICC about Adam Gilchrist’s use of a squash ball in his batting glove while playing. For those of you who don’t know, AG used a softened squash ball in one of his gloves to prevent the bat from turning in his hands when playing a shot throughout the World Cup. It didn’t come up as an issue at the time presumably because his performances in the first 10 matches they played were modest by his standards. But since his record-breaking 149 from 104 balls in final helped the aussies beat Sri Lanka by 51 runs, it is apparently something the losing finalists have decided should be reported to the ICC. They claim that they aren’t saying its illegal, just that its not in the “spirit and tradition of the game.”
The Australian response is typically Aussie and thoroughly fair comment:
“It's a storm in a teacup, or a batting glove. It's been suggested that if
shoving a squash ball into your bottom glove makes you bat like Adam Gilchrist,
then perhaps the ICC should make it compulsory.”
Peter Young, Cricket Australia.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Taking a break...
For a few reasons, I'm going to take a couple of months off - well, more or less. I may post occasionally. But I'm doing this for a couple of reasons:
1, Luke and Nikki come first, and I'm running out of spare time!
2, I am completely unconvinced that anyone reads this.
3,I have started working on something I hope I can tell people about in a few months time - it's a writing project and I'm excited to have begun giving it attention. But I won't say anything else about it yet.
I'm still contactable via crackingcheese@hotmail.com, and the two other blogs attached to this one, Duplo Philosophy and Sir Leonard Beastly's Social Whirl will both be updated as normal...
http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com
http://sir-leonard-beastlys-social-whirl.blogspot.com
If you ever read this, please take a minute to let me know. It might influence when I start posting again. Otherwise, come and find me on www.facebook.com and let me know.
Chris.
1, Luke and Nikki come first, and I'm running out of spare time!
2, I am completely unconvinced that anyone reads this.
3,I have started working on something I hope I can tell people about in a few months time - it's a writing project and I'm excited to have begun giving it attention. But I won't say anything else about it yet.
I'm still contactable via crackingcheese@hotmail.com, and the two other blogs attached to this one, Duplo Philosophy and Sir Leonard Beastly's Social Whirl will both be updated as normal...
http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com
http://sir-leonard-beastlys-social-whirl.blogspot.com
If you ever read this, please take a minute to let me know. It might influence when I start posting again. Otherwise, come and find me on www.facebook.com and let me know.
Chris.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Warning: includes expansionist tendancies
Well, the "empire" expands again.
(I use the " " because the idea that I have some kind of blogging empire is bizarre and rather laughable...)
There is now a dedicated blog for my poetry. If you read this blog (I don't think there are many, if any, of you...) and you're interested, pop along to http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com to have a read.
For the lucky, lucky readers who haven't been introduced to my poems, let me give a little background.
I rarely talk about this without being pushed. That's not to say that its something I am ashamed of - far from it - its just something I hold rather personally. Over the last few years, I've been writing. Stories, sketched, plays, poetry - whatever occurs, really. I started doing it as a way of expressing myself - and for a while as a strange kind of self-therapy to forget depression. It just became a habit and something that I enjoyed for the sake of doing it, after a while.
My poems and scripts have been used in weird and wonderful places and ways - from church services to magazine space-fillers to being performed as street theatre at a national festival, and I've written things that have then been read in school assemblies (well after I'd left school, I have to add), and even one that made it all the way to the wall of a child's bedroom (no, not Luke's...).
I have read some of the poems in public before, but it really didn't occur to me at first that others might like them. So, all I ask is that if you read them, and you have an opinion about it, please let me know. I've found that more often than not, that poems I don't like are well-received by other people and the poems I do like are usually ones that noone else likes...
The poems themselves aren't anyting particularly complicated or impressively intellectual, and I don't pretend to be another Seamus Heaney or T.S.Eliot... I've been more influenced by poets like John Betjeman, Roger McGough, Harold Pinter, John Hegley and Michael Rosen than anyone else, and I tend to keep to a simple style, without a huge amount of rhyme - I like finding phrasings and sentences that flow nicely and sound good to me. A curious phrase or an interesting fact is more use to me than a metephorical pretext...
Some are quite obviously influenced by my faith, and some are not. Some look closely at emotions, some expressing my thoughts on an event, and some of them are about nothing, really. Some are experiments, some follow distinct patterns, some mimic the styles of others.
If you do decide to have a look: Thank you. I hope you enjoy them, and I hope you'll let me know what you think.
http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com
(I use the " " because the idea that I have some kind of blogging empire is bizarre and rather laughable...)
There is now a dedicated blog for my poetry. If you read this blog (I don't think there are many, if any, of you...) and you're interested, pop along to http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com to have a read.
For the lucky, lucky readers who haven't been introduced to my poems, let me give a little background.
I rarely talk about this without being pushed. That's not to say that its something I am ashamed of - far from it - its just something I hold rather personally. Over the last few years, I've been writing. Stories, sketched, plays, poetry - whatever occurs, really. I started doing it as a way of expressing myself - and for a while as a strange kind of self-therapy to forget depression. It just became a habit and something that I enjoyed for the sake of doing it, after a while.
My poems and scripts have been used in weird and wonderful places and ways - from church services to magazine space-fillers to being performed as street theatre at a national festival, and I've written things that have then been read in school assemblies (well after I'd left school, I have to add), and even one that made it all the way to the wall of a child's bedroom (no, not Luke's...).
I have read some of the poems in public before, but it really didn't occur to me at first that others might like them. So, all I ask is that if you read them, and you have an opinion about it, please let me know. I've found that more often than not, that poems I don't like are well-received by other people and the poems I do like are usually ones that noone else likes...
The poems themselves aren't anyting particularly complicated or impressively intellectual, and I don't pretend to be another Seamus Heaney or T.S.Eliot... I've been more influenced by poets like John Betjeman, Roger McGough, Harold Pinter, John Hegley and Michael Rosen than anyone else, and I tend to keep to a simple style, without a huge amount of rhyme - I like finding phrasings and sentences that flow nicely and sound good to me. A curious phrase or an interesting fact is more use to me than a metephorical pretext...
Some are quite obviously influenced by my faith, and some are not. Some look closely at emotions, some expressing my thoughts on an event, and some of them are about nothing, really. Some are experiments, some follow distinct patterns, some mimic the styles of others.
If you do decide to have a look: Thank you. I hope you enjoy them, and I hope you'll let me know what you think.
http://duplo-philosophy.blogspot.com
Monday, February 19, 2007
Do the words “Outstanding” and “Contribution” mean anything these days?
Hmm. How do I put this?
I was at a loss for words when I heard this news from last week's Brit Awards:
Outstanding contribution to music: Oasis
WHAT???! WHAT FOR?
FOR NICKING OTHER PEOPLE’S MUSIC AND THEN PROCLAIMING THEMSELVES AS BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?
FOR LOOKING LIKE A BUNCH OF SHAMBOLIC DRUNK TOSSERS?
FOR NOT SHAVING AND/OR CUTTING THEIR HAIR BECAUSE IT’S “COOL” TO COVER THE HOOD OF YOUR FRAYED AND PEE-STAINED PARKA WITH YOUR MANKY DANDRUFF?
I just don’t get it.
What do people see in them? The attitude is irritating, and isn’t backed up by their back-catalogue. They’re amazingly intolerant of other artists and genres, especially seeing as everyone else has to put up with their own inane shamblings in the media.
I will concede that there are a few good songs in there – Wonderwall (although Ryan Adams’ version showed that the original was a poor version), The Masterplan (although that was a B-side…), Whatever, and Definitely Maybe was a good album… and I have heard very good things about the new album.
I will also nail my colours to the mast. In the whole Oasis vs. Blur contest thingy at the height of “Britpop” (yuck), I was firmly, and still am, fighting the Blur corner. They are infinitely more creative, more experimental, more popular. And yet, it’s Oasis that are honoured.
I assume they have been honoured for making sure people don’t forget how good the Beatles were.
I once heard someone on a tube train telling someone that Oasis were so good because they are what the Beatles would sound like if they were still together now.
I have a feeling that if the Beatles sounded like that, they’d have gladly given up music and gone to work in a fast-food restaurant. Which is what Oasis should have done instead of inflicting themselves on us and getting rich from being idiots that can shout over the squeals of a guitar being assaulted and then fight amongst themselves in the press conference afterwards.
I’d have thought an award for outstanding contribution to music should be given to someone who we couldn’t live without. I think I’d far rather try to survive without them.
I was at a loss for words when I heard this news from last week's Brit Awards:
Outstanding contribution to music: Oasis
WHAT???! WHAT FOR?
FOR NICKING OTHER PEOPLE’S MUSIC AND THEN PROCLAIMING THEMSELVES AS BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?
FOR LOOKING LIKE A BUNCH OF SHAMBOLIC DRUNK TOSSERS?
FOR NOT SHAVING AND/OR CUTTING THEIR HAIR BECAUSE IT’S “COOL” TO COVER THE HOOD OF YOUR FRAYED AND PEE-STAINED PARKA WITH YOUR MANKY DANDRUFF?
I just don’t get it.
What do people see in them? The attitude is irritating, and isn’t backed up by their back-catalogue. They’re amazingly intolerant of other artists and genres, especially seeing as everyone else has to put up with their own inane shamblings in the media.
I will concede that there are a few good songs in there – Wonderwall (although Ryan Adams’ version showed that the original was a poor version), The Masterplan (although that was a B-side…), Whatever, and Definitely Maybe was a good album… and I have heard very good things about the new album.
I will also nail my colours to the mast. In the whole Oasis vs. Blur contest thingy at the height of “Britpop” (yuck), I was firmly, and still am, fighting the Blur corner. They are infinitely more creative, more experimental, more popular. And yet, it’s Oasis that are honoured.
I assume they have been honoured for making sure people don’t forget how good the Beatles were.
I once heard someone on a tube train telling someone that Oasis were so good because they are what the Beatles would sound like if they were still together now.
I have a feeling that if the Beatles sounded like that, they’d have gladly given up music and gone to work in a fast-food restaurant. Which is what Oasis should have done instead of inflicting themselves on us and getting rich from being idiots that can shout over the squeals of a guitar being assaulted and then fight amongst themselves in the press conference afterwards.
I’d have thought an award for outstanding contribution to music should be given to someone who we couldn’t live without. I think I’d far rather try to survive without them.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
A brief service announcement...
Over the next few days, at least, the blog will look rather scruffy, as you can probably tell by the picture at the top... This is only going to be while I struggle with html coding and some templates, to make the blog look a bit more like I want it to. Everything else should be fine, though, so please let me know if you notice something that's not right!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
a glimpse of light
Maybe somewhere,
In all this darkness,
There is a spark.
A glorious flame,
A wonderous glimpse of light.
Maybe somewhere,
Amongst all the dust and mud,
There is a glint,
A sparkling diamond,
A tangible gem.
Maybe there,
Under the moonlight,
Beneath all the shadow,
Between all the trees,
Amongst the long grass.
Maybe there is a flame,
That never burns out,
That doesn't dampen.
Maybe there's a spark,
A glorious flame,
A wonderous glimpse of light.
And maybe its a flame
So big, so mind-bendingly important,
That my tiny mind
Cannot comprehend.
That my widening eyes
Will not take in.
That my soul
Longs to embrace.
And supposing I used that flame
to light one of my own.
To carry the spark,
light my path.
Supposing that happened.
My soul will soar,
my spirit will sing.
My eyes will take all in.
In all this darkness,
There is a spark.
A glorious flame,
A wonderous glimpse of light.
Maybe somewhere,
Amongst all the dust and mud,
There is a glint,
A sparkling diamond,
A tangible gem.
Maybe there,
Under the moonlight,
Beneath all the shadow,
Between all the trees,
Amongst the long grass.
Maybe there is a flame,
That never burns out,
That doesn't dampen.
Maybe there's a spark,
A glorious flame,
A wonderous glimpse of light.
And maybe its a flame
So big, so mind-bendingly important,
That my tiny mind
Cannot comprehend.
That my widening eyes
Will not take in.
That my soul
Longs to embrace.
And supposing I used that flame
to light one of my own.
To carry the spark,
light my path.
Supposing that happened.
My soul will soar,
my spirit will sing.
My eyes will take all in.
superhero and superzero
I bet you could get up in the mornings.
I bet that when you had a to-do list
It was all done at the end of the day.
I bet that if you had somewhere to go,
You left on time, made good speed
And were standing outside with minutes to spare.
I bet you were superhuman,
It’s a given, seeing the miracles you did
And that armbands meant nothing to you.
I bet that you were a riot at parties,
That you were the talk of the town,
Resisting all calls for entertainment…
And I bet you don’t go wrinkly in the bath, either,
You don’t stress over stupid things
Or lose your car, sorry, chariot keys.
I bet you can go clothes shopping
And take your time, not just grab and run,
And I bet you don’t get bothered by telesales…
Well, I’ll just stick to being pale in comparison.
Just mediocre and happy with my lot.
I’ll keep struggling to peel open my eyelids
To stare at the time on the clock,
To warm up my voice with a groan
When I realise I’m already late.
I’ll just be content to be human,
After all, I’m not built to be more.
I’m not built for rescuing maidens,
Slaying dragons or creating drink to pour,
So I’ll have a lie-in this morning
And worry about it when I’m late again tomorrow.
I bet that when you had a to-do list
It was all done at the end of the day.
I bet that if you had somewhere to go,
You left on time, made good speed
And were standing outside with minutes to spare.
I bet you were superhuman,
It’s a given, seeing the miracles you did
And that armbands meant nothing to you.
I bet that you were a riot at parties,
That you were the talk of the town,
Resisting all calls for entertainment…
And I bet you don’t go wrinkly in the bath, either,
You don’t stress over stupid things
Or lose your car, sorry, chariot keys.
I bet you can go clothes shopping
And take your time, not just grab and run,
And I bet you don’t get bothered by telesales…
Well, I’ll just stick to being pale in comparison.
Just mediocre and happy with my lot.
I’ll keep struggling to peel open my eyelids
To stare at the time on the clock,
To warm up my voice with a groan
When I realise I’m already late.
I’ll just be content to be human,
After all, I’m not built to be more.
I’m not built for rescuing maidens,
Slaying dragons or creating drink to pour,
So I’ll have a lie-in this morning
And worry about it when I’m late again tomorrow.
the churchyard, st. enedoc.
I’ve never felt easy in graveyards.
But I’ve never sat here before.
Here I feel uncomfortable ease,
A peace (despite tourists laughing by).
When they cease, all is silent,
And I can pause to take in my views.
The names on headstones,
With fond verses underneath,
All return my stares while
I gaze in awe at Brae,
the guardian, jealously protecting
the souls in the yard.
The church – a Cornish curio,
Still points its crooked finger skywards,
As if summoning angels above.
And maybe it does,
For the long grass whispers and
The tide plays out ethereal rhythms.
This is public, but private.
Secluded, yet thronged with guests.
And they’re not tourists here.
They are guests, paying respects,
And almost all visit a man named JB,
Who still speaks through this landscape.
But I’ve never sat here before.
Here I feel uncomfortable ease,
A peace (despite tourists laughing by).
When they cease, all is silent,
And I can pause to take in my views.
The names on headstones,
With fond verses underneath,
All return my stares while
I gaze in awe at Brae,
the guardian, jealously protecting
the souls in the yard.
The church – a Cornish curio,
Still points its crooked finger skywards,
As if summoning angels above.
And maybe it does,
For the long grass whispers and
The tide plays out ethereal rhythms.
This is public, but private.
Secluded, yet thronged with guests.
And they’re not tourists here.
They are guests, paying respects,
And almost all visit a man named JB,
Who still speaks through this landscape.
Views and comments more than welcome!
As I am posting more regularly now, and that I also have a few poems lying around that I'd like opinions on before I start knocking on the doors of any publishing places to make myself look like an idiot... I thought I'd try a few up here. I'll add a couple tonight to get the ball rolling. If you want to leave a comment, please do - but if you'd prefer to email me, crackingcheese@hotmail.com is the place to send it to. Cheers.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Are Jade and friends being racist on Big Brother?
Who cares?
Why bother watching something that's so desperate for viewing figures that its brought in one of the worst people it managed to make famous back in - presumably for an obscene amount of money. And now they're bullying someone who has worked hard to become as famous and as rich as they are, despite the fact that they themselves have done absolutely nothing to deserve their fame and good fortune.
Who the heck gives a crap?!
For once, I agree with the words of David Cameron: There's a very effective regulator of television - the on/off button.
Personally, we don't watch BB. And I'm certainly not going to when people like that are allowed to behave like this and Channel 4 are allowed to use that purely for publicity. The programme is a waste of time/space/huge amounts of money, and it makes me understand what motivates some obsessive people complaining about just about everything broadcast on TV. And that, in itself, is a horrible, lonely feeling.
Why bother watching something that's so desperate for viewing figures that its brought in one of the worst people it managed to make famous back in - presumably for an obscene amount of money. And now they're bullying someone who has worked hard to become as famous and as rich as they are, despite the fact that they themselves have done absolutely nothing to deserve their fame and good fortune.
Who the heck gives a crap?!
For once, I agree with the words of David Cameron: There's a very effective regulator of television - the on/off button.
Personally, we don't watch BB. And I'm certainly not going to when people like that are allowed to behave like this and Channel 4 are allowed to use that purely for publicity. The programme is a waste of time/space/huge amounts of money, and it makes me understand what motivates some obsessive people complaining about just about everything broadcast on TV. And that, in itself, is a horrible, lonely feeling.
Two months of blatant blogging apathy...
Ah. How do I explain the two months of blantant non-effort to keep this going?
I can’t. I’ve just been busy and not got round to it, no more than that.
So if you’re reading this, I hope you had a great Christmas. And that your new year was a good one. Not that I have ever seen the point in celebrating New Year the way we all seem to – its not that special an event… It’s another day and another midnight passing. Woo – let’s get drunk everyone!
We don’t need the excuse to get drunk… It happens all the time anyway.
So, we’re now slap-bang in the middle of January, watching stormy weather batter our coastlines and blow trees over near London – and obviously slow the trains down… While I know at least one person who is smugly gazing out of a bedroom window every morning on the other side of the world complaining only of being sunburnt. You know who you are, and I’m sure you know how jealous I am…!
So what happened over Christmas? Luke had his first trip to A&E at 10pm on Christmas eve… Nothing serious in the end – he had a fall and bashed his head on something. We thought it best to get it checked out, and after a 4 hour wait (happy Christmas everyone…) he was patched up and we all trundled home to wrap more presents…
We had a nice quiet time, with a marvellous dinner – mostly prepared by a vegetarian, which made it more impressive! I got a digital camera (amongst other nice things), so there’ll be plenty more pictures coming up on here from now on!
Coming back to work was a shock to the system after a week off, and quite independently of that, my feeling of dissatisfaction with the job and the work I do has become more and more pronounced. So I am thinking about changing careers. I am also looking for other civil service jobs in other departments, for a bit of a change, but I’m looking into teacher training…
I’m back with this now, and hopefully I’ll be a bit more bothered about updating the blog again. Especially now I'll have a lot more pictures to go up...
I can’t. I’ve just been busy and not got round to it, no more than that.
So if you’re reading this, I hope you had a great Christmas. And that your new year was a good one. Not that I have ever seen the point in celebrating New Year the way we all seem to – its not that special an event… It’s another day and another midnight passing. Woo – let’s get drunk everyone!
We don’t need the excuse to get drunk… It happens all the time anyway.
So, we’re now slap-bang in the middle of January, watching stormy weather batter our coastlines and blow trees over near London – and obviously slow the trains down… While I know at least one person who is smugly gazing out of a bedroom window every morning on the other side of the world complaining only of being sunburnt. You know who you are, and I’m sure you know how jealous I am…!
So what happened over Christmas? Luke had his first trip to A&E at 10pm on Christmas eve… Nothing serious in the end – he had a fall and bashed his head on something. We thought it best to get it checked out, and after a 4 hour wait (happy Christmas everyone…) he was patched up and we all trundled home to wrap more presents…
We had a nice quiet time, with a marvellous dinner – mostly prepared by a vegetarian, which made it more impressive! I got a digital camera (amongst other nice things), so there’ll be plenty more pictures coming up on here from now on!
Coming back to work was a shock to the system after a week off, and quite independently of that, my feeling of dissatisfaction with the job and the work I do has become more and more pronounced. So I am thinking about changing careers. I am also looking for other civil service jobs in other departments, for a bit of a change, but I’m looking into teacher training…
I’m back with this now, and hopefully I’ll be a bit more bothered about updating the blog again. Especially now I'll have a lot more pictures to go up...
My jumper smells funny today...
And I have no idea why.
Hmm.
It's clean and everything.
And yes. I washed this morning, so its not me.
It's very strange.
Hmm.
It's clean and everything.
And yes. I washed this morning, so its not me.
It's very strange.
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