Week Fifty:- one: Sunday 16 – Saturday 22 September
Nearly one whole year since my wife, my daughter and I wrapped up our life in Lockerbie, Scotland and headed for the warmer, wetter, sea shaped climate of Falmouth, Cornwall, and we find ourselves packing up to move to a cosier, more modern, and centrally based, house ... and getting into the 'Amazon video rental by post' that we've been getting into to.
You build up a 'rental list' and they send them to you as they become available, although one at a time, such is our 'meek' rental agreement. As the winter nights fast approach, autumn seems to be flying, not tumbling, by, we look forward to delights such as 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks', 'Mary Poppins', 'The Sound of Music', '101 Dalmatians' ... I could go on!
The other day 'Grease' arrived, that much loved classic that Toni and I first saw thirty odd years ago, and have watched several time since. But not for a good few years. Aside from enjoying the whole thing all over again, two things struck me.
I never realised just how 'moralistic' Grease is: so many great vignettes about growing up, being the right person, being true to yourself, making the post of yourself, compromising, et cetera.
Just after Sandy has met up with Danny again, and has run off after telling him she wishes she had never met him, because he acted all cool in front of his friends, the character (who becomes the beauty school dropout) puts her arm round Sandy and says, "The only man a girl can always depend on his her father."
I paused the dvd, rewound, nudged Kumali, pointed at the tv, cleared my throat, said, "Hey, sweetheart, listen up to this bit", turned up the volume, then pressed play!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Brown Beggars Belief
Week Fifty: Sunday 9 – Saturday 15 September
What, I wonder, do rank and file Labour supporters make of Gordon Brown's self-confessed love of Margaret Thatcher, his recent meeting with her and his decision to have a portrait of her commissioned and hung in 10 Downing Street?
No matter the denial from socialist supporters, and it must have been acute, when the Labour party became New Labour what they really meant was Conservative. I remember talking to many Labour supporters who tried to articulate and convince, mainly themselves, that this was not the case: Labour was Labour, the party of the people, and always would be.
After the illegal, devastating and deliberate war in Iraq even the most blind among Labour's support began to admit that Tony Blair was Tory Blur, or Tony B(loody)-liar. But they reassured themselves that they'd get him out of power, get a new leader, a Labour man.
Enter Gordon Brown: as 'red' a socialist as you could get, if you looked back over his Labour career. A man of the people, if you believed the pr.
New Labour is a machine, its leader a figurehead, not a policy shaper or decision maker. Gordon Brown is as right wing as Blair. Power, influence, historical immortality for the ego is what drives the Blairs and Browns of this world. Maybe they just never felt loved enough by their parents.
Thatcher, depending on your point of view, was the most vile, unacceptable and damaging leader Britain has ever had. She's the one who boldly told the nation that there was no such thing as society. Britain became a selfish, greed culture: loads of money and everyone for themselves. Me, I think she was more evil than Hitler.
Now New Labour's new leader wants to celebrate, and no doubt emulate, her. Hang her, not her portrait, in number 10; hang Brown alongside her for wounding us all with his admiration for her.
Of course, it will never happen. But be afraid, be very afraid of Broon and his fellow carpetbaggers.
What, I wonder, do rank and file Labour supporters make of Gordon Brown's self-confessed love of Margaret Thatcher, his recent meeting with her and his decision to have a portrait of her commissioned and hung in 10 Downing Street?
No matter the denial from socialist supporters, and it must have been acute, when the Labour party became New Labour what they really meant was Conservative. I remember talking to many Labour supporters who tried to articulate and convince, mainly themselves, that this was not the case: Labour was Labour, the party of the people, and always would be.
After the illegal, devastating and deliberate war in Iraq even the most blind among Labour's support began to admit that Tony Blair was Tory Blur, or Tony B(loody)-liar. But they reassured themselves that they'd get him out of power, get a new leader, a Labour man.
Enter Gordon Brown: as 'red' a socialist as you could get, if you looked back over his Labour career. A man of the people, if you believed the pr.
New Labour is a machine, its leader a figurehead, not a policy shaper or decision maker. Gordon Brown is as right wing as Blair. Power, influence, historical immortality for the ego is what drives the Blairs and Browns of this world. Maybe they just never felt loved enough by their parents.
Thatcher, depending on your point of view, was the most vile, unacceptable and damaging leader Britain has ever had. She's the one who boldly told the nation that there was no such thing as society. Britain became a selfish, greed culture: loads of money and everyone for themselves. Me, I think she was more evil than Hitler.
Now New Labour's new leader wants to celebrate, and no doubt emulate, her. Hang her, not her portrait, in number 10; hang Brown alongside her for wounding us all with his admiration for her.
Of course, it will never happen. But be afraid, be very afraid of Broon and his fellow carpetbaggers.
MA No More, Student No More, Escape From Real World No More
Week Forty – nine: Sunday 2 – Saturday 8 September
Well, the course work has been handed in: two copies of 30 000 carefully crafted words. The holiday to Spain never happened, mopping about the house became boring, now it is time to face the facts.
The main fact is I need a job! It has been a great year being a student. Not having to work is a pleasure, particularly in the world today when so many jobs seem as appealing as acute sunburn.
Ideally I get my book published, starting a long and successful career as a writer of creative non-fiction, and start getting screenwriting commissions.
The reality is I will have to get a full-time job of some description, take any and every writing job that comes my way and push non-fiction and screenwriting in my own spare time.
Sob, sob … poor me! Well, hardly. A break would be helpful, I’ll keep the dream alive, but now is the time to get on with things!
Well, the course work has been handed in: two copies of 30 000 carefully crafted words. The holiday to Spain never happened, mopping about the house became boring, now it is time to face the facts.
The main fact is I need a job! It has been a great year being a student. Not having to work is a pleasure, particularly in the world today when so many jobs seem as appealing as acute sunburn.
Ideally I get my book published, starting a long and successful career as a writer of creative non-fiction, and start getting screenwriting commissions.
The reality is I will have to get a full-time job of some description, take any and every writing job that comes my way and push non-fiction and screenwriting in my own spare time.
Sob, sob … poor me! Well, hardly. A break would be helpful, I’ll keep the dream alive, but now is the time to get on with things!
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Flying in the face of Cornishness
Week Forty – eight: Sunday 26 August – Saturday 1 September
Below is a copy of an email I sent to the Cornish paper the West Briton, on Tuesday 4 September, my 43rd birth day. I'm hoping they will publish it next week as an article, accompianed by the suitably sad photo their photographer took of Toni, Kumali and I.
"I moved to Cornwall from Scotland in October last year with my wife and three year-old daughter, originally for one year to study for a post-graduate qualification at University College Falmouth.
Cornish people are so friendly, relaxed and accommodating, and have made us feel so welcome, that we very quickly decided that we would like to settle in Falmouth after my course finished on 31 August.
Before getting down to the realities of life, like finding full-time employment again, we decided to treat ourselves to a family holiday in Spain. It was to be our first holiday abroad as a family, and was to coincide with my birthday. We booked the holiday nearly six months ago in order to secure cheap flights, and have been slowly but surely getting more and more excited about going.
We were due to leave yesterday, 3 September, and set out at 7.30am on our carefully planned public transport route: buses from Falmouth to Truro, Truro to Newquay, and Newquay to Newquay Airport, where we would fly to Gatwick before flying on to Barcelona.
Unfortunately the bus on the last leg of our journey did not get us to the airport ten minutes before check-in closed, as timetabled, but arrived just as check-in was closing. We rushed to the check-in desk, waited for the man in front of us to be checked-in, and were then told, “Dispatch closed four minutes ago. You can fly, but we can’t take your luggage.”
My response was, “But we’ve been here for at least two minutes, can’t you rush as through? We’re meeting a connecting flight to take us to Barcelona. We’re sorry we’re late, the bus was late. Please.”
The reply was, “It’s not our fault. Dispatch is closed. If you want to fly we can still check you in, but you’ll have to leave your luggage.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, I asked, “Can I please speak to your manager or supervisor?”
A couple of minutes later a man ambled down some steps and told me, “Dispatch closed eight minutes ago. You won’t be able to fly with your luggage.”
I pleaded, “But we were only two, three at the most, minutes late. If we’d just been checked in straight away, we’d be on the plane already. I accept we are to blame as we are late, but we were only two or three minutes late. It is a small airport and small plane. Is there nothing you can do?”
The reply, “It’s not our fault.”
That’s when, in frustration, anger and upset, I raised my voice. That’s when I was told I would be removed by airport security if I didn’t leave immediately.
So with my daughter in tears, we left the airport and made the three hour, three bus journey back to our home in Falmouth. Six hundred pounds in air fares and a visa (my wife does not have a British passport) wasted and a first family holiday abroad gone: all because of two to three minutes, and the most unhelpful, unsympathetic and unwilling officious staff I have ever encountered.
As Cornwall continues to expand, develop and grow economically, I hope our experience at Newquay Airport is not a reflection of the sign of the times and an indication of what to expect more often in the future.
Be warned any and all of you who intend to fly from Newquay Airport."
Below is a copy of an email I sent to the Cornish paper the West Briton, on Tuesday 4 September, my 43rd birth day. I'm hoping they will publish it next week as an article, accompianed by the suitably sad photo their photographer took of Toni, Kumali and I.
"I moved to Cornwall from Scotland in October last year with my wife and three year-old daughter, originally for one year to study for a post-graduate qualification at University College Falmouth.
Cornish people are so friendly, relaxed and accommodating, and have made us feel so welcome, that we very quickly decided that we would like to settle in Falmouth after my course finished on 31 August.
Before getting down to the realities of life, like finding full-time employment again, we decided to treat ourselves to a family holiday in Spain. It was to be our first holiday abroad as a family, and was to coincide with my birthday. We booked the holiday nearly six months ago in order to secure cheap flights, and have been slowly but surely getting more and more excited about going.
We were due to leave yesterday, 3 September, and set out at 7.30am on our carefully planned public transport route: buses from Falmouth to Truro, Truro to Newquay, and Newquay to Newquay Airport, where we would fly to Gatwick before flying on to Barcelona.
Unfortunately the bus on the last leg of our journey did not get us to the airport ten minutes before check-in closed, as timetabled, but arrived just as check-in was closing. We rushed to the check-in desk, waited for the man in front of us to be checked-in, and were then told, “Dispatch closed four minutes ago. You can fly, but we can’t take your luggage.”
My response was, “But we’ve been here for at least two minutes, can’t you rush as through? We’re meeting a connecting flight to take us to Barcelona. We’re sorry we’re late, the bus was late. Please.”
The reply was, “It’s not our fault. Dispatch is closed. If you want to fly we can still check you in, but you’ll have to leave your luggage.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, I asked, “Can I please speak to your manager or supervisor?”
A couple of minutes later a man ambled down some steps and told me, “Dispatch closed eight minutes ago. You won’t be able to fly with your luggage.”
I pleaded, “But we were only two, three at the most, minutes late. If we’d just been checked in straight away, we’d be on the plane already. I accept we are to blame as we are late, but we were only two or three minutes late. It is a small airport and small plane. Is there nothing you can do?”
The reply, “It’s not our fault.”
That’s when, in frustration, anger and upset, I raised my voice. That’s when I was told I would be removed by airport security if I didn’t leave immediately.
So with my daughter in tears, we left the airport and made the three hour, three bus journey back to our home in Falmouth. Six hundred pounds in air fares and a visa (my wife does not have a British passport) wasted and a first family holiday abroad gone: all because of two to three minutes, and the most unhelpful, unsympathetic and unwilling officious staff I have ever encountered.
As Cornwall continues to expand, develop and grow economically, I hope our experience at Newquay Airport is not a reflection of the sign of the times and an indication of what to expect more often in the future.
Be warned any and all of you who intend to fly from Newquay Airport."
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