I love name dropping so here goes: I had quite a long chat with Shaun Gale, the manager of the Hawks (Havant and Waterlooville FC) on Thursday. The Hawks were the team in the FA Cup who put Havant on the map. During the season if you flew to other countries and people asked you where you came from and you said "Havant", they knew where you meant. The exploits of the Hawks culminated in the match at Anfield where the Hawks led mighty Liverpool in the first half of the game and a Cup shock like no other was definitely on the cards.
Anyway I was attending a sustainability conference at Havant College on Thursday and Mr Gale was the guest speaker. We arrived in the car park and I engaged him in conversation on the way in. He was then grabbed by the organisers to go over the arrangements but he came back over to me at the refreshment table before the conference started so we could resume our conversation. Note that, please, he came back over to me not me hanging wailing on to his tracksuit until he gave me some attention. (I am not beyond using such tactics in my search for celebrity attachment but it was unnecessary on this occasion).
My credentials for talking to the Hawks' manager was that I had been at the Hawks v Pompey game on Tuesday of last week. I try to attend the Hawks' home games at West Leigh as they tend to coincide with Pompey away games. I don't know whether my non-attendance of Pompey away games makes me a poor supporter but at least I support both home teams to some degree. I must also confess to looking at Bradford City's results with hope in my heart. Little Brother's early season assessment is "possible promotion strong squad this year" (You heard it here first, folks)
I know Pompey won the Tuesday game 4 - 0 on Tuesday but Hawks were certainly not taken apart by the premier side. I think defence and midfield of the Blue Square side looks strong and capable of doing well in their league, which is why they are tipped as promotion favourites before the season begins. Ben Sahar was the difference in class as he took his two goals with aplomb. The Mvuemba 30 yarder was a scorcher delivered with hardly any backlift and through a crowd of players - the Hawks' goalie had no chance. The fourth goal scored by glen Johnson after a neat reverse pass by Richard Hughes would have been conceded by most teams at any level. I am hoping to cheer Hawks on at the Monday league game tonight. Shaun (or Mr Gale) says it is quite usual to play an away game on Saturday and a home game on the Monday - although it sounds quite knackering to me (and can you imagine the fuss with a Premier league side were required to do that?). He also said attendance is better on a Monday than on the usual Tuesday or Wednesday.
Watched Pompey play in the Community Shield yesterday and have to concede they were poor. Man U played without a forward whereas we had Crouch and Defoe. The difference is in midfield. Last season I thought we were without a cutting edge because of poor strike force. We now have a strike force bar none but poor service limits their effectiveness. Crouch only touched the ball six times in the entire match. Man u passed the ball 307 times compared to Pompey's 177. Fletcher, a midfielder, had the best chance of the entire game. Pompey midfield is incapable of switching from defence to attack swiftly enough. For me, Diarra is an attacking midfielder who should play in the space behind the striker(s) and therefore should share that role with Kranjcar. The latter has had a £12 million offer made for him and is being courted by clubs like Arsenal. On yesterday's showing I would grab the money. I would pay good money for someone like Shaun Wright Phillips who has the ability and the pace to turn defence into attack admittedly down one flank only - although he could do some damage over on the left wing too occasionally. He would provide a reliable outlet to relieve pressure on the defence. He would also provide some service for Crouch and Defoe. I cannot understand why Diop is preferred to Sean Davis. The wardrobe is hardly the most mobile attacking force and isn't that great as a stopping midfielder either. Sean Davis can and will do both. Pedro Mendes is a neat tidy passer and player and would play in my midfield but I am not sure I would use him as a defensive midfielder or enforcer. The great Sol was caught out a couple of times and it is mainly to do with pace. The pace of the attacking midfield is the problem and is our main lack.
I am hoping that we are still in the transfer market and that Pompey will make me eat my words. PUP!
Monday, August 11, 2008
More research needed
On my sister page, "Bench Hamlet 2008", part of my musings concern a personally remembered history of the Bench Theatre. I have based the articles so far on my own remembering rather than referring to any archive materials or memoribilia. This means that some of the anecdotes are factually unsound but , as I often tell the Best Beloved ( my editor in these sort of endeavours), I am not going to ruin a good story for the sake of the truth.
This opening is by way of an apology for a recent posting about Wrong Way Corrigan. The family historian and archivist, my little Brother, has written to me to point out a large error in my retelling of the story. Apparently Douglas was a contemporary of Charles Lindbergh and an American (Irish-American, though), who flew from America to Ireland and not the other way round. I think the essence of the story is correct but the "begorrahs, oi must have flown the wrong way" in a stage Oirish voice doesn't bear close inspection. My little brother has researched the said Wrong Way Corrigan, hence the title of this posting. This is the long but accurate link for those seekers after truth and enlightenment: http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://www.100megspop3.com/bark/Corrigan1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.100megspop3.com/bark/DouglasWrongWayCorrigan.html&h=378&w=500&sz=33&hl=en&start=17&um=1&tbnid=lgQGLnvseHCStM:&tbnh=98&tbnw=130&prev=/images%3Fq%3DCorrigan%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rlz%3D1T4GGLH_enGB273GB273%26sa%3DG
On Friday got a text message from my agent asking about my availability on September 9th and 10th: "Playing 1920's aristocracy in TV programme for Japan." Naturally I threw my hat into the ring replying well before the deadline of 1430 (I always worry whether the message gets through because you have no real way of knowing, do you? Simple non-technical answers appreciated) so am now awaiting the result of the casting director looking over hundreds of CV and photos and hopefully picking me. I am now locked into that state of suspension so well described in the Natty Chap's blog recently (see link to right of The World of Nathan Chapman). What makes me smile though is the description of the job. If given the chance of "Playing 1920's aristocracy" , I would be in danger of typecasting as I played 1930 German diplomat in my last assignment, with short back and sides and all. Anyone who has ever met me will testify and a glimpse of a photo of me (here I will attempt to insert a headshot of moi) will show that I am of a particular stock that could get away with 'noveau riche' (please let me win the lottery) rather than ancient landed aristocracy. I am hoping that the casting director sees the bluff Englishman that could be lurking within- you know - the Dr Watson, the Colonel Pickering, the Agatha Christie squire, the ex pat absentee lord of the manor. The trouble is it all depends on the photo.
I wouldn't mind playing any of those parts by the way, if there are casting directors out there reading this or directors looking for a Colonel Pickering or Dr Watson. I could just about manage the song from My Fair Lady.
I did miss out on playing a taxi driver in a Rimmel commercial. Now you must admit I could get away with playing a London cabbie with those looks, yeh? With pretty girls around though, my concentration would be sorely stretched. Finally on this subject, I love the idea of making a TV programme for Japan. Surely, this means I would never really have the chance to see it. ("Stop calling me Shirley" - quote from an iconic movie)
Sunday, August 03, 2008
A Plan
Sometimes you need a plan and I love the quote from Die Hard 4.0 when, John McLaine is asked whether he had a semblance of a plan, he replies, "Find Lucy. Kill everyone else!"
Notice the simplicity of the plan and the whole plan contained in five words. I can see the drawbacks if you applied that plan generally but I do like its brevity.
When I make a plan it tends to go on for pages and by the time I get to the end of the plan I have certainly forgotten how the plan starts and indeed what the plan is for.
Nowadays I rely upon "to do"lists as if I plan I become rigid ( I am a belt and braces man at heart) and inflexible. If I have spent the time drawing up a plan then the plan will come to fruition at the allotted time or there will be tantrums. The Best Beloved has tried to make me more flexible but the result is I usually end up floppy and indecisive. That last bit doesn't sound good but is accurate I believe.
I am not very good thinking quickly on my feet. I prefer to muse on a problem for a while before coming to a conclusion - the trouble is, once I have made my mind up, I am as stubborn as can be (see Wrong Way Corrigan in previous posting). I invariably regret snap decisions made on the hoof. Yesterday I was expecting to read a short scene with David P at the Havant Arts Centre 30th birthday bash but the ambience wasn't right and we ended up doing theatre games. I am not sure these were the right thing in the circumstances either but on the spur of the moment could not come up with anything better. The Bench needs a street theatre arm or training in order to do these sort of events justice. Our sedate theatrical approach is not conducive to the mobile disinterested crowd situation.
This has been a weekend of celebrations. Friday was Yorkshire Day (official) so I was nearly a month out with my celebration (see previous posting). It was also the 30th birthday of our Firstborn. We spent the day helping Kat move into her new flat and then had an evening meal with the Firstborn at the Sussex Brewery. I wasn't great company as I was very tired after my day as a removal man. although I left most of the lifting to ToyBoy and Natty Chap. Saturday saw the 30th birthday celebrations of the Havant arts Centre as above and I think I can claim to have directed the first ever theatrical production at the Havant Arts Centre back in 1978 (see Bench Hamlet 2008 in links to the right). Today (Sunday) Firstborn is holding a joint Birthday garden party in South Street, Havant, with Vicky Wakelin (whose birthday is August 8th). The weather could be better but the spirits are cheerful. Tomorrow sees the 6th wedding anniversary of the Firstborn and Natty Chap to round off this weekend of familial fun.
I have a couple of meetings this week otherwise my attention is on writing ghostly tales for the Ghost Walk I am doing as part of the Literary Festival at the end of September and planning a Storytelling session I am doing at the Arts Centre as part of the same event. People keep asking for decisions on the two activities and until I have committed them to paper they simply don't exist for me except in the most abstract sense.
Other than that it is hoping we can push on with the foundations for the extension, weather permitting, and that England can restore some cricketing pride by beating the South Africans just once, and that Pompey buy Shaun Wright-Phillips in time for the Community Shield next Sunday.
I am still working on my holiday films and I am obliged to Ian Wegg for his idea of putting "Les Madamoiselles des ecluses de Nivernais" on the cardiac rehab website but I think if I ever finish editing it will appear here or on my Facebook page. I also have a plan for another Debbie Hobbs' cardiac rehab film for her website, www.cardiacrehabphaseiv.com.
You see I have plans: "Find Lucy. Kill everyone else."
Notice the simplicity of the plan and the whole plan contained in five words. I can see the drawbacks if you applied that plan generally but I do like its brevity.
When I make a plan it tends to go on for pages and by the time I get to the end of the plan I have certainly forgotten how the plan starts and indeed what the plan is for.
Nowadays I rely upon "to do"lists as if I plan I become rigid ( I am a belt and braces man at heart) and inflexible. If I have spent the time drawing up a plan then the plan will come to fruition at the allotted time or there will be tantrums. The Best Beloved has tried to make me more flexible but the result is I usually end up floppy and indecisive. That last bit doesn't sound good but is accurate I believe.
I am not very good thinking quickly on my feet. I prefer to muse on a problem for a while before coming to a conclusion - the trouble is, once I have made my mind up, I am as stubborn as can be (see Wrong Way Corrigan in previous posting). I invariably regret snap decisions made on the hoof. Yesterday I was expecting to read a short scene with David P at the Havant Arts Centre 30th birthday bash but the ambience wasn't right and we ended up doing theatre games. I am not sure these were the right thing in the circumstances either but on the spur of the moment could not come up with anything better. The Bench needs a street theatre arm or training in order to do these sort of events justice. Our sedate theatrical approach is not conducive to the mobile disinterested crowd situation.
This has been a weekend of celebrations. Friday was Yorkshire Day (official) so I was nearly a month out with my celebration (see previous posting). It was also the 30th birthday of our Firstborn. We spent the day helping Kat move into her new flat and then had an evening meal with the Firstborn at the Sussex Brewery. I wasn't great company as I was very tired after my day as a removal man. although I left most of the lifting to ToyBoy and Natty Chap. Saturday saw the 30th birthday celebrations of the Havant arts Centre as above and I think I can claim to have directed the first ever theatrical production at the Havant Arts Centre back in 1978 (see Bench Hamlet 2008 in links to the right). Today (Sunday) Firstborn is holding a joint Birthday garden party in South Street, Havant, with Vicky Wakelin (whose birthday is August 8th). The weather could be better but the spirits are cheerful. Tomorrow sees the 6th wedding anniversary of the Firstborn and Natty Chap to round off this weekend of familial fun.
I have a couple of meetings this week otherwise my attention is on writing ghostly tales for the Ghost Walk I am doing as part of the Literary Festival at the end of September and planning a Storytelling session I am doing at the Arts Centre as part of the same event. People keep asking for decisions on the two activities and until I have committed them to paper they simply don't exist for me except in the most abstract sense.
Other than that it is hoping we can push on with the foundations for the extension, weather permitting, and that England can restore some cricketing pride by beating the South Africans just once, and that Pompey buy Shaun Wright-Phillips in time for the Community Shield next Sunday.
I am still working on my holiday films and I am obliged to Ian Wegg for his idea of putting "Les Madamoiselles des ecluses de Nivernais" on the cardiac rehab website but I think if I ever finish editing it will appear here or on my Facebook page. I also have a plan for another Debbie Hobbs' cardiac rehab film for her website, www.cardiacrehabphaseiv.com.
You see I have plans: "Find Lucy. Kill everyone else."
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
An extension
I had meant to follow up our super holiday on the Nivernais canal with a couple of postings but I have been slowed down by the technicalities of getting a couple of films edited and up and running. One is of Debbie, the Cradiac Rehab IV tutor, demonstrating useful exercises to do at home for her website. The other two are based on the holiday. "Baguettes....I've Had a Few" is a record of our time on the boats and if you say the title correctly you can hear the associated tune. The title was suggested by the impeccable David P. The second holiday film, "Les Madamoiselles des ecluses de Nivernais", is my salute to the beautiful and very fit young women operating the lock gates on the Nivernais this summer. There were young men and older men doing the job as well but the camera just wasn't attracted to them - they weren't as photogenic. I think, Kitten, that's why I prefer Next Top Model to Supermodel.
Kitten moves out of the family home at the end of July and I am going to miss the education in films and TV series I have overlooked. I am particularly enjoying "Bones" at the moment.
Anyways, this posting is entitled "An extension" because this week we are beginning to build a new extension on our house. My family have always claimed allegiance with Wrong Way Corrigan, who was refused permission in the early days of aviation to fly from Ireland to New York. One day he took off from a fog bound Ireland and, lo and behold, begorrah, and would you believe it, landed in New York! When taken to task for this unauthorised flight, his ingenious reply was "I must have flown the wrong way!" - hence his new name, Wrong Way Corrigan.
What has Wrong Way Corrigan to do with building an extension? Well, when everyone else is complaining about credit crunches and falling house prices, we are spending good money on building works. I feel my children at least might deserve an explanation as it is their inheritance I am spending!
I am also of that persuasion that if someone tells me there is something I shouldn't do, stubbornness kicks in and, even if it kills me, I will do whatever it is I shouldn't.
When we had both retired, we debated whether or not to downsize, but decided we hadn't really had the opportunity to enjoy this lovely house as much as we wanted. We discussed what was needed to help us enjoy it more. The first thing we decided was that a new kitchen was top priority. Ours has seen good service, and is familiar and comfortable, but showing signs of age. (I re-read that last sentence to myself and felt it would work as a self-description too.) We therefore decided we would need a new kitchen. Now at present a wall divides our kitchen from the dining room and the only connection is a small serving hatch between the two. This has been quite sufficient for me to bellow through at meal times but the Best Beloved has always hated the sense of detachment when we are entertaining. She wanted that wall down and the kitchen to become an integral part of the dining room. We explored the idea with an architect and suddenly the idea grew that we could extend the new kitchen/dining room out into the garden where our old patio is. Once we hit upon this ground floor extension it occurred to us that we could then add an en-suite to the master bedroom.
We have had Kitten as a house guest for a year now and believe me an en-suite would have been useful during that time. We also have a four bedroom house so our dreams of inviting people over for a Saturday meal and then offering accommodation afterwards could be realised. We also have a far flung family and circle of friends to whom we could offer a weekend retreat.
We also decided that unless circumstances drastically change we shall get a good ten years out of our extended house so here we go! Wish us luck!
Kitten moves out of the family home at the end of July and I am going to miss the education in films and TV series I have overlooked. I am particularly enjoying "Bones" at the moment.
Anyways, this posting is entitled "An extension" because this week we are beginning to build a new extension on our house. My family have always claimed allegiance with Wrong Way Corrigan, who was refused permission in the early days of aviation to fly from Ireland to New York. One day he took off from a fog bound Ireland and, lo and behold, begorrah, and would you believe it, landed in New York! When taken to task for this unauthorised flight, his ingenious reply was "I must have flown the wrong way!" - hence his new name, Wrong Way Corrigan.
What has Wrong Way Corrigan to do with building an extension? Well, when everyone else is complaining about credit crunches and falling house prices, we are spending good money on building works. I feel my children at least might deserve an explanation as it is their inheritance I am spending!
I am also of that persuasion that if someone tells me there is something I shouldn't do, stubbornness kicks in and, even if it kills me, I will do whatever it is I shouldn't.
When we had both retired, we debated whether or not to downsize, but decided we hadn't really had the opportunity to enjoy this lovely house as much as we wanted. We discussed what was needed to help us enjoy it more. The first thing we decided was that a new kitchen was top priority. Ours has seen good service, and is familiar and comfortable, but showing signs of age. (I re-read that last sentence to myself and felt it would work as a self-description too.) We therefore decided we would need a new kitchen. Now at present a wall divides our kitchen from the dining room and the only connection is a small serving hatch between the two. This has been quite sufficient for me to bellow through at meal times but the Best Beloved has always hated the sense of detachment when we are entertaining. She wanted that wall down and the kitchen to become an integral part of the dining room. We explored the idea with an architect and suddenly the idea grew that we could extend the new kitchen/dining room out into the garden where our old patio is. Once we hit upon this ground floor extension it occurred to us that we could then add an en-suite to the master bedroom.
We have had Kitten as a house guest for a year now and believe me an en-suite would have been useful during that time. We also have a four bedroom house so our dreams of inviting people over for a Saturday meal and then offering accommodation afterwards could be realised. We also have a far flung family and circle of friends to whom we could offer a weekend retreat.
We also decided that unless circumstances drastically change we shall get a good ten years out of our extended house so here we go! Wish us luck!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Free personality analysis
Thanks to Pedthered, I took a personality analysis test today using a colour selection technique. Pedthered and the hyperlink can be found by clicking on the link to the right to "Adventures of Archimedes". When you get there click on "What are you doing in there?" and you should arrive at Pedthered!
Pedthered also lists his report and his stress sources are remarkably similar to mine. Also like him, I find the report below sums me up rather well.
Your existing situation
Feels obstructed in his desires and prevented from obtaining the things he regards as essential.
Your stress sources
Has an unsatisfied need to ally himself with others whose standards are as high as his own, and to stand out from the herd. This desire for pre-eminence isolates him and inhibits his readiness to give himself freely. While he wants to surrender and let himself go, he regards this as a weakness which must be resisted. This self-restraint, he feels, will lift him above the rank and file and ensure recognition as a unique and distinctive personality.
Your restrained characteristics
Willing top participate and to allow himself to become involved, but tries to fend off conflict and disturbance in order to reduce tension.
Believes that he is not receiving his share - that he is neither properly understood nor adequately appreciated. Feels that he is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave him without any sense of emotional involvement.
Egocentric and therefore quick to take offence. Sensitive and sentimental, but conceals this from all except those very close to him.
Your desired objective
Needs a change in his circumstances or in his relationships which will permit relief from stress. Seeking a solution which will open up new and better possibilities and allow hopes to be fulfilled.
Your Actual Problem
Feels insufficiently valued in his existing situation, and is seeking different conditions in which he will have greater opportunity of demonstrating his worth.
Over on my sister page, Bench Hamlet 2008, I have written a review of "Music Man" at the Chichester Festival Theatre, which the Best Beloved and I saw last night. Please read, if you can.
Pedthered also lists his report and his stress sources are remarkably similar to mine. Also like him, I find the report below sums me up rather well.
Your existing situation
Feels obstructed in his desires and prevented from obtaining the things he regards as essential.
Your stress sources
Has an unsatisfied need to ally himself with others whose standards are as high as his own, and to stand out from the herd. This desire for pre-eminence isolates him and inhibits his readiness to give himself freely. While he wants to surrender and let himself go, he regards this as a weakness which must be resisted. This self-restraint, he feels, will lift him above the rank and file and ensure recognition as a unique and distinctive personality.
Your restrained characteristics
Willing top participate and to allow himself to become involved, but tries to fend off conflict and disturbance in order to reduce tension.
Believes that he is not receiving his share - that he is neither properly understood nor adequately appreciated. Feels that he is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave him without any sense of emotional involvement.
Egocentric and therefore quick to take offence. Sensitive and sentimental, but conceals this from all except those very close to him.
Your desired objective
Needs a change in his circumstances or in his relationships which will permit relief from stress. Seeking a solution which will open up new and better possibilities and allow hopes to be fulfilled.
Your Actual Problem
Feels insufficiently valued in his existing situation, and is seeking different conditions in which he will have greater opportunity of demonstrating his worth.
Over on my sister page, Bench Hamlet 2008, I have written a review of "Music Man" at the Chichester Festival Theatre, which the Best Beloved and I saw last night. Please read, if you can.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Wishes
Married couple in their 60's are visited by a fairy who grants them both a wish.
"I want to travel the world with my darling husband," says the wife. Two tickets for a luxury cruise magically appear in her hand.
Husband says: "Sorry, love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me!" So the fairy waves her wand and the husband becomes 92.
Moral of the story:
men are ungrateful bastards who should remember that fairies are female!
"I want to travel the world with my darling husband," says the wife. Two tickets for a luxury cruise magically appear in her hand.
Husband says: "Sorry, love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me!" So the fairy waves her wand and the husband becomes 92.
Moral of the story:
men are ungrateful bastards who should remember that fairies are female!
Friday, July 04, 2008
Independence Day
Independence Day 2008.
The ogre waved goodbye and said." Sweet rose, have no fear! In your life, I will never re-appear!". With that he was gone and was never seen by the rose again.
Friday, June 13, 2008
At work
In the previous posting I used the expression "too coy" for describing my actions, but on reconsideration I don't think "coy" is the word at all (although I am actually a very shy person)> I think a better word in the circumstance would be "twee". It would be too precious, too twee, even for me to use the expression "filming" rather than the much butcher "working".
I was green as green on the first day of filming in London and am eternally grateful to David da Silva for the time and effort he put into coaching me through the day. David had come straight from the set of "Wolfman" and his hair style was appropriate to that film, so Fran, the film hairdresser, soon sorted him out with a short back and sides. David and Roger from Wales helped me enormously by sharing their hard won expertise, which other less generous souls may have kept to themselves, as after all I was a possible source of competition for future roles.
I took books to read and puzzles to do but all were abandoned in the excitement of learning new routines and meeting some fascinating people with wonderful anecdotes. I am a real sucker for theatrical and film stories: the one about Brendan Gleeson arriving on set as a large than life, hulking, jovial Irishman turning into a smaller Churchill with the Churchillian tones once the cameras started rolling.
I did rub shoulders literally with the star of the film, John Cusack. On the first day of shooting in London, he was part of a scene and we extras were ordered to return to our starting positions. One hundred and fifty people in swirling motion and one of them, yours truly, a little ungainly collided with the stationary star. He wisely had remained completely still during the changeover and I, in avoiding other extras on the move, bumped into him. This is a faux pas extraordinaire and visions of execution or summary dismissal sprang into my mind in those frozen micro seconds as I realised who I bumped into. He, to his great credit, simply looked slightly startled at this seventeen stone extra at his side and never uttered a sound. Luckily, my native wit came to my rescue and I mumbled the immortal "Pardon" and hurried away. As I was several feet away at the top of a very large staircase I thought I was going to be safe unless pursued by a hue and cry. I have learned that this is a no brain job and that one must do exactly what the Assistant Directors (ADs) tell you. When they say "Jump", the only allowable response is "How high?".
The ADs on this production were fantastic and their professionalism and kindness seemed to stem from the approach of Mikael Hafstrom the director. Michel Cheyko, or Mishka, is the first assistant director and he did most of the large scale organisation with the help of Andy, Sonny, Glen and Laura. The most important ADs for the background crowd were Michael and Clare. Michael, I believe, won a Bafta for his work in the film industry and on this experience I would say it was well deserved. No longer a young man, he was always full of energy and coached, cajoled and commended the large crowd with good humour. He handled us skilfully, giving praise when needed and geeing us up when tiredness crept in. David Whiting, in charge of costumes, spent most of the days in American uniform although was not appearing on screen, and was a main source of much amusement and good humour. Clare was the AD in charge of organising the crowd and spent a lot of time off set doing the paperwork, including the white chits, and phoning agents. One of the things I did notice was the production company preferred to inform the agents rather than us directly, so on the long drive home as described in the previous posting I would be texted with the details of the next day's filming. I also had a phone call from my team manager asking where a chit of mine was while I was in the portakabin loo putting in my contact lenses. Extras are not allowed to have their mobiles on the set and ADs develop a kind of antenna which detects mobiles in costumes. Julie Weiss , the designer, was particularly adept at spotting a concealed mobile. The reason the mobiles are clutched so avidly by the extras is that news of further work or further details of the production they are currently working on is constantly being relayed by your agent. My mobile has never been as busy as it was in that week.
I am not at liberty to divulge too much of what went on on set but the plot summary reads like this: A '40s period piece which revolves around an American expat who returns to Shanghai in the months before Pearl Harbor due to the death of his friend. Details can be found on www.imdb.com (The Internet Movie Database) for which I am indebted to Kat for putting my way. You have to search for Shanghai 2008. I was privileged to watch John Cusack, Li Gong, Chow Yun Fat, Franke Potente (from Bourne Identity) and Wulf Kahler. Wulf was by far the most approachable of the cast and I remember having a conversation about his work with Stanley Kubrick on Barry Lyndon (1975). I had asked about close ups and acting. The Barry Lyndon had been Wulf's debut close up and had been made difficult by the use of candlelight. However in the hands of "a good man" like Stanley Kubrick it was made easy. Oh, you can imagine, gentle reader, I was in seventh heaven during this conversation.
I also had to learn the art of miming conversation. The camera has you probably knows will be moved countless times in order to capture a scene from every angle. Once the soundtrack is laid down or another conversation is being filmed which will be superimposed on the original, the conversation in the background is mimed. This is much more difficult than it looks as whispering is not allowed as sound will pick it up. Movement has to be carefully done so there is no sound of footfalls. Barry aka Brad Pitt was brilliant at mimed conversation and despite all my theatrical experience I was hard pressed to learn how to do it. I fear I was OTT (but people will say that applies to my acting too so no surprise there). It is made even harder by the Ad requiring more energy in our performances!
I am off on a fortnight canal boat holiday on the Nivernais canal with the Penroses and the best beloved. No waiting for the summer holidays for us. I am taking a movie camera with me to hopefully record some of the fun and to keep my hand in with the film world. I hope to return to further work from my agent and to your esteemed and much appreciated company, dear reader.
Bonne vacance et bon voyage!
I was green as green on the first day of filming in London and am eternally grateful to David da Silva for the time and effort he put into coaching me through the day. David had come straight from the set of "Wolfman" and his hair style was appropriate to that film, so Fran, the film hairdresser, soon sorted him out with a short back and sides. David and Roger from Wales helped me enormously by sharing their hard won expertise, which other less generous souls may have kept to themselves, as after all I was a possible source of competition for future roles.
I took books to read and puzzles to do but all were abandoned in the excitement of learning new routines and meeting some fascinating people with wonderful anecdotes. I am a real sucker for theatrical and film stories: the one about Brendan Gleeson arriving on set as a large than life, hulking, jovial Irishman turning into a smaller Churchill with the Churchillian tones once the cameras started rolling.
I did rub shoulders literally with the star of the film, John Cusack. On the first day of shooting in London, he was part of a scene and we extras were ordered to return to our starting positions. One hundred and fifty people in swirling motion and one of them, yours truly, a little ungainly collided with the stationary star. He wisely had remained completely still during the changeover and I, in avoiding other extras on the move, bumped into him. This is a faux pas extraordinaire and visions of execution or summary dismissal sprang into my mind in those frozen micro seconds as I realised who I bumped into. He, to his great credit, simply looked slightly startled at this seventeen stone extra at his side and never uttered a sound. Luckily, my native wit came to my rescue and I mumbled the immortal "Pardon" and hurried away. As I was several feet away at the top of a very large staircase I thought I was going to be safe unless pursued by a hue and cry. I have learned that this is a no brain job and that one must do exactly what the Assistant Directors (ADs) tell you. When they say "Jump", the only allowable response is "How high?".
The ADs on this production were fantastic and their professionalism and kindness seemed to stem from the approach of Mikael Hafstrom the director. Michel Cheyko, or Mishka, is the first assistant director and he did most of the large scale organisation with the help of Andy, Sonny, Glen and Laura. The most important ADs for the background crowd were Michael and Clare. Michael, I believe, won a Bafta for his work in the film industry and on this experience I would say it was well deserved. No longer a young man, he was always full of energy and coached, cajoled and commended the large crowd with good humour. He handled us skilfully, giving praise when needed and geeing us up when tiredness crept in. David Whiting, in charge of costumes, spent most of the days in American uniform although was not appearing on screen, and was a main source of much amusement and good humour. Clare was the AD in charge of organising the crowd and spent a lot of time off set doing the paperwork, including the white chits, and phoning agents. One of the things I did notice was the production company preferred to inform the agents rather than us directly, so on the long drive home as described in the previous posting I would be texted with the details of the next day's filming. I also had a phone call from my team manager asking where a chit of mine was while I was in the portakabin loo putting in my contact lenses. Extras are not allowed to have their mobiles on the set and ADs develop a kind of antenna which detects mobiles in costumes. Julie Weiss , the designer, was particularly adept at spotting a concealed mobile. The reason the mobiles are clutched so avidly by the extras is that news of further work or further details of the production they are currently working on is constantly being relayed by your agent. My mobile has never been as busy as it was in that week.
I am not at liberty to divulge too much of what went on on set but the plot summary reads like this: A '40s period piece which revolves around an American expat who returns to Shanghai in the months before Pearl Harbor due to the death of his friend. Details can be found on www.imdb.com (The Internet Movie Database) for which I am indebted to Kat for putting my way. You have to search for Shanghai 2008. I was privileged to watch John Cusack, Li Gong, Chow Yun Fat, Franke Potente (from Bourne Identity) and Wulf Kahler. Wulf was by far the most approachable of the cast and I remember having a conversation about his work with Stanley Kubrick on Barry Lyndon (1975). I had asked about close ups and acting. The Barry Lyndon had been Wulf's debut close up and had been made difficult by the use of candlelight. However in the hands of "a good man" like Stanley Kubrick it was made easy. Oh, you can imagine, gentle reader, I was in seventh heaven during this conversation.
I also had to learn the art of miming conversation. The camera has you probably knows will be moved countless times in order to capture a scene from every angle. Once the soundtrack is laid down or another conversation is being filmed which will be superimposed on the original, the conversation in the background is mimed. This is much more difficult than it looks as whispering is not allowed as sound will pick it up. Movement has to be carefully done so there is no sound of footfalls. Barry aka Brad Pitt was brilliant at mimed conversation and despite all my theatrical experience I was hard pressed to learn how to do it. I fear I was OTT (but people will say that applies to my acting too so no surprise there). It is made even harder by the Ad requiring more energy in our performances!
I am off on a fortnight canal boat holiday on the Nivernais canal with the Penroses and the best beloved. No waiting for the summer holidays for us. I am taking a movie camera with me to hopefully record some of the fun and to keep my hand in with the film world. I hope to return to further work from my agent and to your esteemed and much appreciated company, dear reader.
Bonne vacance et bon voyage!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Getting to work
I had thought to string together a beautifully written account of last week's filming but in the end have had to settle for bits and pieces picked out of my logbook. I hope this is of some interest to my intrepid reader but it is also intended as an aide-memoire to me.
Firstly, I am going to refer to future work opportunities as "working" as "filming" is too precious, too coy, even for me. It is also a realisation that being a background or support artiste is bloody hard work. I was warned by everyone I know, especially by Kate, but you don't realise the truth of it until you are into your third 14 hour day on the trot. Parts of me ached that had never ached before. Fourteen hour days I can hear people scoff already! But if you add on the couple of hours at least to get there and the couple of hours needed to get back home and the nature of the work itself, it begins to take its toll. Mind you, I wouldn't swap it for supply teaching.
I had thought it would be 0700 to 1900 with the main problem getting there for the 0700 call time. I solved the Sunday filming in central London by staying overnight in Ealing with NIL (Nephew in Law) and his family before catching a night bus into Trafalgar Square (the square is a real hub for bus transport into and out of the centre at all hours) and then walking to the hotel. Andrew and Helen have offered me a permanent house guest status for London based work for which I am very grateful. It means arriving at 1730 for tea with Carys and Morgan, and then dinner at 2000 with the adults - how civilised is that?
However I should have been warned when the Sunday filming ended at 2100, changing out of costume and getting my chit signed by the assistant directors (AD's) and I arrived home at midnight. The location on the Tuesday was in deepest Buckinghamshire and multimap said the journey would take two hours. Luckily I allowed three hours - although more experienced hands say allow for double the journey time as it is best to arrive before call time and wait than run the risk of being late. I was lucky because the call was for 1045 but there were hold ups at Hindhead, Guildford and the M25, all exaggerated by the rain and the rush hour. I thought the ADs were being kind but realised that the crew need a 12 hour turn around before shooting can begin again. I realised this when we finished the last wrap at 0100 on Wednesday morning and I got home just after 0300! That last bit of the A3(M) was when I began to feel tired on the drive home - up until I had been driving on adrenalin and very loud music.
Firstly, I am going to refer to future work opportunities as "working" as "filming" is too precious, too coy, even for me. It is also a realisation that being a background or support artiste is bloody hard work. I was warned by everyone I know, especially by Kate, but you don't realise the truth of it until you are into your third 14 hour day on the trot. Parts of me ached that had never ached before. Fourteen hour days I can hear people scoff already! But if you add on the couple of hours at least to get there and the couple of hours needed to get back home and the nature of the work itself, it begins to take its toll. Mind you, I wouldn't swap it for supply teaching.
I had thought it would be 0700 to 1900 with the main problem getting there for the 0700 call time. I solved the Sunday filming in central London by staying overnight in Ealing with NIL (Nephew in Law) and his family before catching a night bus into Trafalgar Square (the square is a real hub for bus transport into and out of the centre at all hours) and then walking to the hotel. Andrew and Helen have offered me a permanent house guest status for London based work for which I am very grateful. It means arriving at 1730 for tea with Carys and Morgan, and then dinner at 2000 with the adults - how civilised is that?
However I should have been warned when the Sunday filming ended at 2100, changing out of costume and getting my chit signed by the assistant directors (AD's) and I arrived home at midnight. The location on the Tuesday was in deepest Buckinghamshire and multimap said the journey would take two hours. Luckily I allowed three hours - although more experienced hands say allow for double the journey time as it is best to arrive before call time and wait than run the risk of being late. I was lucky because the call was for 1045 but there were hold ups at Hindhead, Guildford and the M25, all exaggerated by the rain and the rush hour. I thought the ADs were being kind but realised that the crew need a 12 hour turn around before shooting can begin again. I realised this when we finished the last wrap at 0100 on Wednesday morning and I got home just after 0300! That last bit of the A3(M) was when I began to feel tired on the drive home - up until I had been driving on adrenalin and very loud music.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Filming - yayyyyy!
Had a wonderful day yesterday filming from 0700 till 2100 in central London. Details will follow in a later posting as today I am recovering and planning how to get to the next location in Bucks on Tuesday and Wednesday. The latter shoot is a night shoot starting at 1500 and finishing at 0300 the next day. I now understand why Wednesday and Thursday had to be pencilled in for availability. There is also Sunday 8th in heavy pencil as well. Yesterday of course was daily pay rate plus broken lunch allowance, plus holiday allowance (for a Sunday) plus travel allowance and, of course, overtime! My first day on set was not only exciting, interesting, absorbing, etc., it was also quite lucrative.
My location postings will probably be Friday and/ or Saturday of this week. I had thought I would spend most of the time reading but I met such an interesting crowd with such lovely anecdotes, literally rubbed shoulders with stars (one of those might be classed a newcomer's faux pas!) and great frocks! Keep tuning in for the next exciting episode.....
My location postings will probably be Friday and/ or Saturday of this week. I had thought I would spend most of the time reading but I met such an interesting crowd with such lovely anecdotes, literally rubbed shoulders with stars (one of those might be classed a newcomer's faux pas!) and great frocks! Keep tuning in for the next exciting episode.....
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Hiding in plain sight
As a father I like to pretend that I am the one with the wisdom to be dispensed to daughters in particular and to youngsters in general.
However I have just read a profound post about "Acting" from Kat on her blog listed in the column to the right (Alice's Adventures in Blogland) or http://bloglandadventures.blogspot.com/. In it she describes her thoughts and feeling and experiences about the possibility of entering the acting profession.
It was her comments in the final paragraph that caught me particularly. She describes herself as being "shy and awkward". This is an appearance that I have tried to cover up in myself since for ever. Only my chum, David Penrose, realises, because he is the same, that I am an introvert moving around in an extrovert world. I am an ugly, ungainly sort of chap, who finds it difficult to communicate with others directly, which is probably why I like emails and blogs. I enjoy acting because it is an assumption of another character whose life, decisions and speech are curtailed by the playing time on the stage. I don't have to think what to say or how to react, I just have to remember the lines and the emotions rehearsed many times before the performance.
I love Kat's honesty and directness. Sometimes this can be quite disconcerting at close quarters but as my Gran would say, "You can't make a pearl without a bit of grit." I think my Gran would approve of Kat almost as much as I do. I know my mother would have adored her and understood her.
Today I am in a bit of a panic as I am trying to organise myself for location filming in London tomorrow morning at 7.00 a.m. There ain't no trains to London and there ain't no Tube till 0630. My nephew in law, Nil, has come up trumps but it means staying up in London overnight and then returning home Sunday night.
I am looking forward to the filming as I think I will find the whole process fascinating but will also have a good book as well. However I think it will be interesting rather than glamorous and if the fitting session at Elstree was anything to go by will find myself surrounded by beautiful, young Russian girls, slim, and clad in gorgeous 1940's evening wear. This may sound great but it will probably be like being in an open boat on the sea surrounded by ocean with not a drop of water to drink. There is a useful analogy in there if you are willing to work for it. Anyway, must go now, want to write a review of "Brassed Off" for my sister blog, "Bench Hamlet 2008".
Will update you on adventures in filmland on Monday.
However I have just read a profound post about "Acting" from Kat on her blog listed in the column to the right (Alice's Adventures in Blogland) or http://bloglandadventures.blogspot.com/. In it she describes her thoughts and feeling and experiences about the possibility of entering the acting profession.
It was her comments in the final paragraph that caught me particularly. She describes herself as being "shy and awkward". This is an appearance that I have tried to cover up in myself since for ever. Only my chum, David Penrose, realises, because he is the same, that I am an introvert moving around in an extrovert world. I am an ugly, ungainly sort of chap, who finds it difficult to communicate with others directly, which is probably why I like emails and blogs. I enjoy acting because it is an assumption of another character whose life, decisions and speech are curtailed by the playing time on the stage. I don't have to think what to say or how to react, I just have to remember the lines and the emotions rehearsed many times before the performance.
I love Kat's honesty and directness. Sometimes this can be quite disconcerting at close quarters but as my Gran would say, "You can't make a pearl without a bit of grit." I think my Gran would approve of Kat almost as much as I do. I know my mother would have adored her and understood her.
Today I am in a bit of a panic as I am trying to organise myself for location filming in London tomorrow morning at 7.00 a.m. There ain't no trains to London and there ain't no Tube till 0630. My nephew in law, Nil, has come up trumps but it means staying up in London overnight and then returning home Sunday night.
I am looking forward to the filming as I think I will find the whole process fascinating but will also have a good book as well. However I think it will be interesting rather than glamorous and if the fitting session at Elstree was anything to go by will find myself surrounded by beautiful, young Russian girls, slim, and clad in gorgeous 1940's evening wear. This may sound great but it will probably be like being in an open boat on the sea surrounded by ocean with not a drop of water to drink. There is a useful analogy in there if you are willing to work for it. Anyway, must go now, want to write a review of "Brassed Off" for my sister blog, "Bench Hamlet 2008".
Will update you on adventures in filmland on Monday.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Late Bank Holiday Monday
The Best Beloved spent most of yesterday making bread by hand. We were introduced to the idea of making our own bread last year when we were in France with our friends, the Cattermoles. Terry has his own bread making machine and apparently they are all the rage over here as well now. However the independent and headstrong Best Beloved is determined to make her bread without the initial outlay of money for an electric breadmaker (£50 in Comet). Her effort yesterday wasn't as successful as she hoped and she has gone back to the recipe books to find out why. I am sure she will succeed because she is a determined lady.
There was a letter in the Times about someone describing joining the officer's mess of a regiment. There he was asked to behave like an officer and gentleman by his commanding officer. He asked the latter to define what was meant by an officer and a gentleman. The reply was, "A gentleman is never seen to be carrying a parcel. A gentleman never dances backwards in a waltz. Every woman in his presence feels like a lady." I am not sure about the first two but feel I could make a go of the last one.
I had my annual health check and everything seems to be in working order. My blood sugar level came back at 5.3, which I think is normal. My weight seems to have only dropped 1 kg since I was measured the same time last year. This is not very accurate as when I was measured last year I had just come out of hospital and had lost two stone as a result of my experience. I then gained weight up until Christmas but have been losing it ever since. I was nearly 18 stone at Christmas and am now hovering around the 17 stone mark. I was 16 stone 13lb last week. I am confident of achieving the 16 stone mark by December this year ( or 2lbs per month). Debbie has promised me a party if I make 16 stone. It will give me an incentive to drop to 15 stone by this time next year. Onwards and downwards as far as weight goes!
I read back over my own postings and re-read the one about PE and Games. I realised this week is half term week. I used to hate the half term week in Summer as it was the one I inevitably spent writing up the children's annual reports. I have always been a deadliner and always promised I would construct the things piecemeal but inevitably it would come to this week and the only way I could get them finished was to put my head down and do them. So my condolences to all my teacher friends out there who are writing reports! Mind you, our school used to write a half way report in Spring too so the Spring half term week was also spent writing reports.
I understand from somewhere that one of the ideas afoot is that teacher comments on pupils will be published online so that parents can access them via a secure intranet. It seems like a jolly good idea for parents - they can avoid the termly parents' evenings - but would mean extra strain for the teacher in making time during the week to update records online. From my experience, children learn in a similar fashion to the way in which they grow. Growth spurts take place after a plateau when nothing seems to be happening on the surface. Underneath though all the nutrients and chemical needed to promote growth are being accumulated by the body and then whoosh inches are added seemingly overnight. Learning is a bit like that. The child seems to have made no progress and seems to be on a plateau of achievement. But underneath the concepts are being gathered and assessed until one day the light goes on and the plateau becomes a steep curve before levelling out again. The weekly access to pupil records seem to be an equivalent of pulling the new plant out of its pot to make sure the roots are growing. We will have parents asking why their child hasn't made progress since the previous week. If all the subjects are okay, they will find the one subject that isn't, e.g. "Why isn't my child's progress in speaking Outer Mongolian as good as his other subjects?"
Ah well I have used up all my Tuesday writing time updating this blog so must go off and see the beautiful Debbie now. She was talking of filming this afternoon's session for use on the website. Oh what it is to be surrounded by cameras!
There was a letter in the Times about someone describing joining the officer's mess of a regiment. There he was asked to behave like an officer and gentleman by his commanding officer. He asked the latter to define what was meant by an officer and a gentleman. The reply was, "A gentleman is never seen to be carrying a parcel. A gentleman never dances backwards in a waltz. Every woman in his presence feels like a lady." I am not sure about the first two but feel I could make a go of the last one.
I had my annual health check and everything seems to be in working order. My blood sugar level came back at 5.3, which I think is normal. My weight seems to have only dropped 1 kg since I was measured the same time last year. This is not very accurate as when I was measured last year I had just come out of hospital and had lost two stone as a result of my experience. I then gained weight up until Christmas but have been losing it ever since. I was nearly 18 stone at Christmas and am now hovering around the 17 stone mark. I was 16 stone 13lb last week. I am confident of achieving the 16 stone mark by December this year ( or 2lbs per month). Debbie has promised me a party if I make 16 stone. It will give me an incentive to drop to 15 stone by this time next year. Onwards and downwards as far as weight goes!
I read back over my own postings and re-read the one about PE and Games. I realised this week is half term week. I used to hate the half term week in Summer as it was the one I inevitably spent writing up the children's annual reports. I have always been a deadliner and always promised I would construct the things piecemeal but inevitably it would come to this week and the only way I could get them finished was to put my head down and do them. So my condolences to all my teacher friends out there who are writing reports! Mind you, our school used to write a half way report in Spring too so the Spring half term week was also spent writing reports.
I understand from somewhere that one of the ideas afoot is that teacher comments on pupils will be published online so that parents can access them via a secure intranet. It seems like a jolly good idea for parents - they can avoid the termly parents' evenings - but would mean extra strain for the teacher in making time during the week to update records online. From my experience, children learn in a similar fashion to the way in which they grow. Growth spurts take place after a plateau when nothing seems to be happening on the surface. Underneath though all the nutrients and chemical needed to promote growth are being accumulated by the body and then whoosh inches are added seemingly overnight. Learning is a bit like that. The child seems to have made no progress and seems to be on a plateau of achievement. But underneath the concepts are being gathered and assessed until one day the light goes on and the plateau becomes a steep curve before levelling out again. The weekly access to pupil records seem to be an equivalent of pulling the new plant out of its pot to make sure the roots are growing. We will have parents asking why their child hasn't made progress since the previous week. If all the subjects are okay, they will find the one subject that isn't, e.g. "Why isn't my child's progress in speaking Outer Mongolian as good as his other subjects?"
Ah well I have used up all my Tuesday writing time updating this blog so must go off and see the beautiful Debbie now. She was talking of filming this afternoon's session for use on the website. Oh what it is to be surrounded by cameras!
Cuckoo in the Nest
I have just finished reading “Cuckoo in the Nest” by Michelle Magorian. Both Kat and Best Beloved had read it previously and both wanted me to read it to see my reaction. It took me two days but I have guffawed and wept in equal measure as I read through the story of the Hollis family in the winter of 1946 and early spring of 1947. This was exactly the period in which I was born (January 1947) and the book recounts vividly one of the worst winters in recorded history.
It concerns a working class lad who has been to grammar school and gained his School Certificate. This puts him at odds with his family, especially his father, and his background. I know we all claim to come from the working class but I really did. I also went to Carlton Grammar School when I was 11 and gained my GCSEs. I recognise the syndrome of being a Cuckoo in the nest.
The empathy is doubled as one reads about the Palace theatre, Winford and Ralph (‘Rayfe’ as the actors pronounce it) tries to embark on an actor’s life. I loved the descriptions and accounts of the life backstage and eventually onstage. Magorian lovingly reconstructs the theatrical company. I loved the way Ralph falls for the beautiful stage manager, Isla. “He had been aware that he found Isla attractive, but he did not realise how deep his feelings for her were. It was as though someone had taken his heart out, smashed it into pieces and shoved it back in again without putting it back together again, so that everything hurt and jangled inside him.” (page 92).
There is something intoxicating about the theatre that invites deep passions. “…..Ralph felt such a mixture of tenderness and desire to get right inside the very skin of her that it overwhelmed him. Yet he felt fiercely protective of her too.” (page 342). I just think Magorian captures feelings so clearly and well; and feelings that I know and recognise keenly.
The standing in the wings, the rehearsals and the camaraderie of it all is poignantly caught. Watching an actor’s performance transform onstage into a thing of truth and beauty is described and caught so well. Finally the characterisations of Mrs. Egerton- Smythe and John Hollis, the father, are so well drawn I felt I knew them both as people I would want in my own life rather than simply as an author’s creations in a book. I must admit I sobbed at the end. Thank you, Michelle Magorian!
I finished the book in two days and now have given myself a quandary. I am achieving my target of one novel per week without any difficulty and thoroughly enjoying the experience. However this is the second week running that I have finished the book by Monday night and so have four more days left in the week. Admittedly the books are not the great classics and therefore capable of being read thoroughly but quickly. I suppose I could up my target to perhaps two novels per week. However I also have a great backlog of modern plays I have bought and not yet read. Therefore I could spend the time profitably working my way through some of those. I have transferred the rest of this internal debate about reading plays with a list of my current play library to my sister page, “Bench Hamlet 2008”, which I consider a more suitable venue for the rest of my ramblings on this subject.
It concerns a working class lad who has been to grammar school and gained his School Certificate. This puts him at odds with his family, especially his father, and his background. I know we all claim to come from the working class but I really did. I also went to Carlton Grammar School when I was 11 and gained my GCSEs. I recognise the syndrome of being a Cuckoo in the nest.
The empathy is doubled as one reads about the Palace theatre, Winford and Ralph (‘Rayfe’ as the actors pronounce it) tries to embark on an actor’s life. I loved the descriptions and accounts of the life backstage and eventually onstage. Magorian lovingly reconstructs the theatrical company. I loved the way Ralph falls for the beautiful stage manager, Isla. “He had been aware that he found Isla attractive, but he did not realise how deep his feelings for her were. It was as though someone had taken his heart out, smashed it into pieces and shoved it back in again without putting it back together again, so that everything hurt and jangled inside him.” (page 92).
There is something intoxicating about the theatre that invites deep passions. “…..Ralph felt such a mixture of tenderness and desire to get right inside the very skin of her that it overwhelmed him. Yet he felt fiercely protective of her too.” (page 342). I just think Magorian captures feelings so clearly and well; and feelings that I know and recognise keenly.
The standing in the wings, the rehearsals and the camaraderie of it all is poignantly caught. Watching an actor’s performance transform onstage into a thing of truth and beauty is described and caught so well. Finally the characterisations of Mrs. Egerton- Smythe and John Hollis, the father, are so well drawn I felt I knew them both as people I would want in my own life rather than simply as an author’s creations in a book. I must admit I sobbed at the end. Thank you, Michelle Magorian!
I finished the book in two days and now have given myself a quandary. I am achieving my target of one novel per week without any difficulty and thoroughly enjoying the experience. However this is the second week running that I have finished the book by Monday night and so have four more days left in the week. Admittedly the books are not the great classics and therefore capable of being read thoroughly but quickly. I suppose I could up my target to perhaps two novels per week. However I also have a great backlog of modern plays I have bought and not yet read. Therefore I could spend the time profitably working my way through some of those. I have transferred the rest of this internal debate about reading plays with a list of my current play library to my sister page, “Bench Hamlet 2008”, which I consider a more suitable venue for the rest of my ramblings on this subject.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
In low gear
At exercise class yesterday, Kate reminded me that I hadn't blogged for a while. There is an article in today's Guardian magazine that says something to the effect that retired people think themselves so busy because they are operating at such a low gear it takes them half a day to buy a newspaper. This morning has been such a morning.
What was even more interesting yesterday was that Kate recounted some of her stories as a company runner at Pinewood Studios working on the James Bond films. I enjoyed these stories thoroughly as you can imagine. I also appreciated the warning that if you start at 0700 you won't finish before 1900 if working on a film. I was fitted out on Wednesday in tails, white shirt and tie, 1930's style. I enjoyed being dressed but found some of the measurements I gave last year have expanded. My 44 chest was now 47 and my slim 42 waist more like 44. The strangest was that my 29 inside leg was actually 31. It was drummed into me that measurements have to be accurate and so I was relieved to find that the dresser was patience personified. I also made the mistake of bringing my white chit home when I should have left it with Lucy of the production company. But an exchange of texts and phone calls sorted out that little touch of inexperience on my part. I am now awaiting a call on the 29th from my agent to tell me the details of the shooting planned for Sunday June 1st. I need to work out how to get to the location in time for a 0645 start.
I was saddened to be informed of the death of one of the parents I knew in my time as deputy head at school. He was only 47 and suffered a massive heart attack last Friday. After my own experience of last year, I can now relate more closely to the experience than ever. But 47 is far too young surely! He was a great bloke who I got on well with over the many years he put three sons through the school. He treated me like a human being rather than a teacher and a deputy head, which is a rare thing, let me tell you, and I have met hundreds if not thousands of Dads in my thirty odd years of teaching. I wrote some words of condolences to his widow to that effect and she has invited me to give a brief eulogy at his funeral this coming Friday. I am now feeling nervous about doing so and I don't usually feel nervous performing these days. It must mean the event means something special to me.
I have spent some blogging time doing reviews on my sister page, "Bench Hamlet 2008", and will review both "Cherry Orchard" at Chichester and "Brassed Off" at Theatre Royal this week. At least I am keeping my theatre going at respectable levels.
I was delighted that Pompey won the Cup even if the manner of victory wasn't as conclusive as I had hoped. I was worried that when Kanu missed his first opportunity that that was going to be it. When he finally scored, I spent the next hour or so up to the final whistle with every muscle clenched in mental and emotional defence of the Pompey goal. I was physically exhausted by the end of the game. I didn't think we ever looked like scoring a second goal but there again I didn't think Cardiff looked like scoring either. The consolation is that it is all now history. The final itself will soon be forgotten and it is Pompey's name on the Cup. Europe next season!
I am thinking I will continue this season's idea of attending Pompey home games but when they are playing away (although what to do about European ties?) to support the Hawks here in Havant. I am still toying with the season ticket idea but want them to get a move on now with new training facilities and above all a new stadium.
What was even more interesting yesterday was that Kate recounted some of her stories as a company runner at Pinewood Studios working on the James Bond films. I enjoyed these stories thoroughly as you can imagine. I also appreciated the warning that if you start at 0700 you won't finish before 1900 if working on a film. I was fitted out on Wednesday in tails, white shirt and tie, 1930's style. I enjoyed being dressed but found some of the measurements I gave last year have expanded. My 44 chest was now 47 and my slim 42 waist more like 44. The strangest was that my 29 inside leg was actually 31. It was drummed into me that measurements have to be accurate and so I was relieved to find that the dresser was patience personified. I also made the mistake of bringing my white chit home when I should have left it with Lucy of the production company. But an exchange of texts and phone calls sorted out that little touch of inexperience on my part. I am now awaiting a call on the 29th from my agent to tell me the details of the shooting planned for Sunday June 1st. I need to work out how to get to the location in time for a 0645 start.
I was saddened to be informed of the death of one of the parents I knew in my time as deputy head at school. He was only 47 and suffered a massive heart attack last Friday. After my own experience of last year, I can now relate more closely to the experience than ever. But 47 is far too young surely! He was a great bloke who I got on well with over the many years he put three sons through the school. He treated me like a human being rather than a teacher and a deputy head, which is a rare thing, let me tell you, and I have met hundreds if not thousands of Dads in my thirty odd years of teaching. I wrote some words of condolences to his widow to that effect and she has invited me to give a brief eulogy at his funeral this coming Friday. I am now feeling nervous about doing so and I don't usually feel nervous performing these days. It must mean the event means something special to me.
I have spent some blogging time doing reviews on my sister page, "Bench Hamlet 2008", and will review both "Cherry Orchard" at Chichester and "Brassed Off" at Theatre Royal this week. At least I am keeping my theatre going at respectable levels.
I was delighted that Pompey won the Cup even if the manner of victory wasn't as conclusive as I had hoped. I was worried that when Kanu missed his first opportunity that that was going to be it. When he finally scored, I spent the next hour or so up to the final whistle with every muscle clenched in mental and emotional defence of the Pompey goal. I was physically exhausted by the end of the game. I didn't think we ever looked like scoring a second goal but there again I didn't think Cardiff looked like scoring either. The consolation is that it is all now history. The final itself will soon be forgotten and it is Pompey's name on the Cup. Europe next season!
I am thinking I will continue this season's idea of attending Pompey home games but when they are playing away (although what to do about European ties?) to support the Hawks here in Havant. I am still toying with the season ticket idea but want them to get a move on now with new training facilities and above all a new stadium.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
On my sister page, "Bench Hamlet 2008", I have just reviewed "Funny Girl" at the Minerva in Chichester. All I will say here is read the review but go and see the show!
This week I was sitting in the garden on Monday and Tuesday enjoying the warm sunshine and reading a book. I have read two novels in a fortnight so am on course for my new regime of reading a novel a week. This is one of the things I promised myself I would do once i retired and it has taken me 18 months to get myself organised enough to do so.
Anyway, there I was sitting in the garden in the sun and I thought of school. I promised my colleagues I would never cross the threshold under any circumstances when I left there in December 2006. I have been as good as my word except for the farewell assembly to my retiring ex head teacher.
As I sat there sipping my cold drink and pausing before the next exciting chapter, I allowed my thoughts to wonder what it was like back at school. The summer was always too hot for me indoors. I prefer being out of doors when it is hot and appreciate a nice cooling zephyr of a breeze. I am not an avid sun worshipper or sun bather, although I do like watching others doing it! I love summer clothing, or lack of it, but I digress...
What crossed my mind was a touch of regret for, of all things, PE and Games. I just to enjoy teaching gymnastics, folk dancing and the skills required for football, hockey and cricket. I especially enjoyed cricket in the summer and football in early autumn. I wouldn't want to teach in school and have never been tempted by supply teaching, even if the money is good.
I paused long enough to sharpen up some of my thinking as follows.
All this would require working closely with a particular teacher or team of teachers at an understanding school. I would come into school ready to do PE. I would get the equipment ready while the teacher and Learning Support Assistant got the class ready.
I would run the session according to a lesson plan, which I would supply the teacher and she would have agreed. The teacher, Learning Support Assistant and I would be involved in the lesson. The lesson would comprise of a warm up and cool down, skill circuits and small group experiences (this covers gymnastics, folk dance and outside games). The lesson plans would be numbered 1 to 6 and would be sequential, following any syllabus required by the school. During the session, the teacher would be invited to make comments or notes. At the end of the session, the teacher and Learning Support Assistant would take children back to class to change and to get on with next lesson.
Meanwhile I would clear away equipment and make my way to the staff room for refreshment. I would begin work there and then on the next session’s planning based on the experience of that day's session before going to the classroom. Quietly in a corner I would update records on class and individuals (this covers gymnastics, folk dance and outside games) probably by hand, but it could be done on computer or laptop. This would be left with teacher for data protection. The reason for doing it in class is to identify children correctly by asking teacher or Learning Support Assistant.
I would then leave and not return until the second session to repeat the same process.
I would arrive 15 minutes before time of session to set out equipment. Session would take 30, 45 or 60 minutes, depending on the timetable of the school and class. Refreshment and planning would take 15 minutes and recording 15 minutes. The whole experience would be 45 minutes either side of the session, so total time spent could be, depending on session planned, 75 minutes, 90 minutes or 105 minutes. This could be once or twice a week.
It sounded quite idyllic and I quite enjoyed thinking the ideas through. I especially enjoyed folk dancing because of the discipline and team work. It also lent itself to performances at assemblies and other school events. I wouldn't anticipate being paid for this work but would consider it as my voluntary contribution to the work of the school and the community. I am not sure I would do it for any school but might consider it as a Waitender.
I turned my attention back to my book, sipped once more on my chilled drink, sighed deeply and took up reading where I had left off.
This week I was sitting in the garden on Monday and Tuesday enjoying the warm sunshine and reading a book. I have read two novels in a fortnight so am on course for my new regime of reading a novel a week. This is one of the things I promised myself I would do once i retired and it has taken me 18 months to get myself organised enough to do so.
Anyway, there I was sitting in the garden in the sun and I thought of school. I promised my colleagues I would never cross the threshold under any circumstances when I left there in December 2006. I have been as good as my word except for the farewell assembly to my retiring ex head teacher.
As I sat there sipping my cold drink and pausing before the next exciting chapter, I allowed my thoughts to wonder what it was like back at school. The summer was always too hot for me indoors. I prefer being out of doors when it is hot and appreciate a nice cooling zephyr of a breeze. I am not an avid sun worshipper or sun bather, although I do like watching others doing it! I love summer clothing, or lack of it, but I digress...
What crossed my mind was a touch of regret for, of all things, PE and Games. I just to enjoy teaching gymnastics, folk dancing and the skills required for football, hockey and cricket. I especially enjoyed cricket in the summer and football in early autumn. I wouldn't want to teach in school and have never been tempted by supply teaching, even if the money is good.
I paused long enough to sharpen up some of my thinking as follows.
All this would require working closely with a particular teacher or team of teachers at an understanding school. I would come into school ready to do PE. I would get the equipment ready while the teacher and Learning Support Assistant got the class ready.
I would run the session according to a lesson plan, which I would supply the teacher and she would have agreed. The teacher, Learning Support Assistant and I would be involved in the lesson. The lesson would comprise of a warm up and cool down, skill circuits and small group experiences (this covers gymnastics, folk dance and outside games). The lesson plans would be numbered 1 to 6 and would be sequential, following any syllabus required by the school. During the session, the teacher would be invited to make comments or notes. At the end of the session, the teacher and Learning Support Assistant would take children back to class to change and to get on with next lesson.
Meanwhile I would clear away equipment and make my way to the staff room for refreshment. I would begin work there and then on the next session’s planning based on the experience of that day's session before going to the classroom. Quietly in a corner I would update records on class and individuals (this covers gymnastics, folk dance and outside games) probably by hand, but it could be done on computer or laptop. This would be left with teacher for data protection. The reason for doing it in class is to identify children correctly by asking teacher or Learning Support Assistant.
I would then leave and not return until the second session to repeat the same process.
I would arrive 15 minutes before time of session to set out equipment. Session would take 30, 45 or 60 minutes, depending on the timetable of the school and class. Refreshment and planning would take 15 minutes and recording 15 minutes. The whole experience would be 45 minutes either side of the session, so total time spent could be, depending on session planned, 75 minutes, 90 minutes or 105 minutes. This could be once or twice a week.
It sounded quite idyllic and I quite enjoyed thinking the ideas through. I especially enjoyed folk dancing because of the discipline and team work. It also lent itself to performances at assemblies and other school events. I wouldn't anticipate being paid for this work but would consider it as my voluntary contribution to the work of the school and the community. I am not sure I would do it for any school but might consider it as a Waitender.
I turned my attention back to my book, sipped once more on my chilled drink, sighed deeply and took up reading where I had left off.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Literary Festival Event
This is an event being organised by the Havant Literary Festival Society, of which I am the treasurer. I have tickets and can be contacted directly or the tickets can be bought on the door. The event clashes with the third performance of "Bronte" at the Arts Centre so this is one way of reconciling the fact that I personally haven't sold sufficient tickets. Watch this space for news of other events designed to raise the profile of the Havant literary Festival in September 2008.Saturday, April 19, 2008
Me in my Pompey shirt
Me and this shirt went up to the semi final at Wembley in April 2008. We are both hoping to be able to go to the final on May 17th.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
London Visit
The trip to London went well. Best Beloved and I realised this was one of very few occasions we had been up together alone. I have made solo trips in the past or we have made lots of trips with other people. However, this was the first time in a long time, we had travelled up to London together as a pair and by train. It was a good feeling and a good experience.
I bought a ticket for the Wednesday matinee of "Gods of Carnage" and am now looking forward to a return visit to the capital this week. The Best Beloved wants to get on with props making for her "Bronte" production so is allowing me to go up unaccompanied. I hope to write a 250 word (or thereabouts) review on my sister page, Bench Hamlet 2008, before the end of the week.
We visited the National Portrait Gallery to gaze at the portrait of the three Bronte sisters painted by their brother, Branwell. He eventually painted himself out and then the painting was lost. It was found about 80 years later in 1914 by the second wife of Rev Bell Nicholls folded up on top of a wardrobe. The painting has an almost medieval look and shows the limitation of Branwell's artistic technique, especially in a gallery surrounded by wonderful examples of contemporary Victorian portraiture. We spent some time in the Victorian galleries as this was the period of history I studied long ago. The great Whig and Tory statesmen beam down from the walls. sprinkled with the occasional radical or Liberal reformer.
We went downstairs to the contemporary portraits and the Camera Press Gallery. Camera Press is 61 years old, having started in 1947. Part of the exhibition is contemporaries who were born in 1947. I must admit that year was a particularly good vintage. I may no longer be fit for purpose and the old virility is not what it was, but I can be good company. Or at least I have often found myself to be so on my solo excursions or rambles - is that eccentricity or mental instability, I hear you ask?
The exhibition that really caught my eye was Underexposed, photographs of black actors by Franklyn Rodgers. This is several triptychs, which rotate through a sequence. Each photograph is beautifully and remarkably lit. Each photograph is accompanied by a comment from the actor or actress about their craft or art. The beauty of the photographs and the depth contained in the simple statements about acting contained everything I need in art and I could have watched the sequence through again and again. You can see what I mean if you visit http://www.4therecord.org.uk/index.aspx?pageid=41.
We found the Cockpit Theatre and a nearby little Italian restaurant. I have a little collection now of Italian restaurants in London; Da Mario's, Carluccio's, Da Paolo's. The Zonzo is not quite in the same class but it does sit exactly opposite the Paddington Green Police station, the most secure police station in the UK. Therefore the Zonzo is a quiet little establishment up near the Edgeware Road tube station on the Bakerloo line (north from the station) which I can recommend.
And so to the Showcase. We spotted the agents in the audience immediately. They were the ones with all the CVs gathered together in neat sheaves and organised in order of the pieces we were about to see. Fourteen duologues and one monologue were lined up taking in a couple of Pinters, a Marber, an Austen and a couple of film scenes, whose titles I recognised, such as "A Life Less Ordinary" and John Fowles' "The Collector". I have just realised that the two film scenes quoted contain a kidnapping and a young woman chained to a radiator. Am I revealing further examples of eccentricity or mental instability or peccadilloes? I love that last word but I had to look up its definition: http://www.thefreedictionary.com/peccadilloes.
Anyway the evening began and I realised that the choice of material revealed a theme of sex anyway. It isn't just me, you know? There was a parade of very pretty and attractive young women either interacting with men, such as the scene from Marber's "Closer" , or with other young women ,such as the scene from "Sense and Sensibility". Now don't get me wrong here - in most circumstances, I welcome an array of pretty women (see me yesterday at the Mad Dog registration day talking to 5' 4" air hostesses, young but head turningly good looking) - but after a while the appeal wears off. As an audience I need more and the scenes were brief and a lot of the acting didn't start until the scene was well underway and sometimes hadn't started when the scene had finished. I felt a bit of a Simon Cowell coming on and 45 years of non-professional theatre was weighing heavily upon my shoulders. Kat was appearing top of the bill in an excerpt from "Birthday Party". My parental nerves were being stretched and it was with almost a sense of relief that we arrived at her duologue. I know I am highly prejudiced but it was the best performance of the night. The performance and characterisation started offstage and it was Meg who appeared as the scene started. She wrung laughter and pathos from the part. The scene got audience reaction, which had been lacking earlier, and both Kat and Andrew also added the Pinter menace for good measure. I am proud of my girl, not just because she is my girl, but because she is an awesome actress. I watched her later in the week rehearsing the part of Charlotte Bronte with enormous integrity and emotion. The difference in roles was marked but she carries both off with real style and verve. Kat has the makings of a good professional actress, she is talented and has lots of technical ability, and I hope she is motivated enough to make a go of it in a very tough world.
It was certainly heartening to see one of the agents make a beeline for Kat in the bar afterwards and engage her in a very long conversation.
Over on my 'Bench Hamlet 2008' blog I review "Speed-the-Plow" and "God of Carnage" as mentioned above.
I am also a fully signed up member of the Mad Dog Casting Agency and met several interesting people (beside the 5' 4" air hostess) while we were all being filmed by a BBC3 camera crew. Hopefully job opportunities will now start to come my way - yyyyyayyyyy!
I bought a ticket for the Wednesday matinee of "Gods of Carnage" and am now looking forward to a return visit to the capital this week. The Best Beloved wants to get on with props making for her "Bronte" production so is allowing me to go up unaccompanied. I hope to write a 250 word (or thereabouts) review on my sister page, Bench Hamlet 2008, before the end of the week.
We visited the National Portrait Gallery to gaze at the portrait of the three Bronte sisters painted by their brother, Branwell. He eventually painted himself out and then the painting was lost. It was found about 80 years later in 1914 by the second wife of Rev Bell Nicholls folded up on top of a wardrobe. The painting has an almost medieval look and shows the limitation of Branwell's artistic technique, especially in a gallery surrounded by wonderful examples of contemporary Victorian portraiture. We spent some time in the Victorian galleries as this was the period of history I studied long ago. The great Whig and Tory statesmen beam down from the walls. sprinkled with the occasional radical or Liberal reformer.
We went downstairs to the contemporary portraits and the Camera Press Gallery. Camera Press is 61 years old, having started in 1947. Part of the exhibition is contemporaries who were born in 1947. I must admit that year was a particularly good vintage. I may no longer be fit for purpose and the old virility is not what it was, but I can be good company. Or at least I have often found myself to be so on my solo excursions or rambles - is that eccentricity or mental instability, I hear you ask?
The exhibition that really caught my eye was Underexposed, photographs of black actors by Franklyn Rodgers. This is several triptychs, which rotate through a sequence. Each photograph is beautifully and remarkably lit. Each photograph is accompanied by a comment from the actor or actress about their craft or art. The beauty of the photographs and the depth contained in the simple statements about acting contained everything I need in art and I could have watched the sequence through again and again. You can see what I mean if you visit http://www.4therecord.org.uk/index.aspx?pageid=41.
We found the Cockpit Theatre and a nearby little Italian restaurant. I have a little collection now of Italian restaurants in London; Da Mario's, Carluccio's, Da Paolo's. The Zonzo is not quite in the same class but it does sit exactly opposite the Paddington Green Police station, the most secure police station in the UK. Therefore the Zonzo is a quiet little establishment up near the Edgeware Road tube station on the Bakerloo line (north from the station) which I can recommend.
And so to the Showcase. We spotted the agents in the audience immediately. They were the ones with all the CVs gathered together in neat sheaves and organised in order of the pieces we were about to see. Fourteen duologues and one monologue were lined up taking in a couple of Pinters, a Marber, an Austen and a couple of film scenes, whose titles I recognised, such as "A Life Less Ordinary" and John Fowles' "The Collector". I have just realised that the two film scenes quoted contain a kidnapping and a young woman chained to a radiator. Am I revealing further examples of eccentricity or mental instability or peccadilloes? I love that last word but I had to look up its definition: http://www.thefreedictionary.com/peccadilloes.
Anyway the evening began and I realised that the choice of material revealed a theme of sex anyway. It isn't just me, you know? There was a parade of very pretty and attractive young women either interacting with men, such as the scene from Marber's "Closer" , or with other young women ,such as the scene from "Sense and Sensibility". Now don't get me wrong here - in most circumstances, I welcome an array of pretty women (see me yesterday at the Mad Dog registration day talking to 5' 4" air hostesses, young but head turningly good looking) - but after a while the appeal wears off. As an audience I need more and the scenes were brief and a lot of the acting didn't start until the scene was well underway and sometimes hadn't started when the scene had finished. I felt a bit of a Simon Cowell coming on and 45 years of non-professional theatre was weighing heavily upon my shoulders. Kat was appearing top of the bill in an excerpt from "Birthday Party". My parental nerves were being stretched and it was with almost a sense of relief that we arrived at her duologue. I know I am highly prejudiced but it was the best performance of the night. The performance and characterisation started offstage and it was Meg who appeared as the scene started. She wrung laughter and pathos from the part. The scene got audience reaction, which had been lacking earlier, and both Kat and Andrew also added the Pinter menace for good measure. I am proud of my girl, not just because she is my girl, but because she is an awesome actress. I watched her later in the week rehearsing the part of Charlotte Bronte with enormous integrity and emotion. The difference in roles was marked but she carries both off with real style and verve. Kat has the makings of a good professional actress, she is talented and has lots of technical ability, and I hope she is motivated enough to make a go of it in a very tough world.
It was certainly heartening to see one of the agents make a beeline for Kat in the bar afterwards and engage her in a very long conversation.
Over on my 'Bench Hamlet 2008' blog I review "Speed-the-Plow" and "God of Carnage" as mentioned above.
I am also a fully signed up member of the Mad Dog Casting Agency and met several interesting people (beside the 5' 4" air hostess) while we were all being filmed by a BBC3 camera crew. Hopefully job opportunities will now start to come my way - yyyyyayyyyy!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Showcase
I was going to dazzle you with a photo of me in my new Pompey shirt but I couldn't find it when I wanted it. Mind you, after Pompey v Newcastle on Saturday, when we played like the away team and missed out on the chance of closing the gap on Everton, it may have been a psychological omission rather than a technical one.
I have finally succeeded in adding 2GB of memory chips to my computer rather than the measly 256MB it arrived with. Thank you, Trevor, for the advice, and thank you ,Crucial, for the chips and installation guide.
We are off to the Cockpit Theatre in NW8 today to see Kat perform in a showcase after her work with the London Actors' Workshop over the last three momnths or so. You can read snippets of her activities on her blog, Adventures in Blogland (see links to right). She has to be there from 1.00 p.m. so the Best Beloved thought we would make a day of it ourselves. We intend booking a matinee seat for "Gods of Carnage" this Wednesday. We are visiting the National Portrait Gallery to look at the Bronte family portrait, which has dominated our lives for the last few months (see Bench Hamlet 2008 in links for up to date news of the production). I had hoped to pick up Robert Holman's play, "Jonah and Otto", from the National Theatre Bookshop but may have to postpone that until Wednesday as the Best Beloved doesn't think we will have time to do it today. I suppose we will have to find somewhere to eat in NW8 so she could be right! She usually is but it doesn't make it any easier to take!
I was a bit glum on my last posting especially about the old school. Since then I have been able to have a conversation with an ex colleague and that has cheered me up enormously. She reassured me that I was still a "honorary Waitender" and that felt good to hear. You do get a feeling of dislocation at times in retirement, which is maybe why I have become a more fervent supporter (I am not sure that is possible but it helps my argument) of Pompey this season. I had expected to throw myself with greater fervour and effort into the Bench Theatre, but that hasn't materialised as I expected. I am working hard on trying to get John Sawtell elected as a LibDem councillor here in Bedhampton but feel a little ignorant as to the rules of engagement. I have lived in Bedhampton for an awful long time but it is only now that I could tell you which streets comprise Bedhampton and what issues beset the place. Being a Waitender for 21 years was time consuming and I knew more about the school and its catchment area than I did about the place where I live. It is a danger that all my ex colleagues should be wary of and that a private life (the desired work/life balance) is of the utmost importance as a person and as a professional. I am now looking forward to the evening meal being planned for the retiring headteacher and will probably behave disgracefully!
I have finally succeeded in adding 2GB of memory chips to my computer rather than the measly 256MB it arrived with. Thank you, Trevor, for the advice, and thank you ,Crucial, for the chips and installation guide.
We are off to the Cockpit Theatre in NW8 today to see Kat perform in a showcase after her work with the London Actors' Workshop over the last three momnths or so. You can read snippets of her activities on her blog, Adventures in Blogland (see links to right). She has to be there from 1.00 p.m. so the Best Beloved thought we would make a day of it ourselves. We intend booking a matinee seat for "Gods of Carnage" this Wednesday. We are visiting the National Portrait Gallery to look at the Bronte family portrait, which has dominated our lives for the last few months (see Bench Hamlet 2008 in links for up to date news of the production). I had hoped to pick up Robert Holman's play, "Jonah and Otto", from the National Theatre Bookshop but may have to postpone that until Wednesday as the Best Beloved doesn't think we will have time to do it today. I suppose we will have to find somewhere to eat in NW8 so she could be right! She usually is but it doesn't make it any easier to take!
I was a bit glum on my last posting especially about the old school. Since then I have been able to have a conversation with an ex colleague and that has cheered me up enormously. She reassured me that I was still a "honorary Waitender" and that felt good to hear. You do get a feeling of dislocation at times in retirement, which is maybe why I have become a more fervent supporter (I am not sure that is possible but it helps my argument) of Pompey this season. I had expected to throw myself with greater fervour and effort into the Bench Theatre, but that hasn't materialised as I expected. I am working hard on trying to get John Sawtell elected as a LibDem councillor here in Bedhampton but feel a little ignorant as to the rules of engagement. I have lived in Bedhampton for an awful long time but it is only now that I could tell you which streets comprise Bedhampton and what issues beset the place. Being a Waitender for 21 years was time consuming and I knew more about the school and its catchment area than I did about the place where I live. It is a danger that all my ex colleagues should be wary of and that a private life (the desired work/life balance) is of the utmost importance as a person and as a professional. I am now looking forward to the evening meal being planned for the retiring headteacher and will probably behave disgracefully!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Advance, Australia
Australia has increased the pressure on the UK to grant asylum to Iraqi interpreters who have worked with our forces by offering resettlement to those who have worked with Australian forces in Iraq.
The Australian government will grant permanent humanitarian visas to Iraqi citizens whose lives are in danger because of their work with Australian forces.
Why, oh why, can't we do the same? We owe these people a debt of honour and I would still like to believe that the English respect a debt of honour. I know we can be one of the most cynical nations on the planet but fair's fair.
Martina Hyde, in a recent Guardian article, was writing about Englishness, and our concept of nationhood. She quoted from a Second World War poster and I admit it caught my attention and interest. "Keep calm, and carry on."
It appeals to me because I have always believed in the sentiments of the "If" poem and have used them throughout my life as a sort of moral bearing.
"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same:"
"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build' em up with worn-out tools:"
"If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
"If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"
Thank you, Rudyard Kipling.
The Australian government will grant permanent humanitarian visas to Iraqi citizens whose lives are in danger because of their work with Australian forces.
Why, oh why, can't we do the same? We owe these people a debt of honour and I would still like to believe that the English respect a debt of honour. I know we can be one of the most cynical nations on the planet but fair's fair.
Martina Hyde, in a recent Guardian article, was writing about Englishness, and our concept of nationhood. She quoted from a Second World War poster and I admit it caught my attention and interest. "Keep calm, and carry on."
It appeals to me because I have always believed in the sentiments of the "If" poem and have used them throughout my life as a sort of moral bearing.
"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same:"
"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build' em up with worn-out tools:"
"If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
"If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"
Thank you, Rudyard Kipling.
Monday, April 07, 2008
PUP
I had a really exciting four days at the end of last week. It makes blogging worthwhile to be able to recount some of the bittersweet experiences of yours truly. Be prepared for a long read, O faithful reader!
I suppose Wednesday's experience really began on Tuesday April Fool Day with a series of texts and phone calls. A friend and Waitender, Carole Cunningham, had promised me that good luck would come my way at the beginning of April. The cynic in me sneered and indeed on that very same Tuesday I had turned down lucky heather from a gypsy lady in Havant Market. How could I have so badly misjudged you, Carole? Mind you, seeing the date, I did think the first text message was a hoax and that you were not beyond sending it yourself, Carole!
The text read: " MAD DOG are looking for men to be extras in a new film shooting over the next fortnight. Please call Brett if you can attend a casting tomorrow. (Phone number given)" Mad Dog Casting are one of the agencies with whom I had shared my information last year. They wanted to know if I was available for a casting audition on the Wednesday. Of course I said yes on the phone and dropped everything in order to get up to London that Wednesday. I had to take my passport with me to prove I was eligible to work in UK. I decide not to go up by train as there are still problems on the line to Waterloo and i didn't fancy twiddling my thumbs for two hours on the train. I, therefore, took the car up to Wimbledon and used the Tube to get me to Kentish Town. I have used the Wimbledon route many times but still have to check that I have taken the right exit past Wimbledon Common. I had a cornish pasty at Wimbledon station and hurtled across London. I got to Mad Dog at about 12 noon so took about three hours to get there. The casting took about 30 minutes of an interview with Brett, mainly concerned with getting all my details for where my pay would go, and a photocall. The film is being directed by Richard Linklater and stars Zac Efron and Claire Danes. They have been filming on location in the UK but next three weeks are at Pinewood Studios. The film is set in the Thirties. No one will be asked to work the full three weeks but we are all on standby for occasional days here and there. We will be phoned by Roger, the Team Manager, if and when we are needed. There was a steady stream of people as I was at Mad Dog but fingers crossed I could be one of the lucky ones to get a phone call. If not at least I have been seen by Mad Dog and am now firmly on their books so am in with a chance of future films. I do hope I get a chance on this one though as it would kickstart my film extra CV a treat. I am now awaiting that phone call. It can come as late in the day as 5.00 p.m. depending on the filming schedule and director's decisions relayed to the second assistant director who is in charge of hiring extras. The second assistant director contacts Mad Dog and they phone us to say, "You are wanted at Pinewood Studios at ....... in the morning. You should report to........ at..........." After that, you have to make sure you are there on time and prepared to spend a 10 hour day doing very little except wait around for your scene. You hope you do a good enough job that if the second assistant director needs more extras the next day or in a few days he asks Mad Dog to send you.
That was Day One of my exciting four days and though a bit of an anti climax had set in on the way back from Wimbledon I owe my chance to a lucky email from Carole Cunningham. Part of the anti climax was that I have had some really exciting days out centred around trips starting at Wimbledon and this wasn't quite in the same league.
The next day, Thursday, I was picked up by my county councillor, Councillor Ann Buckley, at 0700 a.m. and taken to Winchester. I was privileged enough to be allowed to sit in on the LibDem pre-meeting before the April County Council Meeting in the Great Chamber. The LibDems are the main opposition party in Hampshire with an even smaller Labour representation. Hampshire is a Conservative stronghold. Sitting in the public gallery, I was reasonably interested in the motions and debates and watching the traditional workings of the full County Council. Most of the really important work is done by the Cabinet and in committees. However it got a bit tasty when the party politics hove into sight. Apparently an absent LibDem and made a political comment in a LibDem election broadsheet that upset the Conservatives and the Leader of the Council. Until then I had almost forgotten that he was also the leader of the Hampshire Conservatives as well as Leader of Hampshire County Council. Harsh words were exchanged between Party Leaders. I am still not convinced that party politics have any real place in local government but haven't developed my ideas on that matter too clearly yet. Anyway I was very grateful to Anne for a most interesting day out and I found a pound coin in Winchester High Street. I intend buying a lottery ticket with it as my luck seems to be in.
I have covered about 500 houses in Bedhampton over the last week or so giving out election leaflets on behalf of John Sawtell, the LibDem candidate, for whom I am - and get this, folks!- his political agent.
So that was my second busy day and on Friday I had rather a sad experience. I attended the farewell assembly for my old headteacher at Waite End Primary School. I had retired in December 2006 and she was taking early retirement at the end of the Spring Term 2008, of which Friday was the last day. I had sworn blind that I would never go back into school under any circumstance and some ex colleagues, especially the same Carole Cunningham as above, had wagered I wasn't going to turn up. In the circumstances, I thought the loyalty I owed to Anita Williamson was greater than my promise never to darken the doorstep. I had spent more time together with Anita than either of us had with our spouses over the years we worked as a management team. The children and staff gave her a great assembly and a great sending off. She managed to hold back the tears though her grown up daughter and the chair of governors were both seen to blub copiously. Apparently my presence hadn't been expected so as I entered the assembly hall I was instantly aware of my name being whispered by the children who had once been in my own class back in 2006. I was greeted warmly by my ex colleagues and was shown around the newly decorated school even as prospective candidates for the now vacant headship were being shown around by my successor as deputy head. I was even invited to the pub with the staff, who were looking forward to letting their hair down after a long and strenuous term. I turned down their kind offer as I was beginning to feel an outsider. The school had changed, I had changed and my ex colleagues had changed. I envied their collegiality but knew I could no longer be a real part of their team but was only an onlooker, a supporter on the sidelines. Some of those colleagues had been as close to me as my family and it was with real reluctance and a sense of anti climax that I dragged myself away. I still have that sense of loss three days later.
On Saturday I was at Fratton Park at 0600 a.m. waiting to board a coach to Wembley with the Natty Chap, Geoff and Matthew. The four of us were on Coach 26 and soon on our way to London. I texted this information home via the landline and unfortunately Kat was a bit p****d off to get an automated message at 0630. I ask you - I only thought my family would be interested in which coach I was travelling in case there was one of those dreadful crashes on the motorway - I was only trying to save them unnecessary worry after all! We reached Wembley at about 0830 and took another 30 minutes to go round it to park in the coach car park. The stadium didn't open until 1015 so we joined the Pompey blue masses swarming up and down the Olympic Way as Wembley Way seems now to be called. we met up with other members of the Natty Chap's family, we ate unhealthy cheeseburgers, we joined in the raucous but good natured song of the somewhat limited Pompey repertoire, we met hundreds of people we knew from all different walks of life and other interests. It is amazing that despite going to several home game sin a season and meeting some people on a weekly basis such as exercise classes it still came as a shock to find them at Wembley as well. I never found Terry the Tiger but there was young Alan, one of the youngest (40's?) and fittest members of our rehab exercise class stuffing his face with a cheese covered hot dog. I tried to reprimand him, Debbie, but I was stood in the cheeseburger queue at the time. Finally we were allowed into the stadium. God it looked enormous on the outside but once we were through the stringent security (they removed the top from my water bottle and frisked me and searched my shoulder bag) and up the escalators to Level 5, we saw the sheer size and magnificence of the seating and pitch. I had worried that we would be so far away and so high up it would be like watching a subbeteo game. However it was nothing like that although I did get touches of vertigo and panic attacks whenever balloons drifted past me. The stadium filled with supporters and we certainly seemed to have more blue clad Pompey supporters than the Baggies had. Over and over again we sang the Pompey chimes and worked our way through the limited but stirring repertoire of Pompey football songs. The game started and Pompey were crap in the first half! Obviously 'Arry Redknap had a go at them in the interval and we sang even louder and more supportively than ever. The two wide players moved in to stifle the Baggie midfield and lo and behold we scored one hell of a scrappy goal. My Little Bro watching on telly at home texted me to tell me it was handball by Milan Baros and shouldn't have been allowed to stand as a goal. However we in the stadium didn't care and the Pompey Chimes, "Play Up Pompey, Pompey Play Up", rang and rang around that stadium. The Pompey luck which had seen us through so many stages of the FA Cup this season was still with us and perhaps 2008 is the year with Pompey's name on the cup. The exit down several flights of stairs surrounded by several thousands of Pompey fans singing "the Blue Army" raised the hairs at the back of my neck. It was tribal and primitive and I was a part of it.
We are now waiting to see what the arrangements are for tickets for the Final between Pompey and Cardiff City managed by ex Scummer, Davy Jones (not he of the Monkees). The numbers for fans of the two clubs are reduced for the Final as the FA use the tickets as a way of thanking its county and grassroots FA members. I am hoping that Natty Chap can once more work his magic and that we shall be there on May 17th. PUP! Play Up Pompey!
Mam's birthday on Sunday the 6th and we raised a glass at the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding family dinner cooked by yours truly. She would have been 91 this year but died shortly after we married and had been too ill to attend our wedding. I am not sure she would have recognised the son who has turned his hand to roast lamb, roast pork, roast goat and roast chicken dinners during the Best Beloved's recuperation period. I think she believed me to be a lazy b****r even if she loved me. I still am, Ma, but have just got better at disguising it as at disguising so many other things!
I suppose Wednesday's experience really began on Tuesday April Fool Day with a series of texts and phone calls. A friend and Waitender, Carole Cunningham, had promised me that good luck would come my way at the beginning of April. The cynic in me sneered and indeed on that very same Tuesday I had turned down lucky heather from a gypsy lady in Havant Market. How could I have so badly misjudged you, Carole? Mind you, seeing the date, I did think the first text message was a hoax and that you were not beyond sending it yourself, Carole!
The text read: " MAD DOG are looking for men to be extras in a new film shooting over the next fortnight. Please call Brett if you can attend a casting tomorrow. (Phone number given)" Mad Dog Casting are one of the agencies with whom I had shared my information last year. They wanted to know if I was available for a casting audition on the Wednesday. Of course I said yes on the phone and dropped everything in order to get up to London that Wednesday. I had to take my passport with me to prove I was eligible to work in UK. I decide not to go up by train as there are still problems on the line to Waterloo and i didn't fancy twiddling my thumbs for two hours on the train. I, therefore, took the car up to Wimbledon and used the Tube to get me to Kentish Town. I have used the Wimbledon route many times but still have to check that I have taken the right exit past Wimbledon Common. I had a cornish pasty at Wimbledon station and hurtled across London. I got to Mad Dog at about 12 noon so took about three hours to get there. The casting took about 30 minutes of an interview with Brett, mainly concerned with getting all my details for where my pay would go, and a photocall. The film is being directed by Richard Linklater and stars Zac Efron and Claire Danes. They have been filming on location in the UK but next three weeks are at Pinewood Studios. The film is set in the Thirties. No one will be asked to work the full three weeks but we are all on standby for occasional days here and there. We will be phoned by Roger, the Team Manager, if and when we are needed. There was a steady stream of people as I was at Mad Dog but fingers crossed I could be one of the lucky ones to get a phone call. If not at least I have been seen by Mad Dog and am now firmly on their books so am in with a chance of future films. I do hope I get a chance on this one though as it would kickstart my film extra CV a treat. I am now awaiting that phone call. It can come as late in the day as 5.00 p.m. depending on the filming schedule and director's decisions relayed to the second assistant director who is in charge of hiring extras. The second assistant director contacts Mad Dog and they phone us to say, "You are wanted at Pinewood Studios at ....... in the morning. You should report to........ at..........." After that, you have to make sure you are there on time and prepared to spend a 10 hour day doing very little except wait around for your scene. You hope you do a good enough job that if the second assistant director needs more extras the next day or in a few days he asks Mad Dog to send you.
That was Day One of my exciting four days and though a bit of an anti climax had set in on the way back from Wimbledon I owe my chance to a lucky email from Carole Cunningham. Part of the anti climax was that I have had some really exciting days out centred around trips starting at Wimbledon and this wasn't quite in the same league.
The next day, Thursday, I was picked up by my county councillor, Councillor Ann Buckley, at 0700 a.m. and taken to Winchester. I was privileged enough to be allowed to sit in on the LibDem pre-meeting before the April County Council Meeting in the Great Chamber. The LibDems are the main opposition party in Hampshire with an even smaller Labour representation. Hampshire is a Conservative stronghold. Sitting in the public gallery, I was reasonably interested in the motions and debates and watching the traditional workings of the full County Council. Most of the really important work is done by the Cabinet and in committees. However it got a bit tasty when the party politics hove into sight. Apparently an absent LibDem and made a political comment in a LibDem election broadsheet that upset the Conservatives and the Leader of the Council. Until then I had almost forgotten that he was also the leader of the Hampshire Conservatives as well as Leader of Hampshire County Council. Harsh words were exchanged between Party Leaders. I am still not convinced that party politics have any real place in local government but haven't developed my ideas on that matter too clearly yet. Anyway I was very grateful to Anne for a most interesting day out and I found a pound coin in Winchester High Street. I intend buying a lottery ticket with it as my luck seems to be in.
I have covered about 500 houses in Bedhampton over the last week or so giving out election leaflets on behalf of John Sawtell, the LibDem candidate, for whom I am - and get this, folks!- his political agent.
So that was my second busy day and on Friday I had rather a sad experience. I attended the farewell assembly for my old headteacher at Waite End Primary School. I had retired in December 2006 and she was taking early retirement at the end of the Spring Term 2008, of which Friday was the last day. I had sworn blind that I would never go back into school under any circumstance and some ex colleagues, especially the same Carole Cunningham as above, had wagered I wasn't going to turn up. In the circumstances, I thought the loyalty I owed to Anita Williamson was greater than my promise never to darken the doorstep. I had spent more time together with Anita than either of us had with our spouses over the years we worked as a management team. The children and staff gave her a great assembly and a great sending off. She managed to hold back the tears though her grown up daughter and the chair of governors were both seen to blub copiously. Apparently my presence hadn't been expected so as I entered the assembly hall I was instantly aware of my name being whispered by the children who had once been in my own class back in 2006. I was greeted warmly by my ex colleagues and was shown around the newly decorated school even as prospective candidates for the now vacant headship were being shown around by my successor as deputy head. I was even invited to the pub with the staff, who were looking forward to letting their hair down after a long and strenuous term. I turned down their kind offer as I was beginning to feel an outsider. The school had changed, I had changed and my ex colleagues had changed. I envied their collegiality but knew I could no longer be a real part of their team but was only an onlooker, a supporter on the sidelines. Some of those colleagues had been as close to me as my family and it was with real reluctance and a sense of anti climax that I dragged myself away. I still have that sense of loss three days later.
On Saturday I was at Fratton Park at 0600 a.m. waiting to board a coach to Wembley with the Natty Chap, Geoff and Matthew. The four of us were on Coach 26 and soon on our way to London. I texted this information home via the landline and unfortunately Kat was a bit p****d off to get an automated message at 0630. I ask you - I only thought my family would be interested in which coach I was travelling in case there was one of those dreadful crashes on the motorway - I was only trying to save them unnecessary worry after all! We reached Wembley at about 0830 and took another 30 minutes to go round it to park in the coach car park. The stadium didn't open until 1015 so we joined the Pompey blue masses swarming up and down the Olympic Way as Wembley Way seems now to be called. we met up with other members of the Natty Chap's family, we ate unhealthy cheeseburgers, we joined in the raucous but good natured song of the somewhat limited Pompey repertoire, we met hundreds of people we knew from all different walks of life and other interests. It is amazing that despite going to several home game sin a season and meeting some people on a weekly basis such as exercise classes it still came as a shock to find them at Wembley as well. I never found Terry the Tiger but there was young Alan, one of the youngest (40's?) and fittest members of our rehab exercise class stuffing his face with a cheese covered hot dog. I tried to reprimand him, Debbie, but I was stood in the cheeseburger queue at the time. Finally we were allowed into the stadium. God it looked enormous on the outside but once we were through the stringent security (they removed the top from my water bottle and frisked me and searched my shoulder bag) and up the escalators to Level 5, we saw the sheer size and magnificence of the seating and pitch. I had worried that we would be so far away and so high up it would be like watching a subbeteo game. However it was nothing like that although I did get touches of vertigo and panic attacks whenever balloons drifted past me. The stadium filled with supporters and we certainly seemed to have more blue clad Pompey supporters than the Baggies had. Over and over again we sang the Pompey chimes and worked our way through the limited but stirring repertoire of Pompey football songs. The game started and Pompey were crap in the first half! Obviously 'Arry Redknap had a go at them in the interval and we sang even louder and more supportively than ever. The two wide players moved in to stifle the Baggie midfield and lo and behold we scored one hell of a scrappy goal. My Little Bro watching on telly at home texted me to tell me it was handball by Milan Baros and shouldn't have been allowed to stand as a goal. However we in the stadium didn't care and the Pompey Chimes, "Play Up Pompey, Pompey Play Up", rang and rang around that stadium. The Pompey luck which had seen us through so many stages of the FA Cup this season was still with us and perhaps 2008 is the year with Pompey's name on the cup. The exit down several flights of stairs surrounded by several thousands of Pompey fans singing "the Blue Army" raised the hairs at the back of my neck. It was tribal and primitive and I was a part of it.
We are now waiting to see what the arrangements are for tickets for the Final between Pompey and Cardiff City managed by ex Scummer, Davy Jones (not he of the Monkees). The numbers for fans of the two clubs are reduced for the Final as the FA use the tickets as a way of thanking its county and grassroots FA members. I am hoping that Natty Chap can once more work his magic and that we shall be there on May 17th. PUP! Play Up Pompey!
Mam's birthday on Sunday the 6th and we raised a glass at the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding family dinner cooked by yours truly. She would have been 91 this year but died shortly after we married and had been too ill to attend our wedding. I am not sure she would have recognised the son who has turned his hand to roast lamb, roast pork, roast goat and roast chicken dinners during the Best Beloved's recuperation period. I think she believed me to be a lazy b****r even if she loved me. I still am, Ma, but have just got better at disguising it as at disguising so many other things!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Optimising and safeguarding my computer
"Most teachers are part-time IT pros at their schools so I expect you are pretty experienced in optimising and safeguarding PCs."
Thus spake Trevor Hare as a comment on the end of a previous post.
I have looked up adding 2GB of memory to my operating system, using the Crucial UK System scanner tool. I will do this soon. At present it is running on 256 Mb., so will multiply by 8.
I have downloaded the Acronis True Image system on a 15 day trial to provide me with a back up system.
I have downloaded the Mozilla browser although, out of laziness, still tend to use Internet Explorer.
The defragmenting software has been downloaded and is in use.
Norton 360 regularly scans my system and provides a firewall.
I am impressed by the Dell Latitude D630 laptop but am also struck by a Toshiba model.
A cable broadband and a wireless network join two computers at present but we have the capacity to include a laptop for working downstairs or in the garden.
Googlemail is my free email service, as well as using my ntlworld and frostymarsh email servers.
I was lucky enough at school to work alongside Steve Long, a very gifted ICT technician, and before him, the lovely Lynne Tandy. I learned a lot from both but want to thank Trevor for all the advice given. I have learned even more in these past few days.
Thus spake Trevor Hare as a comment on the end of a previous post.
I have looked up adding 2GB of memory to my operating system, using the Crucial UK System scanner tool. I will do this soon. At present it is running on 256 Mb., so will multiply by 8.
I have downloaded the Acronis True Image system on a 15 day trial to provide me with a back up system.
I have downloaded the Mozilla browser although, out of laziness, still tend to use Internet Explorer.
The defragmenting software has been downloaded and is in use.
Norton 360 regularly scans my system and provides a firewall.
I am impressed by the Dell Latitude D630 laptop but am also struck by a Toshiba model.
A cable broadband and a wireless network join two computers at present but we have the capacity to include a laptop for working downstairs or in the garden.
Googlemail is my free email service, as well as using my ntlworld and frostymarsh email servers.
I was lucky enough at school to work alongside Steve Long, a very gifted ICT technician, and before him, the lovely Lynne Tandy. I learned a lot from both but want to thank Trevor for all the advice given. I have learned even more in these past few days.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
The aftermath
The week after a show goes down tends to feel rather flat and anti climactic, especially after the adrenalin rush of the previous week. Certainly "Attempts On Her Life" prompted more adrenalin rushes than most shows I have been in.
I have started work as movement director on "Bronte", the next Bench production, which opens on April 24th. However I will keep you up to date with how that goes on my companion blog, "Bench Hamlet 2008".
The Penroses, Best Beloved and I went to see Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along" on Thursday for a matinee at the Watermill Theatre in Newbury. Again this is reviewed on my companion blog. I have realised I have lots of Sondheim compilations and am enamoured of favourite pieces by favourite artistes such as Mandy Patinkin and Maria Friedman but don't have many of his musicals on CD. This is because I have a magnificent collection of musicals on tape, which cost me hundreds to gather and haven't yet replaced them with CD versions. I can see another project arising.
The Bench Club Night was fun as the Best Beloved led a session on "Bronte" and it reminded everyone that Club night have become a bit sedentary. We have tended to sit around a lot and talk about future productions, rather than get up and do something. I was a bit "giddy" and silly and owe apologies for embarrassing behaviour all around. I did start a post about embarrassing behaviour to which I am prone but decided to abort it as it was too navel gazing even for me.
This week has also seen me looking at the Internet in a more organised way to see what i can get out of it rather than just idly surfing aimlessly. I have updated various aspects of my computer but am still appalled at how slow it is. I have plenty of storage memory but the operating system slowly grinds its way through tasks. I am now back online with Messenger but have only two people on my contact list. I like the idea of video calling but obviously need more contacts to make it worthwhile.
Today is a sporting day with Pompey taking on Man U at lunchtime in Old Trafford, followed by England tackling Scotland in the Rugby Calcutta Cup at teatime. The family is attending the wedding of Damon and Vicky ( he was director of Bare Bards' "Measure for Measure" in November 2007) and the Best Beloved and I are going to the evening reception. We wish the young couple the very best in their married life together.
The Best Beloved has an operation lined up on Tuesday and will then be out of action for five or six weeks recuperation thereafter. I will be her nurse and housekeeper. I have all the skills necessary but am unreliable if I get stuck into my own activities. The Firstborn and Cat will relieve me on occasions and will no doubt keep me up to the mark if they observe any slacking on my part. I have observed many times in the past a genetic tone of voice that the female members of my family possess when they find it necessary to reprimand me. If the Best Beloved is not there to take charge herself, the Firstborn sounds remarkable like her as does Cat if the other two aren't around. To my ear it sounds like the Best Beloved has never left the building. I am reluctant to get my greyhound, "Rosie", because I think this phenomenon would only confuse her. She would have to rely solely on the voice of her master to know whether she was coming or going.
In recompense the details of our canal boat holiday in June, our extension building in the summer and our nephew's wedding in September in Italy are beginning to firm up beautifully.
This has been posting for the sake of posting but I do have plans afoot for revitalising my blog so patient reader please stay with me. I must go now, someone has signed in on Messenger. I wonder if they will talk to me? "Rosie", heel, girl!
I have started work as movement director on "Bronte", the next Bench production, which opens on April 24th. However I will keep you up to date with how that goes on my companion blog, "Bench Hamlet 2008".
The Penroses, Best Beloved and I went to see Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along" on Thursday for a matinee at the Watermill Theatre in Newbury. Again this is reviewed on my companion blog. I have realised I have lots of Sondheim compilations and am enamoured of favourite pieces by favourite artistes such as Mandy Patinkin and Maria Friedman but don't have many of his musicals on CD. This is because I have a magnificent collection of musicals on tape, which cost me hundreds to gather and haven't yet replaced them with CD versions. I can see another project arising.
The Bench Club Night was fun as the Best Beloved led a session on "Bronte" and it reminded everyone that Club night have become a bit sedentary. We have tended to sit around a lot and talk about future productions, rather than get up and do something. I was a bit "giddy" and silly and owe apologies for embarrassing behaviour all around. I did start a post about embarrassing behaviour to which I am prone but decided to abort it as it was too navel gazing even for me.
This week has also seen me looking at the Internet in a more organised way to see what i can get out of it rather than just idly surfing aimlessly. I have updated various aspects of my computer but am still appalled at how slow it is. I have plenty of storage memory but the operating system slowly grinds its way through tasks. I am now back online with Messenger but have only two people on my contact list. I like the idea of video calling but obviously need more contacts to make it worthwhile.
Today is a sporting day with Pompey taking on Man U at lunchtime in Old Trafford, followed by England tackling Scotland in the Rugby Calcutta Cup at teatime. The family is attending the wedding of Damon and Vicky ( he was director of Bare Bards' "Measure for Measure" in November 2007) and the Best Beloved and I are going to the evening reception. We wish the young couple the very best in their married life together.
The Best Beloved has an operation lined up on Tuesday and will then be out of action for five or six weeks recuperation thereafter. I will be her nurse and housekeeper. I have all the skills necessary but am unreliable if I get stuck into my own activities. The Firstborn and Cat will relieve me on occasions and will no doubt keep me up to the mark if they observe any slacking on my part. I have observed many times in the past a genetic tone of voice that the female members of my family possess when they find it necessary to reprimand me. If the Best Beloved is not there to take charge herself, the Firstborn sounds remarkable like her as does Cat if the other two aren't around. To my ear it sounds like the Best Beloved has never left the building. I am reluctant to get my greyhound, "Rosie", because I think this phenomenon would only confuse her. She would have to rely solely on the voice of her master to know whether she was coming or going.
In recompense the details of our canal boat holiday in June, our extension building in the summer and our nephew's wedding in September in Italy are beginning to firm up beautifully.
This has been posting for the sake of posting but I do have plans afoot for revitalising my blog so patient reader please stay with me. I must go now, someone has signed in on Messenger. I wonder if they will talk to me? "Rosie", heel, girl!
Monday, March 03, 2008
In Memoriam
Michael John Patrick Corrigan
born 9th January 1943
died 13th September 1943
aged 8 months.
First son of James Patrick and Nellie Corrigan.
Elder brother of Peter John and Andrew Patrick.
born 9th January 1943
died 13th September 1943
aged 8 months.
First son of James Patrick and Nellie Corrigan.
Elder brother of Peter John and Andrew Patrick.
The Jokes Circuit
I am a sucker for jokes. I can never remember the punch lines and roar with ill-contained mirth at the same jokes over and over again.
I am therefore a recipient of lots of these email circulated jokes from a number of sources and in the main I enjoy them. I am sometimes caught out when someone on the distribution list says, "Wasn't that joke about Viagra funny?". I simply cannot remember the joke! It must appear at times that I am displaying prudism but generally the dirtier the joke the more I laugh. However it does not improve my remembrance of said joke one iota. The similarity of lots of these jokes do make them merge one with another. I am also an Einstein disciple. When asked why he didn't remember his phone number, he replied that it was written down somewhere in a book. He didn't need to waste valuable memory space on such trivia. I like that explanation.
I read the jokes and then pass them on to other distribution lists of people I think will enjoy them. So I am a culpable and involved participant in such email rubbish. I wouldn't dream of passing them on to such a discerning person as you , dear reader, although occasionally one or two do slip on to the pages of my blog.
I have recently been included on a distribution list of someone in the rehab class. The sheer amount of distributed material is overwhelming and I need to indicate clearly what I like and what I don't. Amongst the material is a great deal of what I can only describe as invective aimed at immigration and immigrants. I am distressed that such material exists, which runs counter to my personal and political stance. I am really upset though that anyone who knew me would think that I would endorse this material in any way. We are not allowed to discuss sex, politics or religion during rehab classes as these are subjects which invariably lead to heated debate at least. In a band of recovering males, who are beginning to rediscover themselves after a traumatic physical experience, led by a very fit young woman, the first one of the banned subjects may not be too overt but is there in the sub text constantly. The last two subjects are frowned upon. However one of the warm down exercises is to perform a series of prescribed activities to the numbers, one to ten. One is raise left arm, three is clap hands, eight is stand on right leg with left leg in air, etc. Debbie decide to change the routine by introducing the numbers in another language - so far we have done French and German. The numbers 1 - 10 in a number of languages is well within the scope of an ex primary school teacher (although I cannot comment on the accuracy of the pronunciation). In the event the number of other people in the group who knew these numbers in German surprised Debbie. When the idea was broached, Debbie approached me for the numbers in German (she can see a parallel in what she does with what I did professionally), and there was comment from the list distributors. I explained that I was a pro-European and, despite some subsequent scoffing, felt a glow inside. I had stood up - oh I know in a very minor way - for one of my political ideals and, you know what, it feels good.
I am therefore a recipient of lots of these email circulated jokes from a number of sources and in the main I enjoy them. I am sometimes caught out when someone on the distribution list says, "Wasn't that joke about Viagra funny?". I simply cannot remember the joke! It must appear at times that I am displaying prudism but generally the dirtier the joke the more I laugh. However it does not improve my remembrance of said joke one iota. The similarity of lots of these jokes do make them merge one with another. I am also an Einstein disciple. When asked why he didn't remember his phone number, he replied that it was written down somewhere in a book. He didn't need to waste valuable memory space on such trivia. I like that explanation.
I read the jokes and then pass them on to other distribution lists of people I think will enjoy them. So I am a culpable and involved participant in such email rubbish. I wouldn't dream of passing them on to such a discerning person as you , dear reader, although occasionally one or two do slip on to the pages of my blog.
I have recently been included on a distribution list of someone in the rehab class. The sheer amount of distributed material is overwhelming and I need to indicate clearly what I like and what I don't. Amongst the material is a great deal of what I can only describe as invective aimed at immigration and immigrants. I am distressed that such material exists, which runs counter to my personal and political stance. I am really upset though that anyone who knew me would think that I would endorse this material in any way. We are not allowed to discuss sex, politics or religion during rehab classes as these are subjects which invariably lead to heated debate at least. In a band of recovering males, who are beginning to rediscover themselves after a traumatic physical experience, led by a very fit young woman, the first one of the banned subjects may not be too overt but is there in the sub text constantly. The last two subjects are frowned upon. However one of the warm down exercises is to perform a series of prescribed activities to the numbers, one to ten. One is raise left arm, three is clap hands, eight is stand on right leg with left leg in air, etc. Debbie decide to change the routine by introducing the numbers in another language - so far we have done French and German. The numbers 1 - 10 in a number of languages is well within the scope of an ex primary school teacher (although I cannot comment on the accuracy of the pronunciation). In the event the number of other people in the group who knew these numbers in German surprised Debbie. When the idea was broached, Debbie approached me for the numbers in German (she can see a parallel in what she does with what I did professionally), and there was comment from the list distributors. I explained that I was a pro-European and, despite some subsequent scoffing, felt a glow inside. I had stood up - oh I know in a very minor way - for one of my political ideals and, you know what, it feels good.
Bits and pieces
Over on my "Bench Hamlet 2008" blog, I am writing a personalised review of "Attempts On Her Life", last week's production of the Bench Theatre at Havant Arts Centre. I might send an edited version to go on the rehearsal blog of the show and perhaps to the Benchpress.
Here, I just wanted to vent my spleen at a couple of things that caught my eye this week. Both were to do with education, which still clings to me like an old familiar smell.
Firstly there was the Tesco CEO banging on about education standards of school leavers not being good enough. I am not sure what educational level is expected of a store replenishment assistant but what takes the biscuit as far as I am concerned is that this comes from a company, which like many others of its ilk, is finding ways to avoid paying tax in this country. Once upon a time tax avoidance was the domain of giant multi nationals but now even companies of the size of Tesco are doing the same. One figure I have seen quoted for the amount of tax thus avoided is £12 billion. That would be enough to build 50 new hospitals and would certainly be enough to invest in state education. The CEO will probably claim he is paying his own personal tax but companies like his are directing money away from this country. In education I constantly heard the expression, "you can't solve a problem by throwing money at it." You could solve a number of problems by looking closely at what the problems actually are and investing wisely to overcome them. Over 300 secondary schools are under-performing and there are probably as many reasons as there are schools. However there must be some generic problems.
Based on personal professional experience, a school with difficulties usually finds itself militated against. The inspection team arrives and identifies the fairly obvious faults in the system prevalent in the school. They report on these faults and publicise them. They then move on to the next school in the system. The school management and staff in the affected school are virtually left to drag themselves out of the trouble they are in. Wouldn't it be better if a team of dedicated specialist teachers (if such things exist?) moved in alongside the existing staff until such time as the school recovered to the standard expected? It may also be necessary to axe some of the current staff and replace them with more capable staff on a higher pay scale. The number of staff should be deliberately increased to improve immediately the chances of the children currently at the school. This would reduce the numbers in teaching groups and give the teachers more preparation time working alongside more experienced qualified staff. What usually happens in reality of course is that the inspection report causes an abandonment of the school by those parents and children who can move. This reduces the numbers on roll and staff is reduced accordingly as they are made redundant. It doesn't take much imagination to see that the ones who move voluntarily are the ones that can. None of this works in a free market capitalism based education system but it could if that £12 billion was used to improve buildings, resources and staffing because that is what the common good needs, not what the market demands.
The other point was exclusions. Apparently if a child is excluded from a private school, the fees are retained by the school as part of the contract entered into between the parent and the educational establishment. In the state system, if a child is excluded from a school, the funding for that child must be forwarded back to the local authority or on to the next school receiving that child. The original school is therefore penalised all the way round for excluding a child. I am not advocating that it should be made easy for children to be excluded, but rather it is usually followed by a lot of bureaucratic hand and arm waving in the air, accompanied by tutting noises, and basically total inaction. This helps neither the individual child or the school. The blame for the inaction usually is laid at the door of inadequate budgets provided for thos in authority. I did wonder again if some of that £12 billion in avoided taxes could have been used to take an excluded child from a state school and that the state then invests in a private education for that child. It might be cheaper for the state to do that in the long run, it would then have an investment platform in the "much better" private education system and the child would be given a true new start in life. Of course there are lots of flaws in this idea and perhaps the most glaring one is that unscrupulous parents might encourage their state educated children to misbehave in order to attain this "new start". As if parents have any responsibility for the behaviour of their children in school! What a socialist idea that is!
I read in the letters published in my local paper that we have a "socialist government". Which country do they live in and which century?
Here, I just wanted to vent my spleen at a couple of things that caught my eye this week. Both were to do with education, which still clings to me like an old familiar smell.
Firstly there was the Tesco CEO banging on about education standards of school leavers not being good enough. I am not sure what educational level is expected of a store replenishment assistant but what takes the biscuit as far as I am concerned is that this comes from a company, which like many others of its ilk, is finding ways to avoid paying tax in this country. Once upon a time tax avoidance was the domain of giant multi nationals but now even companies of the size of Tesco are doing the same. One figure I have seen quoted for the amount of tax thus avoided is £12 billion. That would be enough to build 50 new hospitals and would certainly be enough to invest in state education. The CEO will probably claim he is paying his own personal tax but companies like his are directing money away from this country. In education I constantly heard the expression, "you can't solve a problem by throwing money at it." You could solve a number of problems by looking closely at what the problems actually are and investing wisely to overcome them. Over 300 secondary schools are under-performing and there are probably as many reasons as there are schools. However there must be some generic problems.
Based on personal professional experience, a school with difficulties usually finds itself militated against. The inspection team arrives and identifies the fairly obvious faults in the system prevalent in the school. They report on these faults and publicise them. They then move on to the next school in the system. The school management and staff in the affected school are virtually left to drag themselves out of the trouble they are in. Wouldn't it be better if a team of dedicated specialist teachers (if such things exist?) moved in alongside the existing staff until such time as the school recovered to the standard expected? It may also be necessary to axe some of the current staff and replace them with more capable staff on a higher pay scale. The number of staff should be deliberately increased to improve immediately the chances of the children currently at the school. This would reduce the numbers in teaching groups and give the teachers more preparation time working alongside more experienced qualified staff. What usually happens in reality of course is that the inspection report causes an abandonment of the school by those parents and children who can move. This reduces the numbers on roll and staff is reduced accordingly as they are made redundant. It doesn't take much imagination to see that the ones who move voluntarily are the ones that can. None of this works in a free market capitalism based education system but it could if that £12 billion was used to improve buildings, resources and staffing because that is what the common good needs, not what the market demands.
The other point was exclusions. Apparently if a child is excluded from a private school, the fees are retained by the school as part of the contract entered into between the parent and the educational establishment. In the state system, if a child is excluded from a school, the funding for that child must be forwarded back to the local authority or on to the next school receiving that child. The original school is therefore penalised all the way round for excluding a child. I am not advocating that it should be made easy for children to be excluded, but rather it is usually followed by a lot of bureaucratic hand and arm waving in the air, accompanied by tutting noises, and basically total inaction. This helps neither the individual child or the school. The blame for the inaction usually is laid at the door of inadequate budgets provided for thos in authority. I did wonder again if some of that £12 billion in avoided taxes could have been used to take an excluded child from a state school and that the state then invests in a private education for that child. It might be cheaper for the state to do that in the long run, it would then have an investment platform in the "much better" private education system and the child would be given a true new start in life. Of course there are lots of flaws in this idea and perhaps the most glaring one is that unscrupulous parents might encourage their state educated children to misbehave in order to attain this "new start". As if parents have any responsibility for the behaviour of their children in school! What a socialist idea that is!
I read in the letters published in my local paper that we have a "socialist government". Which country do they live in and which century?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Family history
The Kid Brother, who is the family historian, having traced back the family tree some distance at least on my mother's side, has intervened to correct some information I put out in an earlier post. I claimed my father was the sire of two sons but in fact he had three sons. Unfortunately my older brother,Michael Patrick, caught pneumonia at the age of six months and did not survive. When I caught pneumonia at six months and nearly died (perhaps a reason for my smaller lung capacity?), except for the persistence of my mother against medical complacency, in the days when that sort of thing was not expected of working class mothers, I was given the saint name of John rather than Patrick. My mother did not want to name another child after St Patrick, a saint who failed to look after her firstborn. She must have relented when my Kid Brother was born, as he was named Andrew Patrick, a name already in currency in the family as one of my father's brothers was also named Andrew Patrick.
My Kid Brother also texted me this week to report that he was awoken at 1.00 a.m. by his bed shaking and his roof timbers creaking. It was the Market Rasen earthquake. The epicentre was also in Wombwell, which is a name from our family past.
The Kitten referred me to an episode of "Lark Rise to Candleford", so I watched it, wondering why she thought I would find it interesting. I found it intriguing as it seemed to revolve around a young couple with family and the husband, susceptible to drink, had given his wife a black eye. The wife of the local Liberal workman had taken an interest in their case and he utters the immortal line, "Now I begin to understand what it must be like for you to be married to me." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to get out of the episode. Kitten replied that the drunken married couple (not a reflection of her mother and I fortunately) had made her think of "Nelly and Patrick". Now these are the names of her paternal grandparents and shows that my stories of family history have made an impact on our younger daughter. The strange thing was I failed to recognise "Nelly and Patrick" in her description.
There are two reasons for this. Firstly, I never referred ever to my Mam as Nelly. I knew that was her Christian name and heard other adults call her that. However to me she was Mam. In Alan Bennet''s wonderful "Untold Stories", he recounts a moment when he heard his parents call each other by their Christian names. He realised then that he had only ever heard them refer to themselves as Mam and Dad, and rarely by their Christian name. Parenthood is a strange occupation and surprisingly time consuming.
Secondly, my Da was never referred to as Patrick because all the men in the family could claim that name as their own as well. His brothers, sisters and sisters in law called him Seamus. Aunt Lucy, the Mrs Corrigan, being married to the eldest brother, called him James, which sounded like an admonishment. Everyone else called him Jim or Jimmy, even the Bradford police. He was Big Jim or Big Jimmy, although in stature he was not much bigger than my brother or I are now. However he was a man who talked with both fists to make his points. Big Jim was a mark of respect from those who had felt those points being made on them. Jimmy was the epithet of those who wanted the fists behind them or who had reason to call Da a friend.
My Kid Brother also texted me this week to report that he was awoken at 1.00 a.m. by his bed shaking and his roof timbers creaking. It was the Market Rasen earthquake. The epicentre was also in Wombwell, which is a name from our family past.
The Kitten referred me to an episode of "Lark Rise to Candleford", so I watched it, wondering why she thought I would find it interesting. I found it intriguing as it seemed to revolve around a young couple with family and the husband, susceptible to drink, had given his wife a black eye. The wife of the local Liberal workman had taken an interest in their case and he utters the immortal line, "Now I begin to understand what it must be like for you to be married to me." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to get out of the episode. Kitten replied that the drunken married couple (not a reflection of her mother and I fortunately) had made her think of "Nelly and Patrick". Now these are the names of her paternal grandparents and shows that my stories of family history have made an impact on our younger daughter. The strange thing was I failed to recognise "Nelly and Patrick" in her description.
There are two reasons for this. Firstly, I never referred ever to my Mam as Nelly. I knew that was her Christian name and heard other adults call her that. However to me she was Mam. In Alan Bennet''s wonderful "Untold Stories", he recounts a moment when he heard his parents call each other by their Christian names. He realised then that he had only ever heard them refer to themselves as Mam and Dad, and rarely by their Christian name. Parenthood is a strange occupation and surprisingly time consuming.
Secondly, my Da was never referred to as Patrick because all the men in the family could claim that name as their own as well. His brothers, sisters and sisters in law called him Seamus. Aunt Lucy, the Mrs Corrigan, being married to the eldest brother, called him James, which sounded like an admonishment. Everyone else called him Jim or Jimmy, even the Bradford police. He was Big Jim or Big Jimmy, although in stature he was not much bigger than my brother or I are now. However he was a man who talked with both fists to make his points. Big Jim was a mark of respect from those who had felt those points being made on them. Jimmy was the epithet of those who wanted the fists behind them or who had reason to call Da a friend.
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