Celebrity. How I detest that word. Ask any wanna-be what he or she wants most out of life and the answer is invariably "I want to be famous". Not the best at this or that, or even famous for doing this or that, just, "famous".
What a sad empty ambition that is. I don't want to be known for anything (mostly because I have no recognizable talent of any sort) I just want to be known.
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, there were vast numbers of eager talented young people, some of whom could write, sing, dance or act, whatever their particular gift they all had something to offer, something they did well and of which they were proud, Sometimes they became celebrated and admired for their ability to entertain, amuse, or bewitch with their performances.
When did this wonderful potential disappear, to be replaced with a "Midwitch Cuckoo" population of grey, personalityless celebrities who have nothing to say, nothing to offer, and nothing between their ears?
Last evening, bored and with nothing much to do I scanned the TV channels to see what was on offer. You,ve guessed it, "I'm a Celebrity Get me out of Here". Oh I do so wish someone would!
In the end I wound up watching yet another repeat, but at least a well-acted one with lovely settings, in short "Lewis". A real programme.!
Anyone for tennis?
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Saturday, 27 November 2010
"In the Still of the Night" Insomnia V
Very early mornings have very little to recommend them, particularly if they have not been preceded by at least the semblance of a night's sleep. They have, however, one distinct advantage, there is little likelyhood of disturbance.
Why is it that in a day or evening when there has been no time to get to the keyboard and start 'thinking' aloud, the minute you finally settle - theme in mind - the phone rings.
15 minutes later, having at last persuaded the caller "I just want to ask you a few questions, it will only take a minute or two", that you do not believe he is doing market research, nor that he really isn't selling anything and that you are not remotely interested in anything he might have to say, when you finally sit at the desk again, every thought has departed at the speed of light and you no longer wish to communicate with anyone (ever again)!
Which begs the question, did you have anything worth saying to say in the first place?
In theory then, the wee small hours should provide the best ever opportunity for you to give birth to your magnum opus, or in my case, magnum 'opeless'.
Just ventured a peep out of the window to see what manner of day I'll have to step out into in about five hours. "What a mistake to make"! Everything in sight is covered in thick hard white frost and it's still only November.
I've always maintained that humans are not quite as evolved or else created with serious design faults and unfit for purpose, as we would like to think we are. If we could hibernate from say, November to April just think what a lovely lot we'd be. Rested, relaxed, ready to enjoy everything which came our way, eager to meet others after our long respite altogether a better species.
There is for me at least, one serious problem with this theory. How do I get to sleep in the first place?
Answers on a prescription form please!
Why is it that in a day or evening when there has been no time to get to the keyboard and start 'thinking' aloud, the minute you finally settle - theme in mind - the phone rings.
15 minutes later, having at last persuaded the caller "I just want to ask you a few questions, it will only take a minute or two", that you do not believe he is doing market research, nor that he really isn't selling anything and that you are not remotely interested in anything he might have to say, when you finally sit at the desk again, every thought has departed at the speed of light and you no longer wish to communicate with anyone (ever again)!
Which begs the question, did you have anything worth saying to say in the first place?
In theory then, the wee small hours should provide the best ever opportunity for you to give birth to your magnum opus, or in my case, magnum 'opeless'.
Just ventured a peep out of the window to see what manner of day I'll have to step out into in about five hours. "What a mistake to make"! Everything in sight is covered in thick hard white frost and it's still only November.
I've always maintained that humans are not quite as evolved or else created with serious design faults and unfit for purpose, as we would like to think we are. If we could hibernate from say, November to April just think what a lovely lot we'd be. Rested, relaxed, ready to enjoy everything which came our way, eager to meet others after our long respite altogether a better species.
There is for me at least, one serious problem with this theory. How do I get to sleep in the first place?
Answers on a prescription form please!
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Brrrr !
A freezing white Wednesday - day of catch-up household chores - sitting with a large coffee in one hand, having a break and staring out of the window at the icy white world outside.
Watching a female blackbird warily eyeing the frozen bird-bath, finally discover the small oasis where I had poured some boiling water to make a 'lake' for my daily visitors.
First she drank for quite a long time then began dipping first one, then the other wing and finally hopped in and splashed vigorously for a couple of minutes, shook herself and flew off.
The water must have been freezing - felt like taking her a warm towel - perhaps not.
Is it only humans who are such wimps? Well, this one anyway. After all, birds don't grow extra feathers in cold weather and though I (and millions of others) put out food for them when it is excessively cold, surely their little thermostats must be a tad overtaxed?
I feel so lucky to have the blessing of a warm house, but can't help thinking of those not so lucky and wondering how they are fareing at this time of year, particularly those sleeping in doorways.
Spare a thought, prayer and some cash for them.
Watching a female blackbird warily eyeing the frozen bird-bath, finally discover the small oasis where I had poured some boiling water to make a 'lake' for my daily visitors.
First she drank for quite a long time then began dipping first one, then the other wing and finally hopped in and splashed vigorously for a couple of minutes, shook herself and flew off.
The water must have been freezing - felt like taking her a warm towel - perhaps not.
Is it only humans who are such wimps? Well, this one anyway. After all, birds don't grow extra feathers in cold weather and though I (and millions of others) put out food for them when it is excessively cold, surely their little thermostats must be a tad overtaxed?
I feel so lucky to have the blessing of a warm house, but can't help thinking of those not so lucky and wondering how they are fareing at this time of year, particularly those sleeping in doorways.
Spare a thought, prayer and some cash for them.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
The Sound of Silence
As I waited, chilly and impatient for the long overdue bus to arrive this morning, I was indulging in one of my favourite pursuits, admiring the delicate filigree 'veins' (sans leaves), of a lovely slender young birch-tree outlined against a cold dark Winter sky. Reluctantly turning my attention to the offending vehicle I discovered that although there were several passengers on board, the sign above the driver's head bore the message - Sorry, this bus is not in service.
Assuming, since it had stopped and opened its doors, that all was well, I said "town please" took my ticket and sat down.
All the way into town I watched with amusement people's puzzled stares. quickly followed by realization that the sign was a mistake and waited for someone to say something. Nothing, zilch, nada not one single word from anyone.
Arriving at my stop I said to the driver as I alighted " do you know your sign says this bus is not in service?"
He replied "I know love, get's 'em talking don't it"!
Assuming, since it had stopped and opened its doors, that all was well, I said "town please" took my ticket and sat down.
All the way into town I watched with amusement people's puzzled stares. quickly followed by realization that the sign was a mistake and waited for someone to say something. Nothing, zilch, nada not one single word from anyone.
Arriving at my stop I said to the driver as I alighted " do you know your sign says this bus is not in service?"
He replied "I know love, get's 'em talking don't it"!
Bubble Bubble Toil and ..........
Among my other "close to nature" hobbies - trees, birds, sunrises and sunsets, there is also an all-consuming preocupation with 'weather'. Often in a period of 24 hours, the only TV I watch will be weather forecasts.
Sad, but true, I will hop from one channel to another just to look for variations on a theme. This is combined with a totally unscientific ability to fairly accurately predict what extremes of climate we may expect in the next 48 hours or so. This I ascribe to a close affinity with 'things natural'.
Recently I remarked to a young acquaintance that we were in for a spell of very cold weather and that this would begin on a given day. "How do you know"? he asked nervously, "because there will be a full moon that night, and the weather always changes on the full moon" I replied.
Is it only we Celts (I'm 90% Welsh and 10% Cornish) who observe nature's foibles closely and react accordingly.?
Can I hear the sound of a large crowd coming this way, what's that they're chanting? "Burn the witch"?
I'll just call the cat and get my broomstick!
Sad, but true, I will hop from one channel to another just to look for variations on a theme. This is combined with a totally unscientific ability to fairly accurately predict what extremes of climate we may expect in the next 48 hours or so. This I ascribe to a close affinity with 'things natural'.
Recently I remarked to a young acquaintance that we were in for a spell of very cold weather and that this would begin on a given day. "How do you know"? he asked nervously, "because there will be a full moon that night, and the weather always changes on the full moon" I replied.
Is it only we Celts (I'm 90% Welsh and 10% Cornish) who observe nature's foibles closely and react accordingly.?
Can I hear the sound of a large crowd coming this way, what's that they're chanting? "Burn the witch"?
I'll just call the cat and get my broomstick!
Saturday, 20 November 2010
To Be or Not To Be
Recently, two people whose blogs I read regularly have written one on abortion, the other on the subject of child neglect/cruelty. In my opinion these two subjects are quite closely related.
In a world where extreme cruelty to tiny helpless children is fast becoming endemic one has to ask the question why?
Sometimes the parent(s) is completely unable unprepared or unfit to raise a child (often because of drug or other addiction or mental incapacity). Occasionally because he/she is still a child himself, but also sometimes because economic and home circumstances are totally insufficient to support even the parent(s) never mind an unplanned for and unwanted infant.
How much better therefor in my view that the pregnancy be aborted before the welfare and safety of the child is jeopardised and the prospective parent criminalised.
Just as, in my opinion, no-one who does not really love or want an animal as a pet, should be allowed to have one, so, a million times more so, no-one should ever give birth to an unwanted child.
I have no intention of pointing the "moral" finger at any one particular group whether Pro-lifers, religious fanatics or welfare organisations, this is an issue which could potentially affect anyone and the terrible suffering and horrendous consequences of ignoring it are being daily brought to our attention in TV and newspaper reports from our law-courts.
Time to make a change in some of our thinking, or am I flogging a dead horse?
In a world where extreme cruelty to tiny helpless children is fast becoming endemic one has to ask the question why?
Sometimes the parent(s) is completely unable unprepared or unfit to raise a child (often because of drug or other addiction or mental incapacity). Occasionally because he/she is still a child himself, but also sometimes because economic and home circumstances are totally insufficient to support even the parent(s) never mind an unplanned for and unwanted infant.
How much better therefor in my view that the pregnancy be aborted before the welfare and safety of the child is jeopardised and the prospective parent criminalised.
Just as, in my opinion, no-one who does not really love or want an animal as a pet, should be allowed to have one, so, a million times more so, no-one should ever give birth to an unwanted child.
I have no intention of pointing the "moral" finger at any one particular group whether Pro-lifers, religious fanatics or welfare organisations, this is an issue which could potentially affect anyone and the terrible suffering and horrendous consequences of ignoring it are being daily brought to our attention in TV and newspaper reports from our law-courts.
Time to make a change in some of our thinking, or am I flogging a dead horse?
Friday, 19 November 2010
The Stuff Of Dreams Insomnia 1V
After a night of sleeping in short snatches, followed by long periods awake, finally fell heavily asleep at about four-thirty only to have yet another of my "lost" specials.
Once again, somewhere in Holborn with my late husband a shadowy figure in attendance the inevitable turning the wrong way into an unrecognized area leading to asking advice began. This is a familiar pattern/theme of these nightmares and always leads to increasing fear frustration and panic.
This time, as so often before, every person we met and asked directions from turned out to be a visitor to London and pointed us in the wrong direction as we got further and further lost.
Somehow we ended up in a house with a huge party of people who had apparently rented it for the night,
we were trying to find a room when I found myself alone and struggled through a maze of rooms untill I was suddenly outside surrounded by marsh.
This was full of farm animals, all happily splashing about in water and in the distance I could see the Tower of London.
A passer by told me the best way to get back to Holborn was to "keep travelling East". Trying to discover how to do that from my watery prison with increasing panic I woke, hot, sweating and full of rage.
I know the human mind is a morass of weird ideas, half-formed thoughts, instincts and memories but really this makes me think I should be in therapy!
Where on earth do these extraordinary dreams stem from and what, if anything, should I glean from them?
Having spent twenty-eight years of my working life in London I felt I knew - at least the areas in which I worked - reasonably well, so just why my dreams/nightmares are full of hitherto unknown places is hard to imagine.
In case anyone should think the answers are plainly to be seen, I should point out that I had these dreams when John was alive too.
I've just read through this and feel that though it might be wiser to scrap it, there was obviously some reason why it felt necessary to set it out in print so, for what it's worth warts and all - read , and shudder!
Once again, somewhere in Holborn with my late husband a shadowy figure in attendance the inevitable turning the wrong way into an unrecognized area leading to asking advice began. This is a familiar pattern/theme of these nightmares and always leads to increasing fear frustration and panic.
This time, as so often before, every person we met and asked directions from turned out to be a visitor to London and pointed us in the wrong direction as we got further and further lost.
Somehow we ended up in a house with a huge party of people who had apparently rented it for the night,
we were trying to find a room when I found myself alone and struggled through a maze of rooms untill I was suddenly outside surrounded by marsh.
This was full of farm animals, all happily splashing about in water and in the distance I could see the Tower of London.
A passer by told me the best way to get back to Holborn was to "keep travelling East". Trying to discover how to do that from my watery prison with increasing panic I woke, hot, sweating and full of rage.
I know the human mind is a morass of weird ideas, half-formed thoughts, instincts and memories but really this makes me think I should be in therapy!
Where on earth do these extraordinary dreams stem from and what, if anything, should I glean from them?
Having spent twenty-eight years of my working life in London I felt I knew - at least the areas in which I worked - reasonably well, so just why my dreams/nightmares are full of hitherto unknown places is hard to imagine.
In case anyone should think the answers are plainly to be seen, I should point out that I had these dreams when John was alive too.
I've just read through this and feel that though it might be wiser to scrap it, there was obviously some reason why it felt necessary to set it out in print so, for what it's worth warts and all - read , and shudder!
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