Friday, 7 December 2012

Dec 1st

Do you find that it is a recurring theme in life to miss things because we are in such a rush; a rush to milk life, to look into the distance or simply to meet the day-to-day demands that we face?
 
Today is Saturday Nov. 17th and I have for the last few weeks, been sorting out my CD collection. I mentioned the i-Tunes library in the last letter but there are of course actual CDs as well, many of which are in i-Tunes; probably more that are not. The house move and then the unpacking threw them all up in the air, of course. Then there was the discarding to charity shops of a few that I simply had to have at one time, but for the life of me, can’t quite recall why. All in all, the fallout from that spoke to the filing clerk in me pleading for order from chaos so sorting, regrouping and cataloguing has been a demanding mistress for some time.

This exercise is proving to be a source of much joy, largely through the discovery of albums I never knew I had. I suspect I bought Atomic Kitten and their grannies Bananarama, for the sleeve photos more than the music, but Nathan Jones being chided for being “gone too long”, still makes one catch the breath. Neil Sedaka’s album ‘Laughter and Tears’ sums it up perfectly though. That’s what music does; it brings laughter and tears. How often does a particular number remind you of where you were - or of a past love? How does it do that?

I can still recall my open-mouthed awe at the Beatles on the Roof of Abbey Road doing Get Back; gawping crowds in the street and the police standing around bemused. Unconventional - but was it against the law? No one knew and no one under 20 cared. Another memory that’ll last forever, is the Shadows’ Apache. My cousin Malcolm who got me started on the guitar, taught me Apache in 1961. He was living with us at the time. I was off sick from school (and in those days you really had to be sick for your Mum to let you stay home). Malcolm went to work that day, but showed me three chords before he left, and promised to teach me Apache if I could play them when he got home. So I spent the day in bed, sniffling, snuffling, wheezing and sneezing - and learning my first chords.

Now 50 years later, my love of the guitar is resurfacing… I have just booked a 3-day course in January at a college in Northants to learn song-writing. As guitar-playing skills will be exercised, I have picked up one of the acoustics again and am playing once more (a) to restore flexibility in the fingers and (b) to loosen up the voice. I have few unfulfilled ambitions, but one that remains is to write a song and record it. I have written several songs and have a recording deck which records instruments and voices to six digital tracks for mixing down to the two other tracks to get stereo. Repeating this process allows you to superimpose further instruments and voices.
 
Being able to play guitar means I can cover the demands of lead, rhythm and bass. Then, if I start in the right key for the main tune, I can sing harmony with myself. Finally, having a keyboard that does drum voices including cymbals, as well as 70-odd instruments including piano, strings and wind instruments, one day soon I hope to have a song written, performed and arranged, entirely by me. I don’t promise anything professional or even hope for approval. This will be little more than the realisation of a dream that I never got around to doing anything about. Probably one of the last things on the Bucket List.
 
This is the real reason behind the CD listing exercise. In general, the bungalow is neat and tidy and I live it in quite happily. However, this study still has boxes everywhere; boxes that contain mysterious treasures waiting to be discovered. In a corner behind me, there are six guitars in their cases that I can’t get to, and two banjos. In another corner lies a keyboard, on its side. Dotted here and there are instrument and mic stands. In a box somewhere, lies a transformer and a lead that the keyboard needs. Without that, it remains resolutely silent. Until all of this is in its place, the recording project goes no further. Ideally, I need Mary Poppins to help tidy this room because if I have to do it manually… I shudder at the thought.
 
I had lunch with my son Steve on Friday, we often do this to catch-up on each other’s lives, then did a bit of Christmas shopping in Peterborough. In the exploration of Peterborough’s town centre, I found a ‘Jessops’ and was pleasantly surprised at their product range. It seems that one’s digital photos can feature in calendars (that can start at any month), desk planners, notepads, mouse mats, key fobs, mugs and acrylic or chipboard blocks - so, plenty of ideas for presents. Vistaprint offer similar products as does Photobox. Many sentimental projects lay ahead.
 
My photo collection is extensive with a capital ‘EXT’. Apart from the thousands of digital photos in this PC, there are even more in paper form from the preceding 50 years of film, in 30 albums and five plastic crates (also waiting for Mary Poppins), plus thousands more negatives where I no longer have the prints. Luckily, I have a scanner that turns negatives the right way around, in digital format, ready for improvement/restoration in Photoshop, then saving onto the PC.
 
Apart from recent visits to Ken & Maria in France, Chelsea Flower Shows, National Trust houses and gardens and the Lake District, I have photos of all of my life: my sons as children - this is Stephen arriving home from the hospital, (he’s 39 now),
 
 
my teenage years in a pop group - the Sabres - in the 60s, mainly in black and white, although a few in colour, life as a young married, then, after the divorce, the girlfriends and the years of travel, the people I met in those travels, and the friends I made.
 
Two years after my divorce, I was given the chance to travel around Europe with Ford, first as an Internal Auditor, then launching accounting systems. The Iron Curtain was still up so I just saw Western European capital cities from Finland through Scandinavia, down to Portugal, across Spain to Italy and up via Austria and Switzerland back into France, Belgium and Holland. For 10 years, I stayed in grand hotels and ate in fine restaurants, courtesy of Ford to whom I am immensely grateful for providing the lifestyle, experiences, education and the resultant friends. Then, after the Berlin Wall came down, the USSR broke up and the Cold War ended, I saw Belgrade before Yugoslavia went into meltdown; all of this between 1980 and 1990.
 
In the years that followed, the travel continued and by the gift of two friends, Pete Smith and Norman Lyons, I experienced life in Portugal for five years in the mid-90s, made close friends and saw fabulous sights. I stayed in castles, palaces, monasteries and a hunting lodge perched on the edge of a cliff, saw breath-taking valleys in the North and unending Roman roads bisecting vast plains of wheat in the heart of Portugal, peasant villages off the maps, one with a donkey tied up at a front door and two women washing clothes at the village pond; treasured memories of a world that I didn’t realise existed.
 
Lastly, at the end of the 20th century, my cousin Lorraine invited me to Oz for the wedding of her daughter Desirée to Rob - which led to four more visits in the next five years. This was mainly to see the cousins and their families in Perth but which also managed to encompass visits to Sydney, Melbourne, Cairns, the Rainforest, and the Great Barrier Reef, while seeing the deserts that make up the middle of that country. Also Ayers Rock, emus, camels and kangaroos in the wild and the salt plains - by train and plane when travelling back and forth. Flying there and back gave me the chance to take a look at Dubai, Muscat, Bangkok, Singapore, Los Angeles (including the Hotel California), Hollywood, and Hawaii. Separately, in this period, I ran with Terry Russell (at his instigation), in the Paris, New York and London marathons in the 12 months between May 1990 and April 1991. As I write this, further memories of golf tours, holidays, barbecues, landmark birthday parties and simple dinner parties resurface.
 
I mention these experiences because I had a camera with me in all these places and back there for a moment, we were talking Jessops and their product range which uses your own photos. I also mentioned having “thousands of photos”. You may have thought that was just a turn of phrase like the overused and misused "Amazing", "Awesome", "Absolutely" and "Literally" but there are literally, thousands of photos. In short, my life can be told in pictures. What a task that would be, scanning where it’s a paper photo, sorting, remembering (correctly? By no means guaranteed), then adding a few words to give the photos meaning to a future viewer.
 
While these thoughts have meandered freely because undoubtedly, I ramble, there is usually a point, and the point is this: “Give it a little thought. Doesn’t this apply to you too? You all have photo collections. Don’t they tell your life story; your triumphs, your holidays, the people that mattered, your kids' development across their tiny dot, cute years?” Aren’t we lucky that in our cameras, scanners and PCs, we have the instruments of capturing our lives so readily and so cheaply?
 
Certainly, four of you, Bill, Carole, Gabrielle & Pete are genealogists, interested in family trees, our histories and the lives of our forebears in general. For you four - and any others to whom this idea appeals, why not leave a pictorial history of your own family life for descendants that might have a similar interest? You could just leave a pile of photos for people to puzzle over when you’re gone, or perhaps leave a few words as well, to tell them the story of your life - or at least bits of it?
 
I’m doing that to some extent with these Letters From Lincs. Big Swinging Dick did that with his wonderfully entertaining letters from St. Helena. Apart from the light relief that they provided at the time, they are also a record for future family historians.
 
The best bit for me, is that these letters we write, or indeed anything we write, are not just a simple record for the history books. They tell the world who we are. The way they are written speaks of our essence, our nature; whether we are optimistic or pessimistic, celebrating or complaining, cup half-full or half-empty, self-centred or giving, Drama Queen or philosopher. The style of writing we adopt paints us for all to see. What we talk about, the humour in describing it, the things that matter to us and the words we choose to show that they matter, they all speaks of who we are.
 
On the subject of complaining, the news is currently providing much to moan about. Journalists are a waste of space aren’t they? F’rinstance, they talk so critically about the West Coast Train Line contract debacle but don’t name and shame the people that messed up. Nor do they talk about what’s happened to them now it’s out. Have they been sacked with a golden handshake like the BBC Director General, quietly pensioned off, or promoted? We will never know as journos show every day by their actions that they are only interested in the briefly sensational, not the full story.

Talking of ‘reward for failure’, the BBC boss George Entwhistle, got rewarded for doing a bad job for less than 2 months, with a full year’s salary. No waste of licence-payer’s money there then. He was weak, uninspiring and dithery in any interview. What a wimp. Who on Earth thought that he could be a leader? Again, not the full story. I’d like to know who chose him and who decided to give him twice what he was entitled to (for failure). Why give him such  a generous contract in the first place; one that rewards failure? Let’s examine the people that appointed him - and why.

My perpetual criticism of politicians is that they live in a world of pretence and appearances. No one deals with reality. Greek debt is a prime example. No one is ‘lending’ money to Greece, they are giving it to them. They’ll never pay it back. They can’t. They have no prospect of finding the discipline to get themselves organised financially in the foreseeable future. Large chunks of debt will have to be written off (sorry Hans, this affects you more than the other 99 people reading this).

That’s the cost of creating a United States of Europe. If you doubt that this is the unspoken agenda of a European Common Market, can I point out that they’ve already slipped in a President, a Constitution and our courts and government are routinely overruled by European organisations.

Happily, the rich countries; Germany and France, have to buy this power - and it will be expensive. A United States barely works in America where they have the advantage of a common language, a common currency and similar distribution of the rich and the poor within each member state. While we have wealthy Germany & France on the one hand, with Greece, Spain, Italy and Portugal heavily in debt on the other, and then poorer Eastern European countries also queuing up for hand-outs, it’ll all end in tears. They tried this on a smaller scale by forcing Yugoslavia to be a united ‘country’ and we saw how that ended. Blimey! I sound like the lovechild of Nigel Farage and Enoch Powell after his “Rivers of Blood” speech - writes Doleful D’Abreo, Prophet of Doom.

As ever, I try to tie the end of my letters back to the beginning so I will close with a little about the Lack of Time in our lives. Magicians use misdirection to take the audience’s eyes off the main trick. This is what I believe happens in our consistent whine that we “don’t have enough time”, to justify rushing blindly from pillar to post. We consider so rarely, what really matters. Our American-led work lives train us to assess that everything matters and having multiple Number One priorities is the acceptable norm. Is this really true? It will be if you let it, but that is going along with the herd and letting the mindless hysteria of the masses draw you into a lemming-like charge.

It is a simple truth that Time is the one thing that we have in unlimited quantity. There will still be Time after we are gone. So getting us to focus on a lack of time is the misdirection, achieved by giving us too many options. We try to accept every offer on offer (back to FOMO - Fear Of Missing Out, mentioned a few letters ago). Next year is the 100th Chelsea Flower Show. I have been to the 96th, 97th, 98th and 99th. The 100th should be something special - but they are all wonderful. (Here’s a pic from last year).


When I go, I go on Members’ Day - next year, this will be May 21st. On May 22nd, I will either have gone or have missed it. Either way, Life will go on. The world won’t end. Yesterday, I played golf, today I am typing this to you. Later on, I will be reading, maybe working on a story, maybe shopping, maybe packing my bags for the visit to Essex next week, maybe playing a guitar… I don’t have a measurement system that tells me which is the ‘best’ choice. I do the last thing that appeals and live with the disappointment of looking back at the inviting things I could have done - but didn't.
 
I have a mate, Paul, of some 30 years standing and we’ve often discussed the mistakes we’ve made in our lives. They are manifold - yet we have no regrets as our lives have been full and generous. We deal with reality via a common philosophy of life - “It seemed like a good idea at the time”. When I look back wistfully on things I might have done, the thought also occurs that I might have dropped dead during that alternative activity or as a result of it. As I am still here, it seems that I have made all the right choices so far.




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