The Twelve Months of Rambles...

And here we are. The final days of the weirdest, saddest, most anger-making year are upon us. Thank frig for that, I say, and all who sail in her. But at this point in December, it's customary to look back and reflect. To remember the experiences that shaped us, and the life-lessons we picked up along the way.

I don't know about you, but I'm really struggling to stomach that idea this time. We've got to the end, we're moving on, it's nearly over. (2020 I mean, rather than the specific bad stuff). I don't think I've got the constitution to assess how well I coped, how many strings to my bow were added, nor how I developed a new arsenal of resilience to lead me into 2021. Nope, not going there, not for a tiny second. Instead, I'm trying something new. Humour me. It's The Twelve Months of Rambles. Yep, you heard. Hurrah and huzzah!

Going back over the year, I've picked a blog post for each month. Some are my personal favourites, some are good indications of my own state of mind at the time, and then there are the ones that are seasonally appropriate. Click the links of any you fancy revisiting and wade into the waters of nostalgia and reflection with me. Go on, spoil yourself.

January - Normaling is Fun

We kick off this retrospective with me fanfaring a new writing schedule. Oh how it mocks me now! But back then, I bought a chair, had a private space to work, and was full of the joys of a traditional working day. Click the link to laugh at my hubris. Or marvel at the graphic sex example with which I open. Come on, you know you want to.

February - The Irony of Forgetting the Hippocampus 

In the before times, I was able to spend an entire post riffing on how much I'd forgotten the nineties; like I was smacked off my head the entire decade, or something. This was not the case, I'd just forgotten some stuff. Relive the decade I forgot by clicking the link. It was all triggered by the BBC repeating This Life, FYI.

March - Landmines and Other Pointless Similes

This month saw my most viewed blog post of all time. I know! Who'd have thought? Not solely down to the regular readers of these rambles, it was also featured on a couple of other writing websites. Whenever I check my stats, this one's still up there. If reading my warts-and-all opinions about editing fiction floats your boat, this is the one for you.

April - Hair Experimentation is Back 
By the time April had come around, I'd covered Covid several times. This week's post was no different, although I'd allowed a bit of humour to push through. The topic of coping with bad hair, shows I'd moved on from suggestions for how to keep sane amidst the debilitating worry. It was a progress of sorts.

May - Quizzing Closure
By May we were old hands at lockdown. Lockdown schmockdown was the regular cry. This post was where I shared some of the quiz rounds I'd written for my family Zoom quiz. Remember those? All the rage in Lockdown One. Along with banana bread, sourdough, and stockpiling loo roll. Good times.

June - Where to Put My Anger
Oomph. It's about now that my political anger kicked in. Or at least the point where I let it spill out onto the blog. In completely unrelated news, a government advisor went for a drive to check his eyes. Still raging. 

July - Up With the Beauticians
Still fewmin' but a month on and I'm attempting humour again. This was when it became clear that the logic behind the lockdown's easing might not be as sound as it should be. Men and their beards were well catered for, but my nails were still on hold. I ranted here. Click the link. Do.

August - The Actual Power of Books
A final, politically motivated post, as the Summer saw several restrictions eased. A failed politician fixated with immigrants pushed himself back into the news cycle. He, and a few others, got short shrift here.  

September - How to be a Winner
Around about now I made a conscious effort to change the subject. No one needing reminding of the state of the world. This post was about maintaining robust self-esteem. It defo made me sound narcissistic, but it wasn't bad advice. Read it and see.

October - I Feel Bad About My Hat
I bought a hat and I wasn't sure about it. As I wrote the paragraphs, I worked myself up into a rightful indignation that I could wear whatever I liked and it didn't matter how it looked. By the end, I was at peace. Getting older and other thoughts, were the gist of this month's chosen post.

November - Time to Remove the CNN Drip
As global events go, this was definitely at the joyous, celebratory end of the spectrum. For me, for people who oppose fascism in general, and for actual Democrat voters alike. The US election was a highlight of a horrific rolling news cycle, and the first time in years I pulled an all-nighter. Relive it by clicking the link, why don't you.

December - Unto Us a Radio Times is Available
It might be a couple of weeks old now, but it's still highly timely. We're in the sweet spot between Christmas and New Year. (That's my preferred term, although I believe other phrases apply.) It's time to catch up on the iPlayer, invest a few hours in a big-budget mini series, or simply relive the repeats from your youth. Festive telly is here to save us.

Friday will herald a brand new year. It'll see our exit from the EU become practical instead of technical, and it'll likely see the entire country added to Tier 4 instead of just parts of it. You know what? I'm game if you are. Monday morning, 11am, and I'll throw a rambling diversion your way. Let's keep rambling, yeah? Nice one. Until then, Happy New Year! We will crack on together.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Seasonal Small Stuff...

Picture the scene. December 1979. A small child in a sky-blue onesie looks up at the Christmas tree. Forty-one years ago, of course, onesies do not exist. The small child is wearing what's commonly known as a sleeping suit. The room has muted tones. With stripy brown curtains, a brown and beige carpet, and a retro TV filling most of the space, the scene screams seventies chic. But this is the cusp of a new dawn. The small child - not yet two - is ready to hit the eighties. In three years time, Wham will make their Top of the Pops debut. All of life is waiting, ready to grab with both tiny hands. 

Taller than her parent's record collection, but not as big as the television, she's filled with wonder and awe. Is she transfixed by the tinsel? Is she imagining a future when a tree without fairy lights would be considered unfinished? Or is she confused about the ornamental wooden dog, directly in her eyeline, sitting on top of the box for no apparent reason? Her family have no pet dog, nor will they ever. Why is it there? What is its purpose? No one knows.

One thing we do know, however, is that the small child in the sleeping suit turned into someone pretty damn fabulous. Even if she does say so herself. HAVE YOU GUESSED? DO YOU GET IT? HAVE I GIVEN IT AWAY? It's me! I am the small child! And look. Here's the proof. There's the random dog!

Fast forward through the decades and here we are. Another festive season is upon us. It's fair to say that this Christmas will be odd. Ridiculously so. Let's not pretend otherwise. Some people have experienced devastating loss; others inconvenience and restriction. Wherever you fall on the spectrum, I don't think there's anyone who feels they've had a brilliant year. If I'm wrong, I'm made up for you. Good luck and all the best. But for the rest of us, I reckon it's a tricker Christmas than usual. However the following week pans out for you, I hope it's OK. And if it's at all possible, I hope it's lovely. 

One life-lesson I've ingested this year, is that lowering expectations is useful. Perhaps like the 1979 Me from the photo, being (presumably) transfixed by a bauble, might be as good as it gets. But think how pretty that bauble might be. Imagine the colours as they shine in the light. All the glittery details, twinkling on the branch. Finding joy in the small stuff seems a decent start at making the most of the week. So whether it's relishing Friday morning's cup of tea, making the most of a family phone call, or focusing on the shimmer of a bauble as you eat a roast potato or pot noodle, there's always something small but positive. Even in 2020. It's worth a try, at least.

Have a lovely week, folks. And happy Christmas to all.

Unto Us a Radio Times is Available...

I do love a generic cover, 
rather than a TV show-specific
one. This cover is ideal.

Pssst. I bring you news of great joy. The 2020 Christmas Radio Times is in the shops. Pass it on. 

It was released on 8th December. By 1pm the following day I had purchased, read, and circled my highlights. (I waited a day, for added tingles.) It was everything I knew it would be. Nostalgic, traditional, and full-on old-skool. The daft thing is, it's not like I can't access quality drama, comedy, or films any minute of any day, is it? Between Catch Up TV, streaming services, YouTube, and the gazillion channels my TV can access, I'm fully covered for entertainment. Getting excited that a terrestrial TV channel will be screening a Blankety Blank Christmas Special on Christmas Day, shouldn't really be up there. But it is. The whole Radio Times experience is up there.

How fortuitous. There was
one Radio Times GIF available
and I nabbed it. 

I haven't used a paper TV guide since a Sky dish was attached to my house in 1999, but there's something lovely about its simplicity. And even though my four remote controls and TV Listings app do all the work, I still recognise the thrill of making a cup of tea, finding a decent pen, and sitting down with the Christmas edition. This year, was no exception. But, in the moment before the ritual began, I had concerns. A niggle or two surfaced. With TV and film productions shutting down this year, it occurred to me that the usual feast of festive merriment might be reduced. I couldn't handle any other major changes this December. It's one thing not to see my family, but for the love of God, don't take away my costume dramas too. (Lolz).

As it turns out, my circling pen went into overdrive. I'll have to set aside another afternoon to add my picks to the TV's planner. But that's a job for next week. For now, I am here to inform and advise. Use me, use my knowledge. Here's some Christmas TV choices that I think will be ace. Other opinions are, of course, available. 

New Stuff

Victoria Wood's Secret List is on
Christmas Day and Boxing Day.

My eye was immediately drawn to Black Narcissus. A three-parter starting on the 27th, this is exactly what a Christmas schedule is about. Based on a 1939 book I've never read, and with a 1940s adaptation I haven't seen, this shebang will be a treat. The story of nuns starting a community in the Himalayas, seems simple enough, but the write-up in the Times (Radio) used words like 'repression', 'sex', and 'a struggle for power'. In the paraphrased words of Jerry Maguire's Dorothy, 'You had me at repression.' Alternatively, if something less sexually charged yet festively gorgeous is your bag, how about Roald and Beatrix: The Tale of the Curious Mouse (24/12). Six-year-old Dahl meets grown up Potter, and it doesn't go well. A snowy Lake District backdrop, Dawn French's grumpy Beatrix, and some animation thrown in for good measure. What's not to love? If not that, then how about comedy? Victoria Wood's genius has been given another airing in the form of Victoria Wood's Secret List. (25/12 and 26/12.) Based on her own papers and emails, this is a clip show of her favourite sketches. It shouldn't technically be included in the New Stuff category as so much will be familiar, but the repackaging is new so here we are. Besides, I am happy to rewatch Victoria Wood sketches anytime of year, but their inclusion in my favourite season feels particularly lovely. Finally for this section, Grace Dent's What We Were Watching: Christmas 1995 (19/12) will be worth your time. She picks a different year every Christmas, but it's a fascinating social commentary on life in 1995, based on the TV schedules of the time. Definitely something to circle, I promise.

Christmas Specials  

I actually love her.

Look, we all know the score. You have a successful TV show that airs mid-year, but the rules say you must squeeze 'Christmas' into the title, add tinsel to the set, and film a special edition to be broadcast months later. It's the TV law. Nigella's Cook Eat Repeat Christmas on 22nd December, is a good example. Her latest series is coming to the end of its run, but not without the final episode having a festive slant, a tweaked title, and - I'll bet money on it - more fairy lights than you can shake a stick at. But this is why I love her. I'll be tuning in with my mouth watering, and my notepad ready, keen to hoover up the seasonal crumbs she scatters. In a similar vein, we've got Would I Lie to You at Christmas (24/12), Mortimer and Whitehouse Gone Christmas Fishing (23/12), Ghosts Christmas Special (23/12), and - as foreshadowed earlier - a Blankety Blank Christmas special (25/12). All great series in their own right, and all welcome to throw in a sparkly festive episode, should they wish. Finally, an annual treat comes in the form of Fanny Craddock Cooks for Christmas. Winging its way from 1975, only one of the episodes seems to be scheduled (24/12), but catch the whole series on iPlayer. I implore you. They're brilliant.

Films

The phrase 'star-studded' doesn't do
it justice. Ustinov's Death on the 
Nile. We'll have to make do with
this, whilst we wait for Branagh's
version to be released.

Films scheduled at Christmas don't carry the same weight as they did in my youth. When festive recording was the only way I got to uplevel my VHS collection, it was of much greater importance to set the video. But the habit has stuck. Despite the fact I can probably find most, if not all of these gems on Netflix this instant, these are the films I'll be metaphorically taping on my telly. That way I'll have a sumptuous feast to devour over the post-Christmas days indoors. Firstly, forget your Sunday night David Suchets, it's Ustinov's Poirot that gets brought out at Christmas. Catch him in Death on the Nile or Evil Under the Sun (both on 28/12) and rejoice in his twinkle-eyed interpretation of Christie's creation. In a related twist, Murder on the Orient Express is being broadcast twice. TWICE. Catch Albert Finney (28/12), Kenneth Branagh (1/21) - or as I intend to, both - and enjoy faithful retellings of the classic book. But look, not everyone loves an Agatha Christie like I do. I'm also taping Casablanca (23/12). Mainly because I've never seen it, and I feel like I should have done. And then Christmas Eve wouldn't be Christmas Eve without It's a Wonderful Life, so luckily it's on at 2.35pm. Then there are the other standard Christmas classics, albeit the ones that have nothing to do with Christmas. Grease is on Boxing Day, The Sound of Music will be on the 27th, and finally - my favourite non-Christmas, Christmas movie that always reminds me of the teenage Boxing Day I first saw it - Shirley Valentine is on the 30th. In a hilarious coincidence, I am now the same age as Shirley, when she left Joe and moved to Greece. 'Christ Shirley, you're only forty-two,' I shall say to myself as I pack a secret bag and talk to the wall. Good times. 

There's more than a few links to be 
made between the post-war It's
a Wonderful Life and austerity-
riddled, pandemic-hit, Brexit Britain.
But hey, that's why it's perfect. 
The message is timeless.

Of course the greatest joy of all is that I've barely scratched the surface. When you sit down to circle your own top TV picks, none of my lot might catch your eye. And isn't that wonderful? There's so much for everyone. So many choices, and so much to enjoy. The fact that we'll be spending a lot more time indoors this year, meant we needed the schedules to be decent. I am happy to report, that in this blogger's opinion, they are. Hurrah. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

Songs For You...

Yes he is, Buddy. And the excitement
and expectation of that, happily fills the
 preceding three months. Just one day,
my arse.

'It's just a day.' 

Have you heard this sentiment recently? It seems when anyone is getting a little bit giddy with the joys of the season, the phrase, 'it's just a day' is the steadying voice of reason from someone with far more sense and control. 

Well, booooo to them. I'm not having it. Christmas Day might be just a day. But the season is as long or as short as you make it. This year - the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty, AKA the End Times - my Christmas season has just entered its third phase. Let me quickly bring you up to speed before we get cracking.

Phase One. Mid-October to the the start of November. It was a brief spell, but one where Summer became Winter. (Like Spring, Autumn needs to pick a side and get off the fence.) Phase One was when it got dark earlier, central heating was required, and Christmas stuff appeared in the shops. It was also when The Feels started. 

This saccharine schmaltz is
courtesy of the Hallmark channel.

Phase Two. The whole of November. A solid month of build-up glitz and sparkle. Netflix dropped saccharine schmalz, presents were bought, and plans (would have been) made. The odd box of mince pies or brie and cranberry breaded bites got added to the trolley, and weekend drinks started earlier and earlier. If I held off until Wednesday I was doing well. 

The palette of dreams. 
It only gets a look in,
during December, and
 even then I stick to
about four of the colours.
But still. SPARKLES.

Phase Three. December 1st to 26th. 
Here we are, bang up to speed, embarking on the final countdown. By now we're wearing sparkly eyeshadow every day. (That's the royal we btw.) We've got the decs up, we can't enter the kitchen without shovelling a cherry liqueur into our gobs, and Christmas music soundtracks our every move. Welcome to the beginning of the end of the season!

Now we're all on the same page, let's get to today's point and a word about that Christmas music. In our multi-platform, Spotify-laden world, the joy of the Christmas CD has been lost. I'll be honest, I'm still not over tapes going - their phasing out brought me great distress. CDs have always been second best for me, but I digress. When Alexa can churn out 14,532 Christmas songs any time you bother to ask, there's the missing element of discerning refinement. Having everything means losing the joy of something. A curated list of bangers is always going to top that. So here is my Phase Three gift to you. A list of nine marvellous Christmas tunes. Not definitive by any means - I wouldn't dream of being so presumptuous - but a bite-sized chunk of festive cheer via song title. Click the links, crank them up, and enjoy. 

White Wine in the Sun by Tim Minchin. A secular carol that's totes emosh under normal circumstances, but listening with 2020 hindsight offers an even deeper gut-punch. Click it and see.

The Christmas Song by Smith and Burrows featuring Agnes Obel. Covered by many, but this is my favourite. Small but perfectly formed, the harmonies alone make my festive heart sigh with happiness. Give it a whirl.

Christmas Wrapping originally by the Waitresses. What's better than the Waitresses? Not much TBH, but this version throws in Kylie, the Royal Albert Hall, a live orchestra and audience participation. Joy unconfined for five marvellous minutes. Get on it.
 
Maybe this Christmas by Ron Sexsmith. 
A chilled out, reflective little number. Not usually found on collections like Now That's What I Call Christmas 56,439, so I've included it here instead. Give it a go.

Must Be Santa by Bob Dylan. More lively jigging about with this cover. I guarantee you an ear worm but it'll be worth it. 

When the Thames Froze by Smith and Burrows. It's fabulous when you hear your new favourite Christmas song for the first time. Simon Mayo played this on his drive time show, in December 2011, just as I passed the Tesco on Rose Lane. The fact I remember when and where, surely shows its impact. Play it!

 

Christmas Lights by Coldplay. I realise Coldplay are the musical equivalent of Marmite these days, but stick with it. This makes me happy, mostly because of the jump from a 4/4 to 3/4 time signature, but that's just me. Try it. Do.

 
The Power of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Now we're talking. Shivers. Tingles. Hauntingness. (Paging Susie Dent?) I once visited a friend at Uni in December, and we listened to this on repeat in the dark for ages. It remains a Christmas highlight.

And finally, Last Christmas by Wham. YES. HERE WE GO. Excuse me for just less than five minutes whilst I escape into my happy place. 

Do you like skiing, Nicky? 

Nooooo. 

Winter sports in general? 

Not for a tiny second. 

Why do you like this video then? 

I LIKE SNOW AND CABINS AND MEALS AROUND TABLES WITH FRIENDS AND SMOULDERING UNDERCURRENTS AND BROODING. THAT'S WHY I LIKE IT. NOW LEAVE ME ALONE.

Last Christmas cannot be played enough. I can only pity those that insist on participating in Whamageddon. At a minimum, it's a daily treat. Why deny yourself the pleasure? What are you? Masochists? Be gone with you and your puritanical ways. I've a video to gorge on.

So there we have it. My Christmas playlist offering. It's at the more niche end of the festive tune spectrum but I'm happy. There's plenty of room for your Noddy Holders and your Wizards, but my choices are less likely to be belted out from Marksies speakers when you're panic buying on the 23rd. (Wham, excepted.) Give them a go. What else have you got to do this year? Sit in your PJs eating crisps? Well, yeah, OK. Good call. Crack on with your day. (Just give them a listen while you do.)

Have a lovely week, folks. 

Zooming into Christmas

Any excuse to post
THE BEST MUSIC VIDEO EVER.

We've finally done it. We've had the conversation. The Bond family has tackled the thorny problem of Christmas. It wasn't too tricky in the end. The 'rule of three households' is pointless for an eight household shebang. Besides, having five days off virus-watch is stupid, and would mean old(ish) parents, front-line pharmacists, and school attendees mixing it up in a confined space. Forget CV, think of the nits! There's been a variety of chats, WhatsApp convos, and waiting for someone else to make a decision, but it's done. We're staying put. There will be no Bond convoy up the M6 this year, no Welsh visitors bothering the local Premier Inn, no crying babies early doors on the 27th. The eight households are sticking to their own parts of the country with the promise of a mofo Zoom chat on Boxing Day.*

Boxing Day will be exactly like this
but with tinsel.

I imagine this is similar for lots of people. The Zoom meeting, that is. When families can't be together on a special day, it makes sense to do it virtually. Indeed, many of us have been doing that regularly since March. It does put a lot of pressure on Zoom though. Thinking of my own family Zooms, they've recently dipped in quality. Their regular slot of a Sunday evening was ditched once the Strictly results show kicked in. Then we tried Friday at 6pm for a couple of weeks, but that appeared to when the niece and nephew hit Peak-Giddy. There was a lot of hysterical laughter and shrieking. And that was just me. Ba-dum tish. Anyway, a meaningful Christmas Zoom, that will replace the heart-warming glow of spending the best part of two days with each other, will be doing some heavy lifting. It might be worth planning ahead. Leaving it to chance would be a big risk. Especially if everyone's on a sugar high. (And by everyone I mean the niece, the nephew, and my thirty-five year old brother.) It's less than four weeks until the festive peak. Time to plan. Here, if you are interested, are some ideas for a titivated, elevated, Christmassy Zoom.

1. Quiz.

I know, I know. You're bored to death with quizzes. Quizzes are so first lockdown. Everyone hates a Zoom quiz, amiright? Well, maybe. But the joy of a quiz is that it's versatile. Sick of general knowledge? Ditch it. Write a round of questions about Christmas. Sick of Christmas? Ditch it. Write a round of questions about family holidays. Sick of family holidays? Ditch it. Write a round of... you get the gist, yeah? A quiz is what you make it. So make it.

Unlimited joy. Honest.

2. Scattergories

This is where the share screen button comes into its own. Simply click this link, and you'll be taken to an interactive Scattergories game. Everyone needs a pen and paper, you set the timer to whatever you want, and press start. Unlimited joy for hours. Or something. 

A completed wall. The trick is to 
find the four connections within
three minutes. Solid.

3. Only 

Connect 

If you've never watched the show, it doesn't matter. It's about finding connections in seemingly unrelated groups of things. I like making my own questions but there are online links to games too. Click here for examples of the connecting wall. These could be shared over Zoom, no mess. Or make your own family-based missing vowel round. Example. The category is FAMILY HOLIDAYS. Shout when you know it.

frnc

fly

cm brnc st

hlf x

Now, bearing in mind you've probably no idea where my family has holidayed over the years, did you get any? If you shouted France, Filey, Cambrian Coast, or Halifax at your screen, then we must be related. But do you get the gist? Think of some family-friendly categories, take out the vowels, and share the screen. A good time will be had by all.

Because I never delete anything
I've found some of the 'truths
and lies' from back then. 
AMUSING.

4. WILTY

This one takes commitment. Trust me, I know. Several years ago, when I had time on my hands, I organised a family Would I Lie To You evening. Prior to the day, all attendees provided me with a fact about themselves that no one else would know. I typed it onto a card then did the same with a lie about each person too. On the night, each player took a turn to read one of the cards about themselves, pretending they were telling the truth. In fact, there was a 50/50 chance they were not. The rest of the gang had to guess if it was true. Now look, I'll be honest. Just typing that has broken me out into a sweat. It was a lot of work, mostly having to think of plausible, funny, entertaining lies for everyone, that they could attempt to sell under pressure. I was only reminded of it the other day when my little brother suggested I repeat the experience. (I said I was busy, although he did provide inspiration for this post. Helpful.) But this is 2020. Some of us have excessive time on our hands. Organising a Christmas WILTY Zoom might be exactly what you need to fill your days. It could be ideal. And if I remember rightly, it was a drunken night of laughter. Or maybe that was just me when it was over. Who can say.

So there's four ideas for you. Take them as they are, or use them as a jumping off point for your own Zoom madness. The final word on the matter is wine. If you abstain, crack on and continue to do so. Fair play to you. But if you consider yourself either a light, sporadic, or habitual drinker, I can only advise you to crack open something strong. It will make whatever online, festive nonsense you find yourself in, all the merrier. Trust me.

Have a lovely week, folks.

 

*I've said it before, but I'll repeat. Boxing Day is THE day in my family. Christmas Day is merely the warm up. Not seeing anyone on Christmas Day is going to be lovely. PJs all day, cheese, red wine, chocolate, and films. I can't wait. It's Boxing Day that's going to take a mental oomph to fill. I will mange gamely, but that's the big one. That'll be the Zoom day.

The Trellis of Fact and Fiction...

I've been watching The Crown. Again. Netflix dropped the fourth series last week just it time for me to binge it in my PJs. It's always been a cracking show (IMHO...other opinions are valid...blah blah blah) but now that the action has reached my lifetime, I'm finding it especially fascinating. Seeing news footage that I remember, reenacted realistically, is boss. Whether it's Diana being papped as a nineteen year old, Charles looking like Charles, or Thatcher leaving office, watching my youthful memories on screen has been gripping. 

But it's different this time. Think back to the very first series from 2016. The opening scene was George VI coughing blood into a sink. I do not remember this - a) because it takes place in 1947, and b) because I've never been to the loo with George VI - and yet I was happy to take is as gospel. I had no other frame of reference. This series of The Crown, charting 1979-1990, means I'm less inclined to do that. I know it's a dramatic retelling without being reminded. It's obvious from the start it's a fictionalised account of events. It's different this time.

This is George VI, right?

A quick disclaimer before we crack on. When I say I was happy to take The Crown's events depicted before my birth as gospel, I'm being a bit of a fibber. I'm not daft. It just took more effort to remind myself when I watched. The fact that Peter Morgan, a screenwriter of drama, is at the helm, means a discerning eye must be applied on the factual accuracy. But that matters not. Come November, especially November 2020, a well-put-together, part social commentary, part soap opera, and part period piece, ticks a lot of boxes. Keep them coming I say. Bring on series five!

This is at the top of The Times
article, linked here.

The reimagining of actual events does seem to annoy some people, though. Every time The Crown drops, The Times dutifully shares an article by royal biographer, Hugo Vickers. He then proceeds to list the historical inaccuracies. (It's uncanny. He manages to be a worthy historian and party pooper in the same breath.) The link is behind a paywall, but if you can't see it, here's a paraphrased summary. Some things didn't happen because the evidence says they did not. Some things didn't happen because Hugo Vickers says they did not. Some things happened, but not in the way they were shown. Fair play to the guy. It must be difficult to see your area of expertise depicted more creatively than factually. When facts are your thing, that is. Conversely, when it comes to story-telling, poetic license is an essential part of the fun. I'll leave the royalists to their hissy fits. In a dramatic reconstruction, with many behind-closed-doors conversations, unknown, we can only guess at their content. So let's guess if we like. I'm fine with it.

I did my best. A search for 'trellis' in
my GIF finder came up blank. This is
as good as it gets. Happily for you,
the written description of my simile is
nearby.

As usual, everything comes back to me. How could it not? Watching The Crown makes me think about my own dramatic storytelling. In Assembling the Wingpeople, I've included several topics where I've had to fudge the facts. Research can only take you so far. Divorce, parental bereavement and menopause are issues that affect or have affected people I know, but not me. Not yet anyway. The facts only provide a framework. Like a garden trellis. The wooden frame is the factual content and the entwined roses are the pretty fabrications. I have to add the roses for it to look good. I have to make shit up to fill the gaps. I can only hope it all blends together nicely, and an authentic story is the result.

It's never that simple in real life, of course. I spent last week beefing up a character that's originally from Jamaica. I'm doing all sorts of research, even though the woman appears only briefly. Sometimes gussying up the facts with a bit of fiction is an author's right. Other times it's cultural appropriation and does a disservice to an entire community. The line is fine, and difficult to see at times. At the very least, I have to remember it is there.

In the end, it's about intention and effort. I mean well and I'm trying my best. Isn't that all anyone can do? It's certainly a start in the right direction. When Assembling the Wingpeople eventually comes out, perhaps I need Hugo Vickers to fact check it, and then serialise his findings in The Times. Just to keep things above board. Something to think about as we crack on with our days.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Good News is Assembling...

So it looks like I'm some sort of influencer now. Yep. That's what I said. What's that? Am I try to sell you lifestyle must-haves through the medium of my socials? Well, no. Not really. Please feel free to copy my scruffy-chic-with-not-much-chic style any time you like. You're welcome. But that's not what I'm talking about. It appears I'm able to influence world events. Honestly. It's been a surprise to me too.

Two weeks ago I wrote about how I'd searched for good news and struggled to come up with anything. I focused on celebrating Marcus Rashford, and his food poverty campaign instead. It was the only thing I could find, and even that came out of the bad news of a government ignoring hungry kids on their watch. Well now. Since then, look what's happened. The fates have stepped in! My existential cries have been answered! Since then we've had a government u-turn on their 'starving hungry kids' policy, an elected Biden-Harris team that means actual politicians and grown-ups in the Whitehouse, a vaccine for Covid is on its way, and I've put my deccies up. Sing hosannas, praise the Lord, insert your own joyful ejaculations here.*

The salad drawer of dreams.
Carrots from last week? Fresh as
morning dew. Herbs from mid-October?
As if just picked from the plant. 

Clearly all I have to do is moan for stuff to change. Who knew? And whilst there should still be a healthy dose of reality thrown in - the looming Brexit, the current president's 'I'm not going' temper tantrum, and the logistical storage issues for the covid vaccine, (not even my extremely cold salad drawer, that gives lettuce an extra week, will manage this one) - it's fair to say, it's a nice feeling to celebrate the wins. Yes, there's still bad shit going down, but we're parking it way over there for now. Can you still see it? Well you've not parked it far enough. This week, we can focus on the moments of actual hope that have been thrown at us. When I decided to do my Christmas decs last week, it was to lift my mood. Now it's to celebrate feeling something other than nauseating horror. 

We're talking about the
sequel to this bad boy.

But let's crack on. While we're in such hopeful, upbeat frames of mind, here's a book update. Yes, I know. It's been...ooooh, all of five minutes since the last one. But things are moving on. Most importantly, I have a - drum roll please - title!

I've floated it past several people. Some have liked it, some have been unsure. I've given the unsure opinions lots of consideration, and I am grateful for their feedback, but I've decided I'm sticking with it. It ticks all my boxes. Here, for those who may care, are my boxes.

• It should have three words, with the middle word 'the'. This apes the prequel, Carry the Beautiful.
• It should be a little bit confusing/mysterious/unclear so as to prompt a second look. I accept that this is a gamble and could also put people off.
• It should summarise the themes of the book - isolation v connection, coping with change, and being proactive in one's own life. 
• It should stand out.

Ok then. Ready yourself for the second drum roll of the post... Go on Bing, you can do this one for me... pa rum pa pum pum...thanks Bing... the title is... 

ASSEMBLING THE WINGPEOPLE.

Yep, there we go. It's Assembling the Wingpeople. Tilda is lonely and needs mates. Bea is peri-menopausal and making rash decisions. Stewart has shaken off his workaholic ways but is still spiralling into self-destruction. They all need the support of friends in their increasingly isolated lives. They need to assemble their wingpeople. 

So commit this to your memory. Look out for when I start to full-on lose my dignity and bombard all social media avenues with PRE-ORDER THIS BOOK. It won't be for months yet, but at least you're in the know. Assembling the Wingpeople. You heard it here first. And now I'm going to check my salad drawer again - you never know, it could help - and switch on all my fairy lights. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*There are other news items of course, that have filled me with glee and made the world seem a better place. YOU KNOW THE NEWS STORY I MEAN? YES? But as the glee is really schadenfreude, and there's a question over that particular guy's sacking, I'm not including it in my official list. Considering his photo shoot with a 'just lost my job box' that accompanied him out of the front door, of a government building that has several discrete exits, I'd say the jury's still out on whether this counts as good news or not. Time will tell.

Time to Remove the CNN Drip...

There was a point on Thursday afternoon, after two days of watching election coverage, when I suddenly remembered it was Bommy Night. It didn't matter that I'd forgotten, but it surprised me that we'd got well into the 5th before I realised. Some time after that, it dawned on me that I'd missed the start of lockdown too. 

My hazy grasp of time was my own fault. Mine and America's. I stayed up on the 3rd, powering through on adrenaline and anxiety until midnight on the 4th. Eight hours sleep later and I was back. CNN had me gripped once more. John King - a stateside Peter Snow, with his magic wall of data - was utterly compelling. I don't know if CNN were doing things particularly well, or if my usual choice of political coverage is really bad, but the difference was stark. Clear, calm, and data-led. No contrarian commentators earning a fee with unchallenged nonsense. No distraction or sideshow regardless of the external noise being made. 

Once their coverage started, opinion didn't matter. It was about votes, numbers, and the law. When, around dawn on Wednesday UK time,  T***p said the election was being stolen, the presenters dismissed it immediately. Whilst pointing out the unprecedented nature of a sitting president crying foul, they were quick to explain there was no legal basis for his complaints. When the president made his second speech, around midnight UK time on Thursday, their condemnation of his lies and delusion was unequivocal. And then it was back to the data. Back to the things that mattered. I was grateful for their clarity. 

Having said that, it's only now I've caught up on some sleep and know the happy outcome, that I can fully reflect on the coverage. At the start, I was grappling with the emotional roller coaster I had inadvertently boarded. I'll be honest, drinking a pot of filter coffee on Tuesday evening - my first since 2014 - had mixed results. On the upside, it kept me awake. I was wired and alert, with no worries about dozing off. On the downside, I was wired and alert. My heart pounded and my stomach churned. I only realised it was probably the coffee after half an hour of deep breathing my way through a self-diagnosed anxiety attack. Around 3am Wednesday morning, when the map seemed overwhelmingly red, I had a little cry. I don't think I'll bother with coffee again. 

Calm heads carried me though and kept me going. Not my own head, obviously, but the CNN presenters and journalists. From the start, and at regular intervals, they urged caution. From the generic, 'it's too soon to draw conclusions,' to the more specific, 'mail-in votes will be counted after day-of votes and will likely favour the Democrats which is why we're seeing more red early on.' It was a steady reminder to wait. Wait and see. 

Once I got used to the speed of John King's data, and the repetition of results framed as Key Race Alerts every few minutes, I settled into the rhythm. Not once did I get a flashback of Dimbleby filling. Not once was I reminded of senior UK journalists allowing a load of bollocks be broadcast without refuting it with facts. CNN's coverage became reassuring. Slow and steady, calm and accurate. When, on Saturday afternoon, the race was finally called, Arizona was still being counted, whole days after Fox News had presumptuously called it. It was the political version of the tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady ensures the correct results are broadcast at the right time. 

Tomorrow it's a week since the polls closed. I've breathed multiple sighs of relief and I reckon it's time to switch off the rolling news. Why did I care so much? It's a fair question to pose. Why was I unable to look away, managing only a few hours sleep in a four-day period? I've changed planes in Georgia a few times and been to Nevada and Arizona once or twice. Is that what it takes to get me invested in a state count? Or was it that I needed a distraction from lockdown news and EU negotiations? It's true to say I didn't think about coronavirus once during my news fest. Was that why I cared?

My timeline was of one mind.

It was way more than that, of course. For four years, a racist, misogynistic, homophobic and transphobic man, with a slew of sexual assault allegations to his name, has been on the news, on the Internet, and in power. Stomaching lies and inaccuracies spouted by your dodgy boss in a meeting is bad enough. To have that experience enlarged on the world stage has been, at times, unbearable. I was determined to witness him lose the presidency. I needed closure on this particular period of history. And if I feel like that - as a UK citizen - I can't begin to imagine how difficult it must have been to live in the US. My continued viewing was a sort of solidarity, I guess. The journalist, Hadley Freeman, wrote that if Biden lost, she would have to explain to her kids that 'sometimes the bad guys finish first'. It's counter-intuitive to everything we teach children. That's not the only reason Biden should have won, but it showed the simplicity of the situation.

It seems my Been Awake
For Forty Hours face is
 exactly the same as
my Pissed As A Fart
face. Good to know.

But now there's hope. On Friday morning CNN anchor, Chris Cuomo said, 'The days of giving a fair hearing to an unfair statement are over.' He had begun to read out a tweet by T***p but didn't finish. Oh, how I hope that message is heard by UK broadcasters. No more airtime for F****e and his ravings. No more climate change deniers offering 'balance' to scientific fact. How I long to watch a UK election special with data-driven coverage and a clear dismissal of untruths. It can't be too much to ask, can it?  

2020's good news.

For now, I'm in a much better place than I was last week. My jaw is unclenching. The constant knot in my stomach is smaller. It seems that the bad guy hasn't won - subject to legal challenges etc etc, blah, blah blah. And then there's the history-making Vice-President Elect. Kamala Harris - who I've written about before - is the first woman, and first Black, and first South Asian person to hold the office. What an achievement! It was easy to overlook that whilst the counting dragged on. We need more than a moment to recognise it, and celebrate the genuine good news that's managed to sneak past 2020's strict door-policy. 

But hey, let's keep it real. There's still Coronavirus, the lockdown continues to be a necessary pain, and the weirdness of Christmas is still an issue. Let's not lose sight of reality. What are we, optimists? Ha. As if! But just for once, the bad thing didn't happen. 2020 threw us a bone. Stability and sanity might return to global politics. It could even spread over here! Let's not get too carried away though. For now, that's still a dream. And on that note, I'm going to have a bit more sleep. Na'night.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Desperately Seeking Good News...

I'm having that love/hate relationship with the news again. Last Thursday I found myself simultaneously glued to and repelled by the constant headlines that pinged onto my phone. That particular day's news included the horrific story of the killings in Nice, the release of the EHRC's report into the Labour Party, Bobby Ball's death, and then Jeremy Corbyn's suspension. All that was before I'd had my lunch. I found myself tweeting Too. Much. News. from my gut. It was visceral. I couldn't keep up.

A simpler time?

Since then I continue to be drawn into some news stories whilst recognising rabbit holes to avoid with others. It's become a dance. Clicking the comments under an opinion with which I agree, regularly proves reckless. Gingerly dipping my toe into the comments under an article, invariably means I must leap back and spin away when it descends into nonsense. Then there are news programmes. Watching a clip of a seemingly safe Newsnight segment, for example, can get me riled within seconds, and in the spirit of self-care, I continue to give Question Time a wide berth. (Although I'd argue that with no audience panto-booing when anyone speaks, a better level of debate is possible.) Every time an MP pops up to defend the indefensible (refusing to support free school meals over Christmas, for example) I'm both sickened by their stance, whilst fascinated that they think it, let alone choose to say it out loud. The news continues to mimic a drug after a lifetime of misuse. There are no more highs but you continue regardless. You don't know how not to. There's no upside and nothing feels good anymore.

It was all so different once. My first memory of a specific news story was on October 11th 1982. (Wikipedia has told me this. I only remember I was in Reception class.) By then I'd been in school for a month. That particular morning, the routine of hanging up my coat and sitting on the carpet waiting for the teacher was different. There was a TV in the room! Like at home but on tall wheels! Myself and the other four year olds were treated to breaking news: the raising of the Mary Rose ship as it was broadcast to the country. I had no clue about any of it, except it was clear the adults in the room were excited. It's my only memory of watching live news in school so it must have been important. 

It's so far removed from
Democrats v Republicans now. 

Whether it was important or not, isn't the issue. It wasn't gut wrenching. It wasn't disappointing in the way it was presented and it wasn't stressful. (Being four probably helped, tbh.) But that's what I'm missing now. I want at least some of the news I read to be non-stressful, and about events I'd be happy to recall at a later date. It's hard to find those stories amidst the current cacophony. Between COVID death rates, the imminent lockdown, the heartbreaking deaths of children at sea, and the refusal by some in power to recognise that children shouldn't starve, there's little room for anything else. There's not much good news around right now. The fact that it's the US election tomorrow, is doing nothing to calm my nerves. No matter what the polls say, anyone who remembers the sickening reality of 2016 cannot rely on the data. I'm keeping everything crossed for good to triumph over evil. What else can I do?

This is just the day job.

But look. This can't all be doom and gloom. Not really. As much as it feels like there's nothing positive to focus on, that's simply not true. Let me offer some evidence with two words. Marcus Rashford.

Full column by Marina Hyde here.
Perfect for government critics and football fans alike.

I couldn't tell you anything about Rashford's sporting achievements beyond the fact he plays footy. I'm sure he's marvellous but that's not what I'm obsessed with right now. It's his determination to use his platform for the benefit of others that's so hugely inspiring. How much easier must it be to go to training and then go home. How much simpler would his life be if he used Twitter to like memes, and share joke with his friends. Instead, he holds up a mirror to the government's cruelty, rallies a nation, coordinates UK-wide free school meal provision from restaurants and local councils, and finds the time to respond to children, that tweet him with news of their pocket money donations. His work with the charity FareShare prompted a surge in donations. His petition from earlier in the year continues to gather signatures. I am now at the age where my female peers don't announce secret crushes on a twenty-three year old man*, but instead comment that his mum must be so proud. And yeah, she must. Last week Marina Hyde wrote another blisteringly good column where she drew parallels between Rashford's and Johnson's experiences of being young twenty-somethings. I'm sure I don't need to give you a clue as to who came out best. Put simply, the man is a legend. A generation of kids who live in poverty will be fed over the school holidays. Their parents' worries will be eased a little because of his actions. What a wonderful legacy on top of his day job. 

After writing all that, and reading warming articles about the good deeds Rashford has inspired, I've found myself at a loss once more. A scroll through Twitter and the main news websites, looking for upbeat news and feel-good stories, draws a blank. It's been that kind of year. So instead, I'm going to leave you with a couple of videos. If, like Whitney Houston, you believe the children are our future, then this will be right up your street. Because by being a loved, supported and encouraged kid, by - dare I quote Whitney again? - being taught well and being let lead the way, there's more chance you'll grow into an adult that cares about others. That's my untested hypothesis but it makes sense to me. So click this link, and then this link and watch the next generation being fabulous and clever and funny. If nothing else it might distract you from what could happen tomorrow night. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Happy birthday to Marcus who turned 23 on Saturday!