The Fascination of Typos...

Everyone:

Me: Thank you for asking! Book Three is getting interesting. Let me tell you all about it!

Before Christmas I offered my family a dazzling opportunity. In exchange for some honest feedback, they could have a sneak preview of the current/58,783th draft of Assembling the Wingpeople. Eight fabulous people snapped my hand off, so I emailed them a copy. Because I accept that other people have lives - even in a pandemic, I appreciate my novel mightn't take precedence over children, jigsaws, and staring into the abyss - I gave them two months to get it done. There are still weeks and weeks to go, but feedback has started to roll in. And it is fascinating. No really, it is. Let me explain.

I am shaped by my English Literature background. I struggle to care about grammar and spellings initially, but feel a deep need to know whether themes, plot, and character development are robust. I imagine if I'd focused my further education on English Language, I'd be riddled with the need to check that my adjectives and adverbs were tip top. (Disclaimer, my understanding of English Language is based on Y4 curriculum from a decade ago. I imagine there's more to it than that.)

My next tattoo? 

Unlike me, my feedbackers - or beta readers - are not necessarily from an English Literature background and that's a good thing. They are a mix. Some are readers for pleasure, some are family members doing me a favour, and then there are the grammar pendants. These are the readers that highlight the split infinitives, even though I don't really know what they are. (I do when I stop and think about it, but it's like the off-side rule. I need a freeze frame and a bit of concentrated thought.) Split infinitives are a tricky issue though. The correct English can sound wrong when applied to dialogue and inner thoughts. It can come across as formal when a character may be anything but. Each one ends up being a judgement call. Some of my infinitives remain split. Soz pedants. 

But I digress. All feedback is essential, however it arrives and whatever form it takes. It offers a range of views and is (hopefully) an honest account of first impressions. Ultimately, the only question I need to ask is, 'Did you like it?' That's it, in a nutshell. Everything else is extra stuff. Extra stuff that's necessary to sort out, but doesn't provide the same thrill when fed back. When a feedbacker sends an email that opens with, 'I loved it', that's all I really need to stop hyperventilating in a corner. Once I know it was a good enough read to keep them going 'til the end, I can take all critique on the chin - often agreeing with it - and can systematically work through the edits.

I should have done this at the start.

What I find fascinating, however, is how necessary a variety of critical eyes are. So far, four readers have fed back to me. All four have, amongst other things, provided me with a decent list of typos and spellings mistakes. That's great. Here's the thing though. Each person has found completely different mistakes. Basically, four people have read it, and I have four lists of different errors. I find this fascinating. (Googles synonyms for fascinating. This is getting ridiculous.)

I know from my own experience that after reading the same pages for the past year, nothing jumps out at me anymore. My brain knows what I have written, or what I meant to write, and skims over the errors, without so much as a flicker. One of the tips for proofreading, is to change the font of your manuscript. When I'm at the final read-through stage, I'll do that. It tricks the mind into thinking it's new. But I don't understand why people reading it for the first time miss some errors, and spot others. I feel like it warrants a Psychology dissertation all on it's own. A study into typo bias when proofreading fiction. I'll get applying for grants ASAP.

What would YOU call this?

The other compelling, intriguing, and riveting (thank you, Ms Thesaurus) aspect to all this is the random trains of thought that one piece of feedback can provide. I find myself going down rabbit holes and up back streets in a bid to address an issue. Hot topics I am currently debating? Would Stewart use the word dump to describe toilet time? I say yes, but my beta readers say no. At least 50% of them, anyway. It's led this house to have in-depth discussions about alternative faecal phrasings that could be inserted. So far, none seem right. What does a grown man, who's slightly stuffy, slightly broken by life, refer to as his morning defecation? He's not speaking to anyone else as it's all part of his inner monologue. I feel dump works. Alternative suggestions have been going to the toilet. BORING. Having a shit. SAME AS DUMP. Or having a log. GROSS. Suddenly I want to rip out that chapter, delete the character, and write pastoral poetry instead. It's a visceral activity, this editing lark. Make no mistake.

Something to ponder for you, there. Don't say I give nothing back. But as you do that, I'm back at the grindstone. I have to address my commas (I, use, them, willy, nilly) and need to beef up the dramatic reveal. I'm not even sure I intended a dramatic reveal, so that's going to be tricky. But I shall do my best. It's all very irresistible, bewitching, engrossing, and gripping.

Have a lovely week, folks. 

Take Me Away From All This...

 On 6th January 2020, I wrote...

Well now. What did we have by the 6th, this time around? 

• A third lockdown
• Highest COVID rate since last March 
• A violent mob storm the US Capitol as the President-Elect and Vice President-Elect are being certified 

Same old, same old, it seems. I wonder what Week One of January 2022 will offer. An enormous meteorite flattens Wales? Giant rabbits take control of the UN? Stefan Dennis elected as Pope? Why not? They're as batshit as any of the other examples that came true. Except the other examples that came true were not batshit. They were events that were wholly predicted by anyone that had followed the stories over time. From the rise in the COVID rate and the need for a stricter lockdown, to the domestic terrorism that was incited by the soon-to-be-former US President. All obvious from the start. No one should be surprised.

I'm going to see off all
challenges with my wrist.

So here, in my non-surprised state, I've got another lockdown to navigate. I'd really hoped not to keep banging on about it this time. I did A LOT of that in 2020. But best laid plans, and all that. We've at least seven weeks of this thing, so just as before, it's an idea to plan. Plan the arsenal of defence you need, to not only get through it, but to find pleasure in the randomness along the way. 

Planning can be tricky though. We're in an interesting alignment of situations. At the same time as the post-Christmas comedown, we've got the severity of the lockdown and the freezing weather. On top of that, it's about now that many of us start to think about holidays. The fact we can't book anything, may add to the general misery. So many issues at once. Bam. A cocktail of emotion. You'll be pleased to know I've given this some thought and come up with the best way to deal with the unique situation in which we find ourselves. No really, it's my pleasure. The answer is simple. Movies, of course. 

First is my post-Christmas film schedule. These include...

• Eddie the Eagle
• Downhill
• Little Women
• Spotlight
• When Harry Met Sally
• Can You Ever Forgive Me
• Groundhog Day

My garden last night. As 
a sideways Mr Burns looks
 on, I am happily wallowing
in snowy films.

These films are not Christmassy, but they do include snow, New Year, or cold weather. (Also TW for Spotlight - child abuse. Perhaps not the cosy watch the rest of them bring, but the gloomy weather, haunting score, and dogged reporters chasing down their story, fits perfectly with a January vibe.) They are all are films I love  - some only released in the last twelve months - but they're an excellent way to wallow in the cold from the safety and privilege of a blanket and central heating. 

Call Me By Your Name
ID.YLL.IC

But what's this? Wallowing in the cold is too gloomy? You want to be out and about feeling the sun on your skin? You want travel, you want adventure, you want a holiday? Well, OK then, you crazy fools. You'll be wanting my second list. The list of films that transport you elsewhere. When you can't book that much-needed trip, these films might help.

• Shirley Valentine (Greece)
• Call Me By Your Name (Italy)
• Vicky Christina Barcelona (Spain)
• A Room With a View (Italy)
• Begin Again (New York)
• Much Ado About Nothing (Italy)
• Eat, Pray, Love (Italy, India, Indonesia)
• The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (Australia)
• The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (India)

That list is sun-kissed and warming. It'll take you away from 'all this', even when you're sitting in your armchair and there's snow on the ground. It'll change your environment, warm you up and chill you out. Maybe. Who knows. But definitely worth a try.

A terrible photo of my telly, but
it marks a moment I felt 
all chuffed and lovely about life.

As for me, I practice what I preach. The other day I had a spare afternoon so I turned on Shirley Valentine that I'd recorded over Christmas. Initially, this was not the soothing balm I had anticipated. The censored words that Ch5 deemed unsuitable for this middle-aged woman, were not delicately dubbed, nor subtly substituted. Oh no. Entire lines - and in one instance, a complete scene - were cut willy nilly. Whole punchlines were gone, making several jokes' pointless build-up, result in a character seeming deranged. I was NOT impressed. Even less impressed was I, when I checked on IMDB to see which part of Liverpool, Shirley's house was filmed. I had guessed Childwall or Woolton. It turns out it was the famous Scouse borough of Twickenham. Hmmm. Not cool. I almost turned it off at one point, deeming the censored version unwatchable. But then something marvellous happened. Shirley stormed off to Greece and real scenes from Mykonos were on my screen. (I checked. Definitely not Twickenham.) The cut lines and the nonsensical script changes didn't matter. There were blue seas, there were whitewashed buildings, and there were sunlit conversations on seafront tavernas. It was glorious. I tuned out the words - knowing them off by heart, I could insert the correct lines as and when they were needed - and focused on being somewhere else. It was idyllic.*

Jessica is currently on the
 61 going through Runcorn.

It might not be your cup of tea. Shirley Valentine, I mean. But there'll be other films that take you somewhere you would love to be, all from the comfort of your locked-down home. In related news, I saw a chat on Twitter from someone who had taken a tour of Venice with her son's Virtual Reality headset. It sparked a convo about using city Instagram accounts and worldwide webcams to visit far flung destinations. It's human nature to want a break, to need a break. We just have to be creative with how we do that right now. Creativity is usually the first thing to depart when anxiety kicks in. Let's not allow that happen this time. Let's build our arsenal of defence. We can make it work, one film at a time. Defo.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*I think it's fair to say that Tom Conti's attempts to 'look Greek' would be considered bad from today. I'm not saying the film is faultless. But it did take me to Greece for a bit. And there's the scene where Shirley defiantly challenges the casual xenophobia of her fellow holiday makers. Swings and roundabouts. 

Resolutely Clear About Resolutions...

At the time of writing, I'm in the final hours of 2020. There's nothing more to say about that, so I won't. But while I sit here, contemplating the life-improving resolutions I could make to herald the start of a new dawn, it's a fair bet that by the time this drops - in 4 days time - I'll have sacked them right off.

I've written about New Year's resolutions before. TLDR? Pointless. That's my stance and I'm sticking to it. I've made many plans, many promises, to myself over the years but very few have stuck. Never click on a Daily M**l link is one that's lasted. Never buy shoes I can't walk in, is another. But these are the exceptions. There have been hundreds of earnest decisions, made with the absolute bestest of intentions, that come to a stuttering halt around the twenty-somethingth of January. Don't blame me. It's what happens. It's science.

On a wholly related note, please click this link. It popped up on Twitter during 2020, and is a perfect - if not darkly hilarious - example as to why making idealistic plans in January, means bugger all when scuppered by world events. Did you click the link? If not, go back and do it now. It's one of few things that made me belly-laugh about the pandemic. It's good to laugh. Even about the bleakness. So... back to resolutions. As Robyn Schall (the woman in the vid) showed, there's literally no point making resolutions. No point at all. And yet... 

This seems reasonable to me.

This year, I have made a resolution. Yep, just now. The thing I've just spent three paragraphs slagging off and described as pointless, will now provide me with further paragraphs as I tout the alternative view. (This is how B***s Johnson started.) I'm not going to fall prey to my past mistakes though. There's no point grandly announcing I'm going to lose five stone or start running marathons, when both outcomes would depend on me making major lifestyle changes. Changes like no more horizontal weekends on the sofa, or suddenly having to start eating bananas. Those kinds of lifestyle changes. You can keep your bananas, your marathons, and your behaviour modification. None of that's welcome here. Instead, I'm keeping it real. I'm keeping it SMART. Need a refresher from that management course you did a million years ago? OK, here you go.

Something to leave until 2022.

SMART targets are Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Timebound. So blithely insisting I'm going to eat healthily doesn't cut it. It doesn't specify how, doesn't explain what quantity of my diet must be healthy, doesn't feel achievable or realistic from my walking cheeseboard vantage point, and gives no indication for how long I should do it. So not so SMART at all, really.

How's this for a plan instead. I'm going to walk at least 5000 steps a day. 

Now, I know what you're thinking. BUT NICKY. 10,000 STEPS IS THE DAILY ADVISED MINIMUM AMOUNT. YOU'RE PLANNING TO DO HALF AS MUCH AS THEY RECOMMEND. To that, I reply 'good one,' with all the sarcasm I can muster. Yes, I KNOW it's not the full 10,000 as dictated by everyone's Fitbit, Apple Watch, and Garmin. (I assume the tech companies have got that figure from someone with more insight than their marketing teams.) But that's not the point. The point is, that most of the time, I do far less than that. Sitting with a laptop across my thighs for hours a day, really impedes how many steps I manage. Some days, when I throw in a food shop, I might reach the dizzying heights of 7532. Other days, when I crawl from my bed to the shower, and then sit tippy tapping away at the keys, I might make 2573 by night time. I'd have to move about, jig around, and up my game to make it to 5000, but it would be achievable. It would also be specific, measurable, realistic, and time-bound. 10,000 steps - whilst being most of those things - is not so achievable. Not every day. Not when I'm being honest with myself. 

On the outside I'll be shuffling along in
leggings and a hoody. On the inside,
I'll be doing this.

So I'll say it again. I'm going to walk at least 5000 steps a day. And again?  I'm going to walk at least 5000 steps a day. If I keep telling myself, I might stick to it. And who knows, by making it realistic, and easyish to do, I may well find myself going over 5000, and then who knows where I'll be. Marathon training and shovelling in the bananas before you know it. 

For now, let's remember two things. New Year's resolutions are pointless, and I'm going to walk at least 5000 steps every day. Completely clear and not at all contradictory. (Again, this is how B***s Johnson started.) 

Have a lovely week, folks.

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.