Slide

Five more steps to happiness:

Step 1 - Find a large sloping area that has a liberal dusting of frozen precipitation. (Preferably of a consistency somewhere between brown slush and sheet ice )

Step 2 - Position yourself at apex of slope upon your vehicle of choice. (Sledge, toboggan, tin-tray, bin bag, willing accomplice, etc.)

Step 3 - Push to start and allow gravity to increase your momentum. (You may employ additional initial propulsion from a friend but avoid the use of catapults, rockets or jets)

Step 4 - Allow acceleration to build through the lack of friction between the vehicle and the ground cover. (Take note that the increase of speed is directly proportional with the decrease in the ability to steer) 

Step 5 - Finally on completion of journey bring vehicle and/or yourself to a complete stop. (Possible methods include braking, crashing, bailing, flying or plummeting - depending on the terrain)

Repeat as necessary...

-----

Tree

We've trimmed the tree!

But before that came all the other traditions...

We picked out the tree...

I paid for the tree...

I brought home the tree...

I attempted to fit our stand to the tree...

I assembled various blunt tools before the tree...

I hacked bits off the ridiculously think trunk of the needle retentive type tree...

I again attempted to fit the stand on the tree...

I swore at the tree...

I hacked more from the tree...

I finally affixed the stand to the tree...

I stepped back from the tree...

I found myself leaning to one side mirroring the angle of the tree...

I threatened the tree...

I removed the stand from the tree...

I performed more surgery on the tree...

I put the the stand once more on the tree...

I said a silent prayer before stepping back again from the tree...

I saw all was well with the tree...

I wrestled for ten minutes with the plastic mesh that encased the tree...

I spent a further ten minutes removing the dead leaves and other forest detritus from within the recesses of the tree...

I attached weighty objects (such as books, shoes, pets, etc.) to pull down the branches of the tree...

I retrieved from the far corner of the attic the decorations for the tree...

I untangled the lights for the tree...

I openly wept tears of thanks that the lights worked beneath the now bowing branches of the tree...

I removed all tools, sawdust, bits of trunck, weights and pets from vicinity of the tree...

I called the family to the tree...

I shifted 'a little to the left' the tree...

I shifted 'back to where it was before' the tree...

I rotated it 90 degrees to show the better branches of the tree...

I vetoed the idea of finding another location within the house for the tree...

We all said how prefect was the tree...

I whispered "I wont say anything if you don't" to the tree...

We trimmed the tree...

-----

Donkey

With Christmas fast approaching parents everywhere are waiting with baited breath to hear the news – which part has our child got in the school's Christmas Show. But what is the must have role at Christmas?

Now traditionally the Christmas show would be a Nativity but that isn't always the case. During my own years a primary school the parts I played included:

A carol singer

A roving reporter

A dashing but dim fairy-tale hero

And a caterpillar!

But if your kid’s school is going for a full on ‘Star’ story, or derivative-Navitivative as is more often the case these days, then the part-pecking order is normally straightforward.

For girls there is one true goal – the Holy-Mother-Load that is Mary. All dolled up in blue dress, white scarf, blue headband and holding baby doll or plush-toy Saviour-substitute. She may not be much of an action girl, being far more homespun, but most girls still want to be Mary. Second fiddle is the celestial-big-hitter Angel Gabriel. As God’s spokes-person A.G. gets to chat to the parents to be, scare the socks of the shepherd and (sometimes) does some moonlighting at star-lighting in order to bring the Wise Men from ‘Far’ to ‘Here’. So more you’re go getting, globe-trotting type. Plus you get to boss the other Angels about!

Boys on the other hand get a bit more choice. You might think Joseph would be the top banana but is in fact quite a weak character. Years of pantos and kids shows just reaffirmed to me what most children instinctively know - that the most boring part in the whole show is the hero. Far better to be either the villain, such as Herod (who really needs to be stroking a white cat), or the comic relief, as in a shaky shepherd or a dippy donkey. Or you could wish to be King for a day!

Yes, when my school did finally go for a more traditional story I got just what I wanted - Wise Man number 1! Whoa-yeah! Better still because I was taller than the other two they put me in the middle to balance things out. However, I did fail by being last to arrive at the costume fitting. Our school was lucky in that parents made a lot of costumes, this was in the days before the Nativity-dressing-up isle that appear in Wait-cos or Tes-da supermarkets. Also parents donated them to the school so at the back of our stage was a wardrobe of costumes that would have kept The Doctor happy through a hundred regenerations!

Robes and gowns were ten-a-penny but the problem was hats. For some reason crowns weren’t an option (obviously Herod and his moggy had got there first). Instead there was one silver tipped sampan style hat (with fur trim), one orange ‘Mongol Horde’ hat (with a single fluffy spike, like a squirrel's tail with rigor mortis) and a fez (which was mine). Now, Matt Smith's Doctor has of course brought the fez back to the world and it was also the hat of choice for the great Tommy Cooper. But it didn't have quite the gravitas I was looking for from my Wise Man role...

King 3 - "Born this night to man the son of God!"

King 2 - "How shall we discover this child?"

King 1 - "Just like that! Ah-hr-hr-hr! Baby manger! Manger baby! Ah-hr-hr-hr!"

Luckily my mum put in some work and sewed a nice gold-lame doughnut around the brim which showed more Eastern promise. But somehow I just couldn’t shake the magic man bit as it now cried out Ali Bongo!…

King 1 – “We bring gifts of gold, frankincense and… a bunch of flowers!” 

But the performance was a success, even if I did get my leg tangled in my robe while kneeling to adore the My-Little-Messiah (batteries not included). It called for a little limb bending and knee wiggling as I stood up, but then I was The Gold-Lame King after all... 

King 1 – "Thank you very much!"

No, for me boys want to be kings first, Herod second with animals and sheep worriers bring up the rear. After all who really wants to be Joseph? Mary gets all the attention along with a bit of plastic with tinsel round its head! While Joseph is the ‘Everyman’ that most boys will almost inevitably end up being anyway - the stereotypical useless husband.

Mary – "I ask you to do one simple thing! One bloody thing! Book a room at the inn! But can you do that? Oh no!”

Joseph – “No dear. Sorry dear” 

Mary – "Having to come all the way to bleedy Bethlehem - because you were born here might I remind you - and in my condition!"

Joseph – “Yes dear. Sorry dear” 

Mary – “And as for the transport you arranged to get here... first class my ass...!"

-----

Time

Mandate

As you know I’m petrified of being in the proximity of ‘uncharted’ people but I flounder even more when the legend below reads "Here there be males!"

There no other way to describe it - I am an 'Anti-Lad'. The closest I get to being a man’s man is doing a spot of decorating while simultaneously watching a John Wayne film on TCM. For a while my kind were classed as the New Age Man, a name which summons up odd images. I see an ape-creature, standing before a black monolith, raising a newly discovered implement above his head before bringing it down firmly, but with equal care, as he irons his best animal skin on a nice flat rock!

If ever I am stranded in the company of lads I am totally out of my depth. I know nothing of football, I dipped my toe in the waters of DIY but power tools are a mystery and a car is just something to get me to work (what the hell is torc anyway?). Even meeting other Ant-Lads doesn’t help as we just sort of cancel each other out and stare into our own private worlds thinking of what we'll cook for dinner. The only blokes I do know tend to come as part of a family package where their son or daughter knows my son or daughter which at least gives me the opener of "How is (insert-name-of-child-here)?" but that will only get you so far. Not that I mind too much as I loath small talk. What I do mind is that I haven’t had what I would call a best ‘male’ friend since I was about twelve.

At that time my shyness was at full power but I did have friends at school if only by dint of the fact that I saw them nearly everyday. However, as I moved into the realms of acting (Jazz-hands ahoy) I underwent an unusual reversal. Suddenly I could speak to girls, make friends with girls and even spend time with girls while at the same time understanding lads less and less. The irony is it still took me forever to find the guts to actually date a girl but that just highlighted the 'brotherly' friendship I had with them. Again, there were blokes on my courses and in subsequent jobs and I do still count many of these as friends but never a best friend. A best friend is not only some who will be there for you and to who you will do the same but also needs to be someone who gets you. Someone who speaks on your frequency. And not having that tends to leave a hole in your life.

A prime example was my wedding. When the time came to pick a best man there was no one who came to mind to fill the role. I have no brothers and nor does my wife and my closest male cousin old enough to do the job was at that time living in New Zealand! In the end I made the unconventional decision to choose the person who was my best friend at the time as so had a Best Woman (Cheers D, it was a pleasure to have you with me that day). Of course my wife now fits the best 'female' friend role and as such spotted that man shaped hole in me.

Unfortunately on one occasion she tried to fill it in a most unusual way by setting me up with what can best be described as a 'play-date'. She was so used to doing it for the kids I guess she just saw it as an extension of the same idea. He was the father of one of my son's friends who I'd previously met at birthday parties and at the school gates (so shyness shouldn't be an issue). He was more Anti-Lad than Lad but not as extreme as me (so I might learn something new from him but wouldn't pick up any nasty habits or get into too many scrapes). He lived not far from us (so not too many roads to cross). And his wife thought he to should socialise more (so basically our wives told us to go out for a drink together). Man-date!

On the evening in question my 'Date-Mate' called on me, as my house was on the way to the pub. My wife tucked my scarf into my trousers, put on my stringed-mittens and told us not to stay out too late. Together we stumped off down the road. I'd like to say the evening went well and that he and I have been best buddies ever since but then that would be a big steaming pile of 'not-true-poo'. In reality we spent five minutes using up our openers and discovering how the other's kids were. Moved on to latest DIY projects, then quickly through my lack of interest in sport before settled down to an evening of beer supping and lengthening silences. And all the while my inner man was struggling to take control. If only he had... 

*The Anti-Lad kicks back his stool and stands, staring down the Date-Mate from beneath the brim of his Ten Gallon hat*

"Now listen here Pilgrim, if you're looking looking for best friendship then I aint willing to accommodate ya. We both see this man-date aint going nowhere. And if'n I hear you use language like 'league champions' or 'traction control' once more, so help me I'll not understand ya. Now you just sit peaceful and finish your drink and I'll be on my way. I got broccoli to steam and a pelmet to fix. Adiós Compadre."

*With that the Anti-Lad moseys out the saloon doors, stopping momentarily to look back, his left hand clutching his right arm as he considers whether to put his scarf back on, before heading towards the sunset and New Aged adventures...*

-----

Heads

Movie Quiz Time!

This time a 'heady' mix of decapitation and shoulder shrugging the hard way!

... in an apartment above a post-apocalyptic butcher shop a head sits on a table with a cleaver through it, but all is not what its seems...

... in a palace on the moon a Germanic yarn-spinner meets a monarchy who remove their own heads rather than other peoples...

... on the red planet a scuffle breaks out at passport control which results in someone loosing a spare head and the room going boom...

... in a castle in Transylvania an oddly pronounced, 'freshly dead' head has a hunch *ba-rum-ting*...

... on a swampy planet (a long time ago, far far away, yadda yadda yadda) our hero decapitates the big baddie only to get a confusing metaphor from beneath his mask...

... on a street in Israel a photographer finds that rapid glass delivery can be a right pain in the neck...

... on a spaceship in deep space (where else!) a severed head looks to be sufferring from a lactose problem after a fight with other crew members over an uninvited guest...

...south of the border an American bartender takes a road trip to retrieve a head but gets a little gun crazy instead...

... on a moon of a planet in our solar system, which runs 'rings' around the rest, a robot takes it upon himself to decorate his angle-pious neck with a human head...

... in an 18th Century American hamlet an incomplete horseman gets head envy and starts to even things up a bit by bringing people down to his size...

**** Bonus Question ****

No decapitation here but what is the movie which contains an odd mix of songs and sketches from four actors who can sing and was co-wirtten by another actor who had in a previous film freely admitted that his writing was a bit "dull"?

Answers

-----

Cavort

I wish I could dance. Actually, scratch that! I can dance and in fact I do at the slightest provocation!

My mother was a dancer in her youth and loved watching all the MGM musicals. So naturally I grew up watching them as well. 'On the Town', 'Kiss Me Kate', 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers' - you name it we'd watch it.  Not surprisingly I loved the comedic dancers best with the top position going to Donald O'Connor in 'Singin' in the Rain'. I would watch him perform 'Make Them Laugh' over and over again and emulate his every move (with exception of the final back flips!)

Drama school finally gave me an opportunity to truly try my hand (or should that be foot) at various forms of dancing led by our marvellous tutors Leslie and Norm. It was also Norm's dance classes which first introduced me properly to MW(TG) as we teamed up for ballroom dancing and pumped up the Polka to 10. As with most things I found that my memory was part of the key to my success. Just as I could easily memorise lines I was also very quick to pick up and remember routines. I may never have had the body of a true dancer, even in my slimmer youth, but the mind was on the ball and the feet wished to follow.

The one style I really wanted to get to grips with was tap but although I had a fair stab at it I was no Fred Astaire. In our first term we had to do a group dance to Kenny Ball's 'Midnight in Moscow', a tune which still rattles round in my head to this day. I can remember trying to lead the rest of my group in some additional rehearsals and getting very 'Miss Grant' from Fame on the asses - "Pay me some sweat people!". Alas I never took dancing any further, but in quiet moments alone I still try to perfect a simple time-step...

Shuffle-Hop-Spring-Tap-Step-Step

Shuffle-Hop-Spring-Tap-Step-Step

Today I'm getting to show off and pass on the odd trick I do remember to my kids, both of whom have the dancing bug but prefer a little 'popping and locking' to 'tapping and stepping'. I also get to introduce them to all the musicals I enjoyed with their Hollywood Hoofers. Only last week I had them sitting round watching Gene Kelly do the sublimely impossible dance on roller-skates (and in case you're wondering I refer to 'It's Always Fair Weather' as opposed to 'Xanadu').

But I also still cut my own rug! Either to the radio in the kitchen or more often to the personal soundtrack in my head. Anything from simple steps to something a little more adventurous - such as trying to pull off a barrel-roll down an empty corridor at work. "Dance and the world dances with you" and if that's not true then it certainly should be. So go on! Get up right now and boogie! It the best of times even if it's the worst of time-steps...

-----

Five top dance routines

1. Make Them Laugh
2. Gene Kelly on skates
3. Fred and Ginger
4. 'Seven Brothers' Barn Dance
5. Laurel and Hardy

-----