Intercourse

why link
the world of birds
and bees  with
gooseberry bushy
stork-ing  babies?

there’s nothing
                      sexual
that’s not more
                      contextual

to their own love
cycle
than that of thee
or me

their thing is more to buzz
and sing as flighty friends
who chirp and sting

not ‘how’s your father’

or sportive tricks

(except of course for
 tits and pricks!)

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Towel

Happy Towel Day! 

Do you know where yours is at?

Airborne

I have next to no experience at jet setting. It's not that I hate planes; I’m just an infrequent flyer.  As such I don’t really know what to expect being very naive of airline etiquette.

I think part of the problem comes from Hollywood – a good example being Indiana Jones. (I mean of course the flight to Tibet in ‘Raiders’ rather than crashing into a mountain in ‘Temple’!) In such movies people would simply board a plane and then, as someone recently put it, “Fly by map”. In the time it takes to draw a red line from A to B you’re there! Actually my most recent flight to Ireland was a bit like that. There is more time checking in, spending money in departures and waiting for luggage the other end than flying!

Probably the worst flight was another small trip going on holiday to Jersey with my parents. The short distance was sort of extended due to turbulence. The plane was thrown first one way and then another and would then just drop straight down. The “Fly by map” for that trip would look more like a cross-sectional representation of the Himalayas! On that occasion I think being a novice flyer helped as I was unaffected by the experience – unlike my poor father who was making full use of the complimentary paper bags (and not to do the Eric Morecambe trick!)

But the real ‘treat’ came a few years back when we took a family trip to Florida and therefore went transatlantic. In my innocence I imagined a greater distance would mean a bigger and better experience. Bigger it was but better..? Again Hollywood had me equating USA with luxury airlines, big seats, helpful attendants and an almost surround-sound private cinema experience! What I got was uncomfortable seating, a small screen two inches from my nose and no sound as their batch of ‘complimentary-very-cheap-earphones’ were all duds! For the flight back however we were prepared and had our own earphones ready. But this time the ‘micro-screen’ in front of my wife wasn't working at all.

Now, I'm not sure why I felt the need to stand up and say something. Possibly it was after the fiasco of the first flight or maybe it was just post holiday frustration! But I have a kind of an Incredible Hulk complex. Most of the time I'm mild and quite but every so often things will get on top me enough that I see red - or green if we're still going with the Hulk analogy. (See 'Evil' for more detail on past indiscretions). I certainly don’t know what I expected them to do...

“No problem sir! We have a repairman being rocketed to us as we speak. Once he has successfully transferred from one plane to the other mid-flight he will have your screen up and running before parachuting back to sea-level where a speedboat will take him home again!”

Regardless I stood up to the flight attendant, saying this was not good enough and demanding something be done! Our eyes locked in a battle of wills. Behind mine I had irate indignation and the knowledge that the customer is always right. Unfortunately behind hers I could see tasers, plastic wrist restrains, air marshals and forced ejection. It was a tough call but I finally decided to be the bigger man and backed down.

All in all I think I prefer holidays in our own British Isles. The weather may be unreliable but the on route catering is what you choose, your luggage is never out of your sight and you can step out to stretch your legs whenever choose. Try doing that at thirty-thousand feet...!

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Pretender

How nice it must be to simply dress up in anything you like whenever you like. 

I speak mainly of my daughter who, aged 10, can change her clothes three or four times in a day depending on what she; wants to be, needs to be or pretends to be! School uniform one minute, garden rambling gear the next and then finally superhero complete with mask and cape. And she’s also so creative that with the aid of a minimal wardrobe she can change from Rock Star to Film Star to mother of four quicker than you can say Madonna.

It could be the latent actor in me crying out for a character to play. After all I donned many costumes and get ups during that time from the simple to the ridiculous and all in the name of art. I’ve also attended my fair share of costume parties over the years. I’ve been everything from Han Solo to Fred from Scooby -Doo, from Groucho Marx to a Ghostbuster. I’ve even been the half of Peters and Lee that could see (don’t ask!). Sadly I don’t get invited to those sorts of parties any more - which may be just as well as it’s a bit hard to pull off the blonde flowing locks and a-line dress while sporting a beard!

But I also envy those ‘adults’ who dress up for fun – the cosplayers of the world or the even more appealing Steampunk lovers. Unfortunately I don’t have the required spherical appendages, of either steel or Adamantium, to pull it off! Neither do I have the time for that matter which you have to put in or the effort to achieve a really good job. 

It you look around the internet you can see those that expended the man-hours and sweat to create beautifully crafted costumes, perfectly replicated down to the colour of the stitching and complete with detailed gadgets, gizmos or guns. These people look like they have literally stepped from the pages of the book or comic in question. Conversely, standing not far away is the person in a romper suit and rubber mask waving a water pistol who would be far better off hiding their head under their Star Wars duvet back home! Shame on you!

Of course being a father does give me some release. So until she stops I’ll just pull on this blanket and swimming goggles and join her…    

“Look! Up the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane! No it’s ‘WONDER-GIRL and her side-kick ‘STUPID –DAD’!”

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Compute

People quickly get the wrong impression of me. At first glance they assume I'm a 'Serious Person' (Sorry. Try again.) Secondly they assume I'm the 'Studious Type' (Wrong again. One more try.) Final assumption, that I'm a 'Computer Geek' (Oh bad luck! But thank you for playing. Goodnight! Sleep tight!)

It is true that I do spend roughly 80% of the week sat in front of two screens and a keyboard, and that it in a desperate attempt to keep up with the world about me have tried to complete a degree in Business Computing (for the result of which see answer to assumption two above). But on the whole I have never discovered the power behind the motherboard. My track record with computers will go some way to explain the situation.

Back in the good old, day-glow Eighties I had just got to grips with my Atari console when it suddenly became important to go that step further and have a home computer. (I blame too much Star Trek) So I asked my parents to buy me what at the time was a top of the range home computer. And so I took possession of a sleek and streamlined Sinclair ZX-81! (Oh yeah!). For those not from the ‘Dee Dee Bopper’ days the ZX-81 was ‘the’ computer to own - for about six months. It looked cool; small and black although with a very annoying 'flat' keyboard that required pinpoint accuracy and several pounds of finger pressure to type on. No monitor either; instead it plugged into a TV. It also had very little memory for a computer but with an additional Ram pack it could be boasted to a mega 32K of hot throbbing hard drive!

You could play games on a ZX-81 but they would take ages to try and load from a cassette tape and then only to tell you after half an hour that it hadn't succeeded. Or you could spend two weeks programming it by hand, possibly copying out a programme from a computer magazine, again only to then find that you made a mistake somewhere in the several hundred lines of code. Worst still was that after abut two months of ownership Sinclair then brought out the ZX Spectrum. It had more memory, a better keyboard and was in colour!

I tried to ignore the computer world after that but films like ‘War Games’ and Matthew Labyorteaux and his ‘Whizz Kids’ made me think I was missing out on a lot of fun. So I tried again. Schools were using BBC Computers and there was also the Commodore 64 but for some reason I felt compelled to go a different way and instead bought an Amstrad CPC464 which had (get this) a built in tape recorder! I also decided to buy a ‘disc drive’ which was the size of shoebox! But again, other than play games it was a little useless. With no printer, no modem and years before the internet would make an appearance I was still along way off bringing my school to a halt or taking over the USA or making my own version of Kelly LeBrock! Not only that but about a year later they brought out the 466 which had a built-in disc drive (doesn’t it just make you want to spit!)

I finally threw in the micro towel and took up the baton of the actor instead (which wobbled slightly due to the jazz hands!) It was years later when temp work between bouts of resting meant I had to look at a computer once more. And what did I find? Wow! Not only was the key broad completely separate from the computer but it also had its own TV monitor! And all the programmes where there to be used with barely the need of tapes or discs! And when looking for temp work it opened doors if you knew Windows (confusing really). It was amazing the time I could spend now at a PC! And when I got bored of playing Minesweeper I could even do some work!

Today my job would be impossible without a computer, as would much of modern day living. At home I have a laptop and a smart phone and microchips falling out of every appliance in the house. But that still doesn't make me a computer geek. Like everyone I know how to use a computer but next to nothing about how they work. For me it’s just a tool, all be it a cleverly compact one like a Swiss Army Knife, there for writing, creating, working, communicating and occasionally playing the odd game still.

But does it make my life any easier? Let's 'assume' it does for now but check back in a few months when my opinion may well have become 'outmoded'...

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Epiphany

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Developments

It is too hard to take pictures now because it is too easy.

For me the rise of the digital camera might mean better and more creative photography but marks the decline of the photo. I have treasured photos, not only of my own childhood but also of family and ancestors which, although gently fading, are at hand to be seen. In comparison I have over a hundred photos from my last holiday alone either still on my camera or filed away on my computer hard drive ready to be accidentally deleted at a moments notice.

The camera I remember the most from my childhood was a black and silver Kodak 44A camera that belonged to the family. All the photos from the first ten years of my life came from that camera and every one of them that was kept beautifully captures memories and places in the clearest and brightest colours. It produced large, square prints similar in size to a Polaroid snap, simply framed with a white boarder.

For my eighteenth birthday I received what I considered my own ‘proper’ camera. It was a Canon with zoom lens, focus settings and all manor of knobs and levers. Also it was a single-lens reflex; basically this meant that looking through the viewfinder you saw by way of a mirror through the lens and could focus and centre as you saw fit. Prior to that I had had a cheap 'flat' camera where the viewfinder was positioned miles from the lens and meant that if you were too close to someone you ended up taking a photo of their ear. The other thing I loved about my ‘proper’ camera was that it had a timer so I could occasionally appear in my own pictures, although I often did this anyway by taking moody shots in mirrors - I was a teenager still after all.

I would very quickly use a roll of film, alternating between colour and black and white, and quickly have them developed. From a roll of thirty-six I would be happy to get half back as what I considered to be good pictures. I remember Boots went through a stage of putting stickers on prints which they deemed to have “gone wrong” with helpful hints on how not to make the same mistake next time. These were quickly pealed off and discarded but the picture was kept; blurry doesn’t matter if the memory is in focus. Packets of prints were indexed and kept, but the good stuff when into albums or fames or up on the wall. It was this camera which chronicled much of my student life and which today provides much reminiscing (and embarrassment) on Facebook.

During my limited acting career the camera received less and less use. Finally the advances in technology, coupled with the change in circumstances brought about by parenthood, saw me finally abandon my camera for something more digital and portable. Although I have managed the occasional shot that I’m really proud off, and keeping some memories in place for the future, I still missed photos. My only solace these days is thanks to a little App called Instagram. It takes single, square shots which you can filter to give it that old school, faded look and can even a white boarder – yester-year revisited!

However, on a trip to Norwich recently we saw a shop full of old cameras, mainly for display but with some which I guess still worked. Nestled amongst them was a Kodak 44A and I was very tempted to take the full step back in time. But I was amazed and excited when my daughter on seeing them all declared that what she wants for her next birthday is an 'old' camera that still works, “Something to take real photos”. She’s nine years old and looking at what she has already achieved photographically on phones and little digitals I am expecting great things.

Looks like the future of capturing the past might be safe after all…

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