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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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...

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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...

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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...!"

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