BLOG 211: Death and Taxes

“   "What is the purpose of all this?" The first man asked God politely.

     "Everything must have a purpose?" asked God.

     "Certainly," said man.

     "Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this," said God.

 And He went away.”  

From Kurt Vonnegut’s classic 1963 Novel – Cat’s Cradle

To say it has been a bit of a week is an understatement. I’ve been busy in every possible sphere of my life, but rather than be exhausted -  I feel quite exhilarated. I think life is at its best when we are elbow deep in it. However, it has also been a week in which I have had plenty of opportunity for reflection – and reflection always makes you wonder what the meaning of it all is. As Vonnegut pointed out in his novel, it is the human condition to want a purpose to everything. Our God (in his wisdom) gave us freewill – making us was his gig but standing or falling was down to us. But if it is certainty we require -  they do say the only certainties of life are your certain death and the certainty that you will pay tax on something.

Well both certainties came knocking this week.

I received a huge tax form from our friends at the Inland Revenue... [and yes I am blogging rather than sitting down and doing it as it looks scary]. Has tax always been this much of a drag?... was it like this when sharecroppers had to give their feudal lords a few groats and a jug of finest mead?... probably. I imagine the occupant of the plot of the land (upon which my home now sits) also kept on finding ways to do anything other than settle down to distilling the mead for him in the big house. It’s not a deliberate rouse not to pay... it’s just such an errrrrrrrrrghhhh task. Frankly I can’t be arssed, not on a busy week like this one when I have far more dynamic diversions to hand.

Such dithering though hast to be laid to rest.  For me old pal from The Up The Creek Comedy Club, found himself pilloried for not paying tax (he left it to someone else to do for him – as he too could not be arssed) and has found himself the unlikely poster boy for tax-evasion!  You see whatever you do - taxes are a fact of existance... part of the meaning of life. Taxes are a concrete certainty – there is no escape.

There is also no escape from death - that departure lounge we are heading for the moment we come through arrivals. It’s the only other certainty there is. Death and I got to hang out on Tuesday and I have to admit we had a jolly good time. Yes - I know that sounds strange, but read on.

Losing someone from your life permanently is a blow – no matter what anyone says about "a bloody good innings" or "freedom from pain", or "blessed releases" or even it "being their time" – NO ONE is ever ready for losing someone they love. Ever. Yeah... like EVER. However, Death is a certainty, we will all mourn and we will all (hopefully) be mourned. So like taxes, it is just something you can’t avoid and have to make the best of. And by making the best of, I mean – ensuring the stuff the proceeds death is actually worthwhile.

And that is life.

Busy at it sometimes is... we must remember to live well. And by well I don’t mean eating healthily or any other faddy bollix – I mean ensuring we have the best experience possible – while we are here.

This week I along with my family had the opportunity to celebrate the life of one of our members. The word funeral has too many negative associations with sadness – we prefer to celebrate that we ever knew the people we lose. So we celebrate them. You will hear laughter at these gatherings. Which I know (especially to English sensibilties) sounds strange and a bit disrespectful. My experience of English funerals are tearsodden, sombre gatherings. Our approach is as far from that as you can get. Yes, you will feel sad about losing people at the beginning, you may feel angry, you may think it unfair or untimely. However my family's point of view is based on the below quote. Its something that all are most welcome to adopt – it really does lighten the load.

“As much as I know, life is essentially wonderful but it does have the ability to boot you in the teeth when you least expect it – so many people rail up about the injustices – the unfairness of those boots – and what happens is...they DON’T move on.

But we are not entitled to anything at all in this life; the gift we were given was being here at all.

BUT

We do have choices. All I’m saying to you is make the best choices you can and don’t spend time on being sad – It’s a waste”.

So that’s what I do. I make the best choices I can.

I don’t spend time on being sad.

I celebrate I ever knew him.

And goddamn it, I’m gonna settle down right NOW and do that ruddy big scary tax form!!!

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BLOG 210: Men in the bed

“a man and a woman make far better friendships than can exist between two of the same sex /but then with the condition that they never have made or are to make love to each other.”  Lord Byron

I nearly dropped a baby this week. Not something I'll be putting on my CV, indeed this will remain something that I will always feel quite guilty about. Not so much the infants near introduction to the carpet (don't worry I caught it!), but the idea that I have contributed to a flaw in modern society... now that came as a bit of a shock.

You see, I’ve written a fair few rom-coms in my time. These are pretty formulaic, and there are two major plot tools I always fall back on. The first is the“meet-cute” (situation where girl meets boy) and the other stalwart is the “platonic sleep”. For characterisation nothing is greater shorthand for "This Is A Man You Can Trust” than the guy who sleeps with a woman (who we have established he does have romantic interest in) and manages to get from dusk to dawn without body fluids being exchanged. It's jolly entertaining coming up with situations whereby the protagonists must spend a night together where rising ardour must be contained as the timing is not yet right.

And that is one of the reasons why I love writing fiction... anything is possible in a world I make up. In real life one does not have the certainty of the contents of another’s head. Only when writing have I  (or any pensmith) the deep knowledge of exactly how all the protagonists really feel and can cue up the action accordingly.

Quite often when the platonic sleep occurs in real life, it is taken to mean “This man is not interested” and said man finds his non-action has bought him a one way ticket to the friendship zone. From which (–despite my and other folks works of fiction–) no man has ever escaped.

I’ll tell you for why:  physical contact breeds closeness, and exchanging vulnerabilities leads to emotional bonding...  any kindergarten child could have told you that. Think about it?: Is there anything more physically close than sharing a bed with someone? Is there any time when you are more vulnerable than when you are asleep? It’s hardly likely then that if two people of the opposite genders have survived this experience and still manage to come out the other side emotionally at arms length from each other ...  that their relationship is going to be defined as anything other than platonic. As I often say in words for inferior to Lord Byron's:” if the horizontal foxtrot is not occurring then friendship is”.  

Or at least that is the way most women take it.

It is always news to the female that the male participant in the platonic sleepovers was ever looking to be more than friends.  Thus, it’s not as rare as one would like that as friendships mature and the rounds of weddings are replaced by the rounds of christenings that the male platonic friend will mention to the female as she cradles his newborns head: “Oh I wouldn’t swap him/her for the world... and just think if I didn’t shake off my obsessional crush on you, he/she would never have been born”. Word to the wise: STOP DOING THAT! It’s a miracle that said newborn doesn’t actually get dropped - such is the shock!

I’m delighted that these men do get on with their lives and finally escape the Friend Zone (which is beginning to appear to be little more than a holding pattern for the infatuated/unrequited); however it is rather disheartening than platonic sleepovers are read by the participants so differently.

 I think the huge mistake here is that the male participant has the idea in mind that what women want is a man who is “good loyal and nice”. Popular culture (to which my fictional waffle also belongs) does rather fan the flames of this myth. In the real world  women  are actually looking for confidence, humour and looks.  The sad fact is that good, loyal and nice doesn’t spark flames. A guy who doesn’t want to be in the friendship zone is looking to have a real physical relationship and will flirt, touch, even kiss at the first best opportunity. Good, loyal and nice will sleepover without any attempt of that stuff. So, from a woman’s perspective... if he isn’t trying to make the physical happen... he isn’t interested in you that way... he’s just a friend.

Of course popular culture is a lie! In the real world the platonic sleepover has never been a precursor to romance, it's a precursor of confusion at best. And yet platonic sleepovers are on the rise.  Nature never allowed for this phenomenon.  It is not possible for a female to share a bed with a heterosexual male and for it to be entirely platonic. And certainly not from the guy side – the poor sods! 

I do feel sorry for men sometimes. Damned if they do (Blergh!!! what a creep! I was just being friendly then the next minute he is trying to shove a tongue down my throat!) Damned if they don’t (OMG I CANNOT believe he had feelings for me ALL THESE YEARS and didn’t tell me!).

As a (somewhat minor) contributor to the fallacy that the platonic sleepover and good, loyal, nice is on females shopping list, I feel obliged to set the record straight:

Despite what you see in rom-coms or read in books... a platonic sleepover is not the launch pad to a fulfilling relationship.

The platonic sleepover is an intimacy between a man and a woman which has no element of sex in it, but which is a facsimile of commune that leads participants to feel connected.

Which is plain English means.... fellas... she thinks of you as family...like a brother.

And if she was the sort of girl who could change her mind and look at her brother in ‘that’ way.... ask yourself would you still be interested?

***Blergh!!!***

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BLOG 209: Oh CRAP!

“... like the rest of us, (he relied upon first) impressions which saved him the trouble of distinct truths.” George Eliot

George... what a gal! When it comes to cutting to the chase George Eliot got there quicker than most.  We all know the power of a first impression, we all try to give the best one we can... but are we painting a picture of ourselves that is not exactly true?

Change is a great thing, who wants to be stuck in a rut being a version of you that really isn’t what you want to be. Luckily the way humans are wired is very accommodating of this fact and we all carry many versions of ourselves in our psyche. Change quite often means ditching the people from your current existence. Thus, given the opportunity to appeal to a new audience its tempting for us bi-peds to sometimes switch it up and be a different version of ourselves. Brilliant! We think. These new people don’t know you, so why be the version of you that was getting a bit sucky. Why not edit out the crap and be fabulous, like you always wanted to be!

Given an opportunity to make a first impression we sometimes reinvent ourselves. Sound harmless... healthy I suppose, after all,  being stuck in a unsatisfactory rut can’t be good for us. When given a clean slate it HAS to make sense to draw the best picture we can on it.

But...like George Eliot implies... that dazzling new first impression may well deliver a painting of who we are not - especially when people respond to us. Think about it. How many times do people who are new to you say a little down the line “ahhhh... but if you knew me better you wouldn’t think that of me”? Yep... quite a lot.

You may wish to push your sweet and gentle side forward and give your ball-busting persona a rest... but what happens when people start pushing the new sweet and gentle you around?... hey ho! Ballbuster is back in town!  A new version of you unfortunately always seems to carry your old versions reactions. Thing we sometimes conveniently forget is that quite often, rather than painting a flattering portrait of ourselves, all we end up doing is painting is ourselves into a corner.

I love that phrase ‘painting yourself into a corner’. So true that when decorating ...armed with a brush, paint and a room full of floorboards awaiting a fresh coat... it helps to work out where the exit to the room is before the first stroke is made. I can’t imagine many situations worse than being backed up in a corner waiting for acres of paint to dry before you can make your exit!

I often wonder if people have any idea of the risk they take when they give a new first impression on landing in a new situation. The temptation to edit out all the things that didn’t serve you well in previous situations is huge when presented with a clean slate. It’s an opportunity to be the version of you that you’d like to be. Trouble with that is that the version of you that you actually ARE is contextualised only by all the stuff that has happened to you, the OLD you. These may be good or bad, but they inform your reactions. Sometimes by reinventing yourself you can give an impression that you are someone who should react in a way you lack the experience to pull off. If you don't want to be that person full of excuse you will be as stuck in the new version of you as someone waiting for the paint to dry before they can leave a room. If you try to exit using prior knowledge you leave footprints as unsightly as those left on drying paint.

Now I ain’t poo-pooing reinvention. I do it, of course I do!  I’m very aware that they are many versions of me and sometimes it serves me well to allow another side of me to come forward. Queen of reinvention has to be Ms Madonna Ciccone. I’m not quite in that league for switching it up and around (nor would I like to be), but I do get the value of pushing forward another side of your character when times and audiences change.

But to do so is a very risky business. The person you are taken to be will be treated accordingly and you HAVE to get your reactions in check if you do not wish to be tarred as a complete and utter fake. (Bloody harsh when you consider all you are doing is giving a reclusive side of you to come forward, its reinvention not fabrication after all!) Sometimes it is clear why people just stay in their ruts and never take the risk.

Going back to Ms Ciccone, lord knows if said Maddie stuck to being the strange little creature that bounced around singing ‘Holiday’, she would be the worlds most embarrassing 53 year old right now. But since being that bundle of rags (doing a strange buckled knee dance), Maddie has been a virginal slut, a Monroe/Dietrich-esqe Material Girl, a conical bra wearing dominatrix, an exhibitionist,  an american catholic girl with issues, a brunette pixie, an androgynous gay icon,  a blonde hippy, a british aristocrat, mother earth,  a gym bunny... to name but a few. She loves to switch it up and produce other versions of herself.  One minute a singer, the next a children’s author, another a clothing designer and every now and again an entrepreneur (lets not talk about the movies and please can we forget that coffee table book ‘Sex’... the most frequently found book at ANY car boot fair!). These constant reinventions are of course  great business sense – they have kept a woman who burst onto the scene with limited appeal at the forefront of a cut throat industry for almost 30 years. But with each reinvention ... the general impression is of a facade.

Who you were informs you actually ARE. You can reinvent away, but sooner or later you find you have painted yourself into a corner. For example Ms Ciccone had a hard time when being Madonna Mother Earth keeping Exhibitionist Maddie in check when on stage. Consequently no one bought the ‘mother earth act’ the cries of FAKE! were loud and clear.  It has come to pass now that people have given up trying to see if there even is a real person under Ms Ciccone’s skin.

And that’s the gamble folks.

You CAN drop the luggage of your past and reinvent yourself for the future.

You CAN edit out the things you used to be.

You CAN be who you really WANT to be.

BUT...

The path you have travelled informs who you really ARE. Sooner or later the old you WILL be challenged to be silent when what the old you knows from experience does not match what the new you purports to be.

The first impression you give informs the understanding of who people THINK you are. Reinvention is tempting when you have a brand new audience who are clueless of your past. All I can say is be careful if you are creating a fresh portrait of yourself...sometimes it takes a long loooong time to leave the room while that paint dries.

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BLOG 208: Serendipity In Action

“Having polled over 1000 linguists , the word Serendipity has been voted one of the ten English words hardest to translate” Jurga Zilinskiene, head of Internet Translations

Today was a Perfect Chilled Out Sunday.  Now I hasten to add what I describe is not everyone’s idea of perfect, but man, it is mine. You see, the thing that stops me just chilling out and enjoying my own space is when I have something to do nagging away at the back of my mind. And there has been something.

For the past three weeks the thing carping away at my conscience was the fact that my house has not had the ministrations of domestic servitude. Basically...my abode has been the party house for three weeks and despite a new dyson (who knew vacuum cleaners could be sexy tech..) I had not quite reunited the status and the quo. Thus there has not been one room in this big ol’ house that didn’t need attention.  The knock on effect of this has been that I could not empty my head and get lost in a movie...  which is normally my idea of a perfect Sunday.

So this weekend, the much needed late spring clean took place and I could relax with a great meal (my butter chicken ROCKS...even if I say so myself) and a long cool summat and tonic on the rocks. At last... after a three week hiatus (which as you know is like forever and a day to me)... it was lounge away and let the land of make believe draw me in.

Movie of choice? Well, I was in a devil may care mood and told my television that it may pick a movie for me. No... before you ask, I do not possess a smart TV... and even if I did I doubt very much if they have a mood movie setting. No, I handed the choice over to fate. First movie I hit... I’ll watch. After all, it is Sunday afternoon and any broadcaster worth their inflated salary would know this is prime ‘classic movie’ time. Unless some fool thought now was the time to re-run Hammer Horrors, I figured I was pretty safe in allowing the fates (and about 200 tv station schedulers) pick 110 minutes of entertainment for me.

So I coasted the channels and the first movie that came up... Serendipity (2001Miramax Films).

It’s curious that Serendipity (which despite the quotation I opened with, kind of but not quite means leaving things to fate) happened to be the movie that came up when I decided not to choose and leave selection to forces outside myself. Sometime you just have to love the universe.

 Despite the fact that my least favourite actress (Kate Beckinsale) co-stars, there is enough in this movie to put it a cut above its genre. Perfect Sunday afternoon (with an empty head, a plate of grub and a cool drink) movie.  Pretty much the ideal circumstances for watching the protagonists trying to reconnect to their youthful commitment to serendipity.The only ghastly thing about it is that  (dare I admit it) it is one of the few movies that absolutely make me cry, every time...which is quite a track record for a ten year old film! Not that it is sad... the story is far from sad, but the storytelling in the movie is quite overwhelming.

It’s the motion picture equivalent of reading Pride and Prejudice... you know the ending but you still feel anxious that the plot twists are not going to resolve in the protagonists favour...so when it inevitably comes about, the relief creates the old moist eye... either that or I need to start watching movies with a less alcoholic beverage! Anyway I think it’s all in the storytelling and I’m sticking to it!

If you haven’t seen it (and I have no idea how) the basic premise is a simple one: ten years ago Jonathan (John Cusack) and Sarah (Kate Beckinsale) meet by chance in Manhattan. They spend a few hours together. They make a connection but all they know is each others first names. Being young and silly decide that if the universe wants them to meet again the clues they leave behind will find a way back to them (serendipity). To facilitate this she writes her details into a second hand book and puts it up for sale, he writes his details on a five dollar bill and spends it - then they go their separate ways. Over the next decade their paths cross without them knowing but they fail to reconnect. A decade after their chance meeting both have reached major cross roads on their lives, before committing to what is next for them, both independently set out trace the other. But the universe will not be hurried or messed with and has its own sense of timing regarding the book and the dollar.

It sucks me in every time.... despite the fact I must have seen it a billion times. That little voice inside of each of us that tells us to give up on our dreams because they just don’t seem possible...  well, it’s just nice to watch the tale of those who are brave enough to shut it out and just go for it. None of us would in real life.... would we? Most of us are like Sarah’s pragmatic best friend; who tells her how it is in the cake shop scene.

EVE: It’s a wonderful thought Sarah, that all of life... is some kind of part of a master plan... if that’s really true then what’s the point of living? Or making decisions? Hell why should we even get out of bed in the morning?

SARAH: For cake?

EVE: No... not for cake! It’s so you make mistakes.... and if you are smart enough you learn from your mistakes. You figure it out... that life isn’t some kind of elaborate stage play with directions for the actors... Life’s a mess Sarah, its chaos personified...

SARAH: I have to give this all up now, haven’t I?

EVE: It’s not giving up... It’s growing up

It’s a dialogue that many of us have with ourselves on that fateful day when we tell ourselves that the faith we had in what ever it was that we thought was going to work out... was misplaced. That it is time to put that behind us and settle for what is actually within our grasp. That doing so would be the mature thing to do.

I do wonder about that quite often.

Actually ... I reckon I know that Eve would be giving me the same talk... my best friends often do!  I’ve never quite got my brain around the concept of growing up. I don’t think I’ve ever quite got around to putting childish things behind me.... and don’t suppose I ever will.

Anyway... back to my perfect Sunday... 110 minutes later, Sarah had proven Eve wrong and the credits rolled.  I had moist eyes (well... Jonathan got to read his own obituary, I challenge anyone not to be moved), but I was chilled, relaxed and my plate carried the briefest memory of butter chicken (and only a chemist could find traces of what was in my glass.) Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... it was my  perfect Sunday.

Relaxing in a clean house.

Great food (even if I say so myself).

Random movie... picked by the universe!

Serendipity... you might say!

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BLOG 207: Happy JUBES!!!

“Some attack the monarchy for being the cornerstone of the British class system, sustaining deference in society; these views are outweighed by the advantage of having a unifying monarch above the political battle.” George Jones, (Emeritus Professor of Government, London School of Economics and Political Science)

When I was working in Texas, I was out riding with a cowboy who was appalled that we in the UK have a monarchy. Obviously, being an American he had a rather skewed view (he didn’t realise that we were also a democracy and have an elected government ...) but nevertheless he was appalled that the UK was not a republic. It is one of my lingering memories of my time in Young County TX, savouring the view over Gooseneck Bend on the Brazos River on horseback ...while educating one of the natives about Blighty. Fact is... most of us like having a Queen.

Yesterday, the street parties began as the celebrations of Queen Elizabeth’s reign of 60 years truly kick off. I awoke this morning to the sound of bunting fluttering in the traditional June drizzle and looked out my window over a neighbourhood of red white and blue triangles hanging haphazardly from house to lamppost. We’re quite proud of what we have here... one thousand years of tradition and constancy, an incorruptible basis of commonwealth, an economical figurehead ,an uniting factor between the four countries that make the UK: England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland.  Yes... we will be celebrating the reign of our Queen this weekend... something my Texan friend would be most befuddled by.

A figurehead for a nation (head of state) should be someone who can never be corrupted.  Our Queen inherited a personal wealth of around 500 million quid... so basically she is too rich to be bullied or bribed.... something that elected officials can be. It helps immensely to the idea of fair play that the elected officials of this country have to submit their plans to her before they act.

She is a VERY experienced Politician having being ‘in office’ for 60 years. This is jolly useful as the monarchy is the basis of The British Commonwealth (80+ countries that belong to that club). Every 4 years all the member countries meet to have an intellectual exchange, which she chairs. This is a very positive thing as it ensures we as a nation have a global view point and not the tunnel vision that some republics display (which reveals their nations to be at best ignorant and at worst the perfect target for hostile attack). And of course as the name implies the Commonwealth has obvious financial advantages.

Let us never forget that the monarchy doesn’t actually cost much. In 2011 the figure was about 87p from each taxpayer annually! (The Prime Minster costs us a whole lot more!) The only folk on the civil list that get any moolah from the taxpayer are the queen and her hubby, (Oh and her old mum when she was alive). Prince Charles (the heir apparent) supports his lot though the agricultural rents and produce from the Duchy of Cornwall (and anything he gets through his mums personal wealth). In actual fact the figures for last year show that as a unit the Royal Family brought in many millions of pounds more than they cost us due to them being such a huge tourist attraction.

Funny enough, considering how few uniting factors there are between the constituent countries that make up the UK, having a monarchy is a key one. In polls across England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales despite recent popularity of nationalist movements... no significant numbers show a call for a republic. The common thread being that monarchy prevents crisis by acting a spiritual reservoir for a peoples own sense of inspiration (monarch as the peoples servant rather than as the peoples tyrant). The prevailing view in the UK is that it is better to have a hereditary monarch as they are considered be a neutral representative of the whole nation, independent of any partisan causes.

The historical weight of the constancy of the Monarchy in the UK gives the nation something a mere republic will never have. An insitution that survives a thousand years is not to be sniffed at. The British monarchy has endured through some of histories biggest crisis; it has been more than proven to have weathered storms. A republic will never have that as by definition every head of state will be relatively new.

YES... this all sits rather uncomfortably with my position as a card carrying socialist. Obviously the monarchy is the very pinnacle of a class system. Titles, peerages, privileges of birth and no meritocracy in sight.

But you know what ... I am cool with it. I believe in our monarchy. They do more good than harm and I really do believe that the continued existence of a constitutional monarchy upholds, represents and expresses certain fundamental values and standards, which are very widely accepted and which in some cases are vital to the definition of what being British means. The idea that those standards are essentials to the head of our state, (who also heads up the law courts, armed forces etc etc) is basically... pretty groovy. I don’t resent paying 87p for that.

Unlike what I’ve had to fork out for bunting! ... flipping heck won’t see much change out of twenty quid!

Still... as the neighbourhood comes together to prepare for yet another street party to celebrate the reign of Queen Liz: union jacks draped over wallpaper pasting tables, assortment of chairs from everyone’s houses, paper plates soggy with strawberries and cream... I remember my parting comment to my Texan cowboy friend:

“What’s not to love about living in a constitutional monarchy eh?”

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