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April 28, 2011
Family News
Like a winner in the New Year's Honours list, I've had to keep my chitty-chatty gob shut for a few weeks.
But now I can announce to the world: I am going to be a grand father, and therefore 10% wiser, whilst also becoming more incomprehensible due to loss of teeth.
The morning sickness is over at last, and its the same for my daughter, which is doubly good news.
She tells me that the baby now has a nervous system. What a wonderful moment it is when we are so developed that people can get on our nerves. Let's move on.
In a photo album, I have a picture of me holding my daughter in the air, like a small melon; and soon she'll be holding her own. It's time I listened again to the Lion King's 'Circle of Life.'
Strangely, its also my dad's birthday today - the man who held me as a melon.
Meanwhile, the proud parents don't wish to know the sex of the child, but have chosen the name for both a girl and a boy. To prevent tedious family discussions and horse-trading, these names are secret to themselves, however, locked in a strong metal box, sealed in concrete and dropped to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean until such times as they are needed.
Please don't go looking for them. It's very expensive, and you might find a super-injunction inside the container saying that you're not even allowed to know that you know the name - which would make the whole underwater adventure rather pointless.
I like Janet and John...
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 08:19 AM | Comments (0)
April 26, 2011
The Long Day Part 2
Well here we are at Tottenham Court Rd, and all I can say is thank goodness for Meal Deals, as I am warned that to survive Part 2 of our day, it really would be a good idea to line our stomachs!
After we eat our sandwiches, we walk along Oxford Street and cut down one of the side roads to find our next venue.
It is a well known Cocktail bar and there is a lot of noise coming from inside.
From the girlie screams, I'm thinking maybe we are going to see a boy band, I actually wouldn't mind meeeting JLS, but this is no time to be entering my fantasy world!
We go through the doors and are shown to a table and then magically a tray of Strawberry Champagne Cocktails is placed down in front of us.
Well this is quite civilized, I start to relax, wrong move!
The noise we heard before, is coming from two groups of girls standing around the bar, they seem to be enjoying themselves and apparently it is our turn next.
At 2pm a nice young barman named Greg comes over and introduces himself, he looks familiar and later we discover he is 23 years old and had been in the year below one of my daughters in the 6th form college they both attended.
Greg is going to teach us how to make cocktails, he takes us up to the bar and lines up a row of vodka shots, which we all have to down after the count of three.
He then invites my niece Carol to join him behind the bar, she is to be his assistant and gets to choose which cocktail she wants to make.
Greg then talks her through how to make the drink.
We are warned to watch carefully.
The reason becomes apparent later when two of our group are called forward to make this cocktail in a race against each other.
We all cheer for the girl who is nearest to us.
It is amazing how easily we all get caught up in this group activity.
A while ago I was a sensible middle aged grandmother, now I have turned into a screaming teenager.
Our girl wins and gets to choose which vodka shot she wants, the loser is not so fortunate and gets given the dreaded chilli vodka!
Later I get to try the chili shot myself when I lose my round spectacularly when the shaker flies out of my hand and my cocktail ends up all over the bar and anyone who didn't manage to move fast enough.
Luckily for me I like it hot, I think it comes from years of sharing my West Indian work collegue's food.
As the cocktails line up on the bar, three from every round and vodka shots inbetween, we are fast losing our inhibitions.
Greg is obviously used to large groups of wild women and doesn't seem to mind, even when later we have him posing on my lap for some tasteful (I like to think) toyboy shots. Boy, am I enjoying letting out my inner cougar.
The photo's will most likely end up on my nieces facebook, but thankfully I don't do facebook so I will not have to be reminded of my shocking behaviour.
Part 2 ends up with one last round of shots, which are set up on the bar in such a way, that hitting one sets off a domino effect as each glass hits another and ends up in a slightly bigger glass with it's contents still intact. It's a cool trick and a fitting grand finale.
Before we leave the bar we eat enough pizza and wedges to soak up the copious amounts of alcohol we have consumed.
I'm afraid this is an absolute necessity, as we only have two hours before our next appointment.
To be continued!
Posted by Shelliz at 09:49 PM | Comments (0)
April 25, 2011
The Long Day, Part 1
What am I doing standing outside South Kensington Tube station at 10am on a Saturday morning?
Well I am here to partake in a modern day Hen Party, will I have the stamina to last?
For the answer to that one you will need to keep tuned into this blog.
South Ken, is where the day begins and I am here with two of my daughters.
We are meant to be meeting my sister and nieces, one of whom is the 'hen' in this particular gathering, but we are a little late and are just wondering if they have gone on ahead, when one of my eagle eyed daughters spots a group of ladies making their way down the street pulling cases.
'Look, there's Carol', mind you I rekon the veil and heart shaped announcments saying bride to be bobbing up and down on her head band was a bit of a give away.
We catch up with them and are quickly introduced to the rest of the group, most are all are my nieces age, I suddenly feel quite old and wonder what I have let myself in for, the only consolation being that my sister is eleven years my senior, so I am not quite the oldest in this assembly.
Our first stop is a Burlesque dancing lesson, for those of you who are wondering, it is the art of taking your clothes off whilst trying to look seductive and sexy and usually involves props! At this point there is alot of discussion about who is up for trying nipple tassels, one of my daughters is leading the most definitely not vote and to be honest I'm not far behind her, but probably for different reasons, I just wouldn't want to do it in a group of 12.
At the Dance venue we are met by Simone, who looks the part dressed in her fishnets and under bust basque, which make her already large breasts look absolutely enormous.
She introduces herself and tells us we will be learning some Burlesque moves, later we find out that they all have their own particular names, such as 'the explosion' and 'the invitation'.
Then out comes the prop bag and we are all given..... wait for it..... A little feather fan, I must admit to being a little disappointed.
Well soon we are being shown how to move sexily with our prop, and a little later Simone announces 'Now, ladies this fan can also be used for punishment like a whip or a stick, now all together after three, I want you to point to your foot and demand in a loud voice, Look at my shoe'
In the circumstances this didn't quite work for me, as I am barefoot, having discarded my footwear earlier when I was finding it extremely difficult to walk sexily to 'The Stripper music' in flipflops.
However we do eventually manage to get together a whole routine and amazingly the first part actually looks pretty good. Unfortunately it falls to pieces at the point when we have to 'accidentally' drop our fan and strick a 'shocked, oops! what a silly but sexy girl pose' and then get on to our knees to crawl and retrive it.
This move is followed by rolling about the floor kicking our legs.
Now I am more concerned about flashing my pants, yes I know it is the warmest day of the year so far, but, oh why oh why had I thought a dress would be a good idea?
But then Simone kindly reminds me that if I was doing Burlesque for real, by this point I would probably only be wearing my pants, so that was helpful, not!
Getting back up on to our feet couldn't have looked less sexy if we had tried, the idea being that we somehow jumped from our knees into a wide opened legged position and then pushed ourselves upright. Simone's demonstration makes it look easy. My sister and I make it look like 'help the aged' well I guess she is only a year away from getting her Freedom Pass, but to be honest some of the younger members of our group are having a little trouble as well, which makes us both feel a little less decrepit.
Lady Luck is on our side when it comes to Simone videoing the whole routine as she manages to stay well away from our end of the line during the whole writhing on the floor episode, which is probably just as well.
The video ends with us all in what is meant to be a seductive pose, covering my niece with our fans.
While saying goodbye, I ask Simone, whether she makes a good living from being a Burlesque dancer, she tells me that on an average Saturday she has up to four parties of people coming in for dance lessons, but today she only has our group so afterwards she is catching the train to Berkshire to visit her parents.
Simone also runs 12 week courses in the art of Burlesque, she confides that most of the participants do not wish to become dancers, they just want to have more confidence in the bedroom or the boardroom.
Soon Simone is off to Barcolona to dance in a new club that has just opened, and she is hoping that this might be her lucky break, so I wish her well.
With part one of the day over we leave Simone and South Ken and head for Tottenham Court Rd, we just have time to grab a quick sandwich before our next appointment at 2pm, but more of that another day.
Posted by Shelliz at 09:22 AM | Comments (0)
April 22, 2011
A good resurrection
It's in Room 41 at London's National Gallery should you wish to see it. It hangs there small and easily missed, separated from the Van Goghs and Cezannes by a 30 second walk - and about 50 years.
It was at an office lunch that I got into conversation with a colleague called Flavia who's in marketing and strategy. Our paths don't often cross but in a free-flowing chat over a couple of hours and much pitta bread, we discovered a shared love: the work of Caspar Freidrich, a German artist who straddled the 18th and 19th centuries.
One of my favourite paintings of his is Winter Landscape. (And you may wish to google it before proceeding any further.)I used to have a print of it but it was lost, with much else, when my home was flooded; and like a friend with whom we lose touch, I'd never quite got back in contact. But sitting there in the Greek restaurant my interest was re-awakened when Flavia told me that this painting was in the National Gallery - in Room 41.
Caspar Freidrich (1774 - 1840) was the son of a soap and candle maker who spent most of his life in Dresden. 'Art is infinite; finite all artists' knowledge and ability,' he said and his appeal for me is that whatever he paints, the infinite is always there but quite continuous with the finite. The horizon becomes the mountains becomes the trees becomes the land on which the viewer stands in contemplation.
Winter Landscape is one of his more obviously religious paintings, with echoes of his Lutheran upbringing. Set in deep mountain snow, amid a small cluster of evergreens is the cross and crucified Jesus. Looking up at him is a crippled man who sits with his back to a rock; and in the icy foreground, two discarded crutches.
At first view, it's a bleak scene: against a harsh and unforgiving landscape, two men familiar with grief face each other in a relationship of shared suffering. But Freidrich did not want to end the story there. Closer inspection of the canvass reveals the first tentative shoots of grass breaking through the snow; and faint in the background, we see a cathedral emerging from the mist against the pinky sky of eternity.
Friedrich had some early success in his life. Well regarded by his peers, the Russian royal family even brought some of his works. By 1820 however, he was out of fashion, unable to sell a painting; and after his death, he entered an oblivion of disregard.
He was crucified first by the contemplative nature of his art - so out of step with the industrialising 19th century Germany; and later by association with the Nazis who used his works to promote themselves in the 1930's. Freidrich the artist was truly dead and buried.
Today, however, his reputation is restored in a resurrection of delight in critics and public alike - drawn to the vulnerable transcended by grandeur and things close blessed by the big horizon.
I do like a good resurrection.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 12:04 PM | Comments (0)
April 19, 2011
Want to to comment on this blog?
I received another e mail this morning about the 'comment' facility on this blog site.
That's right, it doesn't work sadly.
For those new to this, we had to remove that facility because we were getting deluged by spam, and couldn't find a way to block it.
But the offer still stands: if anyone wishes to comment on anything posted here, if you e mail it to me, it will appear, unedited - as long as its not grossly inappropriate - with your name.
So comment away, my friends, and colour my world.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 10:43 AM | Comments (0)
Anthony de Mello remembered
I haven't given him much thought for many years, but I was drawn back to Anthony de Mello recently.
He was a significant figure for me as I started out in the priesthood 27 years ago; something of a life saver in fact.
And I remember - I hope accurately - him talking about the relationship between our emotions and our identity, because we can sometimes confuse the two.
'I am depressed!' someone says.
'No, you're not - you're experiencing depression. It's different. You are not your own depression.'
'Am I not?'
'No - it would be like the sky saying: 'I am a cloud!' No - you are the sky experiencing some cloud at the moment. But it will pass.'
P.S. For those wanting to start out with Anthony de Mello, consider either the hard-hitting masterpiece 'Awareness' or the beautiful and telling little stories in 'Song of the bird.'
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 10:30 AM | Comments (0)
April 16, 2011
Position vacant: Scapegoat required
I had an interesting chat yesterday with a woman now separated from her husband.
She was talking about the 'shame' she felt as a result, but the origin of the shame was not what you might expect.
What she felt was exposed, because she now had to face herself. Previously - almost without realising - she'd always been able to put the blame on her partner. If something was wrong, it was his fault.
But she couldn't do that now, because he wasn't there and she was still having problems.
Instead, she had to acknowledge her part in the dysfunction.
'You abused me!'
'Yes, and you allowed me to abuse you.'
It's so hard when our scapegoats are removed from us. The temptation is to go and find another.
Anything but listen to ourselves...
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 09:47 AM | Comments (0)
April 09, 2011
Doing the 'West End' thing
I've been in the London's West End a couple of times this week.
On one occasion I was having some food with a friend who was just off to see a show with his wife. In fact, it was only half an hour until the curtain went up. Exciting!
'So what are you going to see?' I asked.
He didn't know.
'You don't know??'
'No - but Keira Knightley's in it.'
I said he must be the only person in London half an hour away from seeing a show...without knowing what he was going to see.
But time's ticking away, so I walk/run him round to the theatre; something of a 'mystery tour' for him, of course. What will it be? The racy 'The Hurly Burly Show'? Something bland by Andrew Lloyd Webber? An incomprehensible Shakespeare? So much to choose from.
And as we walk past each theatre every bill board review tells of a show that is 'stunning' 'breath taking' and 'must see' - though this is less to do with the show and more to do with phrases like 'very occasionally' 'not at all' and 'the opposite of' being removed.
But there's no room for smug acknowledgement of this truth; for we too are editors of our personal presentation, removing a little bit here and there. We may even add something occasionally to enhance our status or manipulate a reaction.
And all because long ago, we got the message that we're not acceptable as we are.
This is me.
Not acceptable!
It's a terrible lie that takes us a while to notice and walk free from.
But we're on the way; which is more than can be said for the West End.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 11:56 AM | Comments (0)
April 06, 2011
Let us pray
I was asked by a head teacher to write three prayers for their school end of term service today. And so I did.
They gave me three different areas for reflection.They may or may not be for you:
1) We pray for the victims of savage climate:
Dear father in heaven and father on earth,
Hear our prayer amid earthquake, famine and flood.
Walk with us to these places of loss, worry and fear.
And touch every troubled soul with care and kindness.
To those who have, give generous hearts;
to those who have not, give courage and hope.
Dear Father in heaven and father on earth,
Hear our prayer amid earthquake, famine and flood.
Pause
2) We pray for the victims of harsh circumstance:
Dear father of the broken and father of the sad,
Hear our prayer amid poverty, rejection and hunger.
Walk with us to the shop doorways of the homeless and the park bench of the outcasts.
Be strength in their struggle and a light in their despair.
To those who walk by, give understanding hearts;
And to those knocked down, energy to rise and live again.
Dear father of the broken and father of the sad,
Hear our prayer amid poverty, rejection and hunger.
Pause
3) We pray for those whose lives touch our own:
Dear father of mine and father of ours,
Hear our prayer for those with whom we live and share our lives.
Walk with us to our homes and to the memories of hopes and people lost.
Warm that which is cold with neglect; and water that which is dry with busy-ness.
To the blessed and loved, give grateful hearts;
And to those now strangers to happiness, give your impossible trust and joy.
Dear father of mine and father of ours,
Hear our prayer for those with whom we live and share our lives.
So be it in heaven, so be it on earth. Amen.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 06:22 PM | Comments (0)
April 02, 2011
Launderette drama
My room is decorated with hanging clothes at present, as I've been down to the launderette.
When there, I was talking to Shelia - or 'Shee' - who looks after it about her son Frank who's finding it hard to get a job. Endless applications, no repies.
He's got an interview for Macdonald's but has done that before and, unimpressed by their staff care, doesn't want to go back.
He's been trying the supermarket's as well. Got an interview with Sainsburys but then didn't hear anything.
It took me back to my supermarket days, and being turned down by four before success with my fifth application - the only one of the stores whose application process didn't ask me to reveal former occupations.
I was turned down by Iceland for the baker's job as I 'didn't have enough baking experience'. But when finally employed elsewhere, I learned the supermarket baking trade in ten minutes - no experience necessary, my friends - and spent three happy years being the store's occasional baker.
What Iceland had been trying to say, in a roundabout sort of way, was: 'We don't want any fucking ex-priests here!'
Me and Shee agreed it was soul destroying to receive no reply after interviews. I remember being moist-eyed with gratitude when someone could actually be bothered to turn me down by post.
But then, what happens next? There we are in the launderette discussing Sainburys when Shee's mobile rings. When she checks, it's only an e mail from Sainbury's saying Frank has got a further interview for a night manager's job in South London!
Yippee!
In the words of ABBA, 'the game is on again'. So good luck, Frank. It's not his first choice, but Shee and I part with the thought that anyone who has a job in 2011 should at least start from a place of thankfulness.
And with that thought, I left with my big bag of sodden but minty-fresh clothes.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at 09:24 AM | Comments (0)