page turning observations

hello reader


and so more reading, then. once more i have read not just one, not as many as three, nowhere near five (well a bit) books, look you see, but just another two. which means it is time for me to chip in with some comments on the off chance such is of interest.

which books did i read? sticking with the standard way of doing things, here they are, followed by some "overview" observations of a non-spoiler (hence no pretty colours or creative use of bold) variety for those in a rush.

in classic round eye, left to right conventional reading style, and of course how i read them, here we are. whereas i can't remember, i am quite certain that i read another novel by Lisa Jewell previously (as opposed to an imaginary projected future where i read one) and it was good, so tried Watching You. good thing i did, as it is a most excellent novel. motivation for buying Grist Mill Road by someone called Christopher J Yates was mostly on the £1 price sticker you see and the fact that the font of the text appeared easy on the eye. also, the plot on the back sounded a bit different from my usual fare, but not too different. a good read, but also a partially dark and possibly disturbing one, so approach with caution.

despite all efforts (well, some) being made not to do so, certain aspects of the following may contain bits and pieces that you may wish to consider finding in either (or both) novels for yourself. fair warning, then, and so for colour and bold fans note a *** POTENTIAL SPOILERS AHEAD *** notice is very much in place, to be safe, to be sure.

you know what, it might well be that Then She Was Gone by Lisa Jewell that i had previously read. that's the book advertised on the circle sticker thing on the cover, and it certainly sounds familiar. or it may have been another of her novels, i remain unsure. if it is important to you to know, then please feel free to search my other book comment stuff, or just assume that it was that one, and let us move on.

provenance of my copy? i cannot imagine why this is important, but the lack of further stickers says Tesco, and it will have been either a £3 or £3.50 "book of the week" thing. normally Tesco do a "£4 each or 2 for £8" thing with paperbacks, but i note with interest that they are sneaking one or two novels up to a straight fiver. if this continues, well, off to Morrisons i shall go for them at £4.50 a go, or otherwise i shall just - reluctantly - source from the internet.

i should expect the plot of Watching You (which is definitely the one i have just read) will be of more interest, or pressing concern for those of you who have bravely read on a bit. and so, to honour this expectation, i shall do what i can to relay it.

from what i recall, a young lady who has been working in some rave destination island in Europe returns home to England. she is accompanied by a relatively newly acquired husband, married on a whim of sheer physical ecstasy, and is now living with her brother and his wife. a wife who is expecting their first child. not long after she develops a physical infatuation (and by that i mean sexual craving) for a gent living nearby. a gent who happens to be the celebrated headmaster (principal, if American) of a nearby school, who has a son that is a little voyeuristic, and a wife who seems "a little off". further, he has something of a stalker, for another nearby neighbour seems to perpetually monitor him, believing him to be part of a widespread conspiracy that can be traced back to a peculiar incident on a holiday several years before......

that sounds somewhat convoluted and terribly confusing. sorry, and trust me, the novel is not. what it is, then, is a very easy to get into, wonderfully engrossing, twisting and turning tale. the size of the novel at first looks a trifle daunting (north of 400 pages), but it is so wildly woven together you kind of would not mind if it went on for even longer. man, many fine twists and turns, some obvious things that turn out to be obvious, some not so, and that rare thing of a (mostly) satisfactory, plausible and rewarding conclusion.

well, as usual it seems that when a novel is really good i get the sense that i should be writing more than i have. but, nothing else occurs to me to write, except fully recommended without hesitation or fear, buy it and enjoy.

as good as i found Grist Mill Road by the scrabble winning named Christopher J Yates to be, there can be no sweeping suggestion that all should read it. referring back (rather than forward) to my earlier comments, it is dark in places. also very violent, with a number of moments which are, frankly, disturbing. but, quite a few of us don't mind such, indeed actively seek it. it would be just unfair to not give any sort of warning or "careful now" message.

plot? well, as the back of the book mentions, it starts with a rather horrific scene. it commences, then, with a boy using an air rifle thingie (i suspect they call it something different in America) to take pot shots at a girl he has tied to a tree. another boy watches on, in a sort of stunned frozen horror....

to discuss much (or any) more of the specific plot from that feels as though it would give too much away, if i am honest. yes, i have paused to give consideration to how i may be able to give you more, but no i cannot. ultimately, i suppose, of importance is whether or not handling the graphic barbarity of the opening is worth it, if it is in any way rewarded by reading on. to this, the answer is yes. for the most part the unsettling opening falls away in favour of a, how to describe it now, "mystery drama", i suppose.

i found the themes particularly interesting. some of them resonated with me, just as they would anyone (i would imagine), whilst others were not ones i had contemplated. the book looks at complexities around unresolved guilt, secret hiding, how apparently minor misunderstandings can lead to major (often grim) consequences, and perhaps the significant differences between redemption and any form of forgiveness. at one stage it seemed uncomfortably like it was going to lurch towards what clever people call "victim blaming", but mostly averts rather than subverts it.

would i then go right ahead and recommend (or if you like endorse) Grist Mill Road? the answer is yes, conditional on the warnings that it shall cause some upset. in truth the one major flaw i found was a bit of a media history faux pas. someone apparently had an Ewok toy in 1982. my understanding is that such would not have existed until 1983, and i suspect the family of the child who has such a toy would not have coined up for it. but that's maybe nitpicking. 

right, then, that would be that. two very fine novels indeed bought for south of £5 in a combined sense, and overwhelmingly happy, good and great to have read them both.

anyway, that's all for this post, and indeed for stuffs this month. hopefully this has been of some interest to anyone or someone out there somewhere!




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

three films

hello there


i nearly called this post modern cinema, look you see. or contemporary movies, to be sure. but then a thought, or indeed a whim, occurred to me. rather egotistical perhaps, but what would happen, i feared, if someone somehow read this ten, perhaps twenty years after it was composed? the films discussed would be neither modern nor contemporary. so, three films it is.

moving on from such dilemmas, then, to the business end of why you are presumably here reading this (at whatever time in human history). recently i have watched not just one, not as many as five, not just two, nowhere near as many as six, but three (3) films. hence the title. as i have precisely nothing better to do with this than write of the movies watched, well, here we are.

for those who require such valid information, yes, the motion pictures were initially released during late 2019 and, in some instances and some areas, early 2020. a brief look at a (not really proper) collage of the posters for the movies, plus some spoiler free notes? surely.

above shows the posters in the order what i watched (or was witness to) the films. if you are in a rush, wish to avoid spoilers and for some reason consider my views on each movie to be of some relevance, very well. sadly, Terminator Dark Fate proved to be the hideous, ghastly, why bother rubbish all feared with a resigned groan the moment the film was announced. no such issues befall 1917, as it is a masterpiece, and every glowing review you have seen, heard or read of the film is quite accurate. happily, Doctor Sleep proved to be a superb film, somehow managing to pull off what felt to be impossible in being both a sequel to the novel The Shining as well as Kubrick's celebrated film of it. well, celebrated by quite a few people but not by one person in particular.

it may (very) well be that for some reason you would like to read my thoughts, be they considered or meandering, on each film in more detail. should this be so, then please, do read on. be warned, however, and note that a *** SPOILER WARNING *** is in place for the remainder of this post. although a Terminator film tends not to hold much in the way of surprises, and from what i recall of my (partial) education, how World War I turned out has been reasonably well documented over the years.

ever since Terminator 3 (which i happen to like a very great deal) there has been a resounding reaction to any further Terminator film that has been announced. never is it that the majority of the audiences express a hope of it being good; rather they now wonder just how bad it shall be. to this end, Terminator Salvation was rubbish, Terminator Gensys (or whatever) was f*****g rubbish, and now we have Terminator Dark Fate, which is simply terrible, awful f*****g rubbish. yes, no, really, it truly and quite remarkably is that bad. as in, if for some reason i was forced, i would watch either Salvation or Gensys again in full before i willingly watched even a moment of this.

plot? in truth i am not quite sure. for some reason it involved a lot of Mexicans and was in Mexico for a while, much like the similarly really bad Rambo Last Blood was. i guess the place is flavour of the month for film makers, which is a nice change as for the last couple of years movies seem to have been made in a way that appeases Chinese censorship requirements.

i think the plot is something about how "fate" cannot be avoided. which is kind of implicitly understood by using the word "fate", but anyway. for some reason Sarah Connor is alive and well in this film once more. indeed, so is John Connor, but only for a few seconds before he gets knacked off of a titular Terminator. if this was done as one of them "subverting audience expectations" moves, then once again it shows how much of a complete waste of time it is to do such.

anyway, off we go after that with the usual. something something Terminator sent back to kill the person that will win the war for humans (against Legion now, since Skynet will not exist), something something humans send someone or thing back in time to protect the person who will lead them to victory. so, yes, then, basically (or effectively) the shall we say familiar Terminator plot premise, with the one variation here being that Terminators can "get old" and (i kid you not) "learn to be a bit human".

why can't the people who make these films understand that the reason The Terminator and Terminator 2 were so loved, and Terminator 3 liked a little bit, was the gritty realism in the film which came from the fact that virtually all you saw on screen was "done for real" with practical effects? just about every fight scene or action sequence in the film is very visibly just a computer game. it is not interesting to watch, as it is just all tacky and rubbery looking. with the first films there was an element in awe at watching sequences and wondering how they were so creative to film them. i promise there is no similar sense watching something that the work experience kid at the film studio knocked up on his computer.

no, Linda Hamilton's return isn't particularly worth all the trouble and effort. and hell no, Arnold Schwarzenegger turning up after an hour does not make anything better, in fact that is when the film achieves the impossible and gets worse. please, if anyone in a position to do so is listening, just stop making Terminator films. i would ask to stop making bad ones, but it is patently clear that no one has any idea how to make a good (or average) one. all of the possible story was pretty much done in the first one, with large chunks of the second and a reasonable bit of the third adding some nice extras.

at what feels like the entirely different (or simply opposite, i suppose) end of the movie spectrum (or rainbow) one finds 1917, then. presented as being from the director of Skyfall, which is interesting. i guess they could not put from the director of Spectre, as that was a dull and dreary Bond film, and nor could they put from the Oscar winning director of that film that had Kevin Spacey in it for contemporary reasons.

one is, or i am, always a little hesitant about watching a film that has met widespread critical acclaim before the chance to see it comes along it can somewhat cloud your thinking. are you going to spend time trying to pick out elements which dispute the praise lavished on it, or are you just going to sit back and endure the running time, just to go "yes, it is indeed that good". well, neither in this instance. the film is so mesmerising, immersive and captivating that your focus is completely on the film itself. and what a film.

plot? it is set in what would be the middle of World War I. specifically, the date mentioned at the start is the day the USA officially "joined in" the war, but that is of no relevance to the film or plot. the allied, predominantly British, forces believe they are on their way to victory, pushing the German army back. it's a trap, though, and if the British army advance as planned they shall be slaughtered in a most decisive way for the Germans. with no other form of communication (apparently the carrier pigeons off of Blackadder Goes Forth were not actually used so much), it is left to two soldiers to rush to the forward line to pass on the instruction that the planned advance must not go ahead.

much has already been made of the 24 like "real time" presentation of the film, with some deft editing making it seem not like one big long take but two quite long ones, with the break in it making a good deal of sense as and when you see the film. this is indeed how and why the film works. with (and this is no criticism) what is essentially a very basic and simple story premise, it was how this story was told which would lead to success, and succeed it does.

the greatest strength, arguably, of 1917 is that it keeps it simplistic. at no stage does the film overtly get itself bogged down with any sort of discussion, debate or statement making about the reasons for war, the failings or anything like that. rather like two other World War I films, Gallipoli and All Quiet On The Western Front, it allows the audience to make of such what it will on the basis of the as objectively as possible presentation of the basic level human face - and human cost - of the war.

finally, then (at least in respect of these films i watched this time around), is a brave move. adapting a Stephen King novel is a daunting task as it is, but to have a go at Doctor Sleep struck me as quite tricky. we are, after all, talking about someone having a go at adapting a sequel to the novel of The Shining, yet somehow doing it in a way that appeases the author's frequently expressed loathing of the Stanley Kubrick adaptation of that novel, yet somehow also works as a sequel to that film. and, also, whilst at it, do it all in a way that is mindful of being a sequel to a Stanley Kubrick film. something not tried, i believe, since 2010, or ten past eight as most refer to it.

considering the remarkable scope for failure (i am sure there were a few, or even many, assuming it would all fail the moment the novel was published, never mind the film announced), happy days that Doctor Sleep turns out to be, well, brilliant.

some qualification. i appreciate that when the novel came out a great many people considered it that "middle ground" sort of thing, meh, that in this golden age of extreme opinions ruling we no longer have. well, i really, really enjoyed it. on a similar note, this film too experienced a bit of a "meh" revival amongst critics and audiences. that's fair enough, but i go full tilt great with both novel and film.

plot? a continuance of the story of Danny Torrance, or if you like what happened to Danny when he grew up. of course he remains troubled and scarred by the events at the Overlook Hotel as depicted in The Shining, yet meanders through life. then he connects with a young girl who is also either cursed or blessed with "the shining". and then he becomes aware of a band of quasi immortals (yes i know that is an oxymoron but it makes sense on page and on screen) who seek out those with the shining, so as to feed on them for their own lives.

not since The Descent have i seen such high quality production values in a horror film, or been quite so terrified. this in itself is a "neat trick" with Doctor Sleep. i can vividly recall the novel, so i knew what was coming and when, and yet i was still petrified, terrified and jumpy when some things happened. and yes, i am a sort of grown up partially educated gent who is normally enthusiastic about gratuitous sex and violence in movies.

applause, ladies and gentlemen, for the cast. when reading the book i didn't ever really picture Ewan McGregor as ever likely to play Danny, but he does, and does so exceptionally well. best of all is Rebecca Ferguson as the evil Rose The Hat. superb, perfect casting and a sublime performance. somewhat more restricted in the film than i expected, but hats off too to Emily Alyn Lind as Snakebite.

great appreciation, too, for the work by director Mike Flanagan. he wisely skips both trying to mimic a Kubrick style and just trying to do anything overtly non-Kubrick, instead just making the film in the best way possible. infrequent nods to the original film of The Shining exist as they make sense to.

there is a limited audience for this film, i guess. you are looking at a demographic that either liked the book, or feel prepared to give a chance to a sequel to a Kubrick film. anyone prepared to give it a go will, i hope, be rewarded for such with the same astonishing viewing experience i had. in terms of just Stephen King adaptations alone, it stands very comfortably indeed with The Dead Zone and The Shawshank Redemption as being blissfully note perfect from page to screen retellings.

right, that shall do. hopefully i have not said too much on each film, or too little. should any of the comments (or notes) be of any use to anyone at all, well then that's just top class.

viddy well.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

are immune to your consultations

hello there


if i were to objectively state the two biggest problems in my life, look you see, then they would be that there are those what steal my dreams, and those that are enemies of mother nature. subjectively, of course, my biggest issue in life is the ludicrous tax placed on cigarettes. that i could do something about, such as "quit" or cut down considerably, i suppose. or smash the state, seize power and make them cheaper. on an objective level, though, it is them two, for i cannot control or influence them, at least not with any ease.

up until now, as mentioned above i have not been able to do much about such people, to be sure. however, a recent purchase (acquisition) means that they can now be singled out as the nasty people, or if you will traitors, what they are.

yes, that's right. i have bought a substantial number of stickers featuring a key pronouncement by that generally (and usually angry) Greta lass during one of her many keynote temper tantrum sessions. how many have i bought? a substantial number. exactly how many? fifty, i believe.

these are stickers what i have dubbed as being my stickers of shame. from here on out, i pledge, anyone who i accuse, and subsequently find guilty, of either stealing my dreams or being an enemy of mother nature, is getting one of these placed on them or otherwise presented to them. well, the first fifty to be either or both, i suppose. i would imagine, or expect, that i shall simply have to order more if such activities against me do not cease prior to the substantial number i have already bought are exhausted.

as you can see in the above image, where i have placed a Viz Cheap Pen off of The Viz for scale, the stickers are relatively unobtrusive and not particularly grandiose in scope or size. certainly, though, they are big enough to be (quite) clearly observed and noted by all who pass the guilty what are made to wear them.

so far as i am aware, no, stickers in this kind of volume are probably not eco-friendly, or "carbon neutral", whatever that may mean. it is indeed possible, and likely, that my purchase of these stickers has left something of a "carbon footprint", whatever that is. that is probably, at best, at odds with campaigning against enemies of mother nature, or those what steal my dreams.

well, yes, maybe. but as i am on the side of right, it is ok. for the greater good, those who single themselves out as champions, or defenders, of mother nature are entitled to do some (or a little) bit of damage to mother nature so as to get the wider point across. that is why Greta is allowed to command proper sailors to fly out and rescue her, and why various celebrities can fly around the world to spread their message of how all should live as they say and not perhaps as they do.

the above is an image taken from the cd booklet (linear notes) of the cd A Collection Greatest Hits....And More by none other than Barbra Streisand. one of the most striking aspects of this is, of course, the note at the bottom. CBS records are (or were) contractually obliged to address Barbs at all times as Ms Barbra Streisand, which is fit and proper and right. but they decided to make clear how it is so that they distance themselves from endorsement or support of her ideas.

a second striking thing is Barbs' ideas on how to save the planet. the fifth, or penultimate one (second from last if you simply cannot be bothered to count) is an interesting one. it is all very well and good Barbs to suggest car pooling, but did she ever did so herself? actually, i imagine yes, as luckily her entourage and people and chauffeur were probably going to the same place she was. how fortunate that she could ride with them, alone (except for the driver) in her limo, whilst the rest were crammed into a van. also, there is some naivety and innocence in her suggestion that we, the people, pressure political leaders. not all of us have the access what she does. at any time that she wishes, Barbs can (or at least could) simply barge into the office of any incumbent president, bang her fist on his (or maybe one day her) desk, demand that they "do some good", and they would comply, or else.

finally, of perhaps the greatest interest is the message at the top. apparently, according to that, and according to Barbs, we only had ten (10) years to save the planet. this was published in 1989. so, either the planet was saved, and Greta can indeed go back to school (or whatever), or the planet died in 1999 and we are experiencing some weird variation of a shared afterlife.

do i relish (or look forward to) the prospect of placing these stickers of shame on people? not at all. like a lonely high court judge i shall carry out my duty from obligation, not passion. ideally, people would simply stop stealing my dreams and cease being enemies of mother nature, then there would be no need for these stickers, and presumably x number of dolphins (or other animals, so long as they appear cute, for they are the only ones we campaign to save) would not have had to die to produce them.

well, anyway, let me get on with monitoring the enemies of both myself and mother nature, so that i may be ready to apply a sticker of shame to them. that will show them, will it not. should you for some reason, either compelling or vague, to have such stickers for yourself, these cost me somewhere in the region of south of £4 on that ebay thing. happy shopping.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ludicrous advertising

hi


when you find yourself in a hole, the general advice, at least for those concerned by it, look you see, is to stop digging. rather admit the problem, or if applicable accept defeat, and graciously move on instead of going right ahead and making it worse.

there are those who would, of course, never accept such advice, for they are so "brilliant", or those which so few care about anyway that the concern would never be expressed. in a weird way, for many (perhaps a possible majority) in the UK, something that ticks both boxes with some comfort is a business called News UK, what owns things like The Sun, which gets sold for some inexplicable reason on the same shelf as where they keep newspapers, and Virgin radio, albeit "indirectly".

as News UK controls so many aspects of the media, and has an unnerving level of influence mostly due to one of the more interesting proprietors (if memory serves, the incumbent Mr Jerry Hall), they tend not to really care about brand reputation, or if anyone actually likes them or not. of late, they have taken this to extremes, spending an awful lot of money to showcase just how little they care if people don't like them, at all.

when Virgin Radio came along and "pinched" or "poached" the (rubbish, horrible UK version of) Chris Evans (and not the decent, proper US actor of same name) from the BBC, it was a massive, massive blessing. all of a sudden those what pay the BBC licence fee were free of the internal, sickening disgust felt at paying his wages. his replacement, Zoe Ball, exemplified the point that many made during the reign of terror - basically anyone, no matter how limited in talent, would surely be at least as good, or more than likely competent or better. even when Ms Ball does her best to upset and infuriate listeners (the 'show and tell' section, for example, where children are encouraged to play three blind mice or similar, on a kazoo or xylophone, down the phone), she is nowhere near as bad. often close, yes, but nowhere near.

i am unsure as to why Virgin Radio felt that getting him was such a good idea. the only remote benefit to him being on commercial radio was that if you tuned in by accident, there was always a chance you might get to hear an interesting advert. this sole advantage was removed when they decided to make his show "ad free". perhaps they have become aware of their folly, for in this insane, full front page advert they have made the fact that the show is ad break free bigger and more prominent than the name of the ostensible host. Puppet Show and Spinal Tap springs to mind.

no, i have not listened to the show, and never shall. a great bonus of all this "dab" digital radio is that you can actually delete entire stations from your radio, meaning you don't have to hear it at all, even by accident. so, i could be wrong and maybe he is now all of a sudden for some reason a mix of competent, good and worth listening to, but i will bravely assume not.

well, good luck to them, i guess, not that they particularly need it, or even would accept it.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ben or den

hey there


should there be such a thing as regular readers of this blog, then they (you) will be aware of me seeing, or if you like observing, peculiarities on my travels. it is so that this post concerns such an incident happening, look you see.

graffiti, or wanton vandalism, is what i saw this time. to see such is all too common in the modern world, as it is rife and prolific. although most see it as a nuisance and a distraction, certain types - the "right on" and with it, who would presume to dictate how their view should be accepted as common consensus - celebrate some of it. this would be particularly true of someone called "Banksy", whose such works are actually not bad, but also they could be placed on a traditional canvas or piece of paper and cause not quite so much distraction.

usually i would ignore such blemishes on buildings and so forth. the proliferation of such defacement means most of us are immune to it all. every now and then, though, i see such callous damage that i find, for want of a better word, intriguing. no actually that word shall do.

the most curious part about this - the reason i took the image - is the name of whoever it is that, apparently, according to one has "t!ts" but this is disputed by another. i am almost (almost) certain that it is someone called Ben that stands accused, but it could also be Den. what's throwing me off, or causing me to have a sense of doubt, is the little bump and indent at the top right hand side of the first letter. it seems, or would appear, that the intention was a "B" but the brickwork has caused an imperfect representation of it. then again, really it could be a flamboyant "D".

a certain level of (perhaps) understandable interest is the attempted defence of they who stand accused of having "t!ts". someone (perhaps Ben or Den themselves) felt that the best way to deny or refute the claim made was to draw a single chalk line thorough each of the words. presumably this was only a symbolic gesture of defence rather than an actual, real attempt to hide or remove the allegation. maybe it was a friend, who felt a sense of duty or obligation to try and protect them, but was also of an awareness that maybe the statement was in some way true.

one aspect of mild (or passing) interest to the observation made here is the location. this was in a place quite near to one which i, once, called home. going further, it was on a wall upon some local shops where i would walk, under instruction of mum and dad, to fetch certain things. yes, this was all a time somewhere either just north or south of 40 years ago now, but once a place has been a home there is always a kind of an intrinsic link to it, i guess. maybe.

from the very same place, and indeed the same wall, is the above, rather depressing and pathetic missive. well, maybe not. should it be that the above is supposed to be "wee'd", as in someone is proclaiming that they have done wee-wees there, or if you like had a piddle (or a gypsy's kiss, or indeed if you like p!ss), then fair enough. but, if as i suspect, this is supposed to be some sort of showing off or proactive statement intent on promoting the consumption (inhalation, perhaps) of marijuana, then it really is sad.

we live in a time where there is a relentless drive to "normalise" cannabis use, with the argument being that it is harmless, medicinal and/or of great benefit in all sorts of ways. to what extent any such proposals are accurate is simply not for me to say. but none of this appears to have stopped those who believe that simply by using the stuff (or claiming to) they are in some way, cooler, more hip and more remarkable than anyone else, or at least those who did not think to write such on a wall.

i am not sure there is much else i can add. certainly, nothing that would not serve to impinge or distract you from your own interpretation of this base defacement. or any interpretation that you care to have on behalf of someone else.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

cold tired fingers tapping out your memories

howdy pop pickers

this is something i have kind of been meaning (and trying) to write for quite some time, now, look you see. i think i know what i wish to say, but am unsure i have the confidence to write it all proper as i want. well, today seems as good a day as any to give it a go at last. 

broadly, then, this is all about a love affair which, to date, has remained a constant for a remarkable 27 years. may it last for as however long i breathe, or exist. it's for anyone who ever fell instantly in love with a song, too. also, it's trying to understand (or more realistically guess) as to why the creator of this particular song was so very, very keen to have people hear it. yes, then, here we are with my commitment to not not writing of David Bowie at least once a month.

indeed, the list of songs by David Bowie which one may fall instantly in love with, and remain that way, is not short. neither is such a set of songs which he may have been rather keen for us to hear. for this, though, and indeed for me, the song is Strangers When We Meet. 

let me try and avoid boring you with too many details of provenance, etc. although for some (obscure) reason for a number of you that seems to be the most interesting part. i was alerted to the existence of a "Bowie soundtrack album" probably by the NME, and off i went to get it. not entirely sure, but for some reason i feel certain it was with birthday money off of Gran (no, the other one), although this does not tie in with the release date. perhaps it was Christmas gift money. 

there are many vivid memories i have of giving the record a first play. some would include reading a now bewilderingly deleted from releases, astonishing set of linear notes by Bowie. arguably, i bravely put forward, the linear notes on The Buddha Of Suburbia are the closest we ever came to his writing of an autobiography. for those interested, here you go, click here, as i took it upon myself to throw them on the internet for all to admire. 

after reading such i probably would have returned to my typewriter, battering out some letter or other to some one or other, with the music playing. this is, at the very least, true of the first five songs on the record. everything halted the moment track six commenced. at least, in my mind, as i reflect and look back, it did. hopefully this is true. 

starting (on the original Buddha Of Suburbia version) (that last bit it brackets shall make sense as we go) (maybe) with a slight, what appears to be (musical) keyboard tap that feels as though it echoes the start of Word On A Wing, it soon moves on. for the sake of a new sentence, it moves into a whirling, dizzy, atmospheric swirl of sound, grounded in a foundation of the ultimate in groove swaying rhythm that is supposed to be in the background but feels as though it fights to be front and centre. much of this astonishing hypnotic rhythm (hope that is the right term, i am not too good with proper musician lingo) is overtly borrowed from works considered to be Bowie's greatest artistic accomplishments. when one hears Strangers When We Meet, one cannot escape the artist paying homage to the arcing music of Station To Station and, in particular, V2-Schneider from the "heroes" album. weirdly, if you can find it, the original demo sounds "not a million miles away" from the version of Hallo Spaceboy what the Pet Shop Boys did with him a few years later. 

much of the music on The Buddha Of Suburbia echoes, or "pays a significant amount of respect", to his earlier works, particular the much (rightly) celebrated 70s music. again, as we go, this may make some sense, but the music, structure and content of this record added to the linear notes he provided with the original version all (strongly) suggest everyone really, really, really should have paid a good deal more attention to this record than happened at the time. but, hey ho, us fans love it. i do, at the least. 

but what of the lyrics, and the singing? well, here is where i could get stuck, or find myself typing away into a lot of silly bother. all i can tell you is that the words, and the cool, crisp (hello, Faye) delivery of them were not so much as engaging as instantly addictive. every time i play the song, just as was the first time, once he delivers a line in my heart, mind and if such exists soul i crave, i say, deliver more, David, deliver more. this he does, and for me it is one of those songs that you never, ever wish to end. 

what's he singing about? that is a very good question. actually, a f*****g good question would perhaps be the most appropriate way to ask. when i went from album to album in a quite random way, a recurring theme was subversion in the true sense of it and not how it is used now to describe poor decisions made in making movies. maybe Strangers When We Meet is the personification of his apparent love or proclivity for subverting lyrics. there is a bleak desolate desperation in the actual words of the song, confusingly countenanced by a sense of love, happiness (maybe), joy and what have you. 

it would be fair, honest and realistic to say (not suggest, but say), that i had not really experience a "real or serious" relationship by the time i first heard this song. at the very least, not in the sense which i know and understand such now, if indeed i do. open to debate, but no matter. inexplicably and possibly inaccurately, Strangers When We Meet seemed to sow in me some intrinsic blueprint as to how and what all of that actually was. 

the way i wished to start this part was with the words "from a literal point of view, the song is about....". but, no, i cannot. no matter how direct and overt the lyrics are, there is no clear way (to me) to interpret just what's going on. maybe that is where the untouchable genius of the song lies. unquestionably, i would say, there's that the song is set in the aftermath (or if you like climax) of some form of (presumably splendid) sexual encounter. sometimes i think it's a relationship rekindled, covertly, where animosity exists on equal footing to attraction. often i think maybe it is a longstanding relationship built upon an inexplicable drawing and staying together in the face of no understanding whatsoever. from time to time i drop a good deal of either understanding and just think it's David reflecting in a mirror. and many other variations. a compelling argument could be put forward to say that what Ashes To Ashes is to Space Oddity, so Strangers When We Meet is to "heroes". 

now this gets tricky. whereas it is impossible to separate an artist from their art, in all instances of my writing of Bowie i have tried as far as realistically possible to steer away from the gossip and personal, the rumours and lies and stories they made up. this is something which i have often quoted, but when asked about an autobiography, Bowie advised people to just look at the many biographies others had churned out about him, find the one that seems most interesting, take that as being what you want it to be and get on with it. and yet he seemed very keen, eager in fact, for as many people as possible to hear Strangers When We Meet. 

how keen and eager? well, it has been released at least (that i know of) three times - originally on The Buddha Of Suburbia, re-recorded (in a more subdued but no less effective way) for 1. Outside and then released as a single. 

with regards to the latter, a single he pushed and promoted the heck (or hell) out of, in a way that he had not really done before and in all honesty had absolutely no need to. it felt as though Bowie sought out to appear on every television show he possibly could to perform the song, giving some shows a feeling they had a remarkable scoop, for it was not every day the stature of Bowie mentioned he would be interested in dropping by. the single itself was remarkably generous, giving the fans two extras. one was a re-recording of The Man Who Sold The World, still much in the minds of many due to the devastating association of the song with Nirvana's Unplugged performance, the other was Get Real, which was an at the time Japanese release only track on 1. Outside, or just Outside if you will.

for those of you who do not know, usually artists are encourage to include at least one extra song on any Japanese release, one not available anywhere else. this is so as to encourage Japanese fans to buy the Japanese release of the album, rather than considerably cheaper imported versions. no, i don't know why they don't just make the domestic releases cheaper. for fans this was immensely frustrating, as pre and early days of internet meant no practical way of obtaining the elusive one track, unless one had somewhere north of £40 or thereabouts to get HMV (or similar) to import it for you. 

reasons for The Man Who Sold The World are unclear. it was always known that Bowie was never particularly happy with how any of his attempts to record the song came out. some speculated that Nirvana not only got it, but performed and played it as it should always have been, and took custody of it, maybe like the incident later with Johnny Cash and Nine Inch Nails' Hurt. if you accept this, then no doubt you go along with the idea that Bowie "clocked" that this was the way to do the song, re-embraced it in his sets and included it is as some sort of thanks or tribute to Kurt Cobain. or you can consider that maybe Bowie was having none of it, and simply decided to reclaim the song as very much his own, which of course it was and is. evidence for this rather being the case more or less rests on the fact that Bowie, once, told Dave Grohl, usually considered as "the nicest guy in rock", to f*** off when Grohl approached him about doing a song. oh. 

but, back to Strangers When We Meet itself. why was he, as in David Bowie, so keen and eager for this song to be heard? of the few articles i have found which concern the song, many simply lean towards an overtly economic reason. speculation is that Bowie was quite aware of the dynamic "hook" this song had, one which suggested potential commercial success. make no mistake, this is entirely plausible. there is little sense in being a rock star, especially one as iconic as Bowie became, if you are not going to make awfully high piles of cash. let us not forget scenes in Ziggy Stardust The Motion Picture and the Ricochet documentary which saw Bowie concerned with receipts. nor should we overlook ventures such as the "Bowie bonds", where effectively his art became a stock market concern. 

just maybe, though, throwing back to my variations of interpretation of the song, it was all down to how this was a story, an episode or an incident from his life which Bowie wished to speak of, be it directly towards one very specific person as an elaborate, played in public private not joke but secret confession or as he wanted to express his feelings at that moment. or moments, since recording the song again and again became a bit of an ad hoc staple for him for at least three years.

i really can't accept the idea that Strangers When We Meet was something which came to exist purely for financial reasons, though. all of it feels far too personal, and he persevered with finding an audience for it, or perfecting the sound, for such a prolonged amount of time he must have known that the commercial returns would never meet or exceed all which he had invested in it. 

who, exactly, might feature in the song if we accept David Bowie is just himself as the narrator? that's kind of the sort of speculation i steer clear of. sure, there are some very obvious candidates as who he might have had a somewhat secret reunion or meeting with at the time, but then again this song could have been harking back to an incident 10, 20 or more years before it was written. maybe it is not quite a matter of guessing "who" to the scale of, say, the subject of Carly Simon's You're So Vain, but still, i can see why trying to work it out has appeal. 

except for when i remember the line "slinky secrets, hotter than the sun" from Strangers When We Meet. and that time when he did VH1 Storytellers, started with "oh, the stories i could tell you" before proceeding to tell stories which he was present in were ultimately about others. his subversion in suggestion was forever tantalising.

anyway, yes, no, maybe is the answer to whether i feel as though i have at any point coherently said something close to what i wished to about this song. in some instances i have, even if it is quite accidental. resoundingly, i suppose, all that really matters is that Strangers When We Meet is a brilliant and interesting song off of David Bowie, and i would encourage you to buy a copy of it. or, you know, "stream" it, or "you tube" it, or access it however one does in this peculiar new world. 

my many thanks to you for reading just any aspect of all of this. hopefully some of it made some kind of sense at some stage. or, you know, i managed to put some really good pictures of David Bowie up to be (quite rightly) admired. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hemp and blueberries

hey there


it feels like quite some time (or a fair bit of, look you see) since i gave anyone particularly (bewilderingly) interested an update on my current shampoo use. my plight, as it happens. yes, once again i have been struggling to find one which is both agreeable and effective.

this was not always the case, and should not be now. for many years we, i, were able to get on with a general standard of shampoo, until the late 80s. at that point it was that a blessing came in the form of Jason Donovan, who taught (or instructed) us in his ways of using shampoo what has lemon in it. everyone with any ounce of sense followed his path, and those of us who did had amazing hair, all thanks to (if i may be so informal) Jase.

but then for no given or real reason they took the lemon infused shampoo away from us. no, it was not that "something better" came along, for there is no documentary evidence of Jason Donovan ever announcing that he had found an even better shampoo. if one goes down to the shops - any shop - and consults the shampoo section, there one shall find shampoos with a bewildering range of objects and items thrust into them, all unified by a common condition of not being lemon.

where this leaves me, then, is in a position of having to randomly try various shampoos in the ragged and desperate hope that they will make my hair as awesome as it was when only the very finest of shampoos laced with lemon touched it. results, as regular readers of post such as this shall be all to aware, are seldom positive. it is almost as if the shampoo sector (or some shady government department applying pressure on them) wants me and everyone to have completely sh!t and unacceptable via the denial of lemon laced products.

for my latest adventure (foray) into non-lemon shampoo, i have selected not one, not three, but two different types. well, yes, ok, sure, you can see three bottles in these pictures. i just left the exhausted bottle of "banana" shampoo in for fun. that was bad, that one. whereas it had a nice smell of banana milkshake, and was a lovely shiny yellow, it was terrible, leaving my hair most crass and vulgar. as you can very clearly see in the above Commodore 64 mode image, and the (the shame) "regular" image below, i have gone for what claims to be a hemp loaded shampoo, and also one what reckons that it has extract of blueberries (presumably the fruit and not the once popular and much loved type of phone) in it.

quite, yes, the (ahem) "hemp" one is a bit of a controversial choice. hemp, as you may well be aware, is the posh way of saying either cannabis or marijuana without using those terms. strange that they would use the rather obvious leaf of such and yet use the distracting name, but no matter. in truth it was less that which attracted me (honest) than it was the colour. that really shiny, bright, glowing, nuclear waste like proud green struck me as being a homage to that 'Slimer' ghost out of Ghostbusters, so i thought why not.

one interesting element to this is that hair is where they are most likely to check on you for any possible recreational use of "hemp" variations. for some reason (i know i sound like one but i am not a scientist. yes, i dabble in biology and am a rather keen, enthusiastic and occasional gynaecologist, but not an official proper qualified science dude) your hair is where your explicit use of "hemp" in a smoking sense lingers the longest, so that is where they check. presumably, then, anyone who has given reason for the authorities to check their hair for any such use will be buying this shampoo, so they can claim that it is giving the sense of a presence of it and not any smoking.

my rudimentary understanding is that someone somewhere discovered, or had the idea, that cannabis can fix (or cure) absolutely anything at all that is wrong with anything at all, hence the drive to both make it legal and shove it into as many products as they can. how i dearly wish these people would now say "except for hair, cannabis does nothing for it, only lemon does, so please go back to shoving lemon into shampoo". or maybe i should just plan to make a visit to Fortnum and Mason. such an establishment of sophistication and class shall surely have clung to the traditions of lemon shampoo.

the thinking behind the "extract" of blueberry shampoo? i would like to say something along the lines of how blueberries are the lemon of the berry word, but i suspect they are not. no, that one came down to the fact that i rather liked the blue shade of it, and that massive bottle was a mere 80p,

so far, at time of writing, i have not used either of these shampoos. but, well, i have every confidence that they will be somewhere between acceptable and rubbish, and that overall my feeling is that not one of them does the excellent job what lemon shampoo used to do.



be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

edge of the world

hi there


absolutely (or resolute indeed) almost not much is as curious and as interesting to observe as our quite apparent wish to both survive and die, look you see. just as we look to seek out all ways possible to prolong life, we encourage ways to commence its demise. it seems at present the most sensational ways sought to do this are all "c" words.

elimination first? surely. how about this rather smart coronavirus thing. nobody appears to be asking why some sort of "mega population killer" virus off of China has been named after a poor but generally widely (and cheaply) available Mexican beer. since i have no answer, i will not ask. the whole thing sounds rather dangerous and somewhat contagious, with the latter making the "variable" quarantine options for those diagnosed as curious as it is interesting.

how serious is this Mexican beer virus thing? it sounds like it is quite serious, moving possibly to very. but, we have been here before. in living memory all sorts of things - SARS, bird flu, the Bush-Bliar axis of evil, foot and mouth disease, Ed Sheridan (or whatever) - have come and gone with severe, serious warnings that we were all going to be dead by death soon. and yet here we still are.

by chance another c word might (might) well save us from the imminent death and destruction (well, maybe just the former). something called crispr (which you say "crisper", so hello, Faye) has been discovered, found or invented, and so them clever scientists or doctors (or whatever) can just fix the dead by death, i suppose.

what is this crispr, then? apparently it is a quasi acronym (the pronunciation is one, the spelling not so much) for Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats. no, me neither, but the bits i read before my head started to hurt as it was all so clever suggest that it some smart way of fixing faults, errors, defects and things like that in DNA.

it sounds marvellous, in truth, and can be used to fix all sorts of things. like, for instance, lungs, which probably get knacked by that coronavirus and certainly get knacked off of smoking. so these "crispr" practitioners can just apply a rudimentary fix and mend it all. unless it goes wrong (went f****d in medical lexicon), and then the fix might make what is knacked go uber-knacked and accelerate some damage. but, take a chance once in a while.

yes, we have heard all of this before, too. such revolutionary new scientific and medical discoveries were going to "eliminate major illnesses" before, but never did. all that "stem cell research" seems to have gone, and i have yet to find out what exactly all them boffins and science dude types ever worked out by making all them monkeys and mice smoke in laboratories for years and years. also, at school i was told by the year 2000 we would have smart machines and robots doing everything and we would all have a life of leisure. not so, that i am aware of.

make no mistake, i really do hope that this "crispr" one is the real deal, and not just more bullsh!t off scientists waving smoke and mirrors around to justify their research grants. going to a doctor, saying "hello there, my lungs are a little bit knacked as i may have smoked one or two cigarettes" and getting some smart "crispr" pills or injections or whatever would me most agreeable. should it go wrong and end up being one of them went f****d incidents, well, the damage was probably done anyway.

right, well, there you go. out of destruction rises construction, or construction requires destruction, or something similarly profound sounding to close off, then. life is likely to be same as it ever was despite all the promises of these "c" words, but you never know.



be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hello humans nothing starts tomorrow

heya


it is a widely, or indeed universal, acknowledged fact that some (most righteous) dude called Tim Berners-Lee is the man what invented the internet. well, kind of acknowledged, look you see. like anything what is ace, there are many who will try to claim that it was them and not someone else who done it. most memorably, of course, Al Gore claimed that "the internet" was just one of many initiatives what he came up with.

when he invented it, did the internet then look like what it does now? of course not. if anything, it was even more excellent and ace than it is now, for one (more or less) had to use a Commodore 64 to access it. if there were any doubts about the wisdom and intelligence of this Tim bloke, well, that he was a Commodore 64 man (presumably) is enough credentials for me. and should be for you.

how did you get onto this "internet" thing back in 1989? as with most things then, if they didn't have it in stock down at HMV or Our Price (or Woolworths, i suppose), then you wrote off to an advert in a magazine or newspaper to get it.

there you go. for just south of £40, you could get a boss modem in the post, and then three months access. quite the bargain, considering the price for it these days. also, you got something called "electronic mail", which i shall take as being what we now know as "email", and could say you were part of the on-line revolution.

what could you do "on-line" in 1989? from what i recall of a documentary, featuring Vernon Wells, anyone connected (and that had some jumper leads) could download anything from a girl to a tactical nuclear missile. now that i think, just them two.

also yes, you could get games too. i imagine that for the most part people "connected" in 1989 did some "file share" things as we call it now, of smart games like Stroker 64 and Samantha Fox Strip Poker. no, 1989 internet wasn't quite at the point where one downloaded or "streamed" music and films to their Commodore 64 but that was also covered at the time.

behold, the "streaming box" of 1989, the Video Sender. quite clever it was, using FM to transmit any audio and video source to other devices in your house, or next door. creating a bit of a "wi fi" network, i guess. strangely this was not too popular on launch, for no one could work out why on earth you would either want or need to transmit, or "stream", something to a different device in the home than the one you were in front of.

can you still connect to the internet, or whatever that is in the advert, with a Commodore 64? yes, probably, maybe, no, i don't know. at present i don't have a functioning Commodore 64 as such, and do not have a modem. well, it didn't seem worth the risk - Mum & Dad would have knacked me for "accidentally" making a tactical thermal nuclear missile appear in our house, which i would absolutely have tried to do if i had a modem. someone out there will have the full kit, though, and is bound to give it a go.

in respect of the last sentence of the previous paragraph, the answer is yes, and here you go. off you go, give it a try. since you will be no doubt keen to connect via your Commodore 64, no one will be reading this any more, so i will call it quits.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

acting evolution vernon

hello there


it is so that on a weekend i generally get a number of hours to myself. this is on each morning of both days of a weekend, look you see, or if you will saturday and sunday. why? our cats have clocked that i am the easiest to wake up, and so when they want food at around six in the morning they let me know. usually the remainder of the family, with them being the 75% of my family who you all like a good deal more than you like me (reasonably and understandably) have a preference to sleep until around, say, midday.

what this means is i am, to quote the pet shop boys, left to my own devices somewhat. feeding cats only takes so much time, after all. sometimes i fill the hours with rudimentary housework, such as dishes or laundry. often, though, i rather just sit and have a little think, contemplating matters which strike me as important but seldom feature in the news or similar.

one such matter of consideration recently was the subject of how Vernon Wells evolved as an actor. having recently watched a masterpiece of 90s Vernon Wells cinema, i found myself wondering how it was that he evolved from being the go to actor when a sinister villain in a movie had the major characteristic of being homoerotic (Mad Max 2, and in particular Forbidden Love, also known as Commando), to getting the decidedly heterosexual role of wishing to impregnate Traci Lords in Circuitry Man II Plughead or whatever it was called.

the answer, i quickly decided, was to be found in the underappreciated, hardly known and rarely celebrated work he did as a sort of "character actor", quasi cameo role appearance in certain 1980s television shows. shows of both variable popularity and quality, with a similar sliding scale being in place with regards to how fondly they are remembered.

again, i took to that "internet" thing. i am not sure if you have had a chance to use it yourself as of yet, but if so you may well have found that there is a "search function" on it, which enables you to find some information.

having done one of these "search" things, i found that Vernon Wells had (apparently) done quite a few tv shows. i had absolutely no wish to watch all of his appearances in such, but did select two. they would be The Fall Guy, which i had not seen in ages, and Knight Rider, because of course.

because i had not seen it for ages, i elected to watch the episode of The Fall Guy what (it was claimed) featured Vernon Wells. according to imdb, he was in an episode in the last series (or "season" if American) of it, playing someone called Croyden.

are you familiar with The Fall Guy? yes? then you can skip this paragraph. no? well, then, how do i best describe it. one of America's greatest character actors, Lee Majors, plays someone with the wonderful name of Colt Seavers. essentially the character is a movie stunt man who also works as a bounty hunter, all whilst fending off the lurid attentions of every single woman he meets, for each and every one of them appear to wish to have sexual relations with him immediately.

we are not, regrettably, here to discuss the immense crime fighting and falling out of helicopters skills of Lee Majors, or his impressive sexual prowess. instead, it is the performance of Vernon Wells in this particular episode that we are discussing. make no mistake, the most striking aspect, the most lingering impression one has of his performance is that it does not exist, for he is not in the episode. at all.

that image above is from one of the more memorable aspects of the episode, when Lee Majors (or if you like "Colt") fights a ghost. from what i could work out, it was some sort of Halloween special episode, in which Elvira tried to have sex with Lee Majors ("Colt"). i think it had something to do with a haunted house, too, and various curses being cast.

i thought something was amiss when the name of Vernon Wells did not appear in the credits. oddly and unexpectedly all of the acting members of the Carradine family featured, and they were in the episode for a brief, blink and you will miss it, entirely unnecessary scene. no matter, i watched on hoping that Vernon Wells was appearing in an uncredited cameo sort of way. he did not.

leaving that aside, is it worth watching either this or any (or all) episode(s) of The Fall Guy? should you ask my brother this, the answer would be yes. my answer is that if you quite like the idea of watching him out of The Six Million Dollar Man and was the pilot out of Starflight One catching criminals, falling off of building and horses and refusing to have sex, then absolutely. also, Lee Majors sings (kind of) the theme song.

moving on, then, and Knight Rider. yes, Vernon Wells did actually feature in the episode what imdb said that he was in. rather surprisingly, he played the main villain in the episode, rather than a romantic lead role like what he played in Commando, also known as Forbidden Love.

essentially he plays the same character in Knight Rider as he did in Commando, except for one or two minor differences. basically these differences are that he has a different name, vastly different motivations, has better hair, wears less chain mail, at no point attempts to have sex with a big massive Austrian and drinks tea.

what, precisely, is the motivation of the Vernon Wells character here, and indeed the plot? i fear most of it seemed too complex for my simple mind. either that, or it is particularly ridiculous. as far as i could tell, the Vernon Wells character is selling stolen or counterfeit pharmaceuticals, or something. he is doing so from a well camouflaged tent in the middle of one of them national park things, with absolutely no one around for miles. in his wisdom, Vernon Wells instructs his crew to start a series of fires nearby, thus attracting the authorities to his locale but distracting them too.

of course, for no apparent reason Michael Knight (The Hoff) and his fanny magnet, KITT, are patrolling the area. so they get involved, especially when a young lad gets falsely accused of starting the fires.

the most striking element of this episode of Knight Rider is that once again Vernon Wells has a plot story arc on which a child is pivotal. and, just as was the case in Mad Max 2 and Commando, the climax sees Vernon Wells getting his backside comprehensively kicked by the child. overall, the perhaps the most important aspect of this episode in Knight Rider folklore is that the whole series got cancelled not long after it. much of the success enjoyed by the series hinged on limiting the amount of actual, real and proper actors what appeared in the show so as not to draw attention to the limitations of The Hoff. casting Vernon Wells went against this convention in about as big a way as you can.

and that is just about that, i think. the versatility, maybe even the dynamics, of Vernon Wells are superbly shown in both episodes of both series, with one showing what something is like with him in it and the other showing what something is like when he is not in it. will i be watching more shows that either do or do not feature Vernon Wells? i would expect so, yes. but i would not expect me to comment on all of them.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nat of notlob

hey there


every now and then - say, once a year, or every fourteen months or so - i quite like to do a post concerning a significant statue what is football related. no, i would always remain an advocate of cricket over football, but it is not like football is all that bad.

the last time i did one of these posts it concerned duncan of dudley. you can read about it, or simply look at the pictures, by clicking here, if you like. and my apologies if i have indeed done another such statue post between that one and this, but have forgotten of it.

in this instance, then, it is nat of notlob. whereas i have every confidence you are all Monty Python fans, or at the least have a working knowledge of them, to clarify, yes of course Bolton, but it was the esteemed Monty Python what first discovered that notlob is a palindrome of Bolton.

my expectation is that anyone currently reading this (or just gandering at the images) is doing so as they have done a search on something like Nat Lofthouse Statue Bolton (to give something to that google to feed on) and clicked away. with this in mind i would (reasonably) expect people to know of his achievements in the game.

for many people Nat Lofthouse was the consummate, model professional footballer. this was because in addition to being a very, very, very great player, he was also a "one clubber", spending his entire career playing for just one team, Bolton Wanderers. such loyalty and dedication is generally, usually and routinely respected by the fans.

yes, he also represented his country, England, and did so with distinction. over the course of eight years he played 33 times for England (internationals were not so frequent in the 50s), scoring 30 goals. that ratio of nearly a goal a game is astonishing, and something few, if any, have come close to.

it could well be that you, the more astute of internet user (for you are on this blog) have noticed this already, but yes. to clarify, these images are taken from not one, not three, but two trips to notlob over the course of a few months.

why, exactly, would i take so many trips to notlob? simple, really. if you could, you would, if you can, you will. so, i did. no, no apparent reason that i would care to discuss or comment on, it all sort of just happened.

one instance of my travels to the selective wonders of notlob happened to be quite or otherwise reasonably close to the anniversary of his passing. in this respect, a most fitting and lovely in remembrance memorial was visible and suitably decorated.

for those of you who for some reason wish to be visually aware of how i am getting on, well, as is customary in this peculiar modern (or current) world, yes, a selfie by a famous monument or landmark of note.

yes, in answer to both questions. indeed the wind did some incredible and interesting things to my hair on this particular day. and my beard and moustache have been cut down considerably since this image was taken. 

but, there is every chance that if you are reading this then you are slightly less interested in moi and also considerably more interested in nat. so, to return to the in remembrance feature, here is the best picture i could get of the memorial book for you. 

no, i really don't have much in the way of any further text to share with you. but, for what i have, for those of you interested, sure, here is another picture of the statue, taken from a slightly different angle.

will i be going to, or anywhere near, notlob (or Bolton, if not a Monty Python fan) (which is a strange thing) in the future? there is every chance and likelihood of such, yes. not sure when, or why exactly, but as i said earlier, if the opportunity presents itself, then take it.

as for which football related statue i propose to showcase here next, well, i do not plan that way. in truth i tend only to see them by chance, and then when i remember to do so add them here. please don't assume that the next such instance shall be any time soon, but know that if it does happen, then here it shall be.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!