where art collides philosoperontap

He was buried on Thursday. The weather wasn’t very good, it being November, but there was a good turnout apparently. They were all there, except the Americans, who couldn’t make the trip. They had had plans, now cast aside clearly, to go to America.

He hadn’t been on the scene long although she had known him all her life. At a time when things had been difficult he had arrived as a knight in shining armour. He had renewed her happiness and offered her hope. But now he was gone.

I only met him the once, at the 50^th wedding anniversary bash. He was a little overshadowed by the noise of the family, the rabble, but he had played his part. That night I wasn’t driving so I had a few beers and I didn’t get much chance to speak with him. I don’t think he was sat close to me.

He fitted in to the stereotype of his generation, as did many of the partygoers that night. The black and white slides evoked memories of my childhood although they weren’t of my side of the family. Quite austere memories really, not of my own childhood but of what I imagined my parents’ to be.

The war had not finished all that long ago and it was only a few years since the end of rationing. Now the funeral made it feel as if those days were back. Black and white again.

So now she will have to start all over again, if she can. It’s a tough old game but it’s amazing how resilient we are. It’s a constant battle though and she will need her family’s help.

As I write I look up and stare into the fire…

It’s one of those horrible wet, miserable days in November where nobody in their right mind is out and about. The fire in the living room is cosy enough but I want to get up and out and do something!

It brings to mind those classic Sunday afternoons from my childhood where all there was to do was watch the black and white film on BBC2 or play Monopoly. Tea was a welcome interval in the boredom. Songs of Praise would come and go and then there was usually something good on the radio. Hello Cheeky springs to mind.

In those days we actually used to look forward to specific slots on the radio such as the early Sunday night comedy. Times have changed and with them the electricity bills have gone up. Hannah is doing her music homework whilst watching something on the internet. Joe is playing with Adobe Flash. John is playing football manager whilst watching an early round FA Cup Tie between Havant and Brentford and gawd only knows what Tom is up to. I only know it won’t be homework.

The only regular slot for us on the radio these days is the Archers, at which point the kitchen empties of all but Anne. We also listen when Tom has his Wake Up To The Weekend show on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

It’s twenty five to four and will be dark soon. I like the early dark nights, especially when the fire is going.

Sundays aren’t really boring anymore. In any case boredom is a state of mind that you can easily overcome if you chose to. John and I just had a bit of a duet session, he on sax and me on guitar. I don’t think it would have won any prizes but that’s ok. I’ve also got the printer working. I don’t think it was broken in the first place but I got it to work so that is good. I’ve printed out some invites for our Christmas Party so I’ll pop out in the rain and deliver some in a bit.

What would they have done in the stone age on a Sunday afternoon. There was even less to do then than in the sixties of my childhood. Of course they probably wouldn’t have realised it was a Sunday which makes the thought all that more interesting. You can imagine them sitting in front of the fire in the cave wondering why that specific day was so boring. No deer to hunt, too wet to go fishing. It’s probably on days like that that they had the idea to paint the cave walls. It was something to do.

Of course the food was probably boring as well. You can imagine the kids complaining. “Not mince again!” I assume they had mince in those days! They wouldn’t have had Monopoly as it wouldn’t have been invented yet. So it was probably charades, the cut down version with no movies or books or TV programmes.

It would be an interesting experiment to cut people off from contact with the rest of humanity without clocks or calendars, just to see if they could tell which day was a Sunday by virtue of it being more boring than the others. They could turn it into a reality TV program, although it would probably be a bit boring to watch!

Right I’m off out.

It was a dark day in November or early December 1983. I remember it was a Sunday and I was down to my last pound. Some of it went on potatoes, baked beans and cardboard flavoured burgers from the local SPAR. The remaining fifty pence went in the electricity meter to cook the food. Then I sat on the settee in my sleeping bag in front of the TV until the meter ran out.

Next morning I stayed in bed under the blankets and sleeping bag, nose sticking out blowing frosty breath. No heating, no money to switch it on.

It felt dramatic but it wasn’t really. I hadn’t made any effort to find a job but it wouldn’t be a problem when I came to it. I had a big sense of freedom. No ties. I could do anything I liked when I liked, as long as it didn’t take money.

In the run up to Christmas I came under increasing pressure from my parents to get a job. I suspect that that dark Sunday made up my mind. Reluctantly, I relented, and got myself employment with Marconi in Lincoln starting in January. I never considered it would ever be a problem. It’s all about attitude.

I hired a van and moved all my worldly goods to Lincoln. Driving away I was leaving a phase of my life behind.

It’s strange to think that it is now 2008 and 25 years since I left. Since then I have pretty much always had a mortgage and have never repeated the feeling of freedom. Deep down I am not a responsible individual, I’m only a big kid, so not having that freedom doesn’t feel right.

It’s early. I couldn’t sleep so I’m up and sitting on the settee in the living room. The blanket that lives on the settee is covering my legs because it is cold. We are into the last week of October and it definately feels like the first week of winter. The weather forecast for today is wet with a maximum temperature of 7 oC, minimum -1oC.

It doesn’t really get cold that often. Not as often as most people would like I’m sure. We need to have proper winters. Reassuringly cold. It hardly ever gets cold enough for snow. Rarely do we get to go down the common with the sledge, or what’s left of it after 4 kids.

The sledging on the common bit is somewhat romanticised actually. The ten second rush of adrenalin doesn’t seem like adequate recompense for the five minute trudge back up the hill, the wet socks and cold, cold extremities.

One year, after Christmas, we took a cottage in the Lake District for a week. The whole country was covered in snow, except the Lake District. It was a bit of a disappointment and a waste of time carting the sledge all that way. It was a nice cottage, over the road from a nice pub. The pub had given the chef a two week holiday over Christmas though so there was no food there. The menu did look good. Bit strange I thought. Folk eh?

Still we had a good time and the cottage was warm and cosy with a wood burning fire. Mam and Dad came up and stayed on their way home from Ann’s and we had a second Christmas present opening. Hooray.

That was a good break. All too often we hang around at home between Christmas and New Year. Bored. It is a waste of annual holiday. I can see why people go off to St Moritz and Cloisters for New Year. Lots more to do. Plenty of action, mulled wine and fondues. Yes far more interesting. Don’t know why we don’t go!

The after that it’s Barbados or the Bahamas, for that bit of winter sun after the snow. Trouble is we have already booked a weekend in Center Parcs and we can’t do both. Maybe next year…