When Too Hot is Not Hot

Friday 6 April 2012 – I like to keep abreast of the times, what’s on trend and what’s hot and what’s not. I know that in the fashion stakes it’s bold colours and geometric lines for summer 2012, and that Tanya Jagger is the new hot model, and the book of the moment is A Street Cat Named Bob, I’m even aware that cream is the nail colour of the moment.

There is one thing I recently came across, that was most definitely not hot; metaphorically speaking, was a spicy pizza. Yes it was hot, as in off the scoville scale, but not hot as on-trend. I’m partial to a hot spicy meal: regular readers will know all about my own Italian sun-dried chillies. But this pizza was so hot it was just uncomfortable to eat.

Finally, to end this week, is another sign seen out and about. This time it’s a poster in the window of Ryman’s the stationers. It features an employee named Nathan from Holborn, and all I’m asking is just what is Nathan trying to tell us here?

Is Nathan bragging about the size of his cock? Answers on a postcard to:               26 Phallus House, Dicksville, PE N15.

Have a good Easter weekend everyone.

Per i miei amici italiani - Buona Pasqua. Baz xx

The Curry Spell-Checker

Thursday 5 April 2012 – Today I was sat re-drafting an article I’ve recently been working on, in the background at a discrete volume Public Image Ltd are playing ‘Careering’. (PiL at a discreet volume, it is possible). My attention is grabbed by the clatter of my letterbox, I look up and see three brown fingers and a multi-coloured flyer appear.

I retrieve the flyer; anything to take me away from working, and see it’s for a fast food outlet. Hurrah! a wonderful distraction. Without sounding like a pedantic old git, I love sifting through these flyers for spelling mistakes, and this one doesn’t disappoint. The tagline; the most important part of any advertising reads:

Staying on the front cover we then get:

Surely this should read ‘Now Order Curry’ – or if the owner thinks the public will purchase more than one dish, the it should read ‘Now Order Curries’. (One could argue however that this is a ‘straightforward’ plural therefore is correct. But nonetheless it’s confusing). Inside more errors jump out in glorious colour, this time it’s the ‘there’ and ‘their’ confusion:

And finally we come to the misspelling of the Italian city Milano:

I believe that if you are promoting your business, then at least get the advertising correct before you spend money on printing. You may argue that these are easy mistakes to make if English is not your native language; I agree, but these flyers are designed by people who have passed through the English education system, and are now running their own businesses.

I Love a Bit of Cock in the Morning

Own up, who started to read this because of its provocative title?

Wednesday 4 April 2012 – I have always lived in a semi rural community, I grew up with fields to play in and farms to help out on: for help out, read – annoy a farmer on. I’m used to the fact that smaller rural communities have a different focus than towns and cities, and despite having the kind of personality that you’d expect is better suited to the hustle and bustle of a metropolis, I’m actually much happier tucked away in a pocket of green.

When we bought our place in Italy people said, “It’s quite remote, you’ll be bored.'” Yes we’re a small house overlooking a valley, with just a rabbit farm, olive trees and three other houses in the immediate vicinity. But how can you be bored? There’s the local (aged) farmers that pass through on tractors that were probably supplied by Mussolini’s regime, locals who stop to pass the time of day as buzzards fly overhead and there’s the satisfaction of cultivating your own produce; nothing can beat the olive harvest followed by a dozen 5litre tins of extra virgin oil; a fine recompense for your toil.

One of the things that I love about being in the country is the sound of a cockerel welcoming the day with his crowing. These past few mornings, my day has started with just that, and I discovered yesterday that my neighbours a few doors down have chickens and a haughty looking cock.

Sadly today though due to the bad weather, there was no welcoming call from him, to softly rouse me from my slumber. So today I wasn't;t fooled into thinking I was over in Italy on our hillside, just shaken awake to face reality of being in a side street outside the city centre.

So as I sit here and type up today’s blog posting, and Marilyn Manson sings (sings?) ‘Into The Fire’, I’m reminded that life can be shit sometimes, so keep those fragrant times close.

Daytime TV

Tuesday 3 April 2012 – Yesterday I turned off the iPod and settled down to watch a little daytime TV, I managed to swallow a little of Daybreak, I even watched a morsel of Lorraine; but it was the hard core shows I was interested in, those stalwarts of the programming schedule.

I allowed my senses to be assaulted by Jeremy Kyle, and the assorted brain dead morons that come on his show to be patronised, shouted at and derided by this dreadful man.

Then I tuned into an episode of Bargain Hunt the only show where you win by losing, it’s an odd concept; lose money to win the show, surely if you want to encourage people to buy and sell crap (oops antiques), show them making a profit.

And don't get me started on Cash in the Attic, how many people have one of George Formby's ukelele's in the loft, and a sketch by Dali in the kitchen draw?

Following a quick breather to escape this televisual self inflicted Alzheimer's, I decided to give Loose Women a go. Having sat through this drivel dressed up as entertainment, I think it needs to re-branded, the reason being; it has no content, it’s format is so loose it’s positively slack, so maybe it should be called Slack Women, to give a clear indication of what the show’s like and possibly one or two of its presenters.

My early afternoon is taken up with Midsomer Murders, a crime show that I believe is in its fifteenth series. Despite being a well made show, I’m sure there can’t be many people left alive in the Midsomer villages, as the sensible villagers have surely moved out after the constant killing sprees that occur.

As the closing credits roll, I realise my brain now resembles semifreddo and my backside is a numb as a polar bear’s nose. There’s only one thing for it, a quick stroll to get the blood flowing, and a few deep breaths of fresh air. Sadly I can’t do this as it’s now time for Come Dine With Me.

Sauce from the Dark Side

Monday 2 April 2012 – My first blog entry of April is accompanied by one of those songs that always has the ability to take you back in time. Today the iPod has shuffled and Michael Sembello takes over with the 80’s classic, Maniac’ from the movie Flashdance.

So here’s another posting of signs out and about that made me smile, those spelling mistakes that are posted publicly. My first is from the local chip shop, there on its A-board it proudly states that it sells a foodstuff from the other side. Could I get a side order of ectoplasm with mine please.

It makes me wonder why the people who manufactured the sign for them didn’t point out the spelling mistake.

Sticking with food based errors, this sign appeared in a bread shop just along the road. (The owner accosted me as I was taking the photo…oops). The price has been obviously altered, suggesting the sign has been there for a while. Maybe I’ll pop a note under the door detailing the misspelling of the plural of loaf.

I pick up my iPod out of its dock as Siobhan Donaghy starts to sing ‘Ghosts’. (I hear Siobhan and the other two original Sugababes members; Mutya and Keisha , have signed a one million pound deal with Polydor – Good luck to them). I take a trip into town and am passing a newly opened barber shop; in the window is a list of charges, and one of the treatments offered is: Threading eyebrowse & full face £4. I photograph the spelling mistake, when I ponder ‘full face’, what is the shop offering epilation for werewolves?

My final sign is one of complete stupidity, one that some design department and re-branding company have been paid a fortune to come up with. It’s the name for the new shopping complex being built in town: No explanation necessary.

Getting a Bargain Out of a Disaster

Friday 30 March 2012 – One of the best things about being a writer is that you can set your own hours, (deadlines permitting); however the downside has to be looking for places/editors to pitch articles to. Okay, there’s all those magazines in newsagents with contact details inside, then there’s the good old internet; that must be helpful?

To be honest the internet isn’t the best resource for magazine/editor details, as most of the web pages are out of date, and editors are not good at responding to electronic mail enquiries. So like all other freelancers, I’m stuck with the specialist directories.

There’s two out there, Benn’s Media and Willings Press. Both are comprehensive listings of every newspaper, magazine and trade press publication out there, (UK, Europe and US). However the cost of these directories is more than many freelancers can afford or justify buying. Willings UK guide is £285, so like other writers’ I have to use the copy in the library..

I have some features to pitch, so I trot off to the library and look up the magazines I need the contact details for, then I whip out my camera and photograph the pages I need; oh the joys of digi-cams – saves on photocopying. Two hours later, I’m leaving with the spoils of my visit.

Today I download the snaps to my laptop, as I have done so many times in the past, and bugger the camera was on the wrong setting. So instead of a set of clear images I get a blurred ones. See example below of what I should have but what I got. Note to self: Check camera first.

Today though I had a brainwave, and checked Amazon, and there was a UK and a US 2010 versions for the princely sum of £7.49 (inc delivery). They may be a few years out of date, but are still bargains, as before you can pitch you still have to double check the web addresses, phone numbers and editors names. Here’s hoping the initial cost is recouped quickly.

No, No, No, No, No

Thursday 29 March 2012 – Some things are just wrong.

Whilst watching TV last night, I saw an advert with Heston Blumenthal about hot cross buns, he was advertising his twist on the well known Easter treat. Now I’m not saying his buns flavoured with mandarin and earl grey tea are wrong; although dubious. It’s the fact that show the buns toasted.

Toasted hot cross buns; NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. Teacakes are toasted and HCB should be cold.

Another thing that makes me shudder is tomato ketchup on bacon NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. The English breakfast, and its many components should have good old brown sauce, especially HP, the king of condiments.

I saw this sign which is most definitely a NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.

Here the shop owner stereotypes all young men, I understand that maybe he’s had problems in the past; but who’s to say three lads entering his shop would spell trouble, what about three lassies. Also what does this message say about the area to outsiders?

Another NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. The spending of public money on pointless ventures. In 2010, the council poured money into what was to become a community space for the local people of north Shelton. For a few months a space was cleared and young people helped to put up decking, build raised beds and create a welcoming space. I walked passed the completed project in August 2010, and it’s now March 2012, and the gates remain locked. What a complete and utter waste of money and resources.

And finally, here’s a definite NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. The following photo was forwarded to me by a friend, who tells me it was on a shelf below an assortment of gifts on sale in readiness for Mothers’ Day. Tell me would you buy this from Tesco as a gift for your mum?

“Being a writer, isn’t that money for old rope?”

Wednesday 28 March 2012 – Yesterday I went to open a new bank account, as I’ve not a had a personal account for about twenty years; just business ones. So I’m sat in the office at the local bank with Kelly. “Do you know what,” she says, “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before.” I smile, then explain that I’m not from around here, having just moved into the area. Kelly checks her screen, asks me questions and keeps tossing me sidelong glances.

We get to the questions about employment, She asks me about previous employment, so I explain I was an actor before setting up my own arts education company. “Have you been in anything I’ve seen?” she asks me. I want to say, I don’t know Kelly, tell me everything you’ve ever seen and I’ll stop you if you name something I was in. (Damn stupid question, but a common one). I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Probably not.”

Kelly is tapping away at the keyboard, when she stops, look at me and says, “Have you been in Corrie?” I tell her yes, but nothing memorable. Kerry’s eyes roll back in her head and she says, “I know where I’ve seen you before. Where you the doctor when Ken’s daughter died?” “Well actually,” I tell her, “I was the mortician.” (2 scenes 5 lines). “But, I don’t act anymore.”

“So, what do you do now?” she asks.

“Freelance writer.”

“Being a writer, isn’t that money for old rope?”

Easy job, okay to some it may appear to be easy, sat clicking at a laptop all day, and if you take into account the feature I had published in Italy Mag this week, which was 850 words, which when the payment came through worked out as 29 pence a word, you could be forgiven for thinking it’s ‘money for old rope’ (For those interested in where this saying comes from: The hangman at public hangings was obliged to keep the rope used to hang his 'customer'. The rope, however, was popular with the macabre crowds, so the hangman used to cut the rope up and sell it.)

My Italy Mag Feature: Click to read

Okay, so it’s easy, take into consideration the days taken up with visiting the churches talked about, the costs involved and the amount of time spent writing and editing, and it soon becomes apparent that it’s not an easy job. Okay, it’s fair to say that the Italian feature was easier, as I did mix work with pleasure; as I was on holiday and visiting the churches and museum anyway.

But compare that to what I’m working on at the moment, today I have toiled, sweated and despaired over a mere 200 words; not to mention the major editing I am doing on a much larger piece, which involves cutting out , or rewriting words that were previously crafted with love.

Money for old rope, try telling that to the writers at the group I belong to, in fact if you think that it’s an easy game, pop along tonight and tell us. My betting is you’ll probably leave with a pencil inserted into somewhere painful.

Renegade Writers: Click here to view

Recurring Dream

Tuesday 27 March 12 – I’m up quite early today; in fact I’ve always been an early riser. Coffee is brewing and iPod playing; albeit at a discreet volume so as not to upset the neighbours. Peter Murphy is singing ‘Memory Go’, and I’m grappling with the resolution of a recurring dream.

I’m not a person who analyses dreams, nor do I have any belief in the importance of dreams as prophesies; the most pressing thing on my mind this morning is how should I have my egg this morning, scrambled or poached. The iPod shuffles and Parliament take over with, ‘Theme from the Black Hole’ – I love a bit of early morning funk.

So, what of this dream; well over the past few weeks I have been having the same dream. It’s not been a nightly thing maybe once or twice a week, but it’s been an odd one. It’s set in a small room, and there are three or four strange looking tables; quite ornate but sturdy looking. In the dreams I am trying to take the tables through the door, but am unable to do so, as the door is too narrow.

Last night, or rather early this morning I had the dream again, however this time I took a saw to the legs on the tables and removed them. Once I had got the tables through the door, I repaired the legs, before walking away.

I awoke feeling very refreshed, and with a really odd sense of accomplishment; now I have already said I don’t hold much with dream translations, but the closest I can come up with for this one is: To dream of a moving table is an indication that your life will soon see great change. These changes will bring much need joy and peace into your waking life. If anyone knows any different, let me know. I’m off to have a poached egg.

Titanic Let Down

Monday 26 March 2012 – I watched the new ITV1 drama Titanic last night; I was interested to see if they writers would be able to add a new angle to this already well known story. Sadly thus far they are failing; the ITV drama was, in my opinion a poor cousin to the James Cameron movie. The storyline at times focussed upon members of the upper classes becoming embroiled in petty situations; add to this the rebellious well heeled daughter, who flouts propriety by kissing a boy she’s known a mere twelve hours. (Didn’t Kate Winslett do this?)

Despite its lacking originality, I shall persevere with it and hopefully the next three weeks will give us more than just musicians playing as the ship sinks, and lovers on makeshift rafts, that manage to find each other in the pitch black of a north Atlantic night.

I believe next week will focus upon the woeful lack of lifeboats on the ship; at the planning stage it was calculated the ship needed 64; more than adequate for the passenger capacity of 3547. During the build it was planned to reduce the number of lifeboats to 48, but as it was completed, it was thought the boats would make the upper class decks look cluttered, so only 20 were installed.

Being Stoke on Trent born, I shall be interested to see how they drama portrays Captain Smith. Captain Edward John Smith, was born in the city in 1850: (Well St, Hanley).

Captain Smith had 43 years of experience at sea, 32 of those were with the White Star Line, and 26 years experience of sailing the north Atlantic. His experience makes the sinking of the Titanic more tragic, and I certainly hope this new drama doesn’t portray him as an inadequate leader of men, or a bumbling fool.

To celebrate the centenary of the fated voyage a special plaque has been commissioned to be sited upon the house where Captain Smith was born. (The owners of the house have already hinted that this will increase their property’s value.)

One final thing is a lesser known fact, that from first sight of the iceberg to collision took just 30 seconds, making the impact unavoidable, as with the poor lighting ships had in 1912, would have made a much earlier sighting impossible.

(apologies for any typos or grammatical errors, I haven’t had time to revise this post)