The good, the kind and the friendly

This week’s blog is something of an anti-rant.

It was my sons 5^th birthday this week. Cue the usual parental things to make it as nice as day as possible (presents, cake etc). We certainly helped make it a cheerful day, but it was taken to another level by unlikely heroes. It was the kindness of two complete strangers towards a boy that they will in all likelihood never see again that made him almost burst with happiness.

At a time of massive austerity, when we have MP’s cheering as hundreds of thousand of people’s lives are flushed down the toilet, unions gearing up for crippling strikes and probable civil unrest on the streets is imminent, it’s important to look for those chinks of light. Those people who through their actions make you remember that what we see on the news every day is a tiny slice of misery in comparison to the goodness that goes on in our neighbourhoods and on our streets every day of the week.

So a massive thank you to the train driver who let a boy on his birthday switch the train engine on, beep the horn and turn on the windscreen wipers on his train from Temple Meads.

Also huge credit to the builder who, when my son told him he wanted to follow in his footsteps when he grows up (well you’ve got to have a trade), ran off and bought him a proper builders trowel back to take away as a present.

OK, a couple of five minute conversations aren’t going to change anyone’s life. Nice, but so what? Well, it made me think. If it’s that easy to touch someone’s life in such a positive way, why aren’t we all doing it? Maybe most of you are.

So here’s what I would like. I’d like to hear about the good things you do for people. The old woman who lives on her own that you do shopping for, the schoolchild you help with their reading or the homeless man that you take soup to.

I want to know so I can show people that we are intrinsically good and not the bitter, empty, miserable people that we are portrayed as through the TV every night (Eastenders I’m looking at you). That politicians that are labelling us as a drain on the state are wrong. They are looking in the wrong direction and missing the pure human decency that surrounds them. They look at the worst of us and try to tar everyone with the same brush.

I’d like to be a champion of the good, of the kind, of the caring. Each blog, I will try and include some of your kindness to inspire others. If you want to avoid feeling bigheaded, do it anonymously. Tell me how it made you feel as well.

Also, let me know if you have a cause that needs help. I’ll be happy to try and point people in your direction.

These are big ideas for a man with a blog read by a hundred people or so but what I saw in my son’s eyes was the real result of kindness.

Happiness.

Something we could all do with a little more of…..

Small is beautiful

A terrifying new type of bullying is developing in the workplace. The diversity policies of companies large and small seem to have missed it completely, unaware of the harrowing effect it is having on the lives of those affected.

Managers, ministers and clergy alike seem oblivious to its life destroying results. You, yourself probably aren’t even aware of it.

I’m talking about feet-ism. In particular I’m addressing small feet-ism. As I write this a colleague has passed by my desk and called me a f***ing freak. I sit, head bowed.

OK, admittedly I do have, small feet. I am six foot three and I have feet that are size seven. This does (I admit) make it difficult to stand tall in strong winds and ice skating is completely out of the question. When attempting to skate I do resemble a giraffe on crack surrounded by a swarm of angry bees.

Does this mean I should be the butt of quite so many jokes, whispers and sniggers from the shadowy enclaves at work?

Over the last couple of weeks it has been suggested that I had my feet wrapped (mummy style) as a child to prevent them from growing any more and that I am the “anti-hobbit”.

People are also quick to make comparisons between feet and other parts of my anatomy. I try to rise above it (not in that way) but they continue to speculate. Exposing myself to the whole office may be the only way to reason with them. Well, that would be my defence in court m’lud.

Help me, to break down the final taboo. The rights of ethnic minorities, homosexuals, women and even gingers have been championed and those who choose to discriminate are rightly pushed to the fringes of our society and abhorred.

Together we can beat this; together we can kick this intolerance into touch (or at least near the touchline).

Anyway, I blame my dad. For it is from him that I inherited this trait.

The small footed bastard….

Film sequels that really disappointed

I have been reading in Empire magazine lately that a huge number of remakes are taking place. This is itself is quite a depressing thing but imagine when they start remaking the sequels!  That’s when film making could really take a turn for the worse.

This made me think of some of the sequels that have really felt like a humungous let down.

Some of you are going to read the title above and jump straight to the conclusion that I’m going to name check the standard scorned sequels here like either of the Matrix abominations or maybe the ill fated Highlander 2 – The quickening. Well OK, granted they are both good example but here are some of my biggest disappointments:

1)   Monsters Ball   - I loved the first one, Monsters Inc is a film I can watch with my son and we laugh. A lot. Monsters Ball not so much.

Don’t cry son, we’ll put Wall-E on.

2)   The Sure Thing – OK, first disappointment, Kurt Russell’s not in it. Maybe John Cusack will split in half any minute now and a big spider alien thing will wander off. No, two hours of romance and not even in a deserted ice station. Blah!

3)   Purple Rain – Where’s Whoopee? I’m after a bit more harrowing black oppression. Instead I have to put up with a mini gimp tossing around on a motorcycle looking shit....

4)   9 ½ Weeks – Fellini is a great director and I wondered how he was going to continue his semi autobiographical filmmaking after 8 ½. He didn’t, it was just 2 hours of Mickey Rourke banging Basinger....with fruit.

5)   Leaving Las Vegas – Hang on? Nic Cage is in it, he’s in Vegas. Here come those Elvis Impersonators. Oh no, wait a minute, he’s not on honeymoon. Just another 2 hours of misery and ponderings on suicide. I’ll get my coat....

A question of loyalty

The Sainsbury’s near to where I work has recently added a big bank of shiny self service tills. Wonderful news thinks I, must be quicker than waiting whilst one of the old dears glares at me because I’ve added something that weighs more than a packet of crisps to my basket.

Then I tried to use it. It was (in my defence) before 8 o’clock in the morning when all transgressions can be forgiven (with the exception of shoplifting and listening to Country and Western).

I scanned my items comfortably, only receiving two cautions that I had an “unexpected item in the bagging area”. Why it’s unexpected when I have swiped it through the till seconds earlier is anyone’s guess (it’s not like I flopped out my dumplings and placed them onto the polished counter).

Shopping safely stored, I decided to gain the 3 valuable points by swiping my Nectar card.  I am hoping that if I shop regularly in Saino’s for the next twelve years I may be able to afford to treat myself to a large packet of taste the difference cold meat.

Swipe, fail, wait, cheeky reset from the hovering till failure operative.

Swipe, fail, wait, cheeky reset from the hovering till failure operative.

Swipe, fail, wait, cheeky reset from the hovering till failure operative.

Ok, something is clearly wrong here. It can’t be me can it?

I’m starting to get angry now. Have I not been loyal enough? Did they spot me sidling into Asda’s side door for a bagel, some champagne or a pot plant?

Swipe, fail, wait, cheeky reset from the hovering till failure operative.

Then she smiles, clearly I’ve made her day.

“That’s your Tesco clubcard love” and before I can mumble my apology and explanation that I don’t really shop there and that my wife told me to look after it, she’s gone.

Maybe the problem is that all the supermarkets seem the same now. A shopping trip for food has become a jaunt down the same aisles of the same products (and even the same 3 for 2 offers). It’s our own fault but the days of popping into half a dozen shops for bread, meat, veg, etc in the town centre before catching the bus home have long gone.

Where’s my choice gone? Maybe I should have been more loyal to those now absent local shops….

I could be so good for you.....possibly

As I’m sat writing this, I have the theme tune to Minder playing in my head. You know the one. Denis Whatisname singing about being so good for you. I can’t get rid of it. Tried transplanting it with something by Muse or The King of Leon but it’s stuck. I mean seriously, Minder hasn’t been on telly for what, about 20 years? It wasn’t even that good.

Why then do I have it bouncing between my ears? What’s made me go almost crazy humming a dodgy 70’s tune? Is this the kind of crap that I carry around with me every day, torturing me whilst all useful nuggets of information leak out onto the cutting room floor of life?

It feels like nothing useful has gone in for years. If you put me on the spot however, I can probably tell you the difference between the theme tunes for Bewitched and I dream of Jeannie, or hum you the theme to Crown Court. I could at a push quote you a lyric or two to quite a few different tunes (probably not much past 2005 though – I am nearly pushing 40).

When asked a few years ago to name something that she liked about me, my ex-girlfriend paused in reflection for what seemed like a lifetime but was actually only about a minute. It shouldn’t take this long I thought bitterly. This had better be good when it finally arrives. The best she could come up with having taken this inappropriately long breath was simply this:

“You are really good at knowing the words to songs”. We only lasted a few weeks after that (I wonder why?)

My life is heading towards a crossroads. In the next few weeks or months I’ll be looking for a new job. Fate (and politics) has given me no choice in this. Do I carry on in a soulless IT environment or do I branch out into something new?

Trouble is I don’t think anyone’s looking for a human version of Shazam from the 80’s....