These boots are made for working...

As Christmas approaches, looming large on the horizon like a debt filled iceberg heading for my Titanic of a bank account, I am starting to think about a second job. Something to allow my wife and I to buy the kids those presents that they will probably forsake for the cardboard box it came in about 28 seconds after opening them.

Thing is, I’ve never had a second job (some might argue I haven’t done the first one) and I don’t really know where to start. By day, I work in IT but I have no real appetite to continue that into an evening activity and have no desire to start my own business (my wife already has one of those – but more of that later).

So at the moment I’m left with pub/waiter/fast food type work or supermarket shelf filler/checkout boy.

All of the above I think include a great deal of hard work (especially around Christmas).

If pushed, I’ll do any of these but I’m wondering what else is out there. So, with about as much enthusiasm as a man waiting for a vasectomy outside a brick factory, I started trawling the internet. Here’s what I came up with:

Selling

Over the phone, usually selling something I myself wouldn’t care to buy.  Commission based and soul destroying. Mainly listening to either expletives or disinterest. (I should explain that whenever I get a phone cold caller phone me at home I put my 5 year old son on to them and he happily explains about Cbeebies until they hang up) No thanks.

Cleaning

I have enough trouble keeping myself clean. Not an option.

Promo work

When they say promo work, they mean trying to persuade tired looking parents that they would look great in photos with their vile children (usually pictures of them lying on the floor in white t-shirts), at great expense.

Party Organizer

This one sounds fun doesn’t it? Until you take into account that it’s selling stuff no one wants to your mates until they can barely look you in the face anymore. (Most of my mates would tell me where to stick a Virgin Vie candle).

WW Leader

WW stands for Weight Watchers. I believe it’s the opportunity to stand up and tell everyone that whilst you’ve not managed to follow the diet yourself last week, the people in front of you with low self confidence should really have done a lot better. OK, that I can do, but I think they normally look for women to do this? (Sexism alert!).

So, there we have it. Not great, but then maybe I’m not a great candidate. You can probably glean from this that I am lacking enthusiasm somewhat. What I like to do, what I enjoy doing is this. Writing, and I’ve not found a way to make that pay yet.

Finally, I come to one thing I do believe in. My wonderful wife has started a business selling cupcakes in Bristol and although I am biased, I am told by other people they are amazing. Her website is http://www.houseofcupcakesbristol.com/ and she is infinitely more talented and skilful (as well as kind and gracious). I have made it my goal to help her achieve her dreams of making it as successful as possible.   The picture below gives a an idea of how good they are, better I think than I can describe.

Maybe this blog will in some way help her. I hope so (then I can spend all day on the golf course!!!).

What the folk?

Folk music. Two words to strike fear into any man. Well, not those who like that genre obviously but to most of us, the “normal ones”, it invokes images of Morris dancers and men with beards smoking pipes wearing hairy jumpers.

For me, it was my dad forcing me to listen to Steeleye Span as a teenager. I still shudder at the thought.

So, when I was asked if I wanted to go and see Bellowhead last night at the Old Vic in Bristol, my first thoughts weren’t positive. Admittedly, someone had to explain who they were to me before I could get to that point. They sounded a bit like a heavy metal band to me, something loud and shouty. Then that word appeared. Folk.

I sat in stunned silence, slightly affronted that someone thought I was the type of person to go to that sort of a thing. I mean, I’d had a shave that day and everything. OK yes, I am 39 and not exactly on the cutting edge of music these days, but I do cling onto the fantasy that anyone receiving a lift from me in my car will give me a surprised glance as they come to realise that my CD compilations provide the blueprint for what should in fact be everyone’s default taste in music.

I left work, with laughter on my lips. As if. Then someone sent me a link to them performing live. I found my foot tapping, my kids nodding along, doing a little jig. I realised to my horror that it sounded “quite good”. What harm can it do, I thought? It’s one night out of thousands (and I don’t get out much).

What I got was a revelation.

A delightful duo provided support, beautifully crafted songs old and new that made me sit with a silly grin on my face. Their question to the audience “do you want a happy one or a miserable one next?” made everyone chuckle. Totally disarming and what was this feeling, I appeared to be enjoying it, so much so that I found myself disappearing upstairs in the interval to buy their CD.

What followed was two hours of songs of sheer excellence. Eleven supremely talented musicians ripped their way through song after song that had a heart of folk but were fleshed out into anything from funk to blues to punk at one stage. I didn’t know a single tune, but by the end they had me (as well as every single member of the audience) on their feet.

I have also, never experienced a group that seemed to enjoy what they were doing so much. Two hours felt like ten minutes and the encore wasn’t long enough.

I have made two conclusions from my wonderful night.

1) Widen your horizons and never discount any experience until you have tried it.

2) Go and see Bellowhead. You will not be disappointed. You may even find your view opens to a wonderful panorama that you didn’t see before.

The door to folk music is open. I may not like it all, but at least I’ll step through and give it a go before I make up my mind….

Die hard fans in the mood for vengeance

I’m going to start this blog by letting you in on a little secret. I think I may regret this but I’m going to tell you anyway. Are you ready? Here goes….

When I was 15, I joined the Harry Connick Jr Fan Club.

Now I know that some of you may want to stop reading this now. Some of you may want to go further and make some abusive comments on my blog. Hopefully none of you will try and track me down and hurt me for this. I was young(ish) and impressionable and liked that big band swing thing. I even went to a gig (if you can call it that – half the audience had dinner jackets on).

That’s my shame now, but at the time it all seemed perfectly reasonable. I listened out for any new album releases and read the bi-monthly news letter cover to cover. I was aware that HCJ wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that was fine. If I heard any negative comments about him, I would smile and internally note that the person responsible had the IQ of a half crazed Tottenham fan and was basically an idiot. I would however keep these ideas to myself.

So I was surprised recently at the response of some of the fans of Amanda Holden on twitter this week (yes, she has many apparently).

It all began with a strange and silly conversation about new comedy ideas for ITV programs. I had suggested to my enormous twitter following (66 and counting) that a sitcom based on The Kray Twins running a bowling alley starring Ant & Dec could be a winner. I even had a name in mind that I never got round to tweeting. Turkey Beserky. Not my best but there you go.

Someone suggested that it didn’t have to be funny as it was on ITV and someone else went a step further and suggested that if we put Amanda Holden in it, it wouldn’t need actors either as she is so bad (please see Big Top – or rather, don’t. You’ll need to rip out your brain using a blunt spoonectomy afterwards).

My friends (but strangely not I), were inundated with levels of vitriol usually reserved for politicians or Gary Glitter (same difference). It seems that Ms Holden is enormously talented. Asked if she was better than Meryl Streep, the angry tweeter responded with “Never heard of her”.

A twargument (trying to get this word to catch on) ensued and lasted for most of the evening. It even earned a #tag on twitter #amandaholdenspat. Alas it didn’t quite have the legs to reach the trending charts.

People didn’t like having their idol (their word) sullied by a bunch of talentless nobodies (I think they meant us). They weren’t going to let this giant of the theatrical world be besmirched by unsophisticated oiks. Retribution was required. All they got were a few terse replies and a big tablespoon full of scorn.

I guess I’ll never know how these people can become so slavishly loyal and committed to a minor celebrity, or any celebrity for that matter. It’s right in there with people weeping openly when Princess Di or Michael Jackson died. Fine if you knew them, otherwise get a grip and get on with it for goodness sake.

We seem to cling to celebrity in this day and age as a sign of greater things. I can’t explain why. If we are going to defend something with the vigour and belief of a Spartan soldier, surely it should be for something better than a purveyor of “Britain’s got talent”?

My own days of fandom and idolisation are over. Although, I wonder if Michael Buble has a fan club…..?

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….