Tuesday 28 June 2011

Mowtown Junk

I sit here in my office (by ‘office’, I mean there’s a cheap table from Ikea and a dining-chair doubling up as a work-chair) overlooking the bins that have still yet to be collected by Southampton’s embittered bin-men. To be fair, you’d never know that they hadn’t been collected, as the lids on our bins are still closing, unlike the vast majority of those gleefully spilling over into paths, roads, patches of grass and other highlights of the urban landscape around the rest of the city. 1-0 Sam.

Clearly there’s something we’re getting wrong here. Why are we not making enough rubbish? What are we not buying that we should be buying? Or are we just really good at the whole squidging-it-down-to-get-it-as-flat-as-possible game? I’m not sure but there’s something slightly satisfying (only ‘slightly’ – I’m not that easily pleased) at knowing that the strike is having precious little impact on my life. It’s almost like I’m single-handedly (joint-handedly, if you include my wife) sabotaging the union’s months of hard work. In fact, given that I too face the choice of striking on Thursday along with thousands of other teachers, there’s a lot of scope here for me to scupper the grand plans for political revolution. Well, you’ve got to have aims in life.

Talking of aims…mowing. I have a new aim in life – to never mow a lawn again. Unfortunately, if I decide to update this blog around about this time next week I am pretty likely to be confessing that I have lacked the conviction needed to say no to short grass and will rather be recounting a glorious summer’s afternoon spent trimming the same green patch of delightfulness that so enraptured me this Sunday. We could have gone to the beach – my wife even suggested it, so it was a genuine possibility – or we could have drank cocktails in the back garden while watching the cat chase flies and narrowly avoid skidding into the pond. This world provides us with so many things we could do, so many things that appeal to us, that get our hearts racing and our minds active. I could have even written a blog entry or got back on with that novel I mention from time to time on here. But, no. Grass had to grow, didn’t it? It just had to keep growing – independent, spiteful little thing that it is – and I had to take out my frustration at another Vettel victory in the Formula One (represented here by the fricative alliteration, in case you hadn’t noticed…) by strimming, mowing, strimming, mowing, strimming, mowing (sometimes not even in that order) until the lawn finally resembled the flatness and levelness (real word?) of our bin lids.

Mowing reminds us that much of life is very repetitive, there are things that we simply cannot control and that we just have to accept, however irritating they are. (Note: this is where the blog is veering dangerously towards an insightful point. Feel free to leave now if you only popped by for the ‘humour’ and alliteration.)

It’s the same with cleaning, eating, tidying, drinking, filling bins, dusting, stroking cats, and many other life activities that just keep going round in unbreakable cycles. I mean, we can put a lot of effort into making a lasagne for lunch but we’re just going to have to eat again a few hours later. All that hard work and yet it hasn’t really solved anything. In fact, what it’s probably done is also add to the cleaning that needs to be done and contributed to the ever-growing pile filling up the bin.

So, what’s the plan? We tried to conquer rain (see a few blogs ago, if that means nothing to you) and that doesn’t seem to have worked, even if the weather has been a little better recently, so I’m not sure we’re going to have much luck tackling hunger, thirst and an in-built desire for cleanliness and order.

Anyway, I’m off to do the washing up, tidy the kitchen, sort the paperwork and make sure the cat gets fed…

Monday 20 June 2011

Sale of the Century

 

Who's the Bay sales 2

Yesterday was a big day in the life and times of Sam Lenton and so it seems only fitting to mention it in my blog. As you can see from the picture above, the DVD of my Christmas play, Who’s the Baby?, officially went on sale – by ‘officially’ I mean there was a table and a notice – and, as you can also see from the picture, copies were literally flying off the shelves…

OK, that’s not entirely accurate. They weren’t even on a shelf for starters, but at least they were out there and, if someone took a great dislike to them, then perhaps they were flying (just in a slightly more aggressive sense than would be ideal)?

It will also be abundantly clear to you that this is a big money business – I mean, sell enough of these and I can surely kiss teaching goodbye, can’t I? Two pounds isn’t exactly a price you’d see advocated on The Apprentice as a particularly positive marketing strategy but if I can cover the costs of production and still have enough left over to buy a Wispa then I’ll be a happy chappy. *Shudders at having written the phrase ‘happy chappy’*

On Saturday evening we hosted a gathering of the actors from the play (plus a special guest from my recent involvement in the Mark Drama) and enjoyed a viewing of the play, so I can vouch that it is at least watchable. Avatar it is not, but then again I don’t tend to think of the Nativity characters being blue anyway, so I’m probably not missing out on anything there. Nor is it in 3D, although the live version was. And as for bonus features, well, there’s a spelling mistake in the credits. See if you can spot it…

I say that, assuming that my loyal readers might somehow become my loyal watchers and, if possible, I would like to be able to make the DVD available for those of you who aren’t able to visit the one table from which copies are being sold (which, let’s be honest, is probably most people in the world – it’s a pretty small table…). I’ve tried to set it up as an item to purchase using a PayPal account and so I think the link below should give you the opportunity to buy it. The total cost comes out as £3.50, as I’ve added postage cost for those I’d need to send it to, but if you are likely to actually see me in person then it may well make a lot more sense to avoid all this unnecessary complexity and just hand over a couple of coins (preferably pound coins) next time you see me. Here’s the link: http://tinyurl.com/6ch7zyy

It’s only fair to tell you that I haven’t managed to test whether this definitely works or not and I’m not sure whether it will give you the opportunity to type in a delivery address, so if there are any issues then let me know and we can always sort it via email.

There is, of course, no requirement to buy this thing just because you read my blog and you’re more than welcome to tut and sigh as much as you like in response to my attempts at a bit of self-marketing. On the other hand, if you would like me to write a blog celebrating your existence and everything you stand for, then perhaps you’d like to buy multiple copies?

In other news, does anyone know of any good kettles? Preferably ones that don’t leak.

Thursday 16 June 2011

If it Rains

What is it with rain? Who does it think it is, being all wet and unpredictable? We never asked for it. We weren’t bored of the sun. Really. It was actually quite nice. And blue was always my favourite colour, as far as the sky goes. Not keen on this murky off-white, off-grey, off-blue amalgamation that it seems so fond of lately. Someone really needs to have a word.

In case you are living in one of England’s ‘drought’ areas, as reported on the news, and are developing an ever-growing sense of understanding of what it must be like to live in the Sahara, here is a picture of rain:

Note how the person in the picture battles heroically by clutching a flimsy frame of whatever material umbrellas are made out of. We live in an age of IPads and smoothie-makers and yet this is still the best we can come up with. Surely the point of technology is to offer solutions to on-going problems or inconveniences so that our lives are made as easy and comfortable as possible? I’m no historian but I’m pretty sure it’s rained for a number of years now and so you’d have thought that a solution would have been around the corner for some time.

As with so many things in life, perhaps Mark Watson has the answer? You see, in his show on Tuesday – it was great, by the way, as expected – he insisted that more people needed to boldly say ‘No!’ to the things in life that disgust and disappoint us (such as someone spitting in the street, to use his example). Apparently, it’s been very effective since he developed the courage to stop the spittle in its tracks, and so perhaps the next time it rains we should all look up to the sky and tell the clouds that we just aren’t having it? I mean, maybe no-one’s ever told them? Maybe they’ve gone about their business all these years thinking that we’re loving it down here?

Well, it’s time it stopped. If this blog achieves nothing else, then perhaps it can achieve the end of rain? Who knows, if we’re successful, perhaps we could tackle hail next year?

Tuesday 14 June 2011

Return of the Ma[r]k

 

  OK, time for a bit of idol-worship to liven up a Tuesday afternoon.

This evening, my wife and I have the pleasure of returning to see Mr Mark Watson in Fareham, barely 6 months after his triumphant gig in Southampton. I know, it’s almost like we’re stalking him…

Long-term readers of the blog (or those who have decided to catch up on the archive) will know that I began this blog writing process with a bit of shameless Watson-worship, pointing out that my work was unlikely to emulate the 10-year daily blog challenge that Mark set himself over a year ago (link here). The fact that I have produced 24 blog entries in just under a year would suggest that even a weekly blog challenge is beyond me, so once I again I am taking my metaphorical hat off to Mark for maintaining his contributions.

At the Southampton gig, I’m afraid I did do one of those ridiculous fan things of standing in a long queue waiting to say some gushing comment that would no doubt come out as ‘I like your shoes’ or something equally pointless, while clutching a copy of Mark’s latest novel ('Eleven') which I had rescued from the boot of my car just in time. The conversation went a little like this:

Sam’s wife: He’s your biggest fan. He wants to be like you. (Sam shakes his head in an embarrassed fashion and tries to look cool)

Mark: Oh – well – I’ve already got a biggest fan. My mum.

Sam: That’s OK. I couldn’t beat your mum. (Sam shakes his head eagerly, confirming to Mark that no, there is absolutely no way he would beat his mum. Mark nervously giggles and nods back.)

For some strange reason, we didn’t become instant friends, nor was I invited to join him on stage at all future gigs. In fact, if I recall, I didn’t even get a book deal out of it.

Saying that, nothing I’ve done recently (or in the past) seems to be getting me a book deal, so a change of strategy/ability is definitely needed…

I do hope I don’t say/do anything stupid tonight. On the plus side, if I do then it will make for a more interesting blog tomorrow.

(Note – in case you are very concerned about me, I’m going to reduce the term ‘idol-worship’ down to ‘admiration’.)

(Second note – who’s my biggest fan? Any volunteers?)

(Third note – Mark, on the off-chance that you’ve read this, I apologise profusely.)

Wednesday 8 June 2011

Name above all names

Having enjoyed (sorry, that should read ‘endured’) a walk home in the rain listening to the album from which this blog gets it name, it seemed only logical that I make 2 points:

1) I finish work quite early on a Wednesday – this is a good thing.

2) How important are names? I mean, really, how much difference do they make?

OK, I admit number 2 is more of a question (technically, 2 questions) than a point but, as the rain reminded me that it was pretty pointless carrying a broken umbrella in your bag, I found myself dwelling on names and wondering just how significant it is what something is called.

Take the new Meat Loaf album, ‘Hang Cool Teddy Bear’. £1 in Sainsbury’s at the weekend – wow – and my current favourite album with the word ‘teddy’ in the title. Just how important is that title to the success of the album? Regardless of your opinion on whether it is hideous or heroic (there are no other options, by the way), surely we must all agree that it’s a mark of intent? You don’t name an album like that if you want people to ignore you. At least, I’m assuming you don’t, having never released an album…

Film titles can say a lot about what you can expect from the the next two or three hours of your life. Remember the Kevin Costner film, ‘The Postman’? (If you don’t, by the way, please don’t get it out on DVD but just do a quick Wikipedia visit. Please. I can’t be held responsible for your actions if you do actually put yourself through that experience.) A simple title, no confusion there – this is about a postman, I’ve got it. It’ll be about more than that though, won’t it? It won’t just be three hours of a man walking across a desert to post a letter will it? Will it?

And then there was ‘Big Fish’, which sounded like the film angling fans have been craving for decades but was actually one of the most delightfully diverse and engaging films of the year (2003). A poor title but a brilliant film. So, what do we make of that? Did the title make any difference to the experience?

What about musicians? Would Bob Dylan have been successful as Robert Zimmerman? And what, exactly, was so wrong with ‘Reginald Dwight’ that ‘Elton John’ was brought in? What did the parents say, I wonder?

It’s amazing how often names just seem ‘right’ for the person and the role they play. Take footballers – Ronaldo, Rooney and Messi all sound like impressive players, but how far up the footballing ladder can Snodgrass and Heckingbotham ever hope to get? Credit to them for giving it a go but, really, I can’t see Heckingbotham becoming a household name (apart from in his own household, of course).

And so we come to my name (Sam Lenton, in case you haven’t been paying attention). Is that the name of a writer? Would people buy a novel by ‘Sam Lenton’ or see a play by ‘Sam Lenton’? Is it more of a novelist’s or a playwright’s name? Or would Samuel Lenton be better? How about Samuel J Lenton or SJ Lenton? Or shall we just go the whole hog and be called Tracy Barker or something like that?

In the Bible, names were often very significant and there are occasions where God tells people what to call their child in order to convey a particular message or represent something (Hosea being asked to call his son ‘Lo-amni’, meaning ‘not-my-people’ would be a good, albeit unfortunate, example). There don’t seem to be many people given names that mean ‘great footballer’ or ‘future Oscar winner for best original screenplay’ though, so perhaps this is why people are moving away from giving their children Biblical names and are now plumping for all sorts of objects, places, emotions and other random amalgamations. Well, why not? Perhaps my first child (no, this is not an announcement of any forthcoming pregnancy) should be called ‘Barbafta’ from the Greek meaning ‘son of a BAFTA winner’? We could. It might make the papers. I’m sure bullying will be extinct by the time he makes it to school anyway…

Friday 3 June 2011

Picture of you

A quick bonus blog today to test out Windows Live Writer, which I only discovered yesterday, and so if the shortness and dullness of this blog disappoints you, check out the others – there’s some cracking references to cats in most of them.

Apparently, this program allows me to insert pictures, so here goes…

It’s a wigeon! Photographic evidence that I wasn’t making things up yesterday. So there you go – looks nothing like a pigeon. The word ‘duck’ springs to mind.

And, as if the wigeon wasn’t enough, here’s a picture of the DVD case of my Christmas play:

Who's the Baby DVD case

This is actually what I’ve spent the vast majority of my time doing in the last couple of days, as I continued my slide down the geek league table by failing to figure out how to copy a DVD and make a slip-case for an embarrassingly long period of time.

And so, yes, the DVD is finally available and ready to knock Black Swan off its perch as the nation’s most wanted film. (Fill in your own definition of ‘nation’ here: _______________ )

So, has this blog worked? Do I continue using WLW for future entries? For answers to these and other such pressing questions of our time, tune in again soon.

Anyone gone on the Marmite website yet?

Thursday 2 June 2011

Overdue

I'd like to be able to tell you I've had a hectic last week that hasn't left me with a single second to type a blog but anyone who's been watching me the last few days - shame on you if you have, by the way - will know that I have in fact had precious little to do and so this latest entry is decidedly overdue and, from the looks of the first sentence, decidedly uninspiring.
I'll tell you one thing that is inspiring though - the internet. Anyone checked it out lately? Lots of amazing stuff on there. You'd have thought it would have been publicised more...
I really can't imagine what it must have been like to have lived in a time when you actually needed to know things and, if you weren't in possession of the relevant knowledge, you would then need to speak to real people or open up a book to find out the crucial nugget of information. Take yesterday's example - I wanted one of the characters in my play to make a comment about how he would run away from a fight when they were retired by zooming away on his mobility scooter. Could I remember the words 'mobility scooter'? No (you probably guessed that). And so, like any good writer who ensures his research is thorough and professional, I googled 'electric buggy old people drive' and, hey presto, within seconds I'd gone from awkward wordy reference to accurate vehicle. Huzzah! And this was only moments after discovering that there was a bird called a 'wigeon'. Trust me, that was an important find.
And then there was the Marmite website. Check it out.
On the news front, the redrafting of my play is coming along nicely, so expect to hear lots more about that in the near future. In other news, Sepp Blatter has become FIFA president again - probably not entirely fairly - and a couple called Gay and Alan came 3rd in last night's Britain's Got Talent semi-final after a stirring performance with the hand bells.
Oh, and I've just spent 4 days saying things like 'Jesus, we have a question' in a terrifyingly accusatory tone and screaming 'crucify him' and 'kill this man' into the face of someone who is not only about a foot taller than me but also has a much finer beard than I could ever muster. Going to www.themarkdrama.com may help you understand that last sentence better if you haven't been following my movements that closely recently. For a man who once famously said 'I don't act' ('famously' being a slight exaggeration), I seem to have been very bad at keeping my word, what with this being the second play in the space of 6 months. Before you know it, I'll be donning tights and make-up and saying things like 'it's behind you'...
For now, this blog must be behind me and I must plough on with scene four. Spoiler: a pizza man delivers an empty pizza box. He's not made out of pizza, if you're thinking this is all becoming quite Sci-Fi (does anyone else remember the monster made out of curry from Red Dwarf season four, by the way?), but he's certainly quite cheesy.
Note to self: don't try and include that joke in your play. It wasn't funny.

ShareThis