FUN WITH THE BEAST

I was reading an article on that well known news site run by the Broken Biscuit Company, when a headline caught my eye.

Apology for lost children on Beast of Bryn fun run

Now there are several things that strike me about that headline.

What have fun and run got to do with each other? Running is something you do if you are late, maybe when the bus or train is about to leave. Avoiding danger, such as a rabid dog or raging bull will require some sort of increase in your ambulatory pace. But doing it for fun?

Fun seems to be inserted into almost anything these days. Let's reduce the size of our chocolate bars to a single bite… I know, we'll call them fun size. The only fun had there is the manufacturer watching the profits rack up as poor deluded chocoholics are tricked into buying less for the same price, in the belief it will be fun.

Anyway, I digress.

My second thought was about the location. Are the organisers sure that children will find any fun whatsoever being asked to run somewhere that has 'beast' in its title? Maybe this was needed to elicit that increase in ambulatory pace mentioned above. Perhaps the organisers thought scaring young children was the fun part. I know when I was a child, one, I wouldn't have run in the first place, and two, even if I had been forced to take part I would have spent the whole time scouring the horizon for any signs of a beast. That would not have been fun.

Now it would appear the reason the children became lost was because there wasn't a marshal pointing them in the right direction, and rather than follow their own, much shorter route, they finished up on the adult route.

Good grief, anyone with children knows that if you have more than one, you need the skills of a shepherd, not to mention the obligatory Border Collie and a whistle like a steam locomotive. Children need to be herded. Give them the slightest opportunity and they will wander off in any direction, just like old people really. The problem is they have the homing instincts of Salmon and will always find their way back. Heaven knows I tried to lose my three often enough over the years.

Anyway, the Mountain Rescue Team were asked to play the part of the Border Collie, and all the children were duly returned to the start.

Despite there being a bit of a hullabaloo about this, as far as I can see everyone did have fun in the end. The kids got lost, the Mountain Rescue had a practice and the press got to blow things out of all proportion.

Perhaps for the next event they could leave out the running part and make it fun for everyone.

TENACITY…OR PURE STUBBORNNESS?

I remember some time ago watching a Royal Variety Performance, when Comedian Al Murray, in the guise of The Pub Landlord, paid tribute to the tenacity of a venerable British hero.

Now no one knows the origins of the story, or even the era in which these heroic actions took place. Some say it was Ireland, some say Britain, and some say, with a little green in their eyes perhaps, that it was the United States.

Sorry Good Ol’ US of A, you can have Batman and Superman, but Incy Wincy Spider is, and will remain, British, and we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island…sorry got a little carried away there, but I’m sure Mr Churchill would have agreed.

Anyway, I digress. As admirable as it is, the tenacity of Incy Wincy Spider has been found somewhat lacking. Now don’t get me wrong, I still admire Incy and what he achieved in his all too brief life, but there is a new kid on the block who has taken the word tenacity not just to a new level, but has redefined the meaning entirely. What’s worse is he isn’t even British. Fortunately he isn’t German or French (sorry guys, just kidding), no it’s worse than that, he’s Swiss.

Yes, from the land of the cuckoo clock, chocolate and incredibly efficient trains, comes a person who has achieved the unachievable. Mr Joseph S (Sepp) Blatter has managed to get himself elected as the president of FIFA for an unbelievable fifth term.

Now I have been to Switzerland, beautiful country, incredibly odd people. What struck me the most about the place was the mountains. I didn’t see any deserts at all, and yet Mr Blatter seems to have his head firmly in a vast ocean of sand when it comes to the corruption in world football. Of course there is the possibility it’s not the sand his head is in, but a part of his own anatomy, although there are others that might suggest his head is in someone else’s anatomy. I won’t name names, I have no wish to go to Siberia.

What it boils down to is a complete arrogance on the part of the FIFA president if he believes that he is the man to solve the problems within the governing body of world football. He is a part of the problem.

All we can hope for is that Incy Wincy will come back and restore the reputation of this once proud game.

Hours in the day

My good friend Seumas Gallacher has sold a book or two (for that read tens of thousands!).  Now that hasn’t happened by accident. He’s put in the time and effort to make that work. Now here’s my issue with that. There are not enough hours in the day to do it. He is clearly a Time Lord.

And when I think of it he would make an excellent Doctor Who. Sure we have had Scottish Doctors in the past, but I don’t think we have had a kilt wearing Doctor before.

Anyway, I digress. Back to the hours in the day, Where do I start? Unfortunately, my work takes up the first part of my day (7 hours including travelling. I know, I know, part-timer. I’ve heard it all before). That leaves me 17 hours to do the things I need to do. I spend roughly an hour and half a day cooking, and another hour a day eating (average figure from t’internet. This does seem a little on the low side for me. The’ve never seen me eat). Thirty minutes a day is spent in the bathroom. We are now down to 14 hours.

Now as I am married, I spend about an hour a day listening to my wife unload her day. I don’t begrudge it (I daren’t, she’s Scottish too!)

I spend at least two hours a day answering emails, researching for the book and generally doing the things that need to be done in my non-postal world in Bahrain (we do have post, but it took them six weeks to deliver my special delivery to London – back to me in Bahrain. It never left the country!)

So where are we? Twelve hours. Out of that take the eight hours sleep that I’m supposed to have and we are down to four.  Two hours watching TV with my wife (I have to see her sometime in the day. Apparently it’s what married people do.) I now have two hours left to myself, to do all the marketing thingies I have to do. Oh – actually I don’t, because I am supposed to be writing my next book. So that leaves me zero hours, and that isn’t counting all the bits of time lost looking for things like keys and phones and things that aren’t where I left them (My wife calls it being tidy, I call it not knowing where things are).

Now I can, and do cut down on the sleep, because I read. Writers have to read otherwise they won’t know what works and what doesn’t.

So I have to ask Seumas frae Gallifrey. How on earth do you do it?

A guide to burning meat

A guide to the barbeque.

It’s that time of year again, when the guys get their aprons on and show the women how to cook meat (apparently).

Maybe it’s a throwback to being the hunter-gatherer, who knows? – but most of us enjoy a good old barbie (this is not a reference to dolls. The judge told me I had to stop that sort of thing).

Anyway, I digress. What is the secret to a good bbq?

First of all, get someone else to invite you to theirs. That usually works out well. You get to enjoy the same burnt meat as you would at your own, but without the effort. If that fails then here is my guide to cooking outdoors.

Ensure you have enough meat. Nothing is worse than a bbq that is all side dishes and no protein. The idea is to show off your cooking prowess, after showing off your hunting skills ( OK, we hunt at the butchers these days, just as dangerous on pension day as hunting in the wild.)

Prepare as much as possible the day before. This includes the meat. Pre-cooking the meat beforehand makes life a lot easier. I don’t mean fully cook it, but enough to reduce the time on the bbq. Don’t worry, there will still be enough juices dropping onto the coals/flames to produce the smoke which gives bbq meat its flavour. (Apparently, in tests done elsewhere, gas bbq’s give just the same flavour as charcoal ones. I tend to agree. We have a gas one and I can still get that carbon effect on all my meat). Salads, coleslaw, salsas etc., can all be prepared in advance.

Make sure your bbq is up to temperature in plenty of time. If you are using charcoal, remember it takes at least ten to fifteen minutes to get it to the right temperature.

If you haven’t prepared in advance, (why not?!) make sure you put on first the meat that needs a longer cooking time. No use sticking the sausages on when you have chicken portions to cook. The idea is to have all your meat cooked to perfection at the same time, so use heat zones and timing to ensure this happens.

Don’t overcook. This is one of the reasons you should pre-cook. There is always the temptation to leave chicken on a little longer ‘just in case’. Pre-cook and this isn’t necessary. Alternatively, use a meat thermometer. Not too expensive, and your meat will be spot on every time.

Only invite friends that will lie to you about the quality of food (this is very important if you didn’t pre-cook, don’t have a thermometer, or left it on a little bit longer ‘just in case’). Alternatively, ensure there is enough to drink so they don’t care anyway.

Don’t get stressed. At a bbq people will wait longer for their food than they would otherwise, and will eat pure carbon if they have to. Hunger can be useful.

Bon appetit.

p.s. In Bahrain, there is an easy way to cook meat. Put it on a griddle outside for ten minutes. Job done.

THERE IS A TOWN CALLED BLACKPOOL

When I was learning how to be an aircraft engineer, I lived in a seaside town in the North-West of England, called Blackpool. Those of you from the UK will know it, and those from the rest of the world probably won’t.

It has been called the Vegas of the North, but from what I have seen of Vegas on the TV, that’s the equivalent of suggesting Hilary Clinton is Washington’s answer to Miss World. (Oh I know some of you will have the hots for her, but come on! Some of you voted Marge Simpson into FHM’s top 100 women list!).

Anyway, I digress. One of the features of Blackpool is that every year they have a spectacular light display, with the very imaginative title of ‘The Illuminations’. Six miles of tableaux, street and building decorations, using over one million light bulbs (and you thought your electricity bill was bad).

There I was, on my trusty Honda CB125, toddling along the promenade taking in the sights. Well why not? The illuminations are only on for sixty days a year so take the opportunity and have a look.

Now at this point I should mention Blackpool has retained an old fashioned transportation system, the tram. For those of you from across the pond, think street-car but with overhead electric cables. In the main, these trams run on their own section of the promenade, separate from the road, except in one place. You can probably see where I’m going with this by now.

One of the less attractive features of the CB125 is the narrowness of the tyres. As I came to this section of road my front tyre went down into one of the tram tracks and I wrenched on the handlebars and got it out again ….aha!…fooled you, … only to have it immediately drop into the adjacent track.

A major requirement for riding a motorcycle is having the ability to steer. Clearly, when it has taken on the characteristics of a train, that ability has been lost. To this day I remember the words ‘Oh Sh%@’ coming out in ultra slo-mo as I slowly toppled over to one side and slid up the road. Now as if this wasn’t bad enough, the Illuminations attract over 3 million visitors a year. I believe most of them were there that night, watching my one man stunt show.

One car driver stopped, leaned out of his window, looked down at me lying on the floor and asked,

‘Are you okay?

‘I think so.’

And with that he drove off.

I managed to pick myself up, and wheeled the bike to the side of the road. I spent the next ten minutes trying to straighten the bent gear lever, when all I wanted to do was go and hide somewhere. I do believe they missed an opportunity that night to save on the electric bill, as the glow from my face would have lit up the entire promenade with ease. At least I had the sense to keep my helmet on so no one would know who I was (shame my helmet had ‘Glen’ painted on it).

HOW TO GIVE A CAT A PILL

Today, one of my work colleagues turned up for work wearing several band-aids on his fingers. Apparently, he had been trying to give his cat a pill. I know from experience of our cats how difficult it can be (One of the cats anyway, the other eats them if they are put in with cat treats. He ain’t the brightest…)

So I decided to dig out an old guide to giving your cat a pill. Many of you will have seen this before, but it is worth reading again as it contains valuable advice, particularly when it comes to the use of alcohol. (medicinal of course).

1. Pick cat up and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat’s mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.
3. Retrieve cat from bedroom, and throw soggy pill away.
4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.
5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse from garden.
6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat’s throat vigorously.
7. Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.
8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.
9. Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans, drink one beer to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse’s forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10. Retrieve cat from neighbour’s shed. Get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with rubber band.
11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Drink beer. Fetch bottle of Scotch. Pour shot, drink. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Apply whisky compress to cheek to disinfect. Toss back another shot. Throw tee-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.
12. Call fire department to retrieve the friggin’ cat from tree across the road. Apologise to neighbour who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil-wrap.
13. Tie the darn thing’s front paws to rear paws with twine and bind tightly to leg of dining room table, find heavy duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of steak. Be rough about it. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.
14. Consume remainder of Scotch. Get spouse to drive you to A&E, sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.
15. Arrange for Animal Rescue to collect mutant cat and call local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

How to give a dog a pill.

1.   Wrap it in bacon.

THE FOLLY OF YOUTH

Back in my youth (what do you mean? …yes I can remember that far back), I used to own a Honda CB125 motorcycle. To me, that was the equivalent of a cowboy on his horse. I took that motorcycle everywhere. It even spent some time in my parents’ kitchen while rebuilding the engine (that’s another story in itself).

The CB125 was, and still is, a little workhorse of a machine, and would do almost anything I asked of it (over 55mph was a refusal, unless downhill with a following wind and police car)

I grew up in the Lancashire Pennines, surrounded by moorland, and it wasn’t unusual to find me and a friend riding cross country on our trusty steeds. We would go miles across the hills with not a soul in sight. Imagine trying to do that these days. Within a hundred yards you would be stumbling into the crew building the latest wind farm. (Are we seriously planning on flying the UK to another location in the world? Reverse the current and we would have a tremendous amount of thrust at our fingertips!)

Anyway,  I digress. Behind my parents’ house was a disused railway line (see April blog post ‘Passion’, and if you are really keen to see it, watch the 1961 film Whistle Down The Wind). Now this particular weekend it snowed, followed by light rain, which turned the snow into slush. Overnight the slush froze, creating the perfect skating rink on the cinder bed of the former shunting yard.

Cue two ‘wallies on wheels’. Yep, you guessed it. We decided this would be a good place to go for a ride. Now, I’m not sure how much fun we had, but I’m sure the spectators had plenty. Ever seen Bambi on the frozen lake? Oh, we were fine to start with, and then we stopped…together… and did the synchronised splits. Foot one way, bike the other. It’s bad enough that one of you does it, but when it looks like you are auditioning to be a dance duet it can be just a touch embarrassing.

But that wasn’t the end of it, oh no. Ever tried to pick up a motorcycle on the equivalent of a Teflon coated frying pan? After several minutes of a Keystone Cops routine, we finally managed to remount, and gingerly headed back to somewhere with a little more grip, and where we could hide our glowing red faces.

The first steps 

Created: Monday, 18 May 2015 09:30 | Written by Glen R Stansfield

Winnie the Pooh, Cat in the Hat, Paddington Bear, these are titles that bring back memories. These are some of the books I read as a child. Now as books go, they aren't exactly at the pinnacle of literary achievement. However, what they did was to transport me to another world. They taught me to understand I didn't have to stay in this world; I could go to any world I chose, as long as someone had written about it.

These books, amongst many others, gave me a lifelong interest in reading.

They gave me more than that. They gave me a lifelong interest in exploring, questioning, learning; our worlds, other worlds, relationships, pretty much anything you can think of. Their value lies way beyond the words they contain.

Apparently, I learned to read at an early age. By the time I went to school, I was able read the newspaper (clearly not the Financial Times as I still have no money). I don't remember it, but I remember wondering why others in my class had no idea how to read. We need to teach children before they start school and in such a way they enjoy reading. They must never find it a chore, it should always be fun. My children are adults now, and they still enjoy reading. They too learned at an early age, and the love of books has stayed with them. And just think how much time teachers could devote to other things if the basics of reading were already with the children when they start at school. Perhaps starting early is the key to a continuing love of the written word. I am sure many parents do teach their children, but equally, many don't, and that is such a shame.

 What does concern me is that I don't see many children reading, plenty on games consoles and playing on mobile phones. I can't recall the last time I saw a child with a book in their hands. Wouldn't it be a shame if we lose that ability to be transported to a fantasy land? A place where anything is possible, where reality can be suspended and a wondrous world created. 

Fishing for Stones  available on Amazon.com: http://amzn.to/1ESivr5  Amazon.co.uk: http://amzn.to/1Hc5Sss

We do what?! 

Created: Sunday, 17 May 2015 08:18 | Written by Glen R Stansfield

The book world is a strange one.

The author puts in many hours of effort, hundreds of the little things in fact, to produce something for others to get pleasure from.

The book goes to the marketplace; the author then puts in many more hours to get the book to sell.  If they are lucky the sales will be in the hundreds, if they are very lucky, maybe in the thousands. Only the extremely lucky will hit the jackpot with bestsellers worldwide.

And yet, every year the number of authors is increasing, we are drowning in a sea of stories, many written by very talented people.

Once the initial surge of sales (surge might not be an appropriate word, but we'll use it anyway) dies down, we look to further the sales by offering discounts. Once this has run its course we have to resort to giving our books away in the hopes that some positive reviews will spur on more people to pay for a copy.

Whoa!, We do what? When was the last time you saw Ford or Mercedes, or General Motors offering a free car to increase sales? Has your greengrocer offered you a day's shopping, on the house, in the hopes you will come again? I can tell you, the number of times I have seen that happen I can count on the fingers of my foot. So why on earth do we do that with our books?

I'm assuming that somewhere in the dim and distant past, someone came up with the idea to leap ahead of the others.  Whoever it was created a monster. Now the public sits back and waits for the freebies. To be fair, don't you, if you know at some point you'll get something for nothing?

So are we writing for profit? On the face of it, no, we couldn't possibly be. If you calculate our hourly rate on the average book sales, we are likely to make more money picking up dropped coins from the pavement, or sitting there with a hat and a soulful expression.  So is it for the love? I think that has something to do with it. I know I love to write, and I love the positive feedback from others (I don't look at the negatives, I'm a sensitive soul). On the other hand, I still buy lottery tickets so maybe that is the real reason.

p.s. If anyone from Jaguar is listening, I'll give you a really good review for a free F Type!

Fishing for Stones is available from Amazon.com  http://amzn.to/1KWjvQa  and Amazon UK http://amzn.to/1bJe6iJ  but it isn't free!

Words (nothing to do with Microsoft!) 

Created: Thursday, 14 May 2015 08:13 | Written by Glen R Stansfield

Aren't words wonderful things? What would the world be like without them? Words turn our thoughts into something we can communicate to others, that is if they use the same words as we do (heavy stuff for the morning, eh?). They are not only used to describe the physical world; they convey abstract thoughts such as emotions and ideas.

Words can take you to another world.  If I say "he looked through the window," you will have a mental image of a man looking through a window.  To some, he may be in his living room, looking out into the garden.

To others he might be standing outside a shop looking at the window display (Okay, I know most men don't window shop, but you never know). If you live in my world, you will see a hooded figure, dressed all in black and hiding in the bushes - axe in hand. He watches a woman prepare a meal in her kitchen, (that's my writing world, not my real world, before you call the Police!)

Now suppose I say, ' he looked through a tall, narrow, stained-glass window, one of many set into the rough granite walls of the tiny chapel,' - you will have a similar image to mine. Admittedly, it's not going to be exactly the same, they will never be identical.

By adding a few words to my sentence, I conveyed my thoughts to your head. It's what an author does.

I'm sure we've all read books where we want to get to the end to find out what happened, but we don't want finish and come back to reality. Those stories show a job well done by the author. They took you to their world and made you want to be there. A good book is more than the sum of the words it contains.

So it's important we use words well, making sure every one of them counts. Words are mighty powerful, and isn't that a good thing? How else would I be able to tell you my stories?

Talk the Talk

Created: Monday, 11 May 2015 06:22 | Written by Glen R Stansfield

Today is going to see another first for me.

I have been persuaded /invited / coerced* into giving a talk at the Bahrain Writers' Circle monthly meeting.  I have given a couple of talks in the past about my work and a charity I'm involved with. So I should be fine, yes? No! Tonight will be my first as a published author, and will be talking to other published authors.

Not a real published author, some might say. You are self-published. Yes I am, as I had always intended to be.

I know there is still an amount of stigma attached to being self-published, but nowhere near as much as there used to be.

Even Print on Demand (POD ) is becoming more accepted in the big wide world, as people are waking up to the writing revolution.

The downside to all this is that there are mountains of badly written or badly edited books out there, and every author has to compete with them. Some I have persevered with because I could see the terrific story behind the poorly executed or badly edited writing, while others I abandoned when it became clear there was no structure or even story there at all. And you have to remember I still struggle trying to read Hemmingway, one of the gods of writing.

Anyway, I digress. Reading is a very personal thing. Like food, just because one person likes the recipe, it doesn't mean the next will. Before self-publication we had to rely on the tastes of a relatively small number of people to serve us something we could all eat. On the other hand, they did filter out the badly executed recipes, but they also filtered out some absolute crackers.

Now, publishing is an equal opportunity employer. We can all have a go, and like they say, the only way to become a better writer is to write. I look forward to seeing some of the huge amount of talent that is still hidden away out there.

Go on. Have a go at publishing your own work. It probably won't make you rich, but it will give you an immense amount of satisfaction when that first sale is made.

(*delete as appropriate)

Fishing for Stones is available on Kindle.

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

An election I hear

Created: Tuesday, 05 May 2015 06:57 | Written by Glen R Stansfield

I don't normally say anything about politics. Well, that's not true, I don't usually say anything in public. However, (you knew that would be coming didn't you?) the current election campaign in the UK leaves me speechless. Also not true, it leaves me seething.

This is the only time you will see something akin to panic from a politician. Panic, because he knows in a few days' time he may not have a job.

Welcome to our world Mr Politician.

Welcome to the world where you don't get expenses for a house nearer your work; where you don't get paid to travel to your place of employment; you don't get an allowance for a box of pens, or a secretary or a duck-house, or having your moat cleaned. Welcome to a world where you may not have a job tomorrow, or the next day and every other day, not for one day on a four or five yearly cycle.

And whilst we are on the subject, how about a campaign based on what you are really going to do, not what you want us to think you are going to do?  A campaign based on honesty and truth, not lies and deceit; one based on decent and fair competition, not telling us how evil the other parties are. We know how evil they are because they are no different to your party.

Here's a novel thought. How about politicians start to do what is right for the country and the people, not what is good for the Rt. Hon. So-and-so? Granted, there are some politicians that do good for their constituencies, work hard for their communities. I have a suggestion for those politicians; form your own party – the 'We'll Do What's Right for You' Party. Then we'll see the biggest swing in voting ever, because you know what? – the electorate is sick of hearing the same old lies and excuses.

Anyway, I digress. Apparently there is some sort of election in the UK soon. I look forward to hearing the well balanced comments from the politicians of all parties (yes, even the Greens).

Guess I won't be getting anything in the Honours list this year then.