It
has been a strange old start to the year. Like millions of others I
have coughed and spluttered my way through January and into February
feeling pretty debilitated without actually succumbing to a dreaded
bout of the flu. I have partly been expecting a message from Tim
Peake on the International Space Station informing me that my nose
can be seen from space. I simply don't have the complexion to carry
off a bright red hooter.
It
is hardly surprising that so many people have been ill since the
weather in the UK has yo-yo'd between sub-zero and balmy. Daffodils
could be seen in January and bird migratory patterns have been
disrupted. If nature is baffled by the constant changes in the
weather pattern then what chance do we mere mortals have contenting
with the elements. Barely a day has passed since early December when
there hasn't been a story about some part of the UK being flooded or
battered by high winds.
My
knowledge of meteorology hits the buffer at anything more demanding
than admiring the cloud formation in a beautiful sunset but even I
know that the arrows on the national weather forecast usually
indicate a south-westerly wind blowing in from the Atlantic. My basic
understanding is that hurricanes that do so much damage on the East
Coast of America and the Caribbean Islands 'hitch a ride on the Gulf
Stream' and get blown across the Atlantic towards Europe. Perhaps
that is where my mind goes misty – in my understanding a stream is
a babbling brook while the Atlantic is a massive, powerful ocean –
so what happens when a brook and an ocean collide?
Even
more baffling is why several hardy groups of adventurers would want
to row across the Atlantic at this time of year. Not only are they
racing in ridiculously small boats but it would appear they are
rowing against the oncoming Hurricane Bert, Fred, Daisy or whoever's
turn it is to seize the limelight. I can only admire the courage,
dedication and tenacity of those that are undertaking this challenge.
Regrettably there is as much chance of me volunteering to spend 3
months being tossed about by giant waves in a glorified bathtub as
Jeremy Corbyn being elected President of the Tailor's Guild. In fact
I would go so far as to say that it is on my list of the top 50
things to avoid doing before I die.
The
headlines over recent weeks (and likely to dominate for months to
come) seem to have been dominated by David Cameron, Donald Trump, Kim
Jong-un, President Assad and Jose Mourinho. If someone would care to
cast them all adrift in a small boat then I doubt there would be too
many people raising any objection.
I've
just had strange palpitations at the thought of Donald Trump, Kim
Jong-un and Jeremy Corbin locked in a nuclear bunker fighting for
control of the red button.
Turning
to football, I like many others am now a fan 'on loan' to Leicester
City until the end of the season. Their rise to the top of the
Premier League this season has been phenomenal. In a season that has
seen so many of the big clubs under-performing they have managed to
capture the headlines for all the right reasons, playing an
entertaining and effective game and without the histrionics of
multi-millionaire superstars. If they continue to play the way that
they have done throughout the season so far then there is no reason
they cannot top the table come May. Much as I would have liked to see
Arsenal win the league I would really like to see Leicester succeed
if only see the bookies have to pay out those die hard Leicester
supporters who managed to place a bet on the club at the start of the
season when the odds were 5000/1.
The
start of the year has also seen the untimely deaths of David Bowie,
Ian 'Lemmy' Kilmister, Alan Rickman and Sir Terry Wogan. I had become
so used to seeing the TV news dominated by images of flooded homes
from around the country and waves of refugees fleeing conflicts in
Africa and the Middle East that ordinarily, any other topic would
have been received as a welcome distraction. Clearly the BBC
management thought a change in direction was overdue since the news
coverage for several days following the announcement of Bowie's death
was dominated by tributes from all and sundry interspersed with
repeated clips from their extensive archive charting his career. What
I found particularly irritating was the fact that many of the reports
were virtually lifted from the wikipedia pages, so much cheaper than
sending reporters to research a story.
I
can't say that I was the greatest of fans though I did admire his
ability to continuously push musical boundaries in new directions. I
was at secondary school when Ziggy Stardust rose (and fell). There
were a few of the lads who sported the famous red mullet and some of
the local kids used to hang around outside his Beckenham home but
there were numerous other bands vying for supremacy in the playground
in those days, not least Led Zeppelin, Roxy Music, Rod Stewart, Pink
Floyd, Genesis and Yes.
A
lot of the Bowie tributes seemed to emanate from Brixton, where he
was born and lived till the age of 6. Having lived in the
neighbourhood he grew up in I was interested to see how his death was
being 'celebrated' in the area. The Three Tuns (now the Rat and
Parrot) in Beckenham, where he used to perform as part of the
Beckenham Arts Lab have honoured his contribution with a plaque since
2001. As far as I could make out all that Bromley Council did
following his death was put out a press statement acknowledging the
fact that David Bowie had once lived in the borough, though I do seem
to remember seeing somewhere that they were intending to 're-double'
their efforts to provide some form of recognition for him when they
renovate the Bandstand at the Beckenham Recreation Ground, a venue he
famously played in 1969. Given the present state of local authority
finances I would assume that this could amount to a sticker sized
plaque on the side of a rubbish bin – not quite the same as the
mural that was created of him in Brixton.
The
sad part is that his death came 2 days after the release of his
latest album of new material which has received much critical
acclaim. Though I would prefer to think of it as a joyous achievement
that he was able to complete the album prior to his death. I can't
but help recalling that both John Lennon and Freddie Mercury released
seminal albums shortly before their deaths, I hope it is not a trend
for others to follow.
Much
like Bowie, Terry Wogan and Lemmy had been around for so long at the
top of their game that it is hard to conceive the idea of a world
without them - such is the nature of icons.
I
am just about old enough to remember the days of Late Night Extra, an
early venture at the BBC for the veteran broadcaster. Personally I
preferred his earlier successes to those post global domination.
There is no argument that he was immensely charming and talented
though I did feel there was a point in his career when he became a
caricature of himself. The ability to speak on the radio in a manner
that audiences perceive as an intimate conversation between the
presenter and the listener is a difficult skill to perfect and one
that he recognised very early in his career. I think it was when
Spitting Image came up with their quirky take on the Wogan Blarney
that he seemed to try and ape the jocularity of the puppet creation.
Unlike the puppet he didn't have to try to be funny, he was at his
best when he was being natural and bouncing off his audience and
guests – that is what great entertainers do, and he was up there
with the best.
