Sterling Silver Lining’s Playbook …

*I know, Clicky, that’s a huge sign… /lights up …*

This, Dear Reader, is a story of LoL Assistant Kit Bisto…

*I know, five fingers… /drags… who’d have funk it …*

…And the deal he and I struck one day in the kitchen. I’ve mentioned the story before…

…but two things happened yesterday. First I read a news story about a mother and teenage son ‘contract‘…

Chase,

You may see Pitch Perfect 2 under these conditions: By Wednesday you will deliver to me a two-page essay which will be your response to the movie. Your response will answer the following questions:

1. What is this movie’s message about sex?

2. What is this movie’s message about women’s bodies? (In particular about being overweight? Are any of these messages sexist?)

3. Is there any racism in this movie? What scenes?

4. Are there any messages in this movie about love, friendships, or careers that are positive?

5. Would you recommend this movie to your sisters? Why or why not?

So, you can see this movie- but only as a critic, not as a blind consumer. You in?

Love, Mama

*Five questions and 8 questions marks, does seem a tad demanding but, Clicky, don’t judge; the woman knows her son. Plus he’s a teenager … Kit Kat was just a kitten in primary school at the time of our deal …*

The Setting

A kitchen in a terraced house, somewhere in Essex.

Mum, a woman in her early 40s, is standing at the sink, washing up up dishes and staring out of a window at the garden beyond. Kit, a boy of 7 or 8 dressed in school uniform, enters the kitchen and kicks at a cupboard door.

Kit Arghhhh!

Mum Kitten! What’s wrong?

Kit (dramatic sigh) I hate smoking!

Mum dries her hands on a tea-towel and turns to Kit. She reaches over, gently pulls him to her and strokes his hair.

Mum But you don’t smoke, Kit. You’re not old enough.

Kit Smoking kills.

Mum Did you learn that in school today?

Kit Assembly…

Mum Are you worried because mummy smokes?

Kit (nods) I wish it would go away…

Mum Kit. I choose to smoke because I like it. (pulls away to look at his face) Besides, I’ve read a lot about smoking and I don’t believe it kills.

Kit But, school said…

Mum Kitty. School has to teach you that. I’m sure your teachers haven’t looked into it as much as I have. Some people that really don’t like smoking got the government to tell your school to tell you smoking kills. They wish it could go away, too. (rubs chin) It’s like those people that don’t like video games…

Kit Video games?

Mum Yes. Some people would like to see video games banned because they might turn you into a bad person who hurts or kills people. If they banned video games I would have to stop you playing…

Kit What?!

Mum Honestly Kit, I’ve looked into video games as well as smoking. I don’t think you’ll turn into a bad person because I let you play them. You’re not a bad person are you?

Kit No.

Mum No, of course you’re not. Look, I’ll tell you what (pauses) Let’s make a deal… I won’t let them bully me about your playing video games and you don’t let them bully you about my smoking. Deal?

Kit Okay, deal.

*Oh, the second thing that happened yesterday … Ha ha, um … Kit handed me some ‘Sterlings’ …*

Sterling Back *… in fact he insisted on staying and watching the second one with me …*

*…/holds sides… Honestly, Clicky, I’ve still got a stitch from last night’s laughing … Fuck it. I’m gonna click it again. I swear that boy is a genius sometimes … Go on, give our readers a song …*

“Will someone please tell me what happened to Harley?”

*Clicky, are you feeling sensitive? Why don’t I just tell them to hit on your images to be transported to somewhere else?*

*Alright! Sheesh …*

This is a post about synchronicity …

… not all of synchronicity, of course, I’d be here all bloody day and night. No, this is a sync concerning this very post, which I was formulating yesterday evening, and with a comment smoking blogger Frank Davis made today, which ended up as his post’s title: “Will someone please tell me what happened to Harley?”.

First up, Christopher Lee died on 7th June but I only read about it yesterday:

When many film fans remember Christopher Lee, his role as evil white wizard Saruman in The Lord of the Rings will be one of the first to spring to mind. But while that performance was brilliant, the ingenious way Lee bagged it is even more awesome.

The British actor, who died aged 93 on 7 June, was such a mammoth Tolkien fan that he re-read the fantasy books every year without fail.

When he once met the author in a pub (yes, in real life, he’s the only cast member to have done so), he had a total starstruck meltdown and could barely speak, despite being a horror movie legend for the likes of Dracula already.

For the life of me I cannot remember what fault I found in Josh Kirby’s front cover illustration of a Harley …

… I can’t even drive a car and am certainly not mechanically minded …

*squint …*

… but I remember writing my letter as soon as I’d finished reading ‘Soul Music’ and peppering it lots of …

“Hat. Hat. Hat.” made me laugh so hard, I had to let the author know. I really wasn’t expecting to get a reply …

*Clicky, we’ve had this conversation before about life before the internet … then, books were ‘books’ not ‘boks ‘ …*

Of course, Christopher Lee voiced Death in the TV adaptation of that Discworld story.

*No Clicky, Ian Richardson voiced Death in ‘The Hogfather’ … I’m talking about ‘Soul Music’ … Oh doo keep up …*

Harley Quinn is a character from Batman, of course …

*/puts finger in ear* … STOP PRESS! Harley is OK … I repeat, another smoker is not dead yet …*

“Feeling good for the most part just sore as hell all over and tired. You gotta figure I went almost a month with no sleep and it took til my 4th day home before the pain from my sternum and ribs quelled down enuf to finally sleep. Of course I was off all that damned morphine that made me a literal madman in the hospital for 4-5 days I was swinging and hitting everyone.”

I think that calls for a Song …

*Good choice, Clicky… /taps feet … I’m so glad to hear Harls is feeling better. I should go over there and say hello. Coming?*

Ay, there’s the rub …

I say, I say, I say … my dog’s got no nose …

*Oh Clicky-Doo that’s wonderful … photography is not my forte …*

*******

“I suppose you can always jazz it up.” Thoughtful Man handed the camera back to me, perfectly timed to his zooming squint. “What’s the connection between the two?”

“Whitehouse…” My eyes signaled which way I would turn my head before I did. Left in this instance.

“That’s extremely tenuous and nobody will understand the connection, except me”. Laser squint dissolved into rapid blinking. “One. Newman and Baddiel were only half of the ‘Mary Whitehouse Experience‘.” He shook his head. “And number two. We only met Paul Whitehouse at Roy’s play.”

It’s true. At half time in the bar Roy, Thoughtful Man’s best friend from school, and basis of one of the play’s two main characters, introduced us to the great man. We said “Hi”.

“You were too shy to even talk to him, for goodness sake!”

*Marc Warren, Clicky? Oh he was very shy when I told how brilliant he was at playing Thoughtful Man …*

“Hello. Seriously, are you not listening to me?” He was wearing his ‘You’re not listening to me’ expression.

“Of course I was listening.” I thought fast. “You said, ‘You can connect anything to anything else if you look hard enough. It’s just coincidence. Everybody has them’.” I turned the camera back and took his photo *Click*.

The squint was back. “Lucky guess”.

“Of course. I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I married you.” Unfortunately the deadpan delivery only served intensified the squint.

“True.” He rubbed his chin. “But you do spend far too much time on the internet.” Again true …

“I’ll be as flexible as I can with your synchronicity malarky but I’ll be glad when your holiday is over and you get back to real work.” His face was set …

*I said ‘set’, Clicky.*

Gently, he took the camera back, laid it on the table and took my hand. “Why are you spending all day chatting to great unwashed, listening to rubbish and chasing old laughs?” He looked at me thoughtfully. “I’m on holiday, too. We could connect”.

*Not fair and not true, Clicky… /rolls eyes… So jealous…*

With Knobs On

*Following Joe Public approval … Thanks … Click /giggle*

“Come and have a look at this!” chortled Thoughtful Man from across the room. I looked up, for I was bending over, having an interesting rummage though the programmes delivered last week. I was looking for one in particular. “Hmm?”

“You’ve got to see this”. He sounded excited, which doesn’t happen often, so best not avoided. Fortunately I’d found what I was looking for. Rising, I turned to see him leering and pointing at Elsa, the LoL computer. “It’s an old advert for WD-40”. “That can’t be real”. I said wiping a tear of mirth from my eye. As funny as it was, it couldn’t possibly be real.

“I shouldn’t think so. It’s on the internet.” He winked at me. “Although WD-40 was originally from ‘The Rocket Chemical Company’.” He winked again. Genuine or not, it had put him in a good mood. “And what were you looking for?” he said jovially, plucking the battered programme I was clutching from my hand. “I don’t remember this one. Which one was this?” He thumbed through the pages before handing it back. “It was the one with the willy.” He stared back at me blankly. “Frankie and Benny” I continued but nothing was clicking except maybe confusion; I’d forgotten about our local bistro.

I explained that I’d just watched the Graham Norton show, which had featured Stephen Merchant promoting his new play, ‘The Mentalists’. He would have to get nude on stage and we’d seen extremely funny, dare I say ‘flapping’, nudity when we’d gone to see ‘Dead Funny’.

He looked at me knowingly. “Trust you to remember that”. “The funniest thing is that I saw the actor, David Haig, sometime after at London Bridge station, during rush hour.” I paused as a look of horror crossed his face. “Stood right next to him actually.”

“You didn’t?”.

“What? Compliment him on the acting abilities of his willy?” I smiled sweetly. Thoughtful Man shook his head, covered his eyes and sighed. Deeply. “Would I do something as crass as that?”.

I couldn’t see the squint but it was definitely there, behind his fingers. “I wouldn’t put anything past you woman.” He turned back to Elsa and started clicking. “Have a song”.

TB or not TB … What was the question?

By Joe Public demand */chortle*

“What was that song Labour were so fond of? ‘Things can only get better’?“

Clicky got everso excited earlier on today after I showed him a blog post, by Anna Raccoon, about the UK’s No.1 export, prime Wanker Tiny Blur …

*I know, Clicky, prominently displaying your logo helps sales, I think …*

Not happy with just bringing peace to the Middle East …

… The grate man is now dead-set on bringing ‘tolerance & reconciliation’ to Europe …

Clicky, of course, knew the answer to Ms Raccoon’s question but what really got him somersaulting was the connection with his yet untold past. I managed to stop him hogging the bar at the Raccoon Arms …

… and to post some of his story here because … to be frank, it is really, really long winded …

*Alright then, it’s not … Yes, it is interesting … Clicky, just get on with it …*

A long, long time ago …

akv3bU

I can still remember how that music used to make me smile …

And I knew if I had my chance …

That I could make those people dance …

And maybe they’d be happy for a while …

But February made me …

With every paper I’d deliver …

Bad news on the doorstep …

I couldn’t take one more step …

I can’t remember if I cried …

When I read about his widowed tousled bride …

But something touched me deep inside …

The day the music died …

*Oh Clicky, that’s so sad… /sniff… I had no idea… well done you for getting that out…*

99136

*… that’s right, but save the rest for another time … do you fancy a coffee?*

An Archivistic Vision: Welcome to the Programme

Earlier this week, coinciding neatly with a just-in-time delivery of memories into the LoL – a faux-leather case, bulging at the seams with promising content, Mrs Reign opened Parliament and recited the new government’s proposed legislative programme for the coming year.

“Have you seen this?” Thoughtful Man said, passing the case over for inspection. It was surprisingly heavy, requiring both hands to guide it to the floor and prevent flattened toes. “That should keep you occupied for a bit”. He was right. A glance at the protruding spines produced a squeal …

*squint*

… and the urge to break out plastic opera glasses. “Programmes! These are all our programmes”. I grabbed a handful and got comfortable …

“Shows, concerts, places of interest.” I looked up beaming, “All the places we went together. I’d forgotten all about these”.

“Of course.” Thoughtful Man managed to keep the ‘harumph’ out of his voice but not off his face. “I keep everything.” He’s not called ‘Thoughtful Man’ for nothing. “I don’t think that’s all of them, but it’s enough to get you started. Why don’t you take some photos and then pick one to focus on.” He handed me a camera and retired to a safe distance.

programmes 2

Where to start? There was a lot to choose from but fortuitously a prompt arrived from A Void at Merovee … Erasure … not the sort proposed by the new government and read out by Mrs Reign … but the campy band and their ‘Phantasmagorical‘ concert that I had to go see twice at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1992.

I’d bought the concert tickets for Thoughtful Man, as his gift the first Christmas after we were married. But as luck would have it, he was travelling that night so I ended up taking Sister Juju. Afterward, as we left the theatre, the sweat rapidly cooling on our hot and tired bodies, we hoarsely agreed “OMG! He has to see it!”

The next day I set about trying to find more tickets, no mean feat considering this was pre-internet days …

Not quite that desolate, Clicky, but I can see why you might think that.

It was the giant, Pip, from work at Big Shop, who unexpectedly came to my rescue …

These tickets were even better than the first, right at the front, but even better than that, we got to have the phantasmagorical experience together …

Jealous much, Clicky?

“Have you finished that yet?” Thoughtful Man reappeared, looking anxious; he knows what a terrible shot I am. He spotted the shiny programme. “Erasure! Bloody brilliant!.” He turned away, leafing through the pages. “I’ll tell you what, have a song.”

Altered Images

It’s my birthday today. I got cake for breakfast from Google …

happy birthday roobeedoo from google 250515

*I know! What a scrummy surprise …*

… and Thoughtful Man took me shopping …

*Hardly, Clicky … the local Asbo …*

He takes me shopping once a year, mostly to remind himself why he doesn’t go shopping with me more regularly …

*No, not quite …*

I rather like food shopping, looking at all the product laden shelves … studying the exciting ingredients … riding the trolley … I get rather google-eyed at it all …

“Calm down or I’ll Mary Lincoln you” Thoughtful Man sighed heavily, placing a steading hand on the handlebar as it wobbled closer to a 2 for 1 special on Pot Noodles.

“Ab Lincoln’s wife? I was taken aback and slightly flattered … the wife of a President.

“She went mental and was committed by her son after she fell in with a spiritualist” he replied as we skirted past a group of lads looking for the barbecue and beer aisle. “He invented double exposure photography, though he didn’t get the credit for it”.

I skidded to a stop … good job too, I hadn’t seen the mobility scooters conveniently parked at the entrance to the cat food aisle. “Do you mean like Photoshop?”

*Unfortunately Clicky, I don’t think that’s photoshopped …*

*No, not that one either …*

“I suppose … Do we really need this much cheese?” He eyed the trolley contents suspiciously, “toothpicks, pineapple chucks … tin foil … Hang on, I thought you didn’t want a birthday party”.

“I don’t. It’s in case the neighbour’s child comes over to play with the boys”. His icy squint burned. “Sorry, I invited him. He’s just lost his mother”.

“He ate her”.

“I don’t think he had a choice.” I pushed on toward the frozen pizzas. “I think it was like one of those Donner Party situations”.

He caught up by the time we’d reached the check out. “So you [blip] think he’d prefer eating cheese and pineapple [blip] kebabs instead?!” He fluffed open a plastic bag and started filling it. “You are a [blip] mad [blip]“.

*Please Clicky don’t do it. I’m so embarrassed …*

*Clicky!*

It’s A Trap!

I was busy ironing for Thoughtful Man when he called out down the stairs, “John Nash is dead”. “Who?” I replied distractedly; I was having a hell of time getting a crease out of his shirt for the night shift with the rank and file …

“John Nash. You know, ‘A Beautiful Mind'”. He magically appeared before me, wiggling his Apple in my face as confirmation of the news …

*No Clicky. Right actor, wrong film …*

“The bloke who invented Game Theory? I’ve seen a documentary about that …”. I started setting down Hot ‘n’ Steamy to tell him about it, when he abruptly cut me short.

“Tell me later, I’ve got to get out to work”. Two things about Thoughtful Man: he’s lived with me a long time and he really detests being late.

Anyhoo, he’s gone to work now, so I’ve asked Clicky to find the documentary for him watch it later … Ah, it is now …

*It comes in three parts? Gosh, Clicky, thank you for searching them all out … you really are boon for the LoL …*

*Strange, too … Here, have a Song …*

Have Sock, Will Travel

Little Sock is small and white. Okay, the sole is grayish – it had been worn by Little Boys – but that’s beside the point. Little Sock is my travelling companion and this is the story of how that came to pass. Dear Reader, it’s actually quite embarrassing…

*Nice job starting that in the right place, Clicky… /pats snouth… You can carry on helping me tell the story…*

It happened a few years ago, one cold, dark winter’s morning…

Laden with old laptop (i.e. heavy) and handbag overstuffed with paperwork, I pulled my big-arse coat close around me…

…and set off up to The Big Smoke for an early morning meeting with senior managers. On the way I did as other commuters do…

tumblr_n4id8mc2rv1r3gb3zo1_400

…and so didn’t notice the stowaway sock on my shoulder…

*I do not look like that, Clicky! …/thinks… Okay, maybe during the train portion of the journey…*

From Here to There, Little Sock had a grand view of the journey: train, tube and trot through windswept tunnels and frozen roads. To anyone I passed, it must have looked like I’d taken a direct hit from a great height…

The first time I noticed the stowaway was when I shook my coat off at the other end. Little Sock floated to the floor… In front of the bods I was meeting!

Apparently, Thoughtful Man had everso thoughtfully used my coat, innocently hanging over the banister the night before, as a suitable place to dry Little Sock. The poor thing, having lost its sibling, was still damp after coming out of the washing machine…

*Rude…*

That would have just been an embarrassing story; however, it only happened again less than a week later!

nwy

*Way, Clicky!*

Little Sock, it appears, had got a taste for travelling. Not wanting to give the impression that I’m Big Bird’s toilet again…

…I decided to give Little Sock pride of place in my handbag. That way it could travel with me everywhere…

Stowaway Little Sock at home

*I’m just thankful it was Little Sock and not Little Boots, Clicky…*

Dear Reader… Have a Song 😉

It started with a kick

We got off on the wrong foot, Pepsi and I. She was startled and I was oblivious … it was not an auspicious start …

*Indeed Clicky. How was I to know my attempt to say ‘hello’ would result in her death?*

*Aww … thank you ❤ *

Pepsi was Mother’s cat and they adored each other. She would lie on Mother’s lap as they watched the telly; the rising hill just meant Pepsi had a better view of …

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In the spring of 1967 she was a contented cat. That was until the day the earth moved …

*Ah yeah… No, Pepsi didn’t see it that way …*

*Quite!*

And it got worse for her as the kicking, ninja belly grew … less and less attention was spent in her direction as more and more was lavished on it. She withdrew to the top of the wardrobe and kept a careful watch on proceedings with her glowing green eyes …

When it was nearly time for me to arrive, Father brought home my cot. Mindful of what Pepsi was capable of, he made some provision …

Unfortunately, this was seen as a …

… and boy did she rise to it. The next day dad woke to find the netting ripped to shreds and the cat fast asleep where the baby would lay. He made the decision then, Pepsi would have to go …

*Unfortunately yes, Clicky. He didn’t have time to find a new home for her because I, too, had made a decision … to arrive …*

Pepsi died on the day I was born. Father took her to the vet and the deed was done. I didn’t get the chance to meet her … until later that is …

book-page-turn-03

As a small child, I would play in my parents’ bedroom, happily babbling away, the way small children do. Mother asked me, “Who are you talking to?”

“The cat.” pointing upward at the empty space on top of the wardrobe. I’m fairly certain we managed to straighten out the misunderstanding between us then, Pepsi and me.

*Thank you for listening, Clicky … have a Song …*