My Mother

Just a few days after my Mother died in January, I had the awful task of writing her eulogy.   Sometimes terrible jobs come along in life and you just have to get on with it.    Believe me, this was a toughie.   I do not know how relatives can speak at the funeral of a loved one.  I couldn't, so I wrote it for the man who conducted the service...

Nancy Daniels 18th August 1916 - 22nd January 2014

It is going to be very difficult to encapsulate the life of Nancy Daniels in the short time we have together, but I’ll try.

To put this long and busy life into perspective perhaps it would help if I told you that one of her brothers, already by then a man, died in 1926 when Nancy was 10 years old.   Bill, Nancy’s nephew, sent a card recently from Canada and he's 88.

Her life began in South Bank, a very industrialised town near Middlesbrough in the North East of England.    Surrounded by steel works and docks, the long rows of terrace houses were kept immaculate by the women whilst the men went out to the ‘werks!’     It was a time of zinc baths in front of the open fire, the water heated in a copper boiler.     In the winters there would be frost on the windows most mornings, and it would be on the inside.

One tale that Nancy used to tell of those days  was that she used to babysit Shirley Bassey.   Of course the family used to think it was fantasy stuff, knowing that Shirley came from Tiger Bay in Cardiff.    When the internet came along Paul meandered through the web and found out that Bassey’s mother came from South Bank and used to visit her mother in South Bank so Nancy had been telling the truth.

In her mid-teens Nancy got a job in Bradford working as a nurse in a fever hospital and survived when others didn’t.   She became the ‘downstairs’ part of Upstairs Downstairs when she worked, again in Bradford, for a family.   Ever since friends and family have been regaled with tales of Madame Tempest, her wealthy French boss.

By now she had met the love of her life and their courtship was astonishing.   Hughie, to whom she was married for over 50 years, was working in a cinema and every Saturday night, after work, would pedal a bicycle from Middlesbrough to Bradford.   Just getting up the hill out of the Tees valley would have finished off most men, especially as in those days bicycles were known as bone shakers and weighed a ton.   When he arrived in the middle of the night the Tempest family let him sleep in the greenhouse and Nancy and Hughie could have a few hours together before he had to set off back home.

Hughie and Nancy got married and Hughie got a job in a cinema in Mablethorpe on the East Coast, and settled into a bungalow called Lulworth.   Both of them loved bungalows from that moment on but the most amazing thing was that when they commuted to visit family in the North East they went by tandem.   Nancy was always on the back because the only time that ‘Dad’ let her onto the front she drove straight on at the first corner.  It turned out Nancy could pedal but not steer.

In 1938 Ted, now known as Paul, was born and Hughie made a sidecar for the tandem so that they could still make the journeys.

When war broke out they moved back to the North East because everyone believed Hitler was going to land on the beaches of Mablethorpe.       Early on their home in the north suffered a direct hit by a bomb.  Thankfully bombs were smaller then so they survived.     Hughie went off to the Royal Navy, came home for the birth of Trevor, and was then posted to India.

In the ensuing years Nancy’s contribution to the war effort was mixing concrete and wheelbarrowing it into moulds to make concrete barrier fences.   A tough job for such a tiny lady.   In the many letters of condolences that have poured in from all over the world one descriptive word comes up many times, ‘fiesty’, and she was certainly that.   During those long years of raising the two boys, she wrote to Hughie most days, always starting with a spelling mistake that meant she called him ‘Dear SWEATheart’… he never corrected her.

Times were hard and, as she was so good at knitting, crochet, sewing and suchlike Nancy organised the women in the street who came to her house and all sat on Saturday nights making things like Clippy mats on wooden frames from old clothing that had been cut up.  As they worked they would all sit listening to the radio, the big show being the Voice of The Man in Black… horror stories that would terrify the women.  So much so that tiny, but feisty, Nancy had to walk them all home in the dark.

Shortly after the war Nancy gave birth to a third brother, Keith, but so very sadly he only lived for a few weeks, having been born with a heart defect for which, even more sadly, shortly afterwards a cure was found.

For the most part, however, Hughie and Nancy had a happy life together, according to Hughie that was because he always gave in, although there was one memorable tiff when he had had enough, picked her up over his shoulder and walked down the street, around the corner to her Mother’s home, went in and sat her on the high Mantelpiece, telling her Mother he’d brought her back and he left her perched up there, too high for ‘Nance’ to get down.

Showing her fighting spirit someone told her that a young woman who was working at the cinema was making a play for Hughie.    Without any hesitation Paul was shoved into the pram, along with a pile of nappies and baby stuff and she pushed him round to the cinema, confronted the girl and told that if that girl wanted Hughie she’d best have the whole deal and handed over the pram complete with child.    The young lady left the cinema, no more trouble from that direction.

Nancy’s brother Eddie played the squeezebox and Trevor very quickly latched onto that and became a great accordion player and later became a top keyboard player.  Her eldest son wasted his time doing card tricks and Nancy was very proud of them both.  On any occasion she would insist that Trevor played the accordion and the then ‘Ted’ would be called upon to show a trick.   Both lads were greatly embarrassed by this and if there was a knock on the door the accordion and the cards would be hidden away…

Early education for the lads was conducted by the same teacher that had taught Nancy when she had been at Upper Princess Street school, a Miss Strickland.   From there Paul and Trevor went to completely different styles of school, Trevor eventually becoming a teacher himself.    One day Nancy asked Paul why had come home early and found out that he had sort of gone on strike because he wasn't going to have his backside tanned with a plimsoll shoe by one of the prefects.  That was the way it was in those days in old Grammar Schools.

Even though the school was a bus ride of quite a few miles the pinny came off, the coat went on and she half dragged a very reluctant Paul back to the school, storming into the Head Masters office and demanding to know what kind of institution did he think he was running.   Mr Barker, a big man, explained he had only recently come to the school and tried to calm the fireball down, a woman who was saying it was alright for him to give Paul the cane, but not the other pupils.    Paul didn’t think that this was such a good idea but Nancy went for the throat and amazingly, over the coming weeks, all the rules changed.   Fiesty.

The years went by, and her life changed too.   From the two up two down terrace house, via prefabs and nice houses, to going to West End shows and major music festivals where she would tell anyone within hearing distance ‘That’s my son’ pointing to whichever of them was performing at the time.

From streets with hardly any cars, that still had horses and carts, to flying to America on holiday… ‘Don’t pay for that hire car Paul, we are using Joan Collins stretch limo to get around’.. this to an astonished Paul who had never even met Joan Collins … ‘because we met her driver on the plane…’

From mooching around on Uncle Eddie’s allotment to having her own gardens and how she loved gardens.

From losing a child to enjoying her grandchildren, great grandchildren, nephews and nieces.

In later life, with her beloved Hughie gone, and settled into her final bungalow, still called Lulworth, and even though the hair went from fiery auburn to silvery grey, the feistiness was always there.    When a possibly charitable person handed Nancy one of those plastic bags to be collected the next day into which she could put anything they could use for the charity Nancy asked about the charity.    It turned out to help Single Mothers.      When the bag was collected the next day the collection lady was stunned when she looked into the bag.   For Single Mothers Nancy had contributed packets of condoms.                        Neither Paul nor Trevor dared to go into the local chemists after that in case they were asked what their Mother was up to.

Each person here will have their own memories of this woman who had her own style and such a long long life.   This great cook, I am told many of you will miss the rum icing on the mince pies at Christmas,  this Bingo loving, smoking, chocolate eating, fry up eater, defied all the odds to live a good long happy life.  

As for longevity, perhaps that was down to the magic in the never-to-be-washed teapot and the many tins of pilchards.   Certainly the famed Angela Lansbury has put her long life down to strong tea and pilchards, perhaps we should all take these up.    One of Nancy’s grandchildren, David, has suggested that the teapot should be donated to medical science.

The family have asked me if I would publicly share their immense gratitude to Nancy’s amazing neighbours and friends who have shown her such love and kindness for such a long time, with especial thanks to the late Brian, to Kenny of the Christmas Cards, to the Newsagents whose profits are now so diminished due to the fall in cigarette sales, and there are not enough words to thank Judy, the greatest of neighbours, or the absolute Queen of Carers, Tricia.  You are all so wonderful.

In closing perhaps the words of a long standing friend, now living in America, are most appropriate:  Nancy was a very strong lady and loved her life to the full. She was a beautiful girl that I have loved to bits for so many years...take heart that you are so lucky to have had her with you for so long

More about flooding

I had this sent to me today.  It is so frustrating...

Subject: Really wild excuses

What do voles, beetles, mussels, trout and the golden plover have in common? Believe it or not, they have all been used as excuses by the Environment Agency not to improve flood defences.

Travelling around the worst of the flooded areas last week, I met family after family who said their local rivers had been left to clog with debris — and always because of some critter or other. Somerset farmer David Gillard, for example, repeatedly begged the Environment Agency to dredge the River Parrett, which runs near his sheep farm just outside Burrowbridge. And last summer they did come and give it a go. But while they were at it they found a vole, so of course they packed up and left. The farm is now flooded.

And what are we to make of this letter from the Environment Agency to Robin Haigh, a landowner in Chertsey, which he received after his house had been surrounded by flood waters? ‘Dear resident, I am writing to let you know about a new initiative to improve the river habitat for wildlife in your area. The Environment Agency are working in partnership with the Wild Trout Trust and local landowners on a project that will breathe new life into the Abbey River which our records show passes close to your property. The project will bring considerable benefit to wildlife in the area encouraging more fish, birds and other water-dependent species to use the river as its ecological value grows…’

The letter was sent on 28 January, after major flooding. Last week, as the flood waters rose dangerously again and the area was in a state of full emergency, EA staff came out to visit. They met Mr Haigh’s wife, Mary, who told them, ‘Well, I expect you won’t be going ahead with that trout project now, will you?’ Au contraire, the EA people told her. The project was very much going ahead. They will be moving a sluice and creating a riffle.

Mr Haigh says the effect of this will be to dam up the water near his home and cause even worse flooding. ‘They’re morons! They’re cretins!’ said Mr Haigh, who has himself worked in conservation.

The river Thames, meanwhile, was left undredged to prevent the disturbance of a rare mollusc called the depressed river mussel. Seriously, this is not funny. It would only be funny if it were not happening. But it is. The species known as the depressed taxpayer doesn’t seem to be on any priority list.

In Somerset, the environmentalists have provided a really super habitat for birds. A few miles from flooded Burrowbridge is the RSPB sanctuary at Greylake, where the golden plover occasionally drops in for the winter season, along with many other interesting winged species — dunlins, ruffs, black-tailed godwits. Farmers in Somerset have been encouraged by the EA and the EU (hard to know which is worse) to leave their fields fallow to create wetlands like this. And if all you wanted Somerset to do was to make birds happy, then truly the strategy is a huge success — but what about the people?

We shouldn’t just single out the EA. The same perverse instinct is at play in local government. I once rang my local authority, Lambeth, to complain about foxes ripping bins apart and was sent a leaflet instructing me on how I should feed and care for them and generally turn my back garden into a place they would feel at home. They particularly like chicken, apparently.

The liberal chattering classes lap this stuff up. Walking my dog in Balham, I moaned to a neighbour about the lack of fox controls and she said: ‘Yes, but they were here first, weren’t they? I mean, we’re the imposters.’

‘Seriously,’ I said, ‘even if it were true that foxes are the indigenous inhabitants of south-west London, you’re telling me you want to move out of your million-pound house, and see the rest of civilisation as we know it vacate the metropolis in order to make way for vermin?’

‘They’re not vermin,’ she said. ‘They’re wild animals and this is their home.’

I told her I thought a tragedy was waiting to happen, as foxes had attacked babies in their cots. ‘Well, fancy leaving a baby in a dirty nappy near an open window,’ she said. ‘What sort of people are they?’

Clearly, she had been drinking the conservationist Kool-Aid. The conservationists on the Kool-Aid are different from your common or garden conservationists, the sort who like watching programmes with Bill Oddie and are pretty harmless. The Kool-Aid conservationists will not confront the truth about nature — that it is not very nice and, left unchecked, produces anarchy. They think nature is benevolent and wise. They say things like ‘nature knows best’.

Taken to the extreme, this attitude leads to the bizarre re-wilding project that was undertaken in Holland some years ago with horrific results. In an extraordinary experiment, 15,000 acres of reclaimed land 25 miles east of Amsterdam was turned into a ‘nature reserve’ called Oostvaardersplassen. The area saw no culling or wildlife management or human interference of any sort. Everything was left to live a ‘natural’ existence and fend for itself. The result was that only the birds flourished, because they could fly away to find more food during the harsh winter months. The herd animals like deer and horses within the enclosure starved or were savaged by predators.

Every winter, commuters into Amsterdam got to witness emaciated deer, cattle and horses packed against the perimeter fence in the desperate search for food, while foxes and corvids picked over the bones of the fallen.

No one is openly attempting a re-wilding project here — although George Monbiot speaks favourably of the idea and has published a manifesto to ‘re-wild the world’ — but in a way, a re-wilding of sorts has happened in Somerset and other flooded areas.As the birds have enjoyed the best of the wetlands, then flown away, the people have been trapped in an area where they can no longer thrive or make a living. And so the world watches as the human animals of the plains struggle in a desperate battle for survival.

You can just hear the voiceover by David Attenborough. I’m sure it will make a terrific Life on Earth special one day.

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Flooding

In recent times there has been much ado in all the forms of media about flooding, and rightly so.   I feel so sorry for those who have had their homes and livelihoods destroyed, having been through serious flooding inside our home about 10 years ago.

Like the vast majority, if not all, of those who live by the rivers of the UK, I have been speaking out for the Government to dredge the riverbeds.   I'll go into detail as to why in a moment.

As I wrote on Twitter, flooding is not caused by rainfall, it is caused by bad planning, and now I firmly believe that to be true.

I wrote to our Member of Parliament and got a reply.   I no longer blame the Government.   It turns out that the Environment Agency (who, I hear, do not like me calling them the 'Environmental Agency' even thought I do think they must be a bit mental) are an advisory body.   They advise Parliament about such matters and then it is down to whichever Government we have to implement their advice.

That is understandable.  You cannot expect MPs to know everything.   The problem is that the advice they were given is totally wrong.  I do not say that lightly.  It is illogical nonsense.   I read the report that my MP got regarding this area and it simply does not make sense.

When I spouted about this on the social media networks of course I got a few people pointing out that I am not a hydrologist, that I do not have degrees in water management.  Perhaps if I had I would have been taught by professors who pass on the same mistakes and have believed them.    How many times, in whatever your profession, you have despaired of architects who never consult the workers within their 'environment' and so those workers have to adjust to fit the unsuitable working conditions.

It's the same with the rivers.  IF the EA had consulted those who have spent a lifetime by the waterways they would have heard that EVERY time dredging has ceased over the past hundred years, a few years later the water has overflowed the banks and caused havoc and destruction.

I demonstrated this as simply as I could by filling a bowl with water to the brim.  That water was put into a jug and then the bowl was half filled with mud.  When I put the water back into the bowl it overflowed.  That was not a surprise; it was to be expected.

FACT: if a river is deeper it holds more water.

There's more to it than that.  One of the current (not a pun) problems is that the water table, that hidden 'enemy' lying beneath the surface of the earth, is very high.  It has built up over the past months.  The reason is that had nowhere to go.   Because the river in the months leading up to December and January has not been dredged and has not been lowered, the surrounding fields had nowhere to drain into.

Dredging would have lowered the water table.  The EA workers on the ground could have used the lock and weir systems to get ready for the deluge that we always get in the winter months.  Perhaps the EA computer workers have not realised that is when we get rain.   Sarcastic?  Not at all and let me explain why.

A couple of years ago I needed permission to lay down a concrete pad in my garden and the EA sent round to people to check it.  They were young women from Australia who had been in the country three months, spotted a job advertised and had been employed to make such decisions.   Neither of them had any river knowledge whatsoever.

During the recent problems a woman neighbour phoned the EA 'helpline' (misnomer of the decade) and asked why she had not received any flood warnings.   From the accent she thought the 'helper' was either New Zealand or Australian and he told her that the phone/email system, on which she was registered, had not cut into action because 'you are not flooded'.   She told him that she was standing in water that was 18" deep.   'No you are not' he said, and when she argued he told her that she could not be in flood water because his computer said there wasn't any!   No action was taken by the EA.

In our home we received flood warnings five days after the house was surrounded.

When I am working at my job, I create special effects and magic routines.  When I have the routine worked out, I then give a lot of thought to where it can go wrong and I plan for such possibilities.

In the case of a river, I can see that it needs to be tended to keep it clean, without pollution, that any dangers must be minimised, and so on.   But now I think, what happens if we get extraordinary weather?  If the scientists are right, and weather patterns will change, the likelihood of increased rainfall is something that we need to plan for.    We WILL get a lot of rain.  We NEED to somehow STORE that water until the deluge passes and then release that water back into the system.

If we do not do this then, despite the EA saying that dredging the UK rivers will be expensive for THEM to carry out such works, then it is going to be far more expensive for US, not only on the one to one personal basis but also as taxpayers.     The cost of this last flood session must be immense.   In our tiny lane alone we had firemen and soldiers from other parts of the country checking to see if we were safe.   Multiply that across the South of England and do the sums.

Decades ago the Dutch decided that it was far cheaper to invest than to pay for the damage and the recovery.

What would I do?  Obviously I would immediately set up a nationwide dredging system to create more space for impending rainfall.   I would consult with riverside farmers, dwellers and workers and I would take their advice.    I would look at increasing the length of the rivers not by digging straight concrete canals through the country side (what a failure the Jubilee cut turned out to be) but by studying the topography and seeing where we could make the rivers meander more in their upper reaches.

All ditches and cuttings would be dredged and in the flood plain areas I may well be looking at creating low areas to take flood water in times of emergency without damaging surrounding areas of crops.

ALL development in flood plain areas to cease immediately.  It is madness.  The only possible exception to that rule would be to grant building permission provided that the developer created holding areas for water on the same site that had to be five times the capacity of the ground floor.   Have a look at what they built underneath Tokyo for what I am talking about.

That would only be the beginning.    Expensive?  Not in the long run.  We really should plan for the future.

The Beginning of Magic

I don't think that many people will read this blog because I confess I deserted the blog for the video camera and my regular readers will have drifted off.     Thoughts and tricks now turn up on my channel on YouTube rather than on here.     That is a terrible confession from someone who, when teaching magic, recommends reading rather than DVDs.    Times change, sometimes not for the better.

In real life terms I am afraid I haven't had much to blog about.  Most of my time has been taken up with plotting and planning and making sure my Mother is OK.   She is doing amazingly well considering what she has been through and had to put up with.  At 96 it can't be nice to be pestered by nurses and carers when all you want is peace and quiet and your independence.

As some of you know I have been hosting Magic Days (see elsewhere on this web site) and they have been wonderfully successful with great responses from those who have been to the sessions.   Yesterday, however, the Magic Day took a different turn.

After being pestered by so many people I said I would do a day for absolute beginners.   It was great, not just for those who attended but also for me.  I had to go back to my own beginnings and found that those so called 'basic' tricks not only worked but baffled and amazed and entertained.    OK, I am no longer the raw youth (except in my head) and the basic effects were embellished with knowledge of how to turn them into entertainment pieces but I was constantly so pleasantly surprised by the reactions.

Magicians, I think, tend to forget that stuff and the magic life gets more and more complicated as we seek so called better methods.     As an example, yesterday I did a very old mind-reading trick using what is technically known as the Centre Tear.   Simple.   Easy.   It blew their minds.   Stunned amazement was the reaction.

I did a Book Test that uses no technology or added gimmicks at all, just two straightforward books. Same reactions.

Magic is a great hobby and it is a pleasure to pass on the knowledge.

Blog?  It's nice to be back

EU or not EU

The big political chat for the last couple of weeks is all about the Prime Minister’s in and out of the European Union speech.   Of course the Opposition said it was a terrible thing to talk about in that way.   Of course we all know that no matter what he had said the Opposition would have said it was a terrible thing, which makes a nonsense out of that attitude.    Non sense in the proper sense, of course, in that if Opposition NEVER agree with anything the Government says, it becomes meaningless.

What the politicians don’t seem to be aware of is that the vast majority of us outside the political world have no idea what the EU does, certainly not for this country, or why we ‘need’ to be in it at all, or why we went in to it in the first place.      I suspect it only exists to increase the number of jobs available to politicians, or am I being ingenuous?

Some might think it’s so that we can do business with Europe, and indeed we did vote for a Common Market so that all the countries of Europe could trade back and forth across borders.   I don’t know when we voted for anything else OR why we need anything else.

We trade with the rest of the world anyway, don’t we?   Nope, the more I think about it, it exists to keep politicians thinking they are doing something.

So I guess that IF I am going to vote for it, if ever that happens, they are going to tell me what good it does, what use it is… and at the moment that is going to take some doing.

As I write I am sitting in candlelight.  Romantic.   People in the old days must have had very good eyesight.   I have 14 candles around me and I am squinting.   We do take things for granted, don’t we?  Like electricity for example.

One night on a long drive home I focused on the number one purpose of government and came to the conclusion that way ahead of defence, education, and all that jazz, it came down to fresh water.   Without that absolutely everything else doesn’t exist.     We have plenty of that at the moment, a bit too much in fact, so the government must be doing a very good job in that department.   Forgive my laughter…

Newtown and the Gun Laws

It has now been a couple of days since the horrors of adults and children being gunned down in a school in the USA.

Rational people, not just in the USA, but around the world, have been begging and discussing the need to change the gun laws of that nation and I have been listening to arguments against change that to me and many others are feeble and backward looking.

Thanks to a world in which new news comes at us so quickly and in such volume, the loss of life in such situations is quickly forgotten by the world in general, leaving only those who suffered a loss of a close relative to remember the horror.

What I am not hearing is any other argument FOR changing the gun laws.   I grow weary of 'it's part of our constitution - the right to bear arms.....'.     That constitution was written at a time when the world was a lot more primitive.   That constitution was written at a time when the majority of the populace had very little access to a good education.    That constitution was written at a time when there was no alternative in the defence of a home.   The gun, which KILLS, was the only way.

Nowadays science has provided us with weapons that do not kill.   Taser guns and other 'stunners' for example.    Why not change the law to allow such devices to be kept in a home or business but to make it illegal to keep/own weapons that KILL.

What about me?  I am a member of a gun club.   Fine, I say.  By all means have a well controlled gun club with a person RESPONSIBLE for seeing that all weapons are secured at the end of each day.

Perhaps it is simple that politicians who claim to care, are only truly afraid of losing some votes and not brave enough to find out if the people of America are happy with their children, husbands, wives and friends being gunned down in cold blood.

Guns are designed to KILL.  

The Coldest Journey on Earth

It's the 6th December 2012 and I am putting off going out into the frost to clear the driveway of mud and debris left behind by it being covered when the river water came over the garden.   That, by the way, is no big deal, it happens every few years and lasted less than a week.   The lawns in particular love it.

Anyway, it's freezing out there so I have put on two pairs of socks, the thermals, the shirt and a sweater in preparation for the cold.   Then I switch on the TV and the BBC morning news programme, after promoting an ITV prime time show (why do they do that?) had a reporter on a boat that is going to take Sir Ranulph Fiennes and his team down to the Antarctic where he and a co-nutter are going to walk on skis across that continent during the winter at temperatures down to MINUS 90 DEGREES.

Two things leapt off the screen and neither of them was discussed so once again I ponder upon TV journalists NOT asking the questions that I want answered.   I can't be alone in thinking 'Why?' and 'What's the point?' and 'Isn't this all a waste of money?' and 'How will the world benefit from this?'

The second thing that hit me, after what I thought was an obvious set of questions to ask was, 'Who the hell is daft enough to pay out the millions that this must be costing?'      It's not just the cost of the supplies, it's the total package of ship and crew, the special tractors and driver(s) that pull the supplies behind the two guys who are walking/skiing, the special sleds that take the three shipping containers in which they will live on the 'walk' across.

Surely the adventure is diminished by the knowledge that you can get into a container and be pulled to the other side?  

Sorry adventurers, I just don't get it.

The Leveson Report

Even though the vast majority of the country couldn't care less about the Leveson Inquiry, the media is full of it, probably because they are the subject of the inquiry.

Politicians are bending over backwards to avoid any suggestion that they are trying to interfere with the press, but we all know that they pander to the journalists and editors in fear of bad 'reviews'.

Ages ago I wrote about changing the system, which they are apparently not going to do, merely using different words to justify the very expensive investigation, in which I stated something that I thought was pretty damned obvious.    I fully support the freedom of the press; I fully support free speech.  We were all brought up to believe we had such a principle and that made us believe they were telling the truth.

We equated 'free' with 'truth'.  Oh boy were we wrong.    Then they made them self-regulating.  Good idea... not.  Since when did we let the criminals judge the criminals?

I believe in the right to privacy above the right to free speech.   This does not just apply to the world of celebrity/politicians.    My father, many many years ago when I was a boy, had a full interview printed in a newspaper.  He had never been interviewed at all.   So many times I have read of 'so and so' being accused of something long before it ever gets to a court.  Whoever that may be is tarred with a bad reputation because he has been found guilty before being PROVED to be guilty.

So, dear politicians, to me the law has always been wrong.   If someone breaks into our properties we can have them arrested.  Why can't we do that with interfering nosey parkers who break into our private lives, uninvited, without our permission, when we have committed no criminal act.  

I would take that one stage further and even prevent publication until the person is PROVED guilty.

Years ago a woman in the audience asked the great American comedian Jackie Mason whether he thought the (her words) 'womaniser Bill Clinton should be allowed to run for President'.    As we have had so many people's reputations ruined because of similar reportage, Jackie's answer has lived with me for a long time.

"Imagine that you have root canal problems.  Your face is throbbing; the pain is the worst you have ever experienced.   Every dentist is fully booked for months ahead.  You are suffering and there seems to be no end to the pain.   Suddenly you get a phone call.  One dentist has had a cancellation.  Immediately you jump into a taxi and get to the surgery in record time.   The receptionist shows you through and a nurse puts you into the chair.   The dentist approaches you with the needle that will take all the pain away.   Do you say 'Stop!  Are you having an affair?'    The question should not be 'Are you having an affair?'   The question is, Can he do the job?"      Brilliant.

I could not care less if a politician, a footballer, or anyone else for that matter is having an affair.  It's their business, not ours.   I have heard all the goodie goodie moral arguments and they don't mean a thing.   To be honest it's boring AND it is their PRIVATE life.    

So, I think the law should be changed to only allowing ANY form of media to write about anyone who has not committed a crime, provided that journalist/editor has the permission of the subject to print the article/photograph.

Should this law be broken then the newspaper/radio/TV/internet would be banned from publishing for three months and the owners not be allowed to create another newspaper/radio/TV/internet prog, in that time.

Self regulation does not work.  These people have proved time and again that they think they are above the law and that they don't CARE about anyone else's feelings.   All they care about is making money.

Floods

Right across the UK there are flood warnings and the like.   The government speakers prattle on about how many houses are now protected and how flood barriers are now coming into place whilst at the same time reducing the amount of investment in flood protection.   Actually, I do feel sorry for them because they did inherit an unbelievably large debt from the last government and it must be very difficult to balance the books and decide where money is to be spent.

Insurance companies are refusing to insure properties in flood areas.

Hmmmm.... I wonder if we are looking at this in the right way?    I know dredging rivers is expensive and a long continuous process but we have had a lot more flooding since they stopped doing it.   I heard an Environmental Agency representative saying that the difference is 'marginal' but I think every 'margin' helps, doesn't it?
We also have 'flood plains'.   Could we dig them out and make them into Summer Parks/picnic areas and let them flood in the winter to take a greater amount of water?
Is anyone looking at the runs and flows of the water and where it breaks its banks?   Could we not do what  I have seen in other countries where they have large concrete runs for when the rains come?
Could we not use the weirs and locks to lower the water in, say, October, in preparation for the coming rainy season?
I'm sure others can come up with diversion systems or other ideas rather than rely upon the ever inefficient barrier systems we have now?

As for insurance, we have a postal service that charges the same amount right across the board for mail.  The densely populated areas subsidise the remote country deliveries by averaging out all the costs.   Couldn't the nation do the same with insurance premiums, spreading the cost across ALL the buildings?

One person said it's all caused by the ice melting and all the global climate changing.  Really?  Perhaps I could believe that about coastal areas, but upstream in non-tidal waters?  I think not.

On a final note can someone explain to me why successive governments, who have decreed that there can be no development in Green Belt, have not decreed that there must be no building development in flood plain areas?   Madness.

France and Flooding

It has taken someone on Twitter to make me realise that I forgot about blogging.   Sometimes my life is so full that I don't think about time whizzing by.   This past month has been such a time.

I've done a few shows, been to a few parties, and added a few videos onto my YouTube channel.   Added to that I've done a zillion Tweets and done some more teaching/advising on my Magic Days.   That's another thing I have left slip, sorting out the future dates, which I must get round to... very soon.

The Grand Adventure this month was to head off to Macon in France to do some more teaching/advising so Debbie and I decided to have a mini break and drive instead of fly.   Great decision.   We booked to go via the Chunnel but I thought my claustrophobia might come thundering back when the sides of the coach closed down so we made a last minute booking on the P & O ferry.  Great decision.

We drove to the dock, got a ticket, and drove straight onto the ship which left immediately.  The crossing was calm and fast and suddenly we were trying to remember to drive on the 'wrong' side of the road.   It became a running joke as we alternated the job of driving.

At home I had decided that we should travel roads that took us around Paris, not through it, and that certainly on the way to Macon we would avoid the toll roads.     Great decision.   We meandered through small country roads and through the Medieval villages and towns of France.   We stayed in a lovely hotel that had at one time been a monastery in Arras.

The next night found us in Troyes, pronounced Twahhh... or similar.   Can I recommend that you all go there and visit their 'old town'.    Wow Factor Plus.

It was a little bit worrying the next day when the Satnav took us into a farm.  Hmmmm.... BUT then we discovered why we were both so relaxed about it all.   We had no immediate deadline.   All our normal lives we have to be somewhere by a fixed time and this trip we had PLENTY of time.     We got to Macon by teatime and then the mayhem began.

Debbie drove off the next morning facing a 5 hour drive south whilst I was faced with four days of the most intensive convention in which I have ever been involved.   The days started early and simply never stopped.  I talked, lectured, demonstrated, advised, watched, laughed and generally really tired myself out.   When Debbie came back she had to do most of the driving whilst I recovered.  

The last night of that convention was a Gala show in a great theatre.   Unbelievably the sequence of the show and who was doing what was left until the afternoon of the day.   It worked and I was the penultimate act, doing a routine with onions and lemons, red peppers, boiled eggs and a pumpkin.   The audience was in hysterics and BIG thanks to Gaeton Bloom for helping me out with the language.

The last act produced a (no kidding) helicopter.   I laughed when one young man pointed out that you can either spend $60,000 on an illusion or, like me, you could go to the supermarket and get an act.

The year before, apparently, a famous French magician had done a lecture about ME!   He edited together a video of bits I have done over the years, which included quite a few singing routines.   Hey.. the French think I'm a SINGER!!!   A new career beckons on foreign shores.

The drive home was uneventful and the ferry crossing back was as good as when we went and SO much less stressful than an airport.

Right now I am home.   It's raining and there are flood warning everywhere.  Our river is rising fast but if they will not dredge the rivers and/or create 'flood canals' like they have in other countries what do they expect?

I wonder what the morning will bring....

The World Economy

Hey... how heavy a title is that?    On the other hand it is something that has been bothering me for quite a while.

I know, of course, that I come from a different time; I come from a time when you saved up to buy something that you wanted and if you couldn't afford it, you didn't buy it.  Simple.   In today's luxury society everybody seems to want it now and they get it hoping they can pay back the money they have borrowed to buy the goods.  

Astonishingly they don't seem to realise that doing it that way means they can buy LESS because they are paying more, via interest, for the original purchase.   Weird or what?  

This mantra of saving to buy was drummed into me and I assumed that intelligent people knew the principle was the most economical way to live.   Silly me, I thought we voted for intelligent people.

A country is a business. I believe the business of a country should be run on the same lines that I was taught.   So how did the world finish up in so much debt?   If we look at low population countries like Ireland and Greece, who are both in financial trouble, where did the money GO?  Who GOT the money because their debts far outnumber the population?     America and the UK?   What happened.

Surely those in charge know how much the country earns?   They know, therefore, how much they have got to spend and should allocate that across the country's expenses and if they can't afford it they should NOT borrow just to keep themselves in power by not telling the people the truth.

In the UK, and this is not a political rant, just a fact, that we go through cycles whereby, to the working masses, it would appear that we are doing OK, but in fact the Labour Chancellors are borrowing zillions.   Then when we are in deep poo, the country puts the Conservatives in and they HAVE to take punitive measures to try to dig us out.   It's happening now.  It's tough as hell but the National Debt is reducing which means we have to pay less interest so the reduction should speed up.

The problem is that the working masses are not told of this cycle which we have had since the Second World War and it goes round and round.   I guess it's the same in other countries, not just us.

All this came to mind when I heard a Scottish MP proposing that, as 16 year olds can get married etc., they should be allowed to vote.   This is in direct contrast to my observation of a few years ago that people should not be allowed to vote until they are 30, by which time they have experienced, possibly, several different governments and have the knowledge on which to base their vote.

Finally, at elections, I vote.   Do you?

Magic Days

I have called this blog (and yes I do know it is way overdue) 'Magic Days' because that is what I have been focussing on for the past few weeks.

I have been doing other stuff of course, like the props for 'Scared to Death' at the Sonning Mill Theatre, and also props for 'Jack the Ripper' which will go on in Wargrave this week.   Debbie and I also went over to Great Yarmouth to do a show for the International Brotherhood of Magicians British Ring and they seemed to be happy with what we did.  It was great to see old friends again, isn't it always?

We managed to fit in a trip on a cruise ship, doing shows on the Adonia, so maybe I have been busier than I remember.   For me it is always 'what does tomorrow bring?' rather than looking backwards.

On weekends when I am at home groups of up to 10 magicians at a time have been coming to our house and they have been questioning me on all aspects and skills of magic.   The days go from 10 in the morning until 5.30 in the evening with an hour for lunch and yes, they can be a bit tiring for me, but also great fun.   It is time I passed on all this stuff that's in my head to do with the magic business and the response has been tremendous.

I can't remember everything that I have been asked but the range and depth of the questioning has kept me on my toes.   I have shown how even the simplest tricks can be handled better, made more entertaining, shown how to develop comedy, build routines, taught a couple of tricks they have never seen before, talked about the 'theatre' of magic and the knowledge that you should have.

And so on... it has been very good for me as well as for them, because it reminds me in detail of all the things that I would do automatically after so many years of performances in working men's clubs, nightclubs, theatres, arenas, village halls, private and corporate events, and of course, television.

On another tack, apparently (I wasn't in on this) a couple of magicians at the IBM 'do' asked Debbie if I was hard up.   Bless her, she didn't burst out laughing.    Their worry was based on the fact that I was still doing shows and that I was no longer driving a Bentley or Ferrari.

Well, I still do shows because people ask me to do them.    I had a manager who came of retirement age and thought I should retire too.   I had about a year of not doing much.   I went nuts.   That's not for me until it is forced up on me.   I like working.   Mind you, I have told Debbie that if I start to slow down and look like a doddery old fart on stage, she has to shoot me!

I simply do not understand why some people seem to revel in 'old age' and give up on living.  The world, to me, is now more exciting than it has ever been and I want to be part of that.

The cars question I found funny and then realised it came from two younger guys who still believed in the Clarkson syndrome, that cars are the be all and end all of status.   I am now of an age where wisdom has taught me that cars are very nice, but really they are just tin boxes that get us from A to B.   My Prius does that in comfort and quiet with plenty of room and I can't see why I should pay tens of thousands more for another box that does no more than the Prius.    It's that simple.  

Thank you for your concern if you think I am hard up and don't let the above explanation stop you sending donations.

Unbelievable, simply unbelievable

I really cannot believe what happened today, but as every day those around me and those I meet socially all ponder upon why there's nothing much worth watching on TV, perhaps it is more surprising that I am surprised.

The email message, at first glance, seemed to be a proposition to do a magic show.   Actually a bit more than a magic show.       It was from a woman and contained all the usual blurb that they must teach in media studies about how this programme was going to be the most wonderful, fabulous, 'treat magic as an art', which I have always thought it was, ever ever made.    Believe me I have really cut down on the superlatives.

The programme, to be made by an independent production company, is to be called The Story of Magic and would tell the tale of Western Magic since Victorian times to the present day.    From the wording of the letter it was obvious that the person doing the research/story telling did not know anything about magic at all. Good beginning, not.

More than that she wanted me on the phone to help her with this project.   OK.  It's a job.   Magic is my job.  I forwarded the message to my manager, pointing out that I was surprised that if such a programme was being commissioned that we weren't making it, or at the very least called in early as consultants.   That isn't a conceit.   I have spent a lifetime in the study of all aspects of this fabulous art and enjoyed quite a bit of success in the direction and performance of a vast range of magical genres.

I also asked him to ask if the woman knew of a book called Paul Daniels and the Story of Magic.   It turned out she did and it was on her desk.    OK, he said, let's talk money.

To his boggled astonishment she said there wasn't any.

Forgive me if I get a little angry here.   How the hell do these people think we make a living?  We get paid for our knowledge of magic, of our performances of magic, we are the specialists.   Another man that I recommended, it turned out, had already been approached and said 'no' because they were not going to pay him!  Like me he has spent a lifetime in the study of magic and in my opinion is the magical historian of the world.    He said no.   Good decision Professor Eddie Dawes, good decision.

It is no good the BBC saying they haven't any money.  The license fee is now bringing them in more money than ever before.   I don't argue against the license fee; I love TV without advertisements stopping the flow of the programmes.    Sometimes in the studios I would ask the audiences in the recording gaps about the license fee and they all moaned.   Then I asked them if they would pay 50p each to see me do a show in the West End of London.   They all said a resounding 'Yes'.  

That was when I pointed out that if that was the case, my pay for the last show should have been £8,000,000 because I had 16,000,000 viewers.   From the gasp you could tell they had never worked out just how cheap they were getting their national independent television AND radio.   Thanks to millions of us all paying our way, Auntie does have the money to make great programmes, and if they haven't, they must be wasting a helluva lot on daft decisions like moving north and selling the Centre.

So, if this programme is going to be made, if this writer/researcher is going to be paid, if the cameramen/soundmen/production crew and all and sundry are going to get paid, why aren't the people who are REALLY making the programme come to life being paid?     So if this programme goes out folks, and I am sure it will, instead of being the great story it could be, don't be surprised if it isn't nothing more than a filler with inserts from 'magicians' no one has heard of but think that being on TV will lift their status.

It's unbelievable, but more than that, it is so sad.

Decisions Decisions

It has been busy busy busy round here, the way I like it.   I have started to work to a sort of schedule to prevent me getting bored with any one particular job.    So, the average day has changed somewhat...

I get up and the first job is the emails and I check all my different addresses.   Like most people I guess, I have different addresses that make it easier to sort out what they are for.   The busiest over the last couple of weeks has been the one that deals with the Magic Days I am hosting and I have just been sorting stuff out for  tomorrow's visiting magicians.

After emails I visit Twitter, which I have linked to Facebook but I have to go to FB to reply to the Facers.  Then, with a cuppa, I go up to the room where I am copying my TV shows in real time onto DVDs.   When I was at the BBC and the shows were being recorded and transmitted I bought a whole set of recorders to make sure I got the best of copies.   Now, thanks to modern upgrading DVD recorders those copies are now just about as good as they will ever get.    I am thinking of starting a PDMS 100 Club.   The 100 Members will get DVDs based on how they can afford them.   Current costing, and remember these are not big runs, is working out at about £11 a disk and they will get one a week, a fortnight, a month... their decision.    To be honest I don't think I'll do anything until I get 100 members 'cos it simply isn't worth the hassle of copying the disks, printing the disks, printing the covers, posting them out...

I try to do a bit on the boat, in the shed, and work on the coming IBM show every day.  

For those who follow our antics, everybody seems to be fine including the rabbits.

Lazy Days

Lazy days?   Not really.   Since coming back from the fabulous time we had at the EMC in Portugal (and thank you for all the kind comments) I have not done much in the way of performances.     A few private gigs is all.     That sounds like lazy days but...

Around the Daniels abode we have had to rip out the main bathroom due to a bad leak and builders have been clumping in and out throwing out hundreds of tiles and fittings.    Later today we will be touring showrooms and making final decisions on what is going to replace what and where.

Men have also been swinging from tree to tree and to my sorrow trees over 100 years old are coming down thanks to their innards being eaten and destroyed by a fungus.   The exteriors look fine but we couldn't understand why huge branches kept crashing down.    Luckily, and it was luck, nobody was hurt or property damaged.

The worst example was when an ancient weeping willow split in two with a huge explosion of sound.   Debbie was working in her office at the back of the house and the upper branches just missed that as the breaking tree brought down another tree.   That meant of course that everything in that back garden had to be sawn up and bulldozed out.     We have fantastic neighbours and they have already taken away most of the old wood and we will level out that back garden with a rent-a-dozer next week.

I have been having HUGE doses of nostalgia as I continue to list magic props, books and posters onto eBay.  I can only do a few per day and that is not caused entirely by lack of time.  I am afraid that I pick something up and then on top of the time it takes to photograph measure describe each item, I have to fondle and enjoy the memories.

So many other bits and bobs of jobs are being done around here as well as river trips with friends or just by ourselves.

Mam had her 96th birthday - still lives on her own - and I have been round there cutting hedges and grass.  She had a goodly day as many members of the family made it to her bungalow to visit.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot: in a moment of madness I succumbed to many requests and have planned some magic seminar dates (on a different page on this site) for a real mixture of magicians of all levels.   Some people have asked why I have charged so much and I laughed when I got those messages.   They are so out of touch with the real world and expect everything for free.

"I can learn magic off YouTube" they say.   Yes you can, and you will be just as horribly bad at it as they are.    Here's a golden rule:  How a magic trick works  is NEVER the secret of the entertainment aspect of magic, be it close up, television, or large theatre.    The ART that is magic is much more important and it is the ART that is mostly concealed from the audiences so they can sit back and ENJOY the show.

Magic Convention

As I type this Debbie and I are on a flight back from Portugal.   Three years ago a friend of ours, the great Portuguese magician Luis de Matos, had an idea about an online convention.  He teamed up with the astonishing Marco Tempest and the writer/creator David Brittland to bring to life something called the Essential Magic Conference.

At his own expense he flew in the most knowledgeable performers and thinkers from around the world to lecture and demonstrate all aspects of this incredibly wide theatrical art.   All of those participating did it for free, but Luis, who had built his own fabulous studio and workshop, funded flights and hotels and catering and technical staff.

This year we were broadcasting on the internet to 70 countries and all of those who registered then received live access to the shows and will receive very high quality DVDs of the event.

The names that you might know in magic that took part this year were Derren Brown, Dynamo, David Blaine, Teller (and yes, he did talk) and David Berglas.   Everyone else was very well known within the world of magic and some well known within their own countries.

The quality of the lectures/talks/demos was extra-ordinarily high and the banter and the swapping of ideas amongst these masters of their varying crafts off camera was mind boggling.   If I dare to pick one out the biggest surprise was watching the card work of Daniel Madison and Dani Ortiz.   But then there was Topaz, and Gaetan Bloom and Tina Lenert….. and it went on and on and on.

One of the off air discussions was about the puzzle as to why more of the internet generation didn’t log on.  I offered that they believe they can get magic for free on the internet and that is so true… what they don’t know is how bad that magic is, not just in content but in presentation.  The kids point a camera at themselves and do a trick… and it’s AWFUL.   If any of you reading this think that is the way to present magic then heaven help the audiences.

I don’t know if Luis de Matos will sell the DVDs to non-registrants but if he will, buy them because there was an unbelievable amount of magical thinking out there.

Catch up time for a Magician (Me)

The reason that I have not been blogging is that since the end of the Hair Today Gone Tomorrow  Tour, I don’t seem to have done much worth talking about.   That having been said, I don’t seem to have stopped doing stuff.

Debbie is happy because I am actually doing stuff around the house and garden and slowly, ever so slowly, getting rid of more and more stuff like posters and books.    I put them on eBay because I am too undisciplined to sit hour after hour cataloguing them for a major saleroom auction.  

More than one magician/collector has been on to me asking me how I can bear to part with these lovely magical mementos and the truth of that might sound rather depressing, but it isn’t.  I am well aware that I am an older person and that younger people than I are reported daily as having passed on/died.    A lot of this collection has been acquired because a magician has died and his family have no idea what the stuff is for or what its history might be.

Couple that with a statement from a friend some time back about a lovely table she sold…’I have owned it for quite a few years.  It is time for someone else to enjoy it.’

I have had museums on to me to donate the stuff to them and then the records will show my name.  I would rather the bits and pieces went to people who love magic and appreciate the history of it instead of vanishing into some dusty vault.

Oh, don’t worry, I have no intention of popping off my clogs just yet.  I feel fine thank you.   The question I am most asked is what is my seller name on eBay and that is simple.   If you do an advanced search under Seller I am pauldaniels.

The online shop www.magicandfancydress.com is doing more and more business thanks to having more and more choice and the Wigan shop cum distribution centre is looking better and better thanks to Paul, my son.    

Martin, (middle son), is doing very well on the oceans of the world as he entertains passengers on cruise ships and Gary, (youngest son) is still training people to be fit… so I avoid his sessions.

Debbie and I, despite the seemingly continuous rain at one point, have enjoyed many a fine trip up and down the Thames on our boat and we managed to retain the name ‘The Lovely Debbie McGee’ for it.

My Mother hasn’t been 100% fit, but seems to be on the up.  Next month she will celebrate her 96^th birthday.

Gil and Hopper are probably the most cared for rabbits in the whole of rabbitdom and I have ideas about extending their run in the garden… they do seem to like new adventures and toys.

Speaking of the garden, whilst I was recording a TV show in Devon and Debbie was working in her office on the back of the house, there was a huge explosion of sound and a VERY large willow tree snapped in two, just missing Debbie’s office and bringing down another tree with it.   This is where great neighbours are wonderful.   One in particular, together with his friend from the village, have been and sawed it all up into logs and taken it all away.   

The back garden now looks extraordinarily spacious.

That’s it.  You, dear reader, are now almost up to date.

Jimmy Carr and the Tax man

For the past week the press, the government and, of course, other comics have had a field day picking on Jimmy Carr, a comedian whose work I like.

Every time something has been said about it I simply felt like screaming 'It's not his fault'.   Nobody has picked on the civil servants who left the legal loophole.  I'll bet none of them got sacked.    It's a fair bet that Jimmy isn't an accountant and probably merely signs whatever his management/accountants says is best for his finances without really understanding the small print.   I know I do, even though I know I have no off-shore accounts at all.

I think the problem is much deeper.    For what it is worth I have long thought that the tax system is totally flawed.     I had best explain that I do not come from a wealthy background.     Despite all the publicity I don't have oodles of wealth and describe myself as asset rich and cash average.    What follows therefore is not the normal bias from the point of view of the wealthy, I just think it's common sense reasoning.   It leans towards the socialist view of all people having equal opportunity and being treat equally.

A country costs money to run.   Somebody somewhere must know how much and where the money is going and for what.      Somebody somewhere must also know how much income is earned or coming from investments and how many people are earning it.

Is it really beyond the realms of mathematicians to show one as a percentage of the other?   Surely the only fair tax would be to charge absolutely everyone the same percentage rate of tax.   Those earning nothing would pay nothing.   Those earning a little would pay very little.   Those earning fortunes would pay a LOT but at least with this single rate of tax the amount of office work would be reduced enormously.   I do mean ENORMOUSLY.    All income would be taxed at the source of the income, by the payer, and transferred immediately to the tax office.

As there would be only one tax, and as the country's expenses would have to be listed clearly, we citizens would realise exactly how much we are paying out.

VAT, which has to be the most ridiculously expensive tax of all time to collect, would disappear.  There would only be income tax on ALL earnings.

At the moment we have SO many hidden taxes people don't realise what a high percentage of tax they are paying.

There would be no loopholes because the declaration of tax would not be the responsibility of the individual tax payer.

On a lighter note, it was great to enjoy the Jubilee celebrations, especially when Her Majesty came to Henley upon Thames and we went up the river by boat to have a picnic and watch her arrive by boat.   Great day.

The Party's Over

At the end of a series, a run, or a tour, I wonder if every artist ponders over whether they will ever work again. I know I do.   This last tour has been quite wonderful and full of laughter.   By that I don't mean just from the audience.   All the gang have been very good at their jobs and have shown great friendship to each other.  How lucky I am.

Of course Debbie and I laugh all the time, but Kev Orkian, our special guest artist joined in the fun and so did Steve Jeffreys the Stage Manager and his assistant Sarah Brown were not only wonderfully efficient but a great laugh too.

There were nights when the laughter from the wings almost over rode that the from the audience!

It's over, and as I type I am waiting for Steve to come round with the van and pack it all away back into the big shed.    For a few days now life will take on that peculiar mixture of sadness as we miss the gang, and gladness as we get some time off.    That won't last long...

I am working on some ghost effects for a coming play which will premiere at the Mill at Sonning.   That's a local venue to us that we did as part of the tour and it is always a joy to work, or even just to go to for dinner and to watch a play.

Another upcoming possibility is to recreate/tell the story of The Magic of Charles Dickens.   My management team keep pushing me to do it.  The 'play' will probably be along the lines of the Malini show that I did, and still do from time to time.    I am jotting notes and gathering info...

In the last few days it has been inspiring to see the UK bedecked with our national flag and the hundreds of thousands of people lining the River Thames to celebrate the life and times of our Queen.   I am proud to be British.

Boats and Home again

Ireland was wonderful.   Both Debbie and I love it over there.   The trip across the sea, despite all the weather warnings, was as calm a crossing as you could ever wish for.   We had set off early morning, with Kev and Michelle Orkian in the car and we spent that trip and in fact an entire week, laughing and laughing and laughing.

The tour of Ireland sped by.   Thanks to the way it was organised we managed to enjoy back roads and not just sit on main roads.   We enjoyed small towns and villages and were enchanted by the views as well as the people.

All good but I guess Portrush was the best.  Was that because it turned out much better than we thought?  Perhaps.   Debbie used to go there as a child for days out with her family.   We booked the hotel too late to get into most places but we got very lucky with a delightful small hotel overlooking the sea and golf courses.   It was still early afternoon when I got the call from Steve, our stage and tour manager.    He thought I should come and look at the place we were booked to perform in that night.   'Problems?'   'I think it is going to be very difficult to do the show... if at all'.

I went down to the town and it was very sunny and busy.   Nowhere to park but got in to a spot in a back alley that was the back way into the cinema we were going to work in.    The screen had been lifted out of the way, no other curtains, no wings to store props, minimal lighting, the roof had been leaking and the paint had blistered off the walls.    The 'stage' was only about 12" high off the audience seating at the front and they were very close.  

On the good side the young man who ran the technical side of the theatre had freshly painted the back and side walls of the stage area matt black.   He had hinged some wood panels to the front end so I pulled them forward a bit and as all we had were two banks of disco style lights Steve hung some black cloths on their stands and now we had two side stage 'store' areas for a couple of illusions.

The lad had blown up some of his own design posters and covered the blistered paint areas.   We were getting close to being able to do the full show, and pretty soon Steve's computer was plugged into the sound system and the audience were coming in.  We were sold out.   Debbie's family took up the whole of the second row.   Unbelievably a stag party from Belfast was in the front row and became the butt of many jokes.

The show flew by.   We had a riot.  Love you Ireland.   Love you Portrush.

Since we came home I have managed to do more work on the boat, thanks to our neighbours letting me use their boat house.   Another two weeks should see it finished.  

I am becoming better organised into regular work patterns and have even got round to putting posters onto eBay again.   I must get that going again on a regular basis 'cos Debbie had found loads of them under the guest room beds.  

Hope all is well with you.