Haute Culture

The whole family engaged in a collective dance routine with shouts and hoops of delight at the announcement that Hull is to be UK City of Culture for 2017.

It was an emotional thing, a genuine outpouring of pride and joy for a population badly maligned and mauled in the popular media.

Such has been the tedious monotony of Hull as a butt of jokes about education, it MP's, lifestyle, eating habits, teenage pregnancies and the accent that any attempts to put up a justified response have been eroded and weakened as much as the self esteem and civic pride in the City itself.

The team putting together the bid for the award have done a marvellous service to Hull and they must be the first to be congratulated for their professionalism, humanity, humour and spirit. There is a tremendous short film in circulation which formed the final round of submissions by the shortlisted candidates and I found myself quite silenced and tearful after watching it a few days before the decision was made. It focused on the people of Hull and their quiet determination to succeed in life but also to enjoy themselves and now with the green light for 2017 to let the whole country and wider afield see the great and varied attractions and cultural offerings that its residents have always known about.

I am looking forward to the run up to the momentous year of events and have given some serious thought to what I could contribute.

I have in my 50 years, well at least in the first two decades, partaken in some drama productions. This was not on a voluntary basis but because I was too quiet and painfully shy not to resist being nominated by classmates and teachers. It appeared to have been a case of everyone else taking a step back in perfect unison to leave me supposedly out there implying a willingness to take on any acting part on offer.

My career on the boards started off in infants school in the role of Joseph in the annual Nativity Play. It was a non speaking part but I clearly recall it did entail a lot of standing around, receiving visitors to peer into a straw filled manger and adopting a doting stance towards baby and Mary character.

Perhaps it was only because my Mother had the best adaptive tea towel that I got the role with it being wrapped around my nervous sweaty head with a snake belt.

My CV expanded in Junior School playing the lead in a production which was attended by our local Member of Parliament. Again, a non speaking part so I was conscious of already being type-cast as a silent, docile and placid character actor by the age of about 8.

I did not and indeed to this day never have enjoyed being in the spotlight for anything and the mere recollection of what I was required to do brings out the old sweaty brow , damp nose and clammy hands.

I am sure that I would make a very interesting Case Study for a Psychiatrist based on my rapid rise to small town stardom, followed by a short slippery slope to obscurity all before age 9.  Culkin, I have respect for you.

I had a brief return to the stage at age 17 in a drama competition for a youth group, this time with a couple of bits of dialogue but they were fluffed in a hot nervy manner in front of an audience of about twenty in the Memorial Hall in the town.

Apart from a bit of eldest son public speaking at family do's and the occasional presentation at work I have largely been able to evade performing in public. I am therefore convinced that my contribution to Hull's cultural fest will not be in dramatic repertoire.

I did play in a brass band for a few years but did not progress any further than third cornet. I had some success by association with the band and its other diligent and dedicated members in regional competitions, national contests and by the age of 13 had travelled as far as Nottingham and Leicester to cower at the back of a concert hall and expel air into my instrument just hoping and praying that the required sound emerged at the other end.

Many other evenings were spent in a heavily smoke filled and beery practice room or in the equally unhealthy atmospheres of social clubs , Miners Welfares and old folks homes. I never practiced or even took any Royal College of Music Grade Exams and so firmly established the third cornet upturned beer crate as my own.

My Cultural contribution will not therefore be musically based.

I have never been able to juggle, roller skate, walk on stilts, do street magic or possess any other skill or art by which to astound and confound the public.

In terms of the finer things in life I have nothing to show as far as painting, drawing, sketching, sculpting or throwing clay are concerned.

Crafts are not a particular strength in my cultural repertoire be it at a fundamental level of papier mache, balloon animals, wicker articles or even crayoning inside the lines.

I have been known for my attempts at cut and paste and that is something that has come in useful in my adult working life in producing documents to accompany reports and submissions.

I like cycling but would not be willing to be sprayed a lilac metallic colour and sit for hour upon hour on a similarly tinctured bicycle in a still-life action pose for the enjoyment of tourists and shoppers. The same goes for other forms of human statuary, miming or self exhibitionism.

I am the first to admit to not having any street-cred and so performance poetry is a non starter and that would also be the case for stand up comedy or satirical prose.

Technically I have little to offer and so would be useless in offering my services in any lighting, sound or stage production roles. I am shy in coming forward in most things and so front of house activities, promotional work, compering or even ushering are non starters.

In fact I now realise that I have very little to offer in practical terms.

I am not despairing though.

My role in Hull's City of Culture year will still be important and pivotal in that I am widely recognised, well at least in family circles, in possessing a kick-ass high volume and ear splitting whistle through the insertion of two sets of paired fingers to take advantage of a freakishly ample lung capacity which rivals the best aerobic athletes and operatic tenors.

I expect to feature prominently on the recorded transmissions and media reports from the 365 days of cultural events, even if a raucous wolf whistle is not really that appropriate in the particular circumstances of say, a Tea Dance , Chamber Orchestra Recital, Poetry Reading, a Poignantly themed Play or stood gawping at a nice oil painting.