The Cruel Sea

 In November 2017 I went to a performance, as part of the Hull City of Culture Events, of "The Last Testament of Lillian Bilocca" by Maxine Peake, a truly emotional and inspirational rendition of the story of the extraordinary band of Headscarf Revolutionaries who took it upon themselves to campaign for the safety and working conditions of deep sea trawlermen. 

Here is a condensed version of the 1968 Government Enquiry, the legacy of those brave women.

As a result of the tragic loss of deep sea trawlers and their crews, brought into sharp focus by the loss of three Hull based trawlers, St Romanus, Kingston Peridot and Ross Cleveland all within just 36 days with the loss of 58 Lives in 1968,  the President of the Board of Trade appointed a Committee to examine the major factors affecting their safety and to make recommendations.

The inquiry revealed that the standardised mortality ratio of fishermen for accidents at work for the years 1959-63 was 1726, seventeen times that for the male population as a whole.

In the age-group 15-44 a fisherman is twenty times more likely to die as a result of an accident at work than all men in other occupations.

The most common cause of death was by losses overboard and deckmen were specially at risk. Deaths were more common on distant water trawlers than others, probably because they operated in more dangerous waters.

Accidents and fatalities on stern trawlers were less common than on side trawlers.

It was not just the perils of the occupation in distant waters that exposed fishermen to such life threatening and life changing risks.

Fishermen had a high mortality from cancer of the lung and stomach, hypertension and bronchitis, and suffered unduly from peptic ulcer and other gastrointestinal illnesses.

Skin disease was about twice as common among fishermen as among all men in the general population and included especially sea water boils and folliculitis, the latter from exposure to chemicals, oils and such things as coal tar.

The Committee recommend the continued operation of a support ship including medical staff off the main fishing grounds of Iceland and it would be an advantage if support ships could be organised on an international basis. 

The Committee noted the poor recording of accidents and recommended that comprehensive and detailed statistics should be sought if accidents were to be prevented and progress in improving standards was to be measured.

With regard to measures to improve the personal safety of deckmen, the main risk occupation on board a trawling operation ,the Committee suggest an investigation of "the ergonomics of human locomotion in an oscillatory and slippery environment". Research should be undertaken with the object of designing a safer layout for the cables that ran out the nets on deck and on the guarding of warps running near working areas. The layout should ensure that men and warps were kept apart. Also recommended were a safer design of towing block, preferably an automatic one, and improvements to the operation and guarding of otter boards (used to spread out the net) and the winch. 

The Board of Trade was to seek powers to lay down statutory requirements on the design, testing and periodic inspection of trawler equipment and gear. 

Research should continue in the effort to produce new and improved working clothing and the Committee recommended that owners should meet the cost and ensure that it was worn. Survival clothing should be supplied in life rafts and crew members should have warm clothing available at all times. 

The Committee were convinced by their own observations, supported by medical experts, and by what was heard from ordinary crew members, that fatigue was a major factor affecting the accident rate on deep sea trawlers. It was recommended, therefore, that the Government should seek powers to lay down statutory requirements that the crew of distant water trawlers receive minimum continuous rest periods on the fishing grounds of at least 6 hours, followed by periods of duty of not more than twice the rest period, and, except in emergency, of not more than 16 hours.

For the crews of near and middle water trawlers there should be at least 6 hours' continuous rest every 24 hours on the fishing grounds. For boys under the age of 17 years, referred to as Deckie-Learners , minimum rest periods of 12 hours per day were recommended.

A minimum of 84 hours' shore leave between voyages was recommended for distant water trawlers and 60 hours for near and middle water trawlers who spent 10 days or more at sea. This gave rise to the name given to trawler crews on their days back on shore as the “Three Day Millionnaires”.

Although the Committee doubted that the common method of payment based on volumes of catch had a major direct effect on fatigue and accident rates at sea, it was suggested that it may have had undesirable effects. It was recommended, therefore, that the present importance of poundage payments was progressively reduced, particularly in the distant water fleet.  Many groups of ship owners ran annual competitions for best performing trawler Skipper such as the Silver Cod amongst the Hull fleet which was prestigious in reputation and cash reward. Many rules and practices designed to safeguard crews would be overlooked in the pursuit for the ultimate accolade of best trawler.

Other recommendations on safety include advice on radio-communications, search and rescue, the design and construction of trawlers, training, management and industrial relations. 

An occupational health service for fishermen would reduce the number of men who were taken ill at sea and have to be landed at ports abroad for medical treatment. There would also be savings in the costs of medical treatment of trawlermen landed abroad. It was recommended that medical services to trawlermen should be extended to all ports and should be increased in scope. 

New entrants to the industry and all men who had been off work owing to sickness or injury should be examined before they were allowed to go to sea. There should be regular examination of older men. The examinations should be thorough and should at least include chest X-ray and an electrocardiograph examination.

There should be full-time medical officers at the larger ports. 

Finally, the Committee recommend the representation of both sides of the industry on joint safety committees in the main ports, and the setting up of a National Trawler Health and Safety Committee was suggested to advise Government departments and the industry on the major factors affecting health and safety in the deep sea fishing fleet. 

The implementation of these measures will have saved countless fishermen from an unnecessary death or injury and ensured that for the few remaining years of deep sea trawling as a viable industry the hard working crews would be able to return to Port and their loved ones.

(Source; HM Government.1968 Enquiry. Record Number : 19702700905Publisher : London: H.M. Stationery Office)

Old Slang Signs

  It is the celebration of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns this week, 25th January 2024 and so to get us all in the spirit of the event here are a few olde worlde Scottish sayings and words and other more modern ones...

• I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug! – I’ll give you a slap on the ear.
• Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye! – What’s meant to happen will happen.
• Skinny Malinky Longlegs! – A tall thin person.
• Lang may yer lum reek! – May you live long and stay well.
• Speak o’ the Devil! – Usually said when you have been talking about someone – they usually appear.
• Black as the Earl of Hell’s Waistcoat! – Pitch black.
• Failing means yer playin! – When you fail at something at least you’re trying.
• Mony a mickle maks a muckle! – Saving a small amount soon builds up to a large amount.
• Keep the heid! – Stay calm, don’t get upset.
• We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns! – We’re all God’s children, nobody is better than anybody else – we’re all equal.
• Dinnae teach yer Granny tae suck eggs! – Don’t try to teach someone something they already know.
• Dinnae marry fur money! – Don’t marry for money – you can borrow it cheaper.
• Is the cat deid? – Has the cat died? Means your trousers are a bit short – like a flag flying at half mast.
• Haud yer wheesht! – Be quiet.
• Noo jist haud on! – Now just hold it, slow down, take your time.
• Hell slap it intae ye! – Means it’s your own fault.
• I’m fair puckled! – I’m short of breath.
• Do yer dinger. – Loudly express disapproval.
• Gie it laldy. – Do something with gusto.
• Ah dinnae ken. – I don’t know.
• Haste Ye Back! – Farewell saying meaning “return soon”.
• It’s a dreich day! – Said in reference to the weather, when it’s cold, damp and miserable.

Some Scottish sayings that are not so old ……

• Gonnae no’ dae that! – Going to not do that.
• Pure dead brilliant – Exceptionally good.
• Yer bum’s oot the windae – You’re talking rubbish.
• Am pure done in – I’m feeling very tired.
• Am a pure nick – I don’t look very presentable.
• Ah umnae – I am not.
• Ma heid’s mince – My head’s a bit mixed up.
• Yer oot yer face! – You’re very drunk.
• Yer aff yer heid – You’re off your head – a little bit daft.

And some Scottish slang words ……

• Aboot – About
• Ain – Own
• Auld – Old
• Aye – Yes
• Bahooky – Backside, bum
• Bairn – Baby
• Bampot- Idiot
• Barry- splendid
• Baw – Ball
• Bawface – Describes someone with a big round face.
• Ben – Mountain, or through
• Bevvy-drink
• Bide – Depending on the context, means wait, or stay.
• Blether – Talkative, when referred to a person. To “have a blether” is to have a chat.
• Blutered- very drunk
• Boggin-filthy or disgusting
• Bonnie – Beautiful
• Bowfing – Smelly, horrible
• Braw – Good, or brilliant
• Breeks – Trousers
• Coo – Cow
• Clorty- Filthy
• Crabbit – Bad tempered
• Cry – Call, as in what do you call him?
• Dae – Do
• Dauner – Walk – “I’m away for a dauner”
• Didnae – Didn’t
• Dinnae – Don’t
• Dour- glum
• Drap – Drop
• Dreep – Drip
• Drookit – Soaking wet
• Druth- thirsty
• Dug – Dog
• Dunderheid, Eejit, Galoot, Numptie – All mean idiot
• Dunt – Bump
• Eedjit- idiot
• Feart – Afraid
• Fusty- mouldy
• Frae – From
• Galoot- idiot
• Gallus – Bravado, over-confident
• Gang – Go
• Gaunnae – Going to
• Geggie – Mouth, as in “shut your geggie”
• Glaikit – Stupid, slow on the uptake
• Goonie – Nightgown
• Greet – Cry
• Gubbed - Badly
• Gumption – Common sense, initiative
• Gurne- Sulk
• Guttered- Drunk
• Gutties - Plimsolls
• Hae – Have
• Hame – Home
• Hammered- Drunk
• Haud – Hold
• Haver – Talk rubbish
• Hing – Hang
• Hoachin’ – Very busy
• Hokin’ – Rummaging
• Honkin’, Hummin’, Howlin’ – Bad smell
• Hoose – House
• Houghin - Revolting
• Hunner – Hundred
• Hurkle Durkle - messing about
• Huvnae – Haven’t
• Invershnecky- Inverness
• Jobbie - going for shit
• Keech - bird poo
• Keek – A little look
• Ken – Know
• Lum – Chimney
• Mair – More
• Mannie - little man
• Manky - Filthy
• Merrit – Married
• Messages - groceries
• Mockit, Mingin’, Boggin’ – All mean dirty
• Moose – Mouse
• Naw – No
• Neep, Tumshie – Turnip
• Noo – Now
• Numpty - idiot
• Oot – Out
• Peely Wally – Pale
• Piece – A sandwich
• Poke – (to poke – to prod) (a poke – a paper bag)
• Pus - Mouth
• Radgees - Crazy young lads
• Reek – Smell, emit smoke
• Riddy – A red face, embarrassed
• Scran - Food
• Screwball – Unhinged, mad
• Scullery – Kitchen
• Scunnered – Bored, fed up
• Shoogle – Shake
• Shoogly – Shaky, wobbly
• Shuftie - take a look
• Shunky - Toilet
• Simmet – Gents singlet
• Skelp – Slap
• Skoosh – Lemonade (or fizzy drink)
• Skrechin- shriek
• Sleekit – Sly
• Stookie – Plaster cast (for a broken bone)
• Stour – Dust
• Swally - drunk
• Tartle - panic when forgetting someones name
• Tattie – Potato
• Tattyboggler - Scarecrow
• Telt – Told
• Teuchtar - someone for far north west Scotland
• Thon – That
• Wean – Child
• Weegie- Glasgow person
• Wellies – Wellington boots
• Wheest - be quiet
• Whit – What
• Willnae – Will not
• Widnae – Would not
• Windae – Window
• Wummin – Women
• Ye – You
• Yer – Your
• Yin – One

Degrees of Success- Robbie Burns

It is the morning after Burns Night 2024. I have, in frugal style, scraped up the last of the Haggis from the corners of the serving dish as it stands on the cooker top trying to avoid the scraps of neaps which from experience have a bitter overnight aftertaste. 

With a gloriously naughty feeling on what is a working day I run my finger around the inside of the whisky glass used for the previous evenings toasts and get just a wee sensation of the essence of Scotland. 

Ours had been a grand Burns Supper, one of countless millions celebrated globally by the upwards of 45 million or more who possess a Scottish ancestry. 

From The New York Public Library

Today, it is back to business and an opportunity to reflect on the value of the poet and lyricist Robert Burns to Scotland not just in artistic and cultural terms which are a given but in cold hard cash revenues to the national economy. 

I am looking to update an exercise commissioned by the BBC in 2009 on this very issue- how much does the Burns Brand generate for the nation? 

Robert Burns was born in Alloway, Ayrshire in 1759. 

In his relatively short life, he died aged 37, he produced great works of prose, poetry and song in the Scottish dialect and these have endured amongst a home grown and worldwide audience. He was not always appreciated in his own lifetime, indeed it was not really until the late Victorian era that an interest was shown in all things from North of the Border from fashion to design, art and crafts, literature and furniture. 

Scotland has produced, for its population, a disproportionate number of exceptional individuals in science, philanthropy, the arts, invention and as entrepreneurs. The Victorians wanted to be associated with such a progressive cultural attitude and Robert Burns was at the forefront of the movement, albeit posthumously. 

It was not therefore instant stardom and celebrity for the man. 

Even as recently as 2004 the sustainability of Burns as a national icon was under pressure when funding organisations withdrew from their support of the Birthplace Museum in Alloway. Declining visitor numbers led to dwindling income. Deterioration of the Museum building allowed the Burns Family Bible to be damaged by a roof leak and it was only when the National Trust for Scotland and Lottery Money stepped up in or around 2009 that any sort of future was assured. 

Huge investment to coincide with the 250th anniversary of the birth of Burns  allowed construction of a new Heritage Centre and attractions in Ayrshire and the future of the Burns Brand was assured. 

In 2009 the BBC consulted the great and the good in order to come up with an estimated figure for the revenue generated by all things Burns. 

They considered five broad categories of income that were intrinsically linked to the current cult-status  centred on the poet. 

1) General Tourism. There are millions of visitors to Scotland every year and Ayrshire is a destination for many followers of Burns. Income is derived from hotel accommodation, restaurants and shops, taxi fares, bus fares, guide books and services. 

2)Burns Merchandise. The Heritage Centre and on line shops have a range of quality products in the Burns Brand ranging from expensive lyric -engraved jewellery to chess sets and snow-globes to the best selling fridge magnets. Summer visitors like the themed postcards and as Burns Night, 25th January approaches, the sales of napkins and tea towels ramp up. 

3)Haggis. Not many foodstuffs have their own poem in celebration. This blend of lambs lungs, offal, oats, gravy and other things.....is available all year round but with a spike in volumes for the traditional Supper. It is quite a scrap in my local stockist to secure an elusive MacSweens Haggis for this occasion. Don't forget the tatties and neaps. Oatcakes and soup sales also peak. 

 

4)Whisky. I do  not have much to add to the production figures for this national tipple by way of emphasising the income generating ability of this product. 

5) Miscellaneous items. These are as varied as kilt and sporran hire to fees for a Piper, choirs, Master of Ceremonies, Guest Speakers and admission prices for Corporate Events. 

The wide range of inputs in this calculation does, as you will appreciate, give potential for a huge margin of error. 

Since the 2009 BBC guesstimate there has been inflationary and other pressures at play. One single element has been the increase, over that period, in the adult admission charge to the Heritage Centre from £9 to £11.50. 

Crunching the numbers, in my update, produces a figure of £196 millions. 

Robert Burns would, I think, be pleased about his 21st Century wealth generating capabilities although ironically he struggled in his lifetime with his own finances. 

Not that he was really bothered by material things as a line from his "Country Lassie" testifies "Content and Loove brings peace and joy".

Language over time

This is something that I wrote ten years ago...........

Language is a very fluid thing and even when describing commonplace and quite mundane events

 it is likely that we of the modern age, would find it difficult to understand our distant ancestors.

By fluid I mean at the rate of perhaps the pioneering of a handful of  new words a year, a few subtle changes in meaning every decade and with the bigger cultural swings and shifts every generation or so.
Geoffrey Chaucer who wrote between 1374 and 1386 is widely held to one of the principal introducers of new words to the English Language although given the rarity of surviving or as widely read contemporaries he may just have cornered the market in being the last man standing of that age.

Those of you who studied the works of Chaucer as a set text in secondary school, like me, will have struggled with not just the form of words but also their tone and delivery. It was only when the Wife of Bath was read aloud in a lyrical and almost mystical cadence that the story took shape in all of its ribald and, frankly, crude and vulgar manner.

In all of the pages of the Oxford English Dictionary it is Chaucer who holds the record number of citations for the use of a new word at a tremendous 2004.

Amongst these are some surprising ones that I always thought existed from the very earliest of the writings of mankind or in the great volumes of text emanating from religious works. Take Bagpipe, bed head, hernia, outrageous, scissors, Persian, vacation, universe and wallet for example. These words, even though first penned by Chaucer will have mainly been known in common dialogue and with their etymology in ancient culture.

Later Medieval conversations had an abundance of what we would now regard as quite flamboyant and romantic terms revolving around thy, thee, whither, thither, hither, perchance, prithee, verily and methinks and with a strong emphasis on deference and respect to the ruling class, nobility and elders.
By the age of Shakespeare words and language had evolved as more of the population, although still those of privileged upbringing and nurture, were able to read or hold a rational and structured conversation. The Bard is responsible for many phrases and sayings that survive in one form or another in today's language although often misquoted or delivered in a bit of a mix and match format. The best known include a fool's paradise, all's well that ends well, as dead as a doornail,  fair play, in a pickle, in stitches, neither a borrower nor a lender be, the crack of doom, truth will out and wild goose chase. These seem remarkably fresh even today which is testament to the influence exerted by Shakespeare on the English Language not just in the mother country but throughout the world as English became established on a global scale.

By the 1700's and 1800's spoken and written English was regarded as being so much more refined than in previous ages and this is no more evident than in the classic novels and major literary tomes of that time. We are all familiar with Bronte and Austen being staple components of many an education and more recently in the movie adaptations of their greatest works and the depiction of their alternately gallant and feckless heroes and herioines.

Many of the storylines were again, of the privileged and wealthy gentry and it took the likes of Charles Dickens to bring about a bit of realism, grit and plain ugliness into the spoken word. He was also the master of inventiveness, humour and mischief and these qualities were seen in abundance in his larger than life characters.

My own introduction to Dickens was from the shelf of leather bound volumes at my Grandparents house which I secreted away whenever I went to stay as a child. These were no doubt purchased on a monthly basis from a travelling salesman or through a book club. Under the candlewick bedspread by torchlight the tales and personalities came alive assisted by graphic pencil illustrations amongst the thick yellowing paper pages of the main scenes from Oliver Twist, David Copperfield and Great Expectations.
My later schoolyears involved studying Thomas Hardy and I was again enthralled by the wordiness and intricacies of his long descriptive sentences and complicated story lines. It was quite hard work wading through Tess of the D'urbervilles and Far From the Madding Crowd but made easier by big screen versions from the late sixties and seventies.

The twentieth century saw further fluidity in language and words not just in print but increasingly in other media including film and television. Stereotypes developed with each decade in style and speech with 1920's flappers, 1930's clipped speech, 1940's Americanisms, 1950's post war austerity, 1960's liberalism and 1970's social and economic upheaval. By the 1980's it was yuppie time and this persisted into the 1990's and the decades towards the millenium of the dominance of the computer and mobile phone as a source of new words and slang.

Social Media is the main channel of communication and trend setting for the current generation and this has led to the acceleration in yet more new words and phrases.

The authoratative work, the Slang Dictionary is the proving ground and test bed for new language before general acceptance and formal documentation in the Oxford English Dictionary. There are new entries of slang and colloquialisms on a monthly basis.
The listing of a slang expression is determined by its use beyond that of the localised employment of a few friends; in due course these localised expressions may gain greater popularity and achieve expanded regional, national or even global recognition, however it is only at that time that they will be included in the dictionary.
We should be aware that there is a large volume of slang to be encountered through the media such as television, film and press, which invariably increase the reference points but genuinely remain outside of personal use. These media promoted expressions may in due course be adopted into our vernacular, and as such, when they can be confirmed as in use, then they will be listed at that time.

With repeated exposure, via film, television and music, the volume of North American slang we hear in the UK is vast, but a large percentage is still to make inroads into the forefront of British use.

What sort of database are we establishing now for future generations to use or regard as quaint bits of heritage? Here are a few picked at random;

abdabs
absobloodylutely
babe magnet
cack
dischuffed
exactamundo
fabtastic
gaydar
happy clappy brigade
in the niff
peanut smuggling
rellies
wass-up?
yummy mummy

Given the speed of new language the above may just seem like gobblygook within a matter of just a few days...........if not already.

New Year Pledge 2024

The New Year. 2024

I always start out with the best of intentions.

I usually have a few Resolutions which involve a pledge to give up chocolate, take more exercise, read more books and learn something new like a language or a skill with bricklaying being a particular favourite. Within a couple of days, whilst wistfully eating my way through the leftovers of a Cadbury selection box, lounging about on the settee, shunning the activity of turning a page, not even being lucid enough to put together a meaningful sentence to anyone and looking out of the window at that tumbled down wall , I realise that I have failed miserably, well not even miserably because that implies that I had some attempt to uphold my promises in the first place.

The start of a New Year also brings about a frame of mind and opportunity to review your life and hopefully put into practice those lessons learned from hard knocks and bitter experiences that have loomed up in life's broad pageant to date.

This year of 2024 is halfway into my landmark 60th year, yes, that's right, it is the new 35, and what an opportunity to combine this with something magnanimous.

To this end I am thinking about handing out forgiveness, for what I have long since regarded as misdemeanours against me, to the perpetrators whether they have been individuals, groups, companies or the world at large.

Life is far too short to carry around thoughts of retribution for petty issues and my sanity, blood pressure and overall stress levels would benefit significantly from letting these things just evaporate in an all enveloping sense of forgiveness.

In thinking through this intention I have realised how much it is in my nature to hold a grudge on the most silly and stupid things which could, in the most part, not even be seen as a transgression or even a minor personal slight.

On a year to year basis however the magnitude of these issues has grown out of all proportion and that I have just come to appreciate this , only now, is a very sorry state of affairs indeed. I may actually have shortened my life expectancy by carrying around these poisoned and festering thoughts of absolutely no consequence whatsoever in the greater scheme of things.

I have attempted to place this roster of forgiveness in some sort of ascending date order;

Whoever burnt down the Co-Operative Store in Abingdon, Bucks in 1968. It was our local shop and sold the best 'pick and mix' in my world as at 5 years old.

Class 2d at Westgarth County Primary, Bury St Edmunds for protecting the identity of someone who walked off with my collection, my prized collection of Dinky, Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars on the occasion of a 'bring yours toys to school day' in or around 1971.

My Gran, for her thinking but not actually saying that I killed her Jack Russell dog in revenge for her seeing off my pet cat. I was not to know that the building site where I took Ruff for a walk on that fateful day in 1975 was covered with rat poison.

The Corporate Banking Department at Lloyds Bank for their terrible attitude to, and treatment of my Father in or around 1978. He was a Good Person and Bank Manager in that order.

Paul Weller, Rick Buckler and Bruce Foxton, collectively The Jam, for their denial in 1980 of being Mods when that was the last thing that faithful fans and followers wanted to hear especially after buying all their records and wearing their Dad's suit and winkle picker shoes to local disco's.

A group of youths in Fallowfield, Manchester who in 1981 gave me my first sensation of a punch in the face when I refused them a handful of chips in the street.

Three girlfriends who over the period of 1981 to 1985 dumped me which can be a devastating feeling to a young lad.

Leeds United. No explanation required for anyone who likes and appreciates football as a beautiful game.

Ford Motor Company. Producers of my first company car, a 1.6 Diesel Fiesta, in which I scared myself when it failed to reach 50mph in third gear in attempting to overtake a slow moving lorry on the by-pass in 1986.

Sardines, fresh ones on which I blame my appendicitis at the age of 46.

The percentage of the UK population who voted to leave the EU**

Forgiven and forgotten. I feel better already

** well, perhaps not. 

James Bond at Christmas

Back by popular request, I wrote this a few years ago now but in the fictional World of Bond nothing goes out of date.It revolves around a local hotel which has been advertising, amongst its seasonal events what they call a 'James Bond Christmas'. 

Here goes...........

Commander Bond lay under the duvet cover. The distant sounding of church bells reminded him that this was indeed Christmas Day.

He had got in at about 9.30pm from yet another of  'M's festive gatherings. It had not been that exciting. He had returned alone. Moneypenny had gone home even earlier, after all she was an old lady and no fun. M's quiche had made him a bit bilious and the dry martini's had not been enough to quell the acidity in his stomach.

He let one go under the heavy winter tog rated bedding and casually wafted it away into the gradually increasing natural light of his flat.

What to do for Christmas Day?

He swung a leg out, feeling for the thick pile of the carpet. Pulling his heavy built form upright he found that his Onesie had ridden up during the night with some constriction of his lower abdomen. It was a legitimate reason for a prolonged scratch and re-arrangement of his undercarriage.

The flat was cold and he cursed not mastering the central heating thermostat in the twenty years and more of his occupation. He had no time for manuals. 'Q' had been kind enough to show him the settings for instantaneous hot water and radiator heating. They had been very similar to the afterburner controls on Little Nelly. A nasty and expensive quarterly gas bill had been the consequence of a degree of confusion on one occasion.

A light, healthy breakfast appealed to him. Those long sessions at the Casino in recent years had ruined his physique .He had contracted and only just recovered from a nasty virus from , he suspected, the sampled contents of a small bowl of mint imperials at the coat-check counter near the toilets in Monte Carlo.

He was disappointed by the contents of the fridge. The orange juice was 'with bits' which he had bought from M&S without checking. He infinitely preferred smooth. No yoghurt, no bran or porridge oats so he settled for a lump of cheese and half a packet of cream crackers. The Onesie successfully captured any fragments of the flaky Lancashire and biscuit crumbs in its thick, luxurious velour giving the faux tiger-skin print the appearance of a dandruff outbreak.

Living the life of a bachelor, out of the normal hours of his regimented and disciplined professional assassin duties, the living room was a tip.

He stumbled over a collection of take-away cartons,pizza boxes and discarded clothing-disappointingly all his. A pint glass full of the discarded shells of pistachio's fell and rolled across the parquet floor gradually decanting its contents. A few well place martial arts kicks cleared the rest of the debris under the DFS corner suite and Ikea wall unit. The DVD's would have to be sorted later from an unruly pile. The movie of 27 Dresses at the top caused him to pause and recall how he had enjoyed the plot and sentiment of such a well structured and acted rom-com.

As Commander Bond dragged the Dyson bagless around the room he made an instinctive check for any signs of intrusion whilst he had been at M's reception. Trip wires and carefully adhered strands of his chest hair were still in situ. It was disappointing not to be the subject of any nefarious intentions during the holiday season. How was he expected to keep his hand in?

The number of Christmas cards on the mantelpiece was well down this year. This was, he mused a combination of how convincing his manufactured death had been earlier in the year resulting in many deletions by Facebook friends and the trend amongst fellow assasins to have to kill each other.

The unsigned, oversized padded card depicting an alpine scene was definitely from that rascal Blofeld. He had a decent sense of humour under that serious visage of world dominating villainy.

The morning passed quickly. Feeling peckish after his exertions of a man's comprehension of cleaning and hoovering he chipped away at the slab of ice which had consumed his freezer compartment and recovered a couple of ready-meals which would do nicely for his Christmas dinner. The combination of Tikka Massala and Hot Pot was novel but palatable. Dessert was a bit more of a challenge but the Angel Delight was soon whisked into a firm peak that briefly and erotically reminded him of past conquests.

The controllers at the 'Licenced to Kill' desk deep in the MI5 building received a message from Bond on the restricted scrambled channel and they duly sent him the TV listings for the rest of the day . He did not expect HM The Queen to expand on their skydiving antics into the Olympic Stadium in her traditional address to the nation. He knew she had enjoyed it on an altogether private level by her whoops and screams and covert and playful cupping of his groin on the descent through the late July sky over London.

Next he knew, it was dark outside the flat. He had dozed off, sprawled across the settee, and with a dribble of spittle running down his chin, a faint essence of butterscotch discernible. Annoyingly he had missed the blockbuster film and no-one had availed him of the operational details of the i-player.

The Strictly Christmas offering thrilled him for the rest of the evening. He would never be asked to participate on the dance floor because of the intricacies of his professional lifestyle.This was a major regret.  His enjoyment of Downton Abbey had been tempered by his instinctive identification of access and escape routes in the stately home and the best place to set off a diversionary explosion for maximum mayhem amongst the sinister looking below stairs staff, all ex KGB without doubt. Lady Mary was definitely a deep cover operative, for sure.

The latter part of the day was now dragging. The invitations to a 'Christmas At Home' from a selection of gangsters, sociopaths and the criminally insane remained on his antique escritoire, opened but not responded to. A threat of menace and a long monologue about blah, blah, ransom, blah, blah, extortion, blah, blah, gold reserves and the prospect of a scorching of nether regions by a high powered laser was now of some attraction when in the past it had just been part and parcel of the job.

It was a pity that he had not forged better links with those he had collaborated with on his missions. That Felix Leiter was a personable chap but obviously had problems of self image based on his frequently radical changes in appearance and skin colour.

He poured himself a Baileys over ice (chipped flakes from the freezer compartment) and gorged himself to the point of being nauseous on the After Eights, a raffle prize at 'M's with the proceeds going to support the families of disavowed agents.

James Bond contemplated starting a diplomatic incident to alleviate his boredom. A convincing non-nuclear conflagration of the Home Counties was well within his capabilities from just the contents of his lock up garage in Twickenham.  His life story, auctioned to the tabloids would keep him in the style in which the public perceived him to exist.

In reality and out of abject loneliness he found that crying himself to sleep on Christmas night was a form of light and therapeutic relief. 

As always, he firmly believed that it would be so much better next year....,,,,,,,

Return to Bedford Falls

One of my seasonal favourites. Thought I would show it again just to get in the Festive mood.....

It's a wonderful film and yet, as with most works of genius it was not recognised in its own time. Perhaps its sentiment in 1946 was too nice for a world emerging from war and austerity. It has at it's root laudable themes of brooding unhappiness , selfless service to the community, heartless business and contemplation of suicide and not that many pitch battles, bombing missions, beach assaults and no notable explosions which were otherwise popular movie features of the period.  It represented a return of humanity and values that had been sacrificed or as the lead character, George Bailey, played by James Stewart remarks 'all is fair in love and war'.

I am of course referring to the Frank Capra movie of "It's a Wonderful Life"

It's a regular event in our family to watch the DVD in the run-up to Christmas. It does rank and climbs the poll every year as the best Christmas film of all time although my son still contends that Die Hard (1) would be hard to be pushed off top spot. Recently , a re-digitised and colour version was released but to really appreciate the heart warming emotions it has to be seen in original black and white. The movie does impact in all its glory on a small domestic TV screen, especially when cocooned in a duvet on the sofa and surrounded by loved ones. In the privacy of my own home I will be a bit misty eyed by about 30 minutes into the running time and completely useless and blubbering for the duration. I issue a spoiler alert at this stage but you must, if not familiar with the film, just watch it, wrapped up, with family or close friends and keep some tissues up your sleeves.

It's a rare privilege therefore, some 66 years after the release of the film, to get an opportunity to see it on the big screen in a cinema. It is something altogether different to contemplate being seen crying in a public auditorium. In my favour the screening was in a town some distance away from my home and so there was a low to acceptable risk of bumping into a friend or acquaintance. I had mentioned to colleagues and just passers by in the street, in the preceding weeks, that this was on the cards but was very careful not to divulge the location, day, date and time. I was astounded by the number of blank expressions from those with no knowledge of the film although the enthusiastic reminiscences from the majority did outweigh those poor unfortunate and unfulfilled souls.

It's a small cinema, one of the very few still surviving in a market place setting in a commuter town. The nearest multiplex would be around 20 miles away in the nearest cities which will have helped it to persist. I would willingly have paid more than the £4 admission charge which did include a glass of sherry and a micro-mince pie. Forget your deep and plushly upholstered back massaging, centrally heated and wired for sound luxury seating and just get comfortable if you can in a blue cloth wrapped bucket. Not much chance of being seduced into a sleep for the duration which is all good. I have often paid £12.50 to Odeon , Vue and Cineworld Cinemas ostensibly for a film but actually for a fitfull drift in and out of consciousness in that luxuriant heavy eyed feeling. Most blockbuster films are a mystery to me in terms of the main plot as I am only awake for the very beginning and the final chaotic few frames, usually involving silhouetted figures and a sunset.

It's an exciting moment when the lights dim and the big screen lights up into action. The quality of the film was fantastic although I may have been secretly disappointed that there were no bromide-brown blobs, dancing string-like blemishes or curses from the projection room over scorched and melting celluloid. I was immediately transported back in time as though at a small town Premiere of It's a Wonderful Life. The lack of legroom to a baby boomer like myself would not have constituted a problem to a post war audience in the UK, what with emaciation from many years of rationing, staple food deficiences and premature curvature of the legs from rickets.

It's a revelation to see the drama unfold on the big screen. Although I have seen the movie at least annually for the last decade or so the super sized images added a completely fresh dimension and it was as though I was seeing it for the first time. In close-up and at 4metres full on,  the facial expressions of James Stewart are even more magnificent and as for the lead actress, Donna Reed, well she's got a very good complexion and skin tone which is not always apparent on my Sony TV at home. There was a warning on the advertising poster of mild violence for the more sensitive in the audience. In the context of the film and it's era it was acceptable, or so it was portrayed, to slap around shop staff, throw stones at houses, verbally abuse primary school teachers, drink drive and make mad and violent love- you know the sort, fully clothed, no actual physical contact and with both feet on the ground to get past the Film Censors.

It's a therapeutic sound to hear a large group of people laugh and weep at alternate moments but generally in unison. I had just about got acclimatised to the seat when the film finished. Where had the time gone? As the audience reluctantly got up to go and in rather harsh lighting it was normal service resumed in human interaction or the lack of it. We all, me included, kept our heads down for fear of showing a weakness in our tear streamed faces. The waste bin at the exit was nearly full of damp Kleenex when I reached it and coaxed out the soggy contents of my left sleeve. A few small family groups lingered and reassured each other in quite a public display of fondness which was both nice and a bit cringey in equal proportions.

It's a funny thing but on the pavement outside, in the minus one degree of a mid December night in a Yorkshire town it felt a bit like the Bedford Falls of the film. It was not so long ago that there had been, like in the film, a run on the bank. There will be many that we know personally who feel trapped in their current lives when in their carefree youth they had magnificent plans to travel and undertake adventures. We all will have felt a degree of despair, anxiety and depression at some time. It is ultimately important , however to remind ourselves that we all contribute in some way to the lives of those around us whether through supporting our families and friends or just through a kind word or deed to a complete stranger.

It's in our power to make it a really wonderful life. Get busy.