Saturday 30 April 2011

Wedding Bliss or a Right Royal Misery?

I think it would irresponsible of me, as the writer of a weekly blog, not to talk about the biggest wedding this country has seen in thirty years. I apologise to those of you who’ve had it up to here (I indicate a level equal with my neck), but for me it was an interesting experience as I watched it with an open, unexcited mind.



In the days building up to the wedding I put out a facebook status, asking for alternative choices to watching the wedding. Friends responded quickly, encouraging me to join “Republican” parties or accusing me of being a party pooper and that I should celebrate our royal family. I wasn’t trying to make a political statement - I just figured that the wedding show wouldn’t present any surprises or plot twists and the main storyline would be lumbered with senseless and dull interviews with members of the public, fool enough to venture into central London in the hope of seeing the wedding party whiz passed them on their route to and from the Abbey. As no attractive alternatives were presented to me and the constant hype on the television did start to stir my curiosity I found myself getting up far too early on a bank holiday to tune in to the BBC coverage.



I decided to watch the wedding with my girlfriend and her parents. My girlfriend’s mum has been looking forward to the wedding day since the engagement was announced all those months ago. She had dived into the occasion with both feet, providing hats, a ‘royal’ fry up and smoked salmon canapés, all washed down with copious amounts of champagne. We might not have been there at the Abbey and then at Buckingham Palace, but we were at the next best place – the exclusive wedding party in Gidea Park, Essex!



Much to my surprise, I got quite into the whole event. I was particularly impressed by the maple trees in the Abbey and of course the bride (and her sister) looked absolutely stunning. It did hit me that despite her privileged upbringing, her life will never be the same again. She will never go on a tube, bus or a budget airline. That might sound like bliss for most, but I think being so cut off from what you are used to is pretty scary.



Funnily enough – the more I got into the wedding celebrations the more my mother-in-law was getting disappointed. Apparently the wedding was no where near as grand as Princess Diana and Prince Charles’ wedding day.



For me it was all good fun during the service, the balcony kisses and then finally the quick spin in the Aston Martin. But in all, over the course of yesterday, I must have seen the wedding at least four times, with replays and analysis that Match of the Day would be proud of. There’s only so many times I need to see them smile, wave and snog but now we have the added commentary from Sue in Buckleberry, hysterical from the whole spectacle, and important insights from Dave from Middleton in Rochdale on the dress and the flowers and not forgetting the toddlers, dressed as knights and princesses at street parties up and down the country, not yet able to speak, but interviewed nonetheless by the BBC’s intrepid field reporters.



On a more interesting note, did anyone else spot the runaway horse? Just for a second, as the couple journey down the Mall, there is clearly seen a panicked, rider-less horse cantering around like a participant in the Grand National. Apparently the horse had bucked its rider when spooked by the million screaming fans – I’m not surprised I imagine it’s a pretty intimidating sight! I just hope neither the horse nor the cavalryman will get in trouble. Though no doubt the horse will have forgotten the whole thing by now, I’m sure the soldier will never live down the day he was bucked from his horse during the Royal Wedding. Friday might have defined a young couples’ lives, but it also defined the life of one poor soldier.


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Thursday 21 April 2011

Olympic Dreams or Olympic Nightmares?

So everywhere you go now, there seems to be Olympic hype. Whether it’s billboards, radio, massive public screens or, if you work at Pall Mall Barbers, a massive clock counting down the seconds around the corner. I am of course referring to the Omega Olympic Clock in Trafalgar Square which famously froze last month. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about the games, though if this is the kind of bombardment we’re getting now in April 2011 what’s it going to be like in April 2012 let alone in June, July and August!



One of the things I love about the Olympics is that bizarre and obscure sports come to the forefront – especially if there’s a Brit in with a shout of a medal. You have a young British woman hoping for a silver or gold in Archery and you’ll probably hear the road workers talk about her strength at adjusting in high winds, but that her temperamental attitude doesn’t bode well in the long rounds. Let’s face it, growing up with Sir Steve Redgrave as an Olympic role model has meant every one aged between 15 and 50 seems to know all about a good catch, finish and drive for the line which are the essential elements for a champion rower. You put it like that and you make it sound so simple.



Of course it isn’t always the sport that makes us watch. I have been ridiculed for showing a more enthusiastic interest in cycling when Pendleton is competing and I’ll admit as a kid I had a bit of a crush on Denise Lewis… I know I’m not alone in this – watching the Sydney Olympics while at University my female flatmates seemed more interested in the Australian rowers’ tight tight Lycra than Big Steve’s historic 5th gold medal.



So with all these factors swirling round my head (well not the Australian lycra!) I went on the Olympic website yesterday to try and book some tickets for the once-in-a-lifetime show. Two hours later I logged off having not yet applied for any tickets at all! – Though the website is clear and easy to use, the strategies required would have a crack team of Napoleon, Rommel and Caesar dizzy with confusion! Having spoken with numerous people, I realise that everyone is attempting to ensure they receive their allotted tickets through all sorts of cross-betting, sweep-staking or safety first methodology. What makes matters worse is that the very events I want to go to are proving to be the most popular, namely; Track Cycling, Swimming and - who would believe it? - Beach Volley Ball. It’s times like this when I wish I had an obsession with the most obscure of sports like “long distance weight lifting” – but then that, for novelty sake, would probably be really popular. It’s crazy to think that having put my name forward for a potential £1,500 bill next month I might not get any tickets at all. The popular strategy - and this is only if you have the capital - is to buy £10,000 worth of tickets and then sell the ones you get that you don’t want on the ticket swap site. Call me bitter but that doesn’t sound particularly fair to me…



So – let me know what your choice event is at pallmallbarberslondon@gmail.com – personally if it’s got Pendleton partaking I’m there! Though that beach volleyball competition in Horse Guards’ Parade is supposedly full of extremely talented athletes as well!



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Sunday 17 April 2011

What Do Men Really Want?

Ok, so this title can be misread quite easily, or I’ve just put out there a very leading question. I apologise to all of you who read this article hoping for something a little juicy and come away disappointed. The reason I’m writing this article is because I went to a party last week and fell in love with the apartment it was being held in. It is everything a bachelor pad should be, including the lift opening up into the living room (it was a penthouse apartment). Maybe it’s a novelty thing which would wear off after the first couple of weeks, or maybe it’s genius. I’m not sure, because as I inferred last week, maybe what men find shiny and exciting one week quickly dulls in the light of the new latest must have.




The apartment in question had floor to ceiling shelves of Box Sets. I know, I had you at Box Set and interspersed between these viewing gems were iconic cinema graphic memorabilia – essentially geeky tributes to everything from Predator to The Godfather. Writing this I’m thinking this place was more of a dreamland for a Geek than a Lad, but as the Geeks are chic let’s go with it.



Now don’t get me wrong, I love where I live – it’s the nicest place I’ve lived in, in my adult life, but there was something so wonderfully uncompromisingly ‘toilet seat up’ male about this apartment it felt like a second home even though I had never been there before. Maybe it was because on every shelf in the living room I saw an old friend, “Hello The Wire seasons 1 through to 5” and “how’s it been The Sopranos, Smallville, Doctor Who and of course Friends”? Some of you might not see this as a male pursuit and I’m sure it’s not entirely, but in my personal experience – only men hoard DVDs, especially box sets.



When I was a recent graduate with only £11,000 debt in my back pocket and a somewhat useless humanities degree scroll in my hand, I decided to emigrate to Canada. They told me in no uncertain terms to come back in 2 years. So for the next couple of years I only bought things I thought I could easily transport 3,000 miles – namely DVDs. That was my genuine excuse. To this day the only piece of furniture I actually own is a small IKEA book shelf I keep my graphic novels on - oh and a couple of old degree books about some Prussian called Clausewitz. No guessing as to which I have read from cover to cover…



So of course I, like the man who owns a penthouse apartment, have lots of box sets, but mine are relegated to stacks in the spare room – out of sight out of mind approach. I’m not bitter – of course not, it is part of the understanding of co-habiting, but it is something the man who owns the penthouse doesn’t have to worry about. For him every title is blissfully on display in alphabetical order.



If you think I’m being a little nutty, let me refer you to one of my DVD favourites – “High Fidelity” starring John Cusack and Jack Black in what is, in my opinion, his best film role to date. Apparently it’s also a book… It’s about some seriously geeky music lovers. My favourite scene is when Cusack rearranges his vinyl collection so that it marries with his life experiences. The look of it on his shelves is in perfect harmony with his identity but to any one else would seem like a bizarre mass of musical confusion.



If I was an anthropological expert I’d properly be able to explain man’s need to hoard and display his trophies. I might be able to enlighten you with comparisons between the modern man and his primate relative and his love of strangely shaped stone collections, but I can’t, though I’m sure there are such comparisons.



In writing this I have come to a decision. When I have in my possession the fortune I hope to make one day, whether that be from my creative work, a winning lottery ticket, or my personal favourite – a Goonies adventure – I plan to own a house in which I will create a top floor serviced by an elevator that opens out into my sanctuary of manhood, my oasis of geek, my…. Ok the top floor is basically a home cinema!



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Sunday 10 April 2011

Must Have Toys

Sitting in the cupboard under the stairs at home is a set of golf clubs I was given as a gift at Christmas. I love those clubs, though I’ve only played with them half a dozen times. In one of my cupboard drawers (though I’m not entirely sure which one) is a digital camera and let’s not forget the games systems plural, various other lads’ gadgets and generally metallic-looking gizmos. In short, I like buying and receiving cool- looking stuff though it often turns into dust-collecting junk, but am I unique in this trend? I’d say, hell no!

Women often get a bad rep for their indulgence in purchasing enough footwear to accommodate a sizeable army, but what about men and their need for gadgets? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be getting them, just to pause for a moment before we preach to others over their outlandish buying.


My latest impulse boys’ buy was a Nintendo Wii. It’s great fun and my excuse is that over £100 of the cost was covered by a mass of nectar points. It was certainly a better spending choice than the ill-fated road bike purchase of 2005…


Six years ago I ran the marathon (yes – once upon a time I was fit and healthy and even boasted a six pack). Having completed the arduous course in a very respectable time, I looked for a new challenge and someone suggested I complete a triathlon. I thought, why not? I’m not a great swimmer but I can get some coaching, the run will be a breeze, it is after all only 10km. The glitch was the cycling. I can ride a bike but the last time I did I was 11 and it was a BMX Burner.


Now most people on attempting their very first triathlon purchase/borrow a standard mountain bike, but oh no, not me! I headed off to a specialist triathlon shop and got myself, at quite considerable expense, a sleek, bespoke road bike. I remember it was silver. I honestly cringe, thinking back to my moment of madness. I got the bike home and was desperate to try it out, only to be horrified on finding I could barely keep it upright. It was like that scene in “Herbie Goes Bananas” where the baddy gets the loveable car drunk on Irish Coffee. Clearly some villain had intoxicated my shiny new road bike, because for the life of me I couldn’t get it to go in a straight line. In total I think I rode that expensive death trap 5 terrifying times around London until I found a much better use for it as a clothes’ horse in my bedroom. It served its function extremely well until the ill-fated night when we were burgled and the bike was whisked away. Not a day goes by when I don’t miss that clothes’ horse and I can only hope that wherever it is now it is happy.


I should point out that not all such purchases are foolish. In fact some of my treasured possessions could be categorised as lads’ gadgets. When I was 15 I had just started shaving and for my birthday my parents bought me a beautiful shaving set. It was cream and silver with mother of pearl finish. It was an incredibly beautiful classic set and I still remember the classy royal blue box packaging it came in; the feel of the tissue paper used to wrap each part of the set. I still have the shaving set 15 years on and I even use it on special occasions.


My philosophy is to have fun buying your gadgets and toys. Let’s face it, we work hard enough, we might as well enjoy our just rewards. But be prepared that not all you buy will last the test of time.

Have fun this weekend in the sun – maybe I should buy a boat for the summer…

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Saturday 2 April 2011

Ode to my Mother

I write this to you not only to officially register an apology to my mother but to remind you all of one of the most important dates in the 2011 calendar – 3rd April. Mothers Day.



I didn’t actually know why we celebrate the day. Of course it’s to say thanks to our mums but I was interested to learn about the origins of the day. As I’ve advocated previously, if in doubt do some research on the old internet.


Apparently a day to worship mothers, namely the god of mothers, comes from ancient Greece. I’m not surprised – the ancient Greeks knew how to worship. In my book the Greek gods are up there with Norse ones. The Romans also celebrated the god Juno every year and on that day it was traditional to give mothers a gift, so no doubt the Roman tradition added to our modern celebration.


From what I can understand, we celebrate the day on the fourth Sunday of Lent, so an ancient tradition has been combined with modern religion. Take a look on Wikipedia and it’ll even tell you why it's traditional to get your mum flowers. Turns out wilting flowers from the garage is not just a last minute safe bet after all.


So my questions are: what’s a good gift to get your mum and should you make an appearance on the day? I guess the answers are dependent on the particular mother and family dynamic. There are some kids no doubt who treat the day like their mother’s second birthday of the year. Well if the Queen can have two celebrations every year why can’t our mums? On the other hands I know of some mothers who don’t want any fuss, certainly in this age of commercialisation. So maybe it’s not a question of do you/don’t you celebrate the day, but rather how you celebrate it.


First off let’s consider the gift. I’ve already mentioned that flowers are traditional and I don’t think you can go wrong with them. As long as your mum doesn’t suffer from flower allergies. It makes sense as a gift what with the feeling of spring in the air. I’d also say it’s no bad thing to take your time choosing which ones to buy and get a bit creative.


But is there anything else you should get? Possibly. However in my opinion don’t fall foul of the commercial trappings – CDs, DVDs toiletries etc are all fair and good (as long as they aren’t Mother Day compilations, which are, lets face it, tacky). But is that what the day is really about?


The next big question is how to celebrate the day. We don’t have a standard approach in my family: sometimes we take my mum out for lunch and sometimes (and this looks bad just writing it) we go for Sunday lunch at mums and she cooks for us all. In my defence she says she enjoys it. Her reason being that now we’be all flown the nest, it’s a rare opportunity for her to mother us and feed us… Nah, I think we need to take her out in future. But I’ve met mothers who are much more “clucky” than my mum who really would prefer to host her family than sit at a restaurant table. My grandmother was definitely one of these women.


So now I should probably make my apology. I’m sure having written an article on tips for Mothers Day it makes this admission all the worse: I won’t be coming home this Mothers Day. My work in Liverpool has meant I am not available to visit but I know I will be leaving her in the loving, capable hands of my brother, who no doubt will remind her all day of his undying loyalty and the slackness of his kid brother.


However I can declare that the prodigal son will make amends. After all why should we celebrate Mothering Sunday on the 4th Sunday of Lent? After all, apart from Pancake Day I don’t pay any attention to Lent. So I hereby ask my mother’s forgiveness and request her presence on Sunday 10th April for a slap up meal on me!

Have fun this weekend and look after your mums!


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