Month: December 2021

Advent #24

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas

Now is the time to say goodbye (if you’ll excuse me going not only a bit Peter Cook for a moment). Now is the time to yield a sigh (but also a bit Dudley Moore). In other words, it’s the end of another countdown to Christmas.

I know the internet comes in for some (often justifiable) criticism, but at this time of year especially I can see exactly why we still like it so much. Even in the good old pre-Covid days, it enabled people to get together irrespective of distance. This year more than any other it seems to me, people have been finding their own ways to mark off the ‘advent days’. It delights me that, for example, somebody in Slough can produce pun-based reindeer memes simply because they know four people across three continents who will find them hilarious.

But now the build-up is all done, and although I’m unconvinced the science is genuinely telling the government that restrictions are essential but only after Boxing Day (unless ‘the science’ has a lot of parties to go to over the Christmas weekend) in the words of Noddy Holder, it’s Christmas!!!

Just enough space left to thank everyone and anyone who’s read this daft nonsense in the past three-and-a-bit weeks, and taken the time to comment in any way, shape or form. We famously don’t send cards, so I’d also like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy, fun-filled, safe and restful Christmas and, with a tentative crossing of fingers, all the very best for 2022. And that pretty much wraps it up from me. I’d better sign off because I do believe there’s somebody at the window. Is it a certain well-known jolly gentleman, red coat, white beard…?

No, it isn’t. Bloody Greta Garbo. 

Merry Christmas

X            

Advent #23

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1980s, Childhood, Christmas, Friends

Although (as previously advertised) I’ve never been homeless, I did once escape from workhouse servitude only to fall in with a criminal gang, involved in all sorts of felony, and even (to give the game away) picking a pocket or two.

In other words, in my dim and distant past there has been the occasional Christmas thesp, and in December 1984 our school put on an over-ambitious and under-rehearsed production of Oliver!  From memory, and for those of you who love numbers, it ran for Four nights with Two Olivers– and I was One of them!

To be tediously pedantic, I was a back-up Oliver, a Spare Twist, until one dropped out. (Gruel overdose I believe). I was easily able to meet the requirements of being small and pathetic-looking, but there was considerable debate between the music and drama departments about my lacking the traditional blond hair – there was talk of either bleaching or a wig but ultimately neither option was followed up on and I simply played it as a brunette, with my own then-black now-grey hair.

The first act, which was heavily rehearsed, was considerably better than the second, which… wasn’t. Not that any of that bothered my English Teacher. He was playing Fagin with only a very distant relationship with his lines, so he was already in improv’ mode.

I’m not sure I saw any reviews, and I certainly didn’t see any share of the Box Office takings, but I do remember having an awful lot of fun and, for all its dim and distant past-ness, it remains a memory of a very pleasant time with in particular two or three very good friends. But that was pretty much it for my theatrical career.

After seeing me as Oliver, apparently nobody wanted to have some more.  

Advent #22

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Childhood, Christmas, Family

We can’t be the only family whose Christmas involves lists of present ideas, can we? I used to love putting a list together when I was young (a relation once pondered how I could possibly know there WERE that many Doctor Who books) and I still rather like it now.

Not that long ago (it seems) we would pester our daughter for a list; now it’s the other way around – even before Halloween, I’d been forced, really forced, to put together some suggestions of what she could get me for Christmas.

She’s in that sweet spot, after the wages start arriving but before too many bills do, and is very organised in the Christmas (and birthdays!) department, and often very generous – I said this evening that I hope she hasn’t gone mad this year, and she assured me (although I remain not assured if I’m honest) that she has not.

At the same time, although we get a list in return, it’s tricky because they’re all things she could easily buy herself, for the exact same ‘sweet spot’ reason. So we try to read between the lines and get something which she will almost certainly like but which she doesn’t appear to be aware of, to try and retain at least some element of surprise.

I’m sure it’s just rose-tinted nostalgia that makes me remember Christmas as being easier when she was little (and is likewise making me forget all the “he’s not been yet it’s only 3am” business, and the sneakiness involved in smuggling goldfish home under your coat during a two hour bus ride); and I’m sure it’s actually better now, when we’re all grown ups (well, ish in my case).

I’m sure it is, yes. For many reasons.

Maybe I should do a list…   

Advent #21

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, Childhood, Christmas, Family, Moaning

I’m happy to have been a child of the seventies, but there are a few areas where I’m not sure it properly prepared me for adulthood. It vastly overstressed, for example, how prominent quicksand and rattle snakes were going to be in my future, while at the same time vastly underplaying one of the great scourges of modern life: finding somewhere to park.

That concern is, for example, why I got to the cinema so early to see The Force Awakens; and although in general terms our recent shopping trip to Exeter went off OK, there was a very tetchy half hour stuck in the queue for the car park. Anybody who’s parked in Exeter’s Guildhall car park will know that its entrance is up a steeply curved concrete slope, so there was an awful lot of irritable faffing about with handbrakes, biting points, and the like. (Anybody who HASN’T parked in Exeter’s Guildhall car park – don’t!)

Given what I now know, it may be that when Mum refers to one far-past Christmas shopping trip to Plymouth as ‘not the best of days’ it was due to a parking fracas between her and Dad – Dad, as a rule, being the designated driver throughout my seventies-based youth.

During particularly long journeys, I can remember sometimes stirring in the back seat just long enough to be reassured by his face caught in the glow of the streetlamps. But I also (only very occasionally of course!) recall him being a bit short-tempered while looking for somewhere to park.

Hopefully he won’t mind me saying that – or if he does, hopefully he’ll have got over it by Saturday afternoon when we’ll be driving down to see him and Mum, where there will be presents, plenty of food and, I would hope, ample parking. 

Advent #20

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Little Bit Of Politics, Money

It’s probably not many people’s first thought when talking about Christmas songs but Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? always gets some airplay during December, which presumably means a bit more money raised. Although there’s a debate to be had about whether giving to charities lets the government off the hook, the fact is that there always seems to be a need for them.

This year, Crisis is running an anti-homeless campaign. I was faintly aware of it blurring past while fast-forwarding through some TV adverts, but when my colleague at work switched radio stations I heard the full version and was immediately intrigued by the donation being asked for.

Likely, any random number would have got my attention (£18.37 or £21.64, just to pick two at, um, random) but in fact it’s £29.06 which (less the pound sign) is my birthday! In terms of targeted advertising it could only have been bettered by a voiceover saying, “Stop speeding through the bloody ads, this is important!”

I’m fortunate enough never to have answered “no” to the question, “Did Father Christmas come?”; and to have never been hungry at Christmas. (Quite the opposite – even a trim, sylph-waisted figure like me gets into that groove where you keep automatically putting food in your mouth, like a Pez dispenser stuck in reverse.) And I’m lucky enough never to have been homeless.

Maybe we’re more inclined to give at this time of year. During the run up to Christmas anyway, when we spend 24 days wishing the best to everyone (before hunkering down and wanting the real world to leave us alone for a few days). Maybe it’s better to give than to receive.

Or maybe, as Mike Smash and Dave Nice have been telling us for almost 30 years – Christmas IS charity.  

Advent #19

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Childhood, Christmas

Distracted by yesterday’s talk of what I DIDN’T do last year I’d quite overlooked what I DID do,  SIX years ago. Which was, I went to see The Force Awakens!

The previous six Star Wars films had premiered in May, but presumably the consistent December success of the Lord of the Rings/Hobbit trilogies prompted Disney to view Christmas as a more appropriate time (by which I mean, cha-ching!).

Those six Tolkien blockbusters almost entirely passed me by, except for the first of The Hobbits; my daughter saw it on a school trip, and because she said how good it was we all went to watch it. I fell asleep twice and it still felt like the longest film I’d ever seen.

When I got to the cinema for The Force Awakens there was already one other guy there. He was in the middle seat of the middle row, sans refreshments, feet planted square on the floor, and eyes fixed firmly on the screen. Very clearly, he wasn’t there for the popcorn but for the very serious business of watching a film.

Five minutes before curtain up, by which time the room was almost full, a family moved into the row in front of us: Granny, Dad… and a toddler. I suspect that serious guy’s heart sank at the thought of his long-anticipated first viewing of a brand new Star Wars film being ruined by high-pitched interruptions of “who’s that?” and “she’s scary” and “b****rd’s killed Han Solo!” from this little kid.

Bless her, the little girl was silent throughout. Probably, just as I had been as a child, she was transfixed by the wondrous spectacle of a Star Wars movie. A little Christmas miracle.

Or possibly she’d spent the whole film doing what I’d done during The Hobbit.

(Twice!)

Advent #18

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Little Bit Of Politics

I don’t know exactly what I was doing twelve months ago but (brace yourself for some hard-hitting satire) I certainly wasn’t at a party!

The ‘Downing Street party’ story was a real cause celebre just two weeks ago (by the Wednesday lunchtime my work colleague was so fed up hearing about it, he changed the radio station in the office – that’s how celebre it was). If I was tremendously cynical I’d suggest it was sidelined by Boris conveniently deciding to make a special Strictly-interrupting Prime Ministerial Covid broadcast, even though the daily press conferences would have been perfectly adequate. (Thank goodness I’m not tremendously cynical.)

“We didn’t have one” quickly became “it wasn’t a party” – but to me, if you’re reclassifying it as ‘an impromptu gathering after work’ or insisting the regulations weren’t enforceable on Crown Land (insert Harry Hill shrugging baffled to camera here) then there clearly WAS a party but you’ve got a list of mealy-mouthed excuses to prove why, on paper, you’ve not done anything wrong.

There’s lots to unpack (although luckily for my blood pressure, it’s more than you can cover in 300 words): the bizarre hedonistic sense that it’s an affront to your basic human rights NOT to have a Christmas Party; the selfishness of not caring about the risks; the utter stupidity to think that in this day and age nobody will find out; and worst of all the arrogance to decide your own rules don’t apply to you.

That’s where my frustrated outrage at this story comes from – it’s certainly not that I feel I’ve somehow missed out by stupidly following the rules. As far as that’s concerned I confess I’ve never understood the appeal of these sorts of events, so in that sense I’m not an interested, um… party.   

Advent #17

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, TV

We watched the Never Mind The Buzzcocks Christmas special last night. It’s sorely missing Phill Jupitus but it’s still nice to have it back – and it certainly went out on a high, with Holly Johnson singing The Power of Love.

I love a Christmas Special. Hot on the heels of yesterday’s Buzzcocks, tonight we’ve been Mock-ing the Week, which was in turn followed by a trailer for next week’s QI! Happy Days, as they say.

What I don’t like so much are programmes that rub along perfectly well during the year with normal people thank you very much, but for some reason feel the need to bring in ‘celebs’ at Christmas.

So I’m talking Christmas Bake-Offs/Sewing Bees/etc. The appeal of them, usually, is ordinary people doing extraordinary things – there’s something lacking, even a bit pointless, seeing celebs faffing about.

In the case of Sewing Bee one of last Christmas’s celebrity contestants, Sara Pascoe, has subsequently been cast as the new host – so I suppose I can let her off (in a “tax deductible” kind of way) by claiming last year as an audition, rather than just aimless messing around.

In fact, also working very much in her favour, I remember one evening last Christmas we stumbled upon a recording of her stand-up show on some channel or other – it was very, very, very funny (but also very, very, very rude).

I’m old enough to remember when female comedians were the exception (although we’re talking Joyce Grenfell and Victoria Wood, so they were extraordinary exceptions!) whereas nowadays there are lots of them, Sara P being one of the best (Maisie Adam is another). And it’s great to see them becoming more and more well-known, appearing more and more on TV…

…Just not in ‘Celebrity Specials’! Please!!  

Advent #16

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, Childhood, Christmas, Family

At the risk of prompting an intervention into how my mind works, whenever I see a staple remover I think of my youngest Uncle – because the first one I ever saw was the bright green one he gave Dad for Christmas in the late seventies.

Throughout my youth he would often randomly pop up, bestowing on us his collection of Beano comics; watching an episode of Blakes 7 with us; or even borrowing my copy of Life, The Universe and Everything (a story for another time).

This makes perfect sense when I point out that, although my Mum has been to Australia (another story for another time) she’d certainly agree that Uncle T is by far the most travelled person in our family, and inbetween all that random popping up he was generally off exploring some far-flung corner of the globe. From one such trip, possibly another Christmas present, he brought back wallets for me and bruv – made from the hide of a yak (or something of that ilk (or elk)) four decades on they remain the second most stinky thing I’ve ever encountered.

By chance, and rather proving my point, we received a ‘round robin’ from him just this week in the fourth paragraph of which, and in the same tone that the rest of us might use for saying “and that was the year we had goose instead of turkey” he recalls that he spent Christmas Day 1981 crossing a river from India to Nepal on a double-decker bus ferried by two boats lashed together!

Oddly, he doesn’t also mention trekking halfway up the foothills of the Himalayas to a tiny Tibetan stationers to purchase Dad a staple remover. Probably an oversight when he was putting his letter together. (Or maybe it’s a story for another time.)  

Advent #15

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, 1980s, Childhood, Christmas, TV

Although I remain cynical about “must have” presents I’m aware there are fads, gifts which are all the rage one moment and forgotten the next. The hula hoop, the fidget spinner… Or what about those whistling keyrings, which did exactly what it said on the tin: you’d whistle, and the keyring would whistle back to tell you where your keys were. I can’t recall ever losing my keys to be honest, but I’d happily buy a whistling remote control – we’re forever misplacing ours down the side of the sofa or underneath a dog.

One fad which baffles me though, and which is still hanging around, is the scented candle.

As a child of the 70s & 80s I’ve sat through plenty of power cuts. The last big one I can remember was over Christmas/New Year 85/86 when we’d all gathered round the TV and the continuity announcer had got as far as “and now, Last of the Summer Wine” before everything went off. (Meaning we missed the disappointing debut of Seymour, Foggy’s replacement, although I’m reluctant to label it a failure given that the show ran for another 24 years.)

During all those power cuts I don’t recall anybody ever venturing the opinion that the whole experience would be made much more pleasant if only the candles smelled nice! We never once prayed for a hint of sandalwood or lavender to help us through the ordeal.

One area in which the candle could stand some improving (although maybe not so much now with the advent of the phone torch?) is that the one time you need them is the very time it’s too damn dark to find them.

Hmm.

I wonder, do you think Dragons Den might be interested in an idea for whistling candles I’ve just had…?