Saturday
Saturday
Just what the world needs, another blog. Oh well, nobody makes you read it.
I am trying to make some changes in my life. Most notably lose weight, get fit and be less grumpy. The first two I may have a chance for, but the third will be a struggle!
It was a wearying night. Couldn’t sleep and my wife, who had appeared to be asleep, awoke and determined that the household would sleep better if we went to a different bedroom. It’s best not to argue, especially at 3am, so upstairs we went, her, me and the cat.
I knew it really wasn’t going to be all that successful as soon as I lay down. The ceiling fan was blowing too quickly and chilling any parts I had outside the covers, but if covered myself completely I got too hot. Wife went to sleep immediately but the cat and me were having none of it and struggled for a long time to get comfortable. The cat succeeded first and I was left to contemplate my lot.
I thought about the book I have been reading: Untold Stories by Alan Bennett. What I have read so far is autobiographical, and though Bennett and I are a generation apart, times changed more slowly so there is plenty that is recognizable.
Saturday morning pictures in England I recall well. I don’t remember seeing the worthy films that Bennett recalls. No Casablanca or Now, Voyager for me. I remember the swashbuckling Zorro serial in particular, though there were others.
We went in groups or childhood gangs. I recall it cost sixpence which was quite a large fraction of my weekly disposable pocket money. So, we plotted ways in which we might sneak in without paying. Our gang stuck to the plotting, never being adventurous enough to put any of our plans into action. Others were less restrained and I remember well the boys snaking in the window in the Gents toilet. That was only half the problem as to get back into the theatre it was necessary to still have a half of a ticket. Newcomers might try the “I lost my ticket” gambit, but the usherettes were stony hearted and had heard it all before. The ignominy of being ejected in front of jeering peers was one of the reasons I never tried any of the strategies we devised.
Oddly, the most successful strategy relied on a large element of trust, not a commodity I recall being in large supply in small boys. It was the sacrifice of one for the greater good of the others. One boy, it was always boys, would make a bad attempt to sneak past and when caught and marched to the front door there was a brief opportunity for his companions to get in while that particular entrance went unguarded. Ejection usually meant a ban for a week or two and was quite a sacrifice in itself without the trust required to believe that your co-conspirators would, in turn, martyr themselves for you.
I’ll report further on Bennett’s book as I get through it.
Just what the world needs, another blog. Oh well, nobody makes you read it.
I am trying to make some changes in my life. Most notably lose weight, get fit and be less grumpy. The first two I may have a chance for, but the third will be a struggle!
It was a wearying night. Couldn’t sleep and my wife, who had appeared to be asleep, awoke and determined that the household would sleep better if we went to a different bedroom. It’s best not to argue, especially at 3am, so upstairs we went, her, me and the cat.
I knew it really wasn’t going to be all that successful as soon as I lay down. The ceiling fan was blowing too quickly and chilling any parts I had outside the covers, but if covered myself completely I got too hot. Wife went to sleep immediately but the cat and me were having none of it and struggled for a long time to get comfortable. The cat succeeded first and I was left to contemplate my lot.
I thought about the book I have been reading: Untold Stories by Alan Bennett. What I have read so far is autobiographical, and though Bennett and I are a generation apart, times changed more slowly so there is plenty that is recognizable.
Saturday morning pictures in England I recall well. I don’t remember seeing the worthy films that Bennett recalls. No Casablanca or Now, Voyager for me. I remember the swashbuckling Zorro serial in particular, though there were others.
We went in groups or childhood gangs. I recall it cost sixpence which was quite a large fraction of my weekly disposable pocket money. So, we plotted ways in which we might sneak in without paying. Our gang stuck to the plotting, never being adventurous enough to put any of our plans into action. Others were less restrained and I remember well the boys snaking in the window in the Gents toilet. That was only half the problem as to get back into the theatre it was necessary to still have a half of a ticket. Newcomers might try the “I lost my ticket” gambit, but the usherettes were stony hearted and had heard it all before. The ignominy of being ejected in front of jeering peers was one of the reasons I never tried any of the strategies we devised.
Oddly, the most successful strategy relied on a large element of trust, not a commodity I recall being in large supply in small boys. It was the sacrifice of one for the greater good of the others. One boy, it was always boys, would make a bad attempt to sneak past and when caught and marched to the front door there was a brief opportunity for his companions to get in while that particular entrance went unguarded. Ejection usually meant a ban for a week or two and was quite a sacrifice in itself without the trust required to believe that your co-conspirators would, in turn, martyr themselves for you.
I’ll report further on Bennett’s book as I get through it.
posted by Paul | Saturday, April 22, 2006
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