Ten Bears and Josey Wales

This is a piece of dialogue from THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES, the best Western ever made. Josey rides into the Comanche encampment alone to parley for the lives of two captives. The dialogue (written in 1975) says much about the need to find rapprochement with indigenous people everywhere.

JOSEY: You be Ten Bears?

TEN BEARS: I am Ten Bears

JOSEY: (Spits tobacco) I’m Josey Wales

TEN BEARS: I have heard. You are the Gray Rider. You would not make peace with the Blue Coats. You may go in peace.

JOSEY: I reckon not. Got nowhere to go.

TEN BEARS: Then you will die.

JOSEY: I came here to die with you. Or live with you. Dying ain’t so hard for men like you and me, it’s living that’s hard; when all you ever cared about’s been butchered or raped. Governments don’t live together, people live together. With governments you don’t always get a fair word or a fair fight. Well I’ve come here to give you either one, or get either one from you. I came here like this so you’ll know my word of death is true. And that my word of life is then true. The bear lives here, the wolf, the antelope, the Comanche. And so will we. Now, we’ll only hunt what we need to live on, same as the Comanche does. And every spring when the grass turns green and the Comanche moves north, he can rest here in peace, butcher some of our cattle and jerk beef for the journey. The sign of the Comanche, that will be on our lodge. That’s my word of life.

TEN BEARS: And your word of death?

JOSEY: It’s here in my pistols, there in your rifles. I’m here for either one.

TEN BEARS: These things you say we will have, we already have.

JOSEY: That’s true. I ain’t promising you nothin’ extra. I’m just giving you life and you’re giving me life. And I’m saying that men can live together without butchering one another.

TEN BEARS: It’s sad that governments are chiefed by the double-tongues. There is iron in your word of death for all Comanche to see. And so there is iron in your words of life. No signed paper can hold the iron, it must come from men. The words of Ten Bears carries the same iron of life and death. It is good that warriors such as we meet in the struggle of life… or death. It shall be life. (He takes his knife and cuts his hand. Josey does the same and they grasp each other’s hands.) So shall it be.

English-isms

So what does it mean to be English and a part of this strange culture? I can only speak for myself. I’ve never been to a football match, never attended an English court of law, never visited Liverpool or Birmingham or Manchester, never watched an episode of ‘Coronation Street.’

But I have broken into Stonehenge in the dead of night, seen the Rolling Stones at Wembley, heard Mozart’s Requiem at the Albert Hall, tripped out at Glastonbury, camped on my own in the middle of the New Forest, picked strawberries in the fields at Cheddar, marched in the Poll Tax and Stop the War demonstrations, had goose and freshly killed cockerel for Christmas, watched the sun rise at Avebury, made camp fires in the woodlands and cooked fresh mackerel over a fire pit, heard Evensong at St Paul’s Cathedral, talked several times on BBC Radio, taken the steam train to Swanage, had cream tea in Devon’s Lorna Doone country, led day hikes in the countryside, slept in a treehouse, visited an old English brewery, flown a falcon and an eagle owl, drank water from streams and brooks, saw ‘Henry V’ at Regents Park Open Air theatre, fired a gun at Bovington Camp, soared in a balloon over Dorset, watched the sun set over the sea at Lulworth Cove, coppiced wood in a Nature Reserve, dozed for entire afternoons in flower strewn meadows, seen the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy at IMAX, dressed as a peasant at a Medieval Fayre and grown my own food at allotments.

What can you add to this somewhat rose-tinted list?

The best dinner party ever…

Michael Palin…..amusing, ex-Python, seasoned traveller, charming, gregarious
Alice Roberts…..broadcaster, painter, writer, historian, easy-going, chatty, warm, intelligent
Ray Mears…..great experience with indigenous people and natural world, amiable, gifted storyteller
Julia Badbury…..seasoned hiker, adventurous, attractive, affable, quick to laugh
Tony Robinson….Everyman’s everyman, many anecdotes to tell and perfect drinking companion

These are the five guests I would choose for my dinner party. They are all personable, intelligent, respected and, I imagine, great company. They have all explored or defined the best elements of our country and share a certain quintessential ‘Englishness’. I think they would get along together marvellously.

Clever wordy yanks!

The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. And the winners are:

1. Coffee , n. The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted , adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.
3. Abdicate , v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade , v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly , adj. Impotent.
6. Negligent , adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.
7. Lymph , v. To walk with a lisp
8. Gargoyle , n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence , n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash , n. A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle , n. A humorous question on an exam.
12. Pokemon , n. A Rastafarian proctologist.
13. Oyster , n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with yiddishisms.
14. Frisbeetarianism , n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
15. Circumvent , n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Who REALLY wrote the works of Shakespeare?

So, who really wrote all those magnificent plays that for 400 years have stood the test of time? Well, this may come as a shock to conspiracy theorists but…..wait for it….they were written by…..William Shakespeare of course. There is absolutely no evidence whatsoever of any contemporary playwright or poet having written this material themselves. To the shame of The Globe Theatre, there is a piece on the wall questioning the man’s validity as the author of his own works. Actors as distinguished as Derek Jacobi are a part of the ‘anti-Stratford’ group. Sam Wannamaker, founder of the rebuilt Globe, will be turning in his grave.

There are many unwitting contenders for the literary crown but three are more prominent than others in the realm of supposed documentary investigation…..

Francis Bacon was an extraordinarily gifted, high profile individual. Unfortunately, he is on record as personally disliking theatre as frivolous and he cannot be connected to the stage in any way. He is often cited because he was an aristocrat and it is believed that only someone with a university education could write about the range of subjects in the plays. This is class snobbery. Shakespeare had a very good grammar school education and his father was the mayor of a consequential town. In fact, he employed a multitude of phrases and words in which only a country boy – not a privileged aristocrat – would be knowledgeable.

Another contender was the Earl of Oxford, a mediocre poet and playwright (though none of the latter survive) and a favourite of Elizabeth I. Again, the notion that a well travelled aristocrat would be more likely to write a range of plays than a provincial country boy comes to the fore. The problem is, the good earl was notoriously arrogant, petulant and given to bursts of violence, at one time murdering his servant. It is impossible to believe that this wastrel could conceive of the depth of feeling that emanates from Shakespeare’s greatest works. Oxford was also incredibly vain – why would he give the world some barely passable literature then keep secret all those amazing sonnets and plays? Oh, and he died in 1604, while Shakespeare still had a decade of writing ahead of him.

The third contender – and this beggars belief – is Christopher Marlowe, certainly a talented playwright, but he died in 1593, early in Shakespeare’s career. The conspiracy theory is that he faked his own death and continued writing. Enough said, methinks.

All of this denies the incontrovertible fact that William Shakespeare was a high profile playwright and actor, with much surviving documentation to show that King James I was his royal patron, (you cannot be any more in the public eye than that) and he worked for many years with a troupe of actors who, after his death, published the first Folios of his collected works.

Additionally, all writers have an ‘idiolect’ a form of writing peculiar to that individual. At a time when the English language was evolving, this is even more pronounced. Shakespeare’s particular use of certain words is unlike any other writer of his time – he contributed enormously to common phrases and parlance used to this day – and differs appreciably to the individual styles of Bacon and Oxford.    

 What is it about the English and our cynical propensity to question the genius of our geniuses? The Italians don’t rip apart the credibility of Leonardo da Vinci for being not just a superb artist but also a biologist, an engineer and an inventor. The Austrians readily accept that Mozart was versatile enough to compose something with such sublime beauty and sensitivity as the Requiem yet also write Don Giovanni with its bawdy comedy – Amadeus could write for Kings or paupers.

So it was with Shakespeare. In Bill Bryson’s short but enlightening biography of the man, he concludes with an excellent essay just entitled ‘Claimants.’ To end with the venerable Mr Bryson: “It needs to be said that nearly all of the anti-Shakespeare sentiment – actually, all of it, every bit – involves manipulative scholarship or sweeping misstatements of fact….the only absence among contemporary records is not of documents connecting Shakespeare to his works, but of documents connecting any other human being to them.”

Give credit where credit’s due, that’s what I say. A

‘Never Look Away’

At just over three hours long, I wondered if the German movie ‘Never Look Away’ was going to test my patience. Actually, the time flew by.

The film is loosely based on the life of the artist Gerhard Richter as he lives through the depredations of the Nazi era, the bombing of Dresden and the soul sapping autocracy of Stalin’s communism in east Germany. There have been some very decent films about the nature of totalitarianism by the Germans, ‘Downfall’ and ‘The Lives of Others’ being particularly outstanding.

The young boy Kurt is devoted to his aunt, a young and carefree adult. But her eccentric behaviour is identified as schizophrenia and she is first sterilised then gassed as a citizen unfit to produce healthy Aryan children. Unbeknown to Kurt, his later father-in-law proves to be the professor of eugenics responsible for his aunt’s death.

As he grows to maturity as an artist within the strict confines of East Germany, Kurt grows increasingly discontented with the rigid conformity required for a socialist citizen and he escapes to the west with his young wife, Ellie, where he can be free to create what he wishes.

The film is beautifully shot and has moments of great tenderness as well as tragedy. It explores the nature of free thinking where independent thought is strictly verboten. As a historical point, the Nazi regime presented an exhibition of Modern Art to exemplify its sordid and warped nature – but the citizens of the Reich excitedly queued round the block to see it. Both the Nazi’s and the Communists were pitifully alike in their suppression of artistic endeavour and this is mirrored by the struggle of Kurt to find out who and what he is.

If this all sounds terribly worthy, ‘Never Look Away’ features a superb cast of complex characters in a tumultuous period of German history and the triumph of the human spirit. The secret ex-nazi turned communist doctor tells his son-in-law that “It’s not enough just to be good”. He’s wrong and sees in Kurt’s vivid painted depiction of his troubled past how the man’s crimes come back to haunt him.

The Heart of Soul

There have been many excellent soul singers in the last few decades….Al Green, Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye. But for my money and definitely my era, the greatest and most charismatic of them all is the late great Teddy Pendergrass. A documentary film of his life, ‘If You Don’t Know Me By Now’ has been produced and offers considerable insight into the man’s life and work.

Like many of his peers, Teddy started singing at an early age singing gospel in church. He graduated as a lead singer in ‘Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes’. Teddy’s unique vocals, a combination of raw power and soulful intensity gave the group its undeniable pulling power with hits such as ‘If you don’t know me by now’ and ‘Wake up Everybody’. Melvin was a vain and unscrupulous character who pocketed most of the band’s earnings while gaining in fame and credibility off the back of Teddy’s masterful vocal performances. Almost inevitably, the most prominent Blue Note left to pursue a solo career.

Teddy Pendergrass was, by the late 70’s and early 80’s, the successful vocalist he always wanted to be, producing platinum albums and enjoying wealth he was denied in the Blue Notes. Displaying a raw sexual energy, his manager was the first to create Women Only concerts in which various items of lingerie were thrown on stage. Men wanted to be like him and women wanted to be with him. The hilarious Lenny Henry sketches featuring a bare-chested singing idol called Theophilus P. Wildebeeste was said to be based on Teddy Pendergrass. He personified the Philadelphia music scene and became the very heart of soul. But then his rise and rise to superstardom came head to head with disaster.

In 1982, he crashed the car he was driving and became paralysed from the neck down. Wheelchair bound, this most physical of singers sank into a depression. With the help of friends and family, he emerged from his situation and, while never able to walk again, he still managed to produce a series of award winning albums. His crowning achievement was an appearance in his wheelchair at the American Live Aid concert held in his home town of Philadelphia. It was an emotional moment for all and testimony to the man’s strength of purpose.

The film features a host of people who played such an integral part in his life….his devoted mother, the surviving Blue Notes, members of the Teddy P band, ex girlfriends and his grown up kids. There is also a series of taped recordings featuring the man himself. But most of all, some terrific footage of his concert performances, bursting with energy and passion, a man at the top of his game.

Theodore DeReese ‘Teddy’ Pendergrass died at the age of 59 in 2010 leaving behind an extraordinary legacy

Be afraid. Be VERY afraid…

“Out of the Jag, a gentle smirk. Mission accomplished. Broken Britain, gone to meet its breaker. Prime Minister Boris Johnson is the joke and we are the punchline” Tom Peck The ‘i’.

It is the singular misfortune of what used to be known as The Transatlantic Alliance that we are now ‘governed’ east and west by hyperbole driven, under-achieving, narcissistic charlatans who have turned the practice of being economical with the truth into an art form

Boris Johnson is the master clown voted into power with 90,000 votes – and we are the circus. The lunatics really have taken over the asylum. Arguably, criticism of ‘Bojo’ should be put aside for a few months until he can prove himself. The trouble is, he already has proved himself to be a liar, a fantasist an elitist, a borderline racist, a flim-flamming opportunist who goes whichever way the wind blows to suit an ego the size of Texas.

Beware of politicians who promise Utopia before they’ve taken the reins of power and are faced with hard pragmatic choices. In his election campaign, Gordon Brown smugly informed the voting public that “there will be prosperity for all”. Really? And Johnson appeared to be on some sort of happy drug when he announced that the UK (or what’s left of it) will be absolutely bloody marvellous when he kicks us out of the world’s strongest economic bloc and our closest neighbours to sink into a morass partly of his own making. I’d dearly love to see him fall flat on his face but would rather not see my country get flushed down the toilet in the process.

Lastly, I will not stoop to referring as Johnson as ‘Boris’ partly because I don’t want to get that personal with somebody I despise but also because we have a strange habit of labelling dictators by their first names….Adolf, Uncle Joe, Chairman Mao and Saddam. Given that he has promised to shut down parliament (much like Charles I who initiated a civil war) to get his own way, this seems uncomfortably autocratic. Perhaps the Queen will tell him to “piss orf”.

Against the grain…..

Greetings.

This is my first blog on WordPress. I’ve been advised at length to write about one theme but given my occasional inability to take good advice, I’m going against the grain and will make the posts about any and everything I deem fit to post. This could either prove to be pleasantly unpredictable or a haphazard disaster. Either way, I’ll aim to keep them amusing, entertaining, poignant, interesting, thought provoking and, I hope, written well enough to keep the reader engaged.

They’ll include current affairs, the malevolent demon in the White House, the shambolic scenario that is Brexit and anything that grabs my eye in the papers; lyrics and user-friendly poetry of my own or otherwise; some great quotes and small chunks of wise words; reviews of books, movies, theatre or gigs; the occasional rant against anything that’s pissing me off; the mixed experiences of major surgery (heart and kidney); borrowed sketches, satirical material and self-penned humour; posts on the environment and the natural world; some of my more evocative photos and mixed media artwork; encounters with native peoples, especially the First Nations of the USA; revised versions of past blogs and edited incidents from my memoirs and a host of experiences and scenarios which aim to be upbeat and strike a chord with the reader.

Who knows how this will go? The future is unwritten. I’ll leave you with one of my shots from the New Forest. G’night. Tim