"All The News That Fits"

I have today blocked two numbers from calling my mobile phone. Despite the fact that I’m registered with TPS, these idiots still insist on calling and trying to sell me something.

I also took an international call on the home phone from someone “conducting a survey”. So I told him I was a 25-year-old living in a house with £1000/week rent, using a wind-powered electrical generator so that I buy no power from utility companies, deriving a substantial income from teaching people how to string out nonsensical conversations with salesmen, thus reducing their opportunities to bother other people. He asked me my name. I asked him the same question and, when he told me, said that, coincidentally, that was my name too. As he began to dimly perceive that I was taking the piss, I then asked him to hold whilst I answered the front door. Then I went out for 2 hours. Funnily enough he hadn’t hung on until I returned from shopping in Llanelli, but I like to think I may have saved a few people from this ridiculous obsession with cold-calling salesmen that has developed in the last decade or two.

Telly, real telly, was born just before I was, when ITV broke the BBC’s monopoly, only to find their opening night trumped by a radio show – The Archers – killing off one of their characters. Yes, the BBC had shown the Queen’s coronation, but that was one of the few mass-watched TV events of the 1950s.

I remember tiny tv screens, with a magnifier suspended in front of some to try and make it look bigger, but always, of course, in black and white. Colour TV didn’t start until 1967, so no-one at home saw the World Cup Final in colour, although it was filmed and shown in cinemas.

Crude is one word that springs to mind when I think back to my earliest tv memories. By which I don’t mean filthy language or nudity, but there was definitely an attitude of chucking any old rubbish out. Doctor Who started in 1963 and was so poorly publicised that they had to show episode 1 again the next week before episode 2, so that those privileged to have seen it first time around (like me) could tell their friends at school. Nevertheless, the sets used by Doctor Who and other contemporary programmes like Z-Cars were often cardboard thin with walls that shook if the door was pushed shut. The great thing was that no-one really cared. The early 1960s were drab and grey and tv reflected that.

I remember my Dad having to change valves in the back of our tv as they blew on a regular basis. The other really annoying thing was that my bedtimes were advanced by a half-hour every year, so every second year I’d be sent to bed halfway through a programme such as The Avengers. Since there was no domestic recording of tv in those days (apart from extreme geeks), I wouldn’t know if Mrs Peel survived until I saw the first half-hour of next week’s episode, in which she featured.

It took a long time for the young Andy to work out that main characters always survived. When Star Trek started in the UK, it was in black and white, thus it was more difficult to spot the Red Shirts” who were to die that episode, but that was eased when my family acquired a Decca Colour tv, probably about 22 or so, but huge – and in colour – and lovely.

Colour TV came to my household along with BBC2, which was introduced in 1967 and used a different system to the other two channels. The 1967 version of high-def was 625 lines instead of the 405 used previously, now becoming totally inadequate with larger screens, not to mention colour. The main reason for many households getting a colour tv was Pot Black, a snooker competition rendered pointless by black-and-white tvs. We were no different and our Decca Colour TV was rented from Rumbelows for about 5 years until, with the 1970s housing boom, we moved to a larger house and still had enough disposable cash to buy the telly we had rented, outright. £50, as I recall, which may seem like a bargain now, but it was still a sizeable chunk of my Dad’s wages.

By this time, US tv was arriving with Alias Smith and Jones and that foothold has taken us to a much larger percentage of buy-ins from the US these days.

There was still no domestic recording of tv programmes, but remote controls had arrived! The first remote controls had a long wire on them but a few accidents later, the manufacturers introduced the next generation. Unfortunately they were not based on infra-red as the current versions are, they were based upon supersonic sound tones. Great idea, but… when Wendy and I married in 1977 we acquired a hire tv from – you guessed it – Rumbelows – which was a Sony Trinitron with remote control. Unfortunately we lived in a flat in Chertsey High Street and a bus stop was nearby. In the evenings we’d be sitting watching some old tosh when suddenly the channel would change and we’d switch to a black and white programme or worse, an old film. The reason was simple. Whenever a bus stopped, the brakes squealed and supersonic sound tones were generated. These being the same supersonic sound tones as generated by the remote control, the tv would go on and off and change channels in a very irritating, albeit initially mysterious, way. We soon changed to an infra-red remote and could at last watch the Old Grey Whistle Test uninterrupted by John Wayne.

Then, VCRs arrived. The Video Cassette Recorder came in two main flavours. The technically better Sony Betamax, favoured by broadcasters in its professional form, and VHS. VHS was supported by many manufacturers and was cheaper. For several years we hung on to our Betamax recorded, but, as that format lost out, the pre-recorded tapes of popular films stopped coming out in Betamax and we grudgingly switched to VHS. One side-effect of this was that we, along with just about everyone else who bout a VHS VCR, got a free copy of “Blazing Saddles”. I’ve no idea if it was popular in the cinema, but I’m absolutely certain that Mel Brooks’ name was spread far wider than before, thus giving him a far more successful career.

So, we had colour and we had VCRs. But we didn’t have stereo. So what the BBC did was to “simulcast” events such as Live Aid in 1985 and, with the aid of specially designed VCRs that could tape a soundtrack from the radio whilst recording the video from the TV channel of choice. This led to some interesting recordings with the right video but wrong sound, and of course, vice-versa.

Stereo tv broadcasting began in 1986, prompting another wave of VCR purchases across the UK.

As our kids grew up in the 1980s and ‘90s, having become accustomed to at first VCRs and then Sky+, they always asked which programmes we had recorded when we were young and were astonished when we said “nothing”.

In 1998 we bought a wide-screen 36 inch Sony TV and loved it from the start. Programmes were not only in colour but widescreen! The only problem with this TV was that it weighed 78kg, rupturing all those who tried to move it over the years. It also started to fade out – the picture was no long as brilliant as we had seen in years gone by.

So, 34 years after our Sony Trinitron CRT tv with supersonic remote control first arrived, we have now acquired a 37” Samsung LED HD tv. It is a revelation. The picture is clear, the sound wonderful, we can plug a USB stick with a film into the back and it shows it brilliantly. It’s also as light a s a feather, 1” deep and can be hung on the wall, communicating with the internet and the PCs in the house.

Of course, half the programmes are not in HD and the repeats from the 1960s, ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s are all fairly bad quality video, but at least most of the sets don’t fall down now.

No, it’s not 3D, don’t be silly, it’ll never catch on.

It’s 5 years since I started writing this occasional blog. My words have gone out to the world, few have read them and fewer have cared.

Originally I gave up at this point, but since the New Year brings new hope, I shall resume (ab)normal service.

The pub is empty now
The crowds have all gone home
There’s silence, no more row
A pint stands on a table, left, alone

A spirit stands by the table
He can’t quite pick up his glass
Touching today is more than he is able
Capriciously smiling he thinks on, of the past

He’s seen his friends today
They’ve wept, comforted and sighed
Some took the time to pray
All have come and gone: that was yesterday

And now they’ve all gone home
To start their lives anew
He sits at the table, all alone
A door opens, this is his cue

And with an ever-straightened stance
He walks on through the door
He joins the whirling of a dance
He has no need of more.

For Dave.

Leaves flying across a sky
Filled with scudding clouds
The towns and shopping centres
Filled with sodding crowds
The Christmas Tree and Halloween Mask
Sit on the shelves side by side
I look at them and must idly ask
Why people wish their lives away

It’s World Alzheimer’s Day and a good day to pick to choose to remember the huge and ever growing numbers of people who suffer from all forms of dementia, be it Alzheimer’s, Vascular dementia, Lewy Bodys or the myriad others.

It’s unfortunate that as a society, we really have no idea how to handle this. In my view, the human race is living beyond the design norms and that’s when all kinds of things start going very wrong.

So, we stuff people into Residential Homes that are little more than waiting rooms as the residents are ignored, abused mentally and physically and, criminally, we do our best to ignore that this is happening. The idea that properly funding the care of our elderly and yes, those with dementia who are younger, is an unaffordable luxury is only too prevalent.

What is the point, some will say, of keeping these people alive and costing the taxpayer up to a million pounds per person to care for and properly support them through their old age and illness(es)? And I suppose it’s a bloody good question, too.

When I am talking with old people, I find their experiences enormously informing. Whilst a minority wish it to end as soon as possible, many want to enjoy the remainder of their lives without having to kow-tow to little hitlers in a Home.

I know, yes, that there are indeed homes that look after their residents properly, but I tell you this: many don’t. There’s a reason why many Care Home owners are millionaires and it isn’t because they give the best possible care to their residents.

They employ the cheapest labour.
They perform the absolute minimum of support.
They charge as much as they can get away with.

We chuck our old and demented into their establishments, and run away from the consequences. When I was visiting my Mum or my Father-in-Law in their Homes, we tried to engage with the staff and management to get them interested in doing something – anything – other than leaving them in their rooms for 22 hours a day.

And by the way, many people NEVER VISIT their relations once they are in a home. They find it “depressing”, the poor lambs.

So, on this World Alzheimer’s Day, work out how you want to be treated once you get to that stage and bloody well make sure that your relations and friends in “Care” Homes get at least that level of consideration and dignity.

The personnel of the Albion Band has always been a moveable feast and, with this, the 2011 version, that changeability has been taken to the next generation. Blair Dunlop (Guitar & Vocals); Gavin Davenport (Vocals), Drummer and Producer Tom Wright, Katriona Gilmore (Fiddle, Mandolin & Vocals) and Tim Yates (Bass & Melodeon) produce a fair set of songs for our delectation.

The songs are a broad swathe through the musical genres. The rockiest is John Tams’ “Ragged Heroes” and, to my aged ears, the best of the crop. Which goes to show that quality writing shines through – as a writer that makes me very happy . Not to say that the others are badly written – they aren’t, but “Ragged Heroes” is a standout to my ears.

Gavin Davenport’s “Thieves’ Song” opens the EP with a one-bar nod to previous Albion incarnations and then, with a bish-bash-bosh moves into the 21st century, hard rock riff and all. The lyric phrasing is folk, the music is hard rock and all the better for that. Wailing violin tops off the effect and most of us are suckers for that.

The aforementioned “Ragged Heroes” is next. Bloody marvellous.

“Newfoundland Sailor” opens with a Red Hot Chili Peppers riff and thence runs through in fine style.

“No Sir No!” is perhaps the nearest to a previous Albion sound, with a squeeze box and fine harmonies in the singing and – as a non-dancer(!) – a great dance tune. A variation on a trad. tune and all the stronger for that.

“A Taoist Tale” concludes the EP and is, in this reviewers ears, the weakest of the songs herein. A good workout for the whole band, though.

Folk/Rock is a description that gets overused and is often a label applied to bands of very disparate qualities. In this case, the music is mostly rock, the lyrics sung in a more traditional way so, yes, this is true Folk/Rock.

Although I still have some (pointless) qualms about (re-)using the name, there’s nothing to dislike about this incarnation and everything to look forward to as they develop their own distinct identity.

I look forward to hearing more from this band.

(Thanks to Nick Hallam for my review copy of this EP)

I am not a Doctor and don’t even play one on the radio, but the scenes with Jack are pretty much accurate, if idealised in some respects.

Dementia takes many forms and it’s very difficult to generalise. Alzheimer’s is in itself an umbrella term for several different varieties of that illness, whilst vascular dementia, Lewy bodies, Pick’s disease, Parkinson’s disease, Huntingdon’s Chorea, motor neurone dsease (sometimes known as Lou Gehrig’s disease), alcohol & drug related- & traumatic brain damage all have their own characteristics.

People can suffer with multiple forms of dementia at the same time.

Bladder infections often result in false dementia in older patients, but those already suffering will be worse affected (in my experience).

Jack’s pleasant but confused manner is a classical view of Alzheimer’s disease. As such any expectations of violence etc are misplaced, since that behaviour is far more common with other versions of dementia.

When dealing with an alzheimer’s sufferer, contradiction is avoided by the wise, as it can lead to an inappropriate over-reaction which the sufferer has no control over. This tends to disappear in later stages though.

Depression, though, can be quite common with all varieties of dementia. Although this is treatable by anti-depressants, the effects of these can be extremely variable as their effects on a damaged brain will be, of necessity, difficult to accurately predict.. Anti-psychotics are prescribed by some Doctors to help dementia patients with depression as their effects can be much more predictable, although many relatives don’t like the idea and prevent their use (quite right too, in many cases).

Since Jack isn’t real (shock, horror), the writers can do as they wish with him, but I hope they are kinder than mother Nature is for most.