So Long Leonard Cohen...

There will be more moving and coherent tributes paid to Leonard Cohen than these ramblings, but the news of his death earlier this week genuinely moved me.

I was a late convert to Cohen, thanks to a former girlfriend, and his music, lyrics and wry sense of self-deprecating humour have offered me peace, wisdom and entertainment for nearly two decades. His career has obviously lasted much longer than that, but the great thing about coming to any fanboy party late is that there is more material to enjoy.

Various Positions and I'm Your Man were my entrees to Cohen's music, then I started listening to his earlier work. His last CD, You Want it Darker, is a pleasure I have yet to enjoy but it's purchased and is ready to go.

I plan to wait until I have a quiet hour with just me, the cat and a glass of wine before pressing play, though. I want to savour the moment.

As you'd expect from a great lyricist and an acclaimed poet and novelist, Cohen was also a great story-teller. My favourite Cohen story related to his meeting with Janis Joplin and the story was often told as a prelude to the song, Chelsea Hotel.

In Cohen's own words:

'This is a story that I tell every time I sing this song and I'm going to keep on telling it as long as I'm singing. It's a story about a young woman that I met in an elevator in a hotel in New York City. One of the greatest singers that I ever heard. I was wandering around all night. That was a great elevator, you know. It was only about four feet wide. It was the very hub of my social activity. I didn't get around very much, but sometimes I'd meet somebody in that elevator. Around three in the morning, I used to see this other dismal person in this elevator. And I looked into her eyes. She avoided my eyes and it became clear to me that she wasn't looking for me. She was looking for Kris Kristofferson. I said, 'I am Kris Kristofferson.' She said, 'I thought you were a lot taller.' I said, 'I am a lot taller but it's just photography.' And the truth be told, I wasn't looking for her; she was a kind of sad-looking girl with knotty, curling hair and a very bad complexion. I wasn't looking for her. I said, 'Well, the truth be told, I'm looking for the granddaughter of Mae West.' She didn't even exist. And one thing lead to another. Well, we found ourselves together. And it was a long time later after she died that I wrote this song for her. Her name was Janis Joplin. It was at the Chelsea Hotel.'

Thanks Leonard. You are Kris Kristofferson. And remain so much more.

Blue Belt...

 

I attended a grading at my BJJ school this weekend and I got my blue belt.

To say I was chuffed is an understatement. I never take any belt promotion for granted, but I felt as though I'd had a solid year where some techniques and strategies were starting to bed in.

My guard and guard attacks are better than they were, I'd added an overhook guard and attacks into the mix, I have some half guard technique, and I'm slowly learning to transition between all three positions. Much else is still pretty woeful, but there are signs if life. 

More importantly, my instructors thought so and I am now promoted. 

Getting a new belt is always daunting as you have to rise to the challenge, but it's also important not to be too worried. 

It's the same journey and the same path. It just means you've hit a different road sign telling you where you are. So I am pleased, humbled and nervous. But I'm well happy, too.

And I can now use wristlocks!

Bad Husband Points...

Work is unbearable at the moment: a new editorial system that is not fit for purpose and a heavier workload are creating a huge amount of increased stress. I am unhappy and tired and it is not good.

On the plus side, I have the Missus. She went through a similar thing several years ago and she's been ace. I am aware, though, that I have been an absent husband for a few weeks now. Even worse, I have not been a particularly present one when not absent.

So this weekend, I got my shit together and engaged: two cooked breakfasts and two cooked meals later and I have earnt some Good Husband Points to balance out all the Bad Husband Points I'd been steadily amassing.

I am confident my marriage will survive many worse and more serious tests than this current corporate non-lubed arse-fuckery. I'm just not sure my sanity will.

OWWLOW News...

The Other Woman Who Loves Other Women has emigrated to live in the USA with her wife. I was sad to see her leave. We've not only trained hapkido together for more than a decade, but we're also friends. She remains one of the best people I know.

She also puts up with my constantly flirty nonsense and filth and, I'm pleased to report, an ocean between us hasn't diminished her ability to do that.

There are not many women I could refer to as 'a fine bit of booty' or 'world-class trim' and not get slapped. I bloody love her. And I miss her, too.

But I'm delighted she's happy and she's taken the chance to do something amazing like pack up in the UK and have a go somewhere else. Her courage and her passion for life continues to amaze, impress and inspire even when she's an ocean away.

Zante: Part V...

Bloody addictive mobile phone games!

No sooner have I weaned myself off Scrabble and Countdown, then I download Wordbrain... and, by Jimminy Cricket, it is bloody addictive.

It's essentially a wordfinder where the letters forming the identified linked words drop away from a grid once you have found the word. The depleted grid then offers new possibilities. Clear one 4x4 or 5x5 grid, then start another.

I currently have the brain of a whale according to the game's rating system. This is probably not a compliment...

Honky Tonk Samurai...

I am a long-time lover of the work of hardbitten-cum-offbeat thriller writer Joe R Lansdale. I thought The Bottoms and Cold in July were grimly fabulous, and I have also dipped into his short stories.

My favourite novels by him, though, are the Hap and Leonard books, which chronicle the misadventures of East Texas disaster magnets and best pals Hap Collins and Leonard Pine.

Honky Tonk Samurai is the ninth full-length novel featuring the duo, who have also starred in a couple of novellas, and it's a cracking story, littered with all the usual smart and funny dialogue and bizarre plot twists you'd expect.

Reading this book was like catching up with two old friends whose company you always enjoy, and I'm looking forward to our next hook-up when the next novel is out.

I'll also be catching up with online TV series on Amazon, too.

Love these guys.

Zante: Part IV....

'You're a sexy lady,
I'm a sexy man,
I may not have too much money,
But I treat you the best I can...'

I have just got out of the shower after a day on the beach and I am serenading the Missus. I am being romantic. I am all allure. She, however, thinks otherwise.

'I am reading a tragic book about a dying man. You can't sing, your rhyme structure sucks... and put some fucking clothes on!'

This was not the response I was looking for. I may dress as a plumber next time I am doing the romance. That always works in the films I watch.

Zante: Part III...

My cultural highlight of the holiday in Greece so far has been a trip to Olympus, site of the original Olympic Games in Ancient Greece.

It's essentially a museum-cum-ongoing-outdoor-excavation-site, a bit like The Forum in Rome, and it's very impressive.

From the demolished temples, to the workshop of sculptor Pheidias, to the arena where the games were contested, it's a fascinating place.

My favourite place was the Palaistra, an area where the wrestlers, boxers and Pankration fighters trained. I even did some punching and kicking drills to get into the spirit of it.

My favourite non-cultural thing a game I invented called Sneaky Bum Touch. This involves subtely touching the bum of your other half when they are not expecting it. Additional points are gained for Sneaky Cock Touch or Sneaky Fanny Touch. This may be the new Pokemon-go! Or Poke-a-man/ho!

Zante: Part II...

I am reading again and it is an utter joy. Although joy may not be the right word considering I am reading about crime and punishment in London, thanks to Catherine Arnold's excellent history on the subject, and the history of syphilis, thanks to Claude Quetel's book.

The Missus did suggest the latter was not appropriate holiday reading, but it's fascinating.

A lot of the moral and social arguments about sexually transmitted diseases in 16th and 17th century Europe were rooted in religious bigotry. It's disturbing to note that we don't seem to have come very far in the 21st century in that respect either.

Zante: Part I...

Me and the Missus are finally on holiday. I say 'finally' because it's been 20 long months since we last had a two-week break.

Our destination is a boutique hotel in a far-away corner of the Ionian island of Zante. It is beautiful and I can see us returning here.

The first thing I note is how long it takes me to fully unwind. It's at least four days. This is bad and it makes me realise how corporate-damaged I'd become at work, operating under continued and ever-increasing pressure in a toxic environment. I can't alter the environment as it's too entrenched, but the long and unrewarded hours are not continuing when I return.

The second thing I realise is that I have done virtually no playwrighting this year. I've done plenty of freelance writing work for money, but I have done little of my own stuff. This changes when I get back.

Finally, I have read one book this year. That will also change as I begin to read again this holiday.

Funeral Rites: Part I...

The Missus' stepfather died a few weeks ago, so we headed to Aylesbury for the funeral. 

The service was very moving and the church was packed, then we headed to the cemetery for the burial. 

Merrick, the stepfather, was Jamaican and he arrived in the UK in the late 1940s on the second boat after the Windrush. So there was a filling-in at the graveside, which means that friends and family complete the burial after the coffin is lowered into the grave and they shovel the earth into the hole, then decorate the grave. 

I'd never seen this before and it was both alien and very moving. My brother-in-law, who was very close to Merrick, joined in with this process. 

Then it was off to the wake and a joyous night listening to reggae, roots, dancehall and ska because Merrick was not only a DJ but also a major music fan and record-buyer. 

It was a moving day and a fabulous goodbye party. Merrick was a lovely fella and he'll be missed. I'll be listening to Joe Turner this week and thinking of you. Rest in peace.

Things Young People Say: Part I...

I have learnt a new phrase. This is 'Facepalms'. It's apparently something that people say when they are exasperated and it represents a person holding his head in his hands. 

I've decided I can do young people's words, too. So here is my first entry:
Anklebum: This applies when you've put your foot in it and it's worse than a little embarrassing. It means you've put your foot in it and you're nearly in the shit. 

It's probably not my best work. But others will be.

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part VI...

'I'd like to fist you like a human glove puppet. While wearing a gauntlet from a suit of armour. With a lance still in its hand.'

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part V...

'I'd like to shit in your mouth, then sew your lips shut.'

Sentences I Never Thought I"d Hear: Part IV...

'You look so old. You're even wearing MC Hammer pants.'

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part III...

'It's a complete shambles organised by cunts!'

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part II...

'The difference is that in my current job I've never had a sweaty 60-year-old man strip me naked and ejaculate all over me. But the way things are going, it could happen...'

Competition Time...

Last year, I missed the BJJ Surrey Open through injury, so I was delighted to be turning up to compete at this year's event. Even better, I was in the correct age category with two other fighters who were born before 1970.

I'd put a solid couple of months of training into preparing for this and I was about as injury-free as I get these days. I'd also been really careful about making weight in the months leading up to the event, so I didn't have to lose excessive amounts in the weeks before it, and I made 181 lbs with something to spare.

My key goal at this event was to not make stupid mistakes and try to attack more, and I think I did that. 

In the first fight, I pulled guard from the off and threatened chokes from there, then got mount, tried an Ezekiel choke, spun into an armbar, got back to mount and finished with an Ezekiel choke. Although a decade older than me, my opponent was stupidly strong and was a karate fighter with 30 years experience. But I got into a dominant position and I didn't relinquish it.

In the second fight, I tried to pull guard and managed half guard. I threatened a loop choke at one point, but it was very much a game of me not managing to establish full guard or launch any meaningful offence from half, while he moved into better positions, which meant I was playing positional escape and trying to re-guard. I didn't get submitted, but he beat me by a lot of points. His frame and movement was very good and he was better than I was. 

Overall, though, I was pretty pleased with today. I'm never going to be a really aggressive or exceptional grappler, but I can be a solid one and today I felt OK to be competing again. It was also good to meet two more grapplers in the olds category.

On the mats, I'll have better days than this and I'll have worse days than this. The trick is to just keep having days and to keep learning. I think that's the right attitude.

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part I...

'They haven't gone back to that chlamydia thing again, have they?' 

Cooking Up a Storm...

I am currently in creative thinking mode as I prepare to write the next Tech Virgin column for Metro. I always want to make them quite funny, so I'm currently working my way through a whole heap of cookery-related gags because the next one is on kitchen gadgets. 

I've been in pun mode so I'm working on variations of The Naked Chef and so far have only come up with the following: 
The Naked Ref 
The Naked Geoff 
The Naked Unicef 
The Naked Clef 
The Naked Deaf 

I am also re-using the famous line from Johnny Craddock about 'making scones that look like Fanny's'. I probably need to up my game.

On Leaving Europe: Part II...

So... two days after the EU Referendum result and there's a strange thing happening. The Brexit campaign have got exactly what it wanted with the Leave vote winning and Cameron destabilised. But many Tory MPs are desperate for the now departing Prime Minister, who lead the Remain campaign, to stay on as PM and sort out the mess that their hectoring victory has brought.

Cameron's likely replacement, Boris Johnson, meanwhile, is advising caution on kicking off official divorce proceedings from Europe because he realises the economic, administrative and legislative carnage such a move will unleash.

Leading figures in the Leave campaign are now distancing themselves from one of the boldest claims they made, too, that their estimated figure of £350million per week that it costs to be a member of the EU will be spent on the National Health Service. This £350million figure was always a lie. The Independent Institute for Fiscal Studies said this figure was closer to £175million per week and that didn’t take into account the benefits this secured. But the £350million still lie stuck.

Now both Brexit leading lights Nigel Farage and Iain Duncan-Smith are distancing themselves from the claim that this £350million per week will go to the NHS. Both are denying they ever even made it, despite evidence to the contrary... like standing next to a massive bus with that very thing written on the side and constantly talking about it.

The Labour Party, meanwhile, are taking advantage of the political maelstrom to oust their leader, Jeremy Corbyn. It’s no secret that Corbyn’s elevation was never popular within the hierarchy of the party, and it seems the knives are now out for him. Yet again…

Even more tragic is the dawning realisation among many people who supported the Leave campaign that if the UK wants to trade with Europe, then one of the likely conditions will be free movement of labour… the very thing they thought they’d voted against. D'oh!

The EU, meanwhile, is refusing to hold informal talks until official exit proceedings begin. If this was a game of poker, the EU would be holding all the cards and most of the chips and also own the casino.

Cameron gambled on holding a referendum to silence critics who goaded him over the EU and to quell rebels and critical voices within his own party, and he lost. Now the UK is about to lose big time as the economy and pretty much every other administrative and legislative structure has to be redrawn, and the UK is plunged into mass uncertainty.

More worryingly, there’s also the start of a very vocal and vicious streak of racism being unleashed on immigrants. The architects of this victory, meanwhile, are trying to cover their lies and hoping somebody else will eventually step in to clear up this mess. 

On Leaving Europe: Part I...

A bad thing happened in the early hours of this morning. Some 52 per cent of a voting turnout of nearly 30million Britons voted to leave the EU. The immediate effect is that some £140billion has been wiped off the value of sterling. And there could be worse to come... 

I've always suspected part of England's national make-up is that of the Little Englander, who'll say things such as: 'I'm not racist, but...' then say something very racist. I've also always suspected there are simply a large number of racists and xenophobes in the UK. There's certainly a strong tradition of far-right politics in England. 

But those factors alone can't account for the fact that more than 15million people voted to leave the EU. So what happened? 

The fear-mongering and lies-presented-as-facts of the Leave campaign certainly played a huge role. Some people will have fallen for that in the same way that some people fall for Nigel Farage's 'normal-geezer-who-speaks-plain-truths' shtick. In this campaign, he's clearly lied and spread fear based on those lies. He is dangerous and should not be trusted, yet he has been.

The Remain campaign didn't exactly cover itself in glory either and spectacularly failed to move the argument onto the grounds it should have been fought on: namely that EU membership strengthens our economy and our place in the world, that it ensures basic rights for workers, and that it brings all manner of other benefits, both financial and cultural.

There's a strong argument this was largely a protest vote against a political class who many voters feel increasingly alienated from and disenfranchised by. But this seems perverse. 

The EU have not run down the education system or the National Health Service. The EU also haven't created austerity economics and forced the most vulnerable to swallow cut after cut while telling them it's good medicine that will eventually make them better. Yet, somehow, the EU and our apparent immigration crisis is the scapegoat the voting public have blamed for this. 

Our current economic problems are part of a global landscape and about decisions made within the UK. Austerity economics is one factor and successive UK governments consistently failing to tackle tax-avoiding multi-nationals is another. The EU has nothing to do with how much most people in the UK are suffering from various deprivations. Yet they have been blamed.

Leaving is a perverse logic and I think it's something deep within the national psyche that makes people lash out without thinking, then ask questions later. It's the attitude of the Saturday-night drunk getting wired and belting somebody. The key problem with doing this when the future of the country is at stake, though, is that it has bigger implications than bruised knuckles or a black eye. The UK economy is now on very dangerous ground, and the tremors have already started.

With Cameron now stepping down, further financial uncertainty is also predicted. The UK's triple A credit rating is in danger, too, and, as we have a huge national debt, this could mean even more austerity measures in the pipeline.

And it won't be the wealthy leading lights of the Leave campaign like Farage or Boris Johnson who'll have to worry about riding this out. It will be the vulnerable and the poor, whose fears and prejudices may well have provided a large number of voters for the Leave campaign in the first place.

I've been searching for an analogy to sum this up and the best one I have so far is: The UK's decision to leave the EU is like a self-harmer in the grip of a mania picking up the knife to cut themselves, then blaming the French neighbour and the Polish nurse across the road for the pain they're suffering. 

Well done, UK. You punched yourselves in the face by voting in austerity economics in the last election. Now you've managed to repeat the trick on an even bigger scale by voting us out of a body that at least gave us a fighting chance of retaining some economic stability. Because, to quote Bill Clinton, 'it's all about the economy, stupid!' 

Nice work!

Meatballs...

A few months ago, I cooked a batch of diet garlic meatballs that were probably as much garlic as meatball. Because neither the Missus or myself can be bothered to cook, the remainder of these are now getting used up, and there is a discussion on the best way to reheat a meatball. The Missus suggests frying them so I ask the following: 
'Do you believe you can fly?'

There is a pause.
'Do you mean "Do I believe I can fry?"' she counters, then starts humming the song with a similar title. 

I meant to crack a joke, but I got the words wrong. And she noticed. Do I argue the point and pretend that's what I actually said and she misheard? I decide not to.
'Yes. That is what I meant. I meant to make a joke but I got it wrong, then you took my flawed intentions and made them work in a much better way...' 
'And that's a perfect analogy for how this marriage works,' she replies, metaphorically patting me on the head.

She's probably not wrong. I may well be an idiot.

Midlife Crisis...

Today, I bought the above CD by popular thrash metal combo, Slipknot. I may be extending my musical reach. Or I may be having a midlife crisis. I genuinely have no idea...

Racing Certainty...

A man I have loved for many years is back on social media. Please say hello to pool league chairman, local businessman and ace racing tipster, Malcolm Drudge. 

Find him on @MalcolmDrudge on the Twitter.

Five-word Reviews: Sunken Cities: Egypt's Lost Worlds...

F-amazing exhibition. Go see it.

Cross Bones Graveyard...

Today, I finally visited the site of the graveyard for prostitutes in Southwark, London. 

The Cross Bones Graveyard in Redcross Way began as a cemetery for medieval prostitutes, who worked in the stews or brothels of Bankside under the auspices of the Bishop of Winchester, who also took a slice of their earnings. Sadly, these working women weren't allowed a burial in consecrated ground among 'respectable' people, regardless of how much their efforts filled church coffers, so this is where they ended up.

Used as a cemetery for the poor and the undesirable until the 1860s, it lay neglected and undiscovered for more than a century. The graveyard was then re-discovered at the end of the 20th century and cared for by a group of supporters and friends. 

It's an astonishing place. I may be spending some considerable time here in the future, particularly as I'm about to start work on version two of the play about the Contagious Diseases Acts. 

I also adore the term 'the outcast dead' that adorns the gates.

Back on the Baize...

I’m on a good run at interleague at the moment, having won 11 out of 12 frames against some decent opponents. I’m well aware there are stiffer tests ahead, but I’m trying to do simple things well and it’s working so far.

I’m putting in some table time and I’m on course to be in decent shape when I make my return to county next year. I’m also hoping to qualify for county by finishing in the top eight of the county-wide interleague, which pits the best players from different leagues in Surrey against each other.

In my most recent match, we played an all-ladies team and they had some solid players. I met a few of the newer county ladies, too, and this was good. I also saw a teenager play and her temperament was superb. I went over and had a chat with her parents later and, after explaining that I wasn’t some sort of weirdo, said I’d like to spend some table time with her because I think I could help her game improve.

I’m really excited when I see potential and I think I could help her develop into a really good player. It’s a path I’ve trodden once before when I spent some time with a county junior player and helped him become an England international.

If I’m going back to play county pool, I also like the idea of helping to bring somebody else through. It will help focus me and give me a defined pre-match routine for practice and it will also mean they get something out of it by practising with me.

It’s something I’ve learnt from a decade and a half of martial arts: by teaching others we help refine and define ourselves

I hope she and her parents realise it’s a genuine offer and don’t peg me as some sort of freak.