Where does it all come from?
When scribbling away at the following you are about to read, assuming you have the stamina to keep going through to the end, it may (or may not) prove enlightening but if you are thinking of giving up at the end of this paragraph, its okay by me, as I feel sure my other reader will persevere, so my meagre effort will not have been in vain.
I am often asked - okay, its happened - where do the ideas or the subject matter come from or the more direct route chosen is straight to the point as in; ‘where do you get the crap from you write about?’ and to be honest, I prefer that line of inquiry as it's direct, to the point, regardless of the fact that the poor souls do not seemingly know how to spell the word clap, which is a shorter version of the word applause, for those who might be rushing to their dictionary to check.
Well, for those who are still with me and have not shied away to read other intellectual stuff, I can only but offer the following.
As a form of intellectual enlightenment or possible fodder for group discussion regarding how life ticks away, does this form of written communication help to further mankind (or person-kind if anybody is still waiting for results of their tests to arrive) and the answer can be summed up in a single word - nope.
I was in the Spalding branch of Homebase recently but it's now closing down sadly, but I have been a customer of the brand itself since it started years ago but signs inside suggest it’s only this particular store that is closing, although we will have to wait and see regarding other branches not so local.
The fact that it is a real genuine closing down sale is a novelty in itself, as I have lost count of how many other ‘closing down sales’ also ‘final closing down’ sales that I see on a regular basis but are still there weeks, months and years later, so possibly their ideas regarding the words ‘closing’ and ‘down’ seem to differ slightly.
It was while walking around Homebase that a lady wandered over to me and did the now ritual Russian sounding greeting of ‘It-is-you-isn’t-it?’ and bear in mind I did mention at one point that I used to do a Tina Turner tribute act (I gave it up as my usual reader may recall, as I found out Tina is taller then me) as sometimes people still mistake me for Tina, so I was slightly cagey to say the least.
Once I realised she was not selling home improvements in any shape or form, wanting my opinions on what I can/could do to save the planet or rather a section of my wallet could in real terms, she explained she read my column (this one) on a regular basis, although I have met folk who read it while sitting on a sofa, so assume a basis is one of those flat pack thingamajigs, but regardless she was very nice as she said - and the following is real, believe me - that I - quote: ‘looked younger than the photo in the paper’ but I put this down to either I am using a different breed of toothpaste or it might be those gritty bits in the wholemeal bread I am eating, who knows?.
As a starting point for an advert for a well known chain of opticians, it has scope.
While having a chat - we made use of the furniture display stock to have a sit down - to discuss and put the world to rights from our points of view but during the conversation she asked assorted questions and one reply possibly might enlighten my other reader who may have also wondered - or then again, not.
She was interested/intrigued about my mum (of the people for the people), that I sometimes drag into my weekly (some are of the opinion it’s more like weakly and who am I to differ?) rambles as I mention some of her antics/happenings that as well as bring her life’s work to a wider audience can also fill the rest of the page.
Mum has known me for quite a while with Dad about the same length of time I suppose, from my schooldays and later on, but this is perhaps where I started into scribbling away as I would use the bits of cardboard or anything my pen would make an impression on as in writing, in my own breed of ‘shorthand’ would be putting it politely, but I would jot down anything that I thought was, well, different to the mainstream thinking as some of her antics were just that - antics that made the day different or rather entertaining depending on your outlook, so you might say it was a diary of sorts.
So my scribbling about her are 90/95 per cent her and the remaining percentage is my ‘dressing’ so to speak.
With her, it was a case of ‘what you saw, you perhaps didn’t get’, as appearances could be deceiving, as she had a dry wit and could bring anybody to her level or in a lot of cases, up to her's, as she hated officialdom or bureaucracy in any form, as it was usually the proverbial ‘red rag to a bull’ as if she felt something was wrong, she said so.
It was while sorting some boxes a few years ago that I came across a pile of these bits of scribble/notes that I still had which I occasionally bring to your attention regarding her antics as they relate to when I was still living at home, when I left when I got married (worth trying once I would venture to say), plus when I visited them afterwards, as the ‘pace’ never let up.
I filled in for a someone who was taken ill who was going to give a talk on the history of old tyme music hall, but at very short notice (hours to be precise), I stepped in and gave a talk creatively entitled ‘My Mum and other phenomenon’ which I must modestly say went well - they tell me - as I recounted assorted experiences that I was either a part of or was told about by those who witnessed her in her moments of down to earth common sense, enlightenment or as she once said: ‘Some think they have a had a life whereupon we are still going at it’.
Since scribbling about her, I have had invites for her also to either give a talk (three invites so far) or open a fete (one invite), but so far no one has asked about her views on the EU - or 'Evidently Useless' as she put it.
It was quite surreal, chatting away in Homebase as people wandered by seeing us perched on the display furniture, with assorted comments overhead that ranged from ‘Are they models or something?’ to ‘That’s him, I tell you - that daft sod who writes that stuff we read on a Thursday’ (mere flattery) and it's quite unnerving when they walk round twice (three in one case) to make sure we were real - or whoever - as Tina was not available of course.
Once we had finished our discussion, Mrs Lady then said she had to carry on shopping and so we parted, but to me I had met a reader. Just have to find the other one now, as I am told they come in pairs.