Tv Of The Month - Small Teen, Bigger World.

I've not really watched much television this month, no bad thing really. The Apprentice ended with a good conclusion I thought and the right person won for a welcome change.

One program that did touch personal heart strings was 'Small Teen, Big World' which started as a four part documentary on BBC3 on July 11th. It opened with 3'8" (Hope I got that right) teenager called Jasmine (she prefers Jazz) saying 'I don't have a problem with my height but other people often do' or words very similar. All I can say is that being of hobbit like stature myself I empathised with Jazz immediately and each episode has evoked plenty of emotion within me. The series deals with certain aspects of Jazz's life in each episode, including the reunion with her estranged father, social life, holidays and relationships with those around her including her amazing grandparents and hysterical mum called 'Bev' who is a little gem in her own right.

The BBC needs to be commended for documentaries like this but I really wish it had made prime time BBC1 viewing to bring awareness of us small folks to the masses so we aren't people that are ridiculed in the street or just in films - we are a part of society. I'm a little taller than Jazz but I still face the same prejudices and obstacles at times and I can painfully recall what it was like growing up with the inner battles of trying to be who you are and sometimes wanting to be someone else. Age of course eases things but Jazz is probably coping in many ways better than I did, she really is very articulate, lovely and above all remarkable - a real heroine of our times.

Jasmine I just want to say thank you for sharing your life on the tv and say that you're an inspiration, your family is awesome and your mum has me giggling like a loon -what you both have is very special.

Nowadays when people ask me how I handle being short I reply 'I wear it, I wear it like an armour' - they never see that one coming but these days its true, I am proud of who I am and like you - never let it hold me back!

The Hobbit Goes South

So the day came, my planned trip to London and a day in the Camden area. I boarded the train and gazed out of the window musing what the day may yield. I soon get chatting to the guy next to me, we talk music and other things, he's a city boy, suited and booted but very likeable with it and in no time I am pulling into King Cross station. We joke to each other about the hustle and bustle to come and how unpleasant the London underground can be before bidding each other farewell.

I navigate through the hordes of bodies at Kings Cross and descend to the underground, as usual its hot and busy but I know its only two stops to Camden town so I can bear it. I hit Camden around noon and the sights and sounds instantly assault my senses as I leave the station. It's busy, very busy in fact and the flow of people is almost at a crawl. I head for one of the many markets in Camden and bag a couple of T-Shirts that Gary and I had seen at Christmas in Lincoln but couldn't get because the shop was closed, and when I returned later the shop was vacant. So the first purchase is definitely for the win, Gary will be happy when he comes over from China next month.

Then I am inexorably drawn to the Stables market across the road and my favourite clothing shop ever... Cyberdog. Like a sycophantic disciple I enter and head down the escalator. A large LED lights up the back wall and a DJ is playing bouncy electro vibes as I survey the panoply of clothing around me. To use a phrase my mate Tom once said 'I am dancing in my head' and there I stood with a little hobbit inside my head busting moves on a revolving dance floor in my mind, for a moment it really is overload as I just don't know what to do first. I randomly begin looking at clothing and its ker-ching as the cash register in my mind begins to turn over, I stand there salivating over awesome clothes 'want, want, must have, need, don't need but it looks cool' are what I am thinking. It takes little time to have my hands full, 3 t-shirts, a hat, a sweat band, socks and I realise I need to pay and get out before the credit card comes out and I do myself some real damage. It's a wrench but I pay and head back into the daylight feeling uber content.

The aroma of the many food stalls surrounds me and I decide I need to sit and eat and plan my next move. I soon crash down at a Chinese food stall having been charmed there with a free food sample by a pretty oriental girl. As I perch on my stool it feels like I am on the set of some Blade Runner-esque movie, the noodles I eat are excellent and I people watch constantly.

Then I head to the shops but with food inside me I feel lethargic and just want to sit down again and let the feeling pass. I head down Inverness street to a bar called 'The Good Mixer' which kind of reminds me of my local and it also allegedly has celebrities drink there on occasion, though no such luck for me this time. Sitting outside with a beer I recline and soak things in, Inverness street is somewhat quieter than Camden High street so I collect my senses and decide on my next move. I watch a Londoner stand nearby swearing repeatedly into his phone whilst breaking off sporadically to shout and sell his fruit and veg wares. In truth he is one of the few English voices I have heard so far as Camden is full of foreign people, it's very much a cultural melting pot. Suddenly a woman stands before me, she's adorned in a beret, silken scarf and tacky blue plastic sun shades. I'd say she was about mid forties but looked mid fifties, alcohol and drugs had obviously taken their toll. She asks for forty pence politely and I feel inclined to help and dig into my pocket producing a pound and forty pence, she ignores the forty pence and asks for the pound cheekily stating she needs it to get to an appointment. I look at her with knowing doubt and she caves in and says she actually needs a drink. Admiring her blunt honesty I give her the pound coin and she thanks me before heading off. Two minutes later a man stands before me and almost demands money and at this point I am beginning to think I should have sat inside. I point out I've just given money to someone and should I keep giving money to people I'll need money myself, he grumbles and walks off, at least the first woman had manners and a certain jaded style.

It's decision time, I ponder on a lengthy walk to Camden square to see the late Amy Winehouse tributes but feel hypocritical as I'm not really a fan and neither do I think she is a great star of our times. Regent's park pops into my head, I know it's nearby and roughly north of where I am, so I set off albeit a bit blindly plus I need a break from the shops and mass of people. Only a street away from Camden high street and I step into a surreal suburbia, large period houses on small crescent streets. It is hard to imagine that the cacophony of Camden High street is so close by. Stumbling through a few roads I see a sign for Regents park and soon arrive. Heading into the place I see it is indeed vast, I walk and walk yet feel I am getting nowhere. I sit on a park bench, survey the lush greenery around me and spy Telecom tower through the trees and saunter over to take a photo before sitting again and sorting my rucksack contents.

Checking my watch I see the afternoon is getting on, my friend Pat has just texted and he can meet for a coffee after work so I head back into Camden or so I think - yup I get lost! I know I'm not far off the beaten track and I curse myself as I thought I had mentally mapped things in my head. I spy a newsagents and pop in to buy some gum and ask for directions from the Indian shopkeeper. His directions are concise and excellent as the route back takes me along the canal and gets me back into Camden quickly and by a scenic route to boot, so I take some photos and send mental thanks to the shopkeeper for doing me a favour.

It's almost 5pm, I snatch a quick phone call with Pat and we agree to meet at Euston and I do some last minute shopping. Calling in a shop I've bought boots in before I'm greeted by a turkish looking old guy, he has savvy and he knows his sales patter. He looks down at my well worn Gordon Jack ankle boots and asks where did I get them from? We are soon locked in conversation and he shows me his wares, it is a good shop and I know you can haggle but the only thing he shows me are New Rock boots which I already have, in fact from the very same shop last year. I tell him I want something similar to what I am wearing, as they aren't as heavy as New Rocks. He offers me some pastel shaded boots that really aren't to my liking and it is looking like I am out of luck, he shrugs but a split second later has a eureka moment and dives off to the end of some racking and produces a pair of lightweight black New Rocks with velcro straps that look similar to what I am wearing. To add to my excitement they are in my size too, I try them on, they look awesome and we begin to haggle. They come down from £120 to £90 and we reach deadlock, as I know New Rocks are quality we agree on a deal and I head off to meet Pat feeling a very lucky hobbit.

In no time I am disembarking at Euston, it seems quite a lot has changed since I was there some years ago. Many years ago I had to get off the tube at Euston due to some bomb threat or something similar and run from there to Kings Cross to catch my train, it was a close call but I made it and in truth Euston and Kings Cross are quite close to each other, a ten minute stroll. I slump down on a wooden seat outside in a forecourt surrounded by coffee bars and restaurants. Soon Pat arrives, it's been about a year since I've seen him and he's looking well. His trademark beard and long hair surround his smiling face, we chat and he tells me about his new job over a strong coffee. We sit outside and the sun streams down though it is approaching early evening. It's good to see Pat again and he always has plenty to say and never fails to make me smile.

All to soon it is time for goodbyes, we take a steady walk to Kings Cross and continue to chat merrily away. There are huge throngs of people at Kings Cross and they seem to announce trains at the last possible minute, its a hasty goodbye and handshake and I am on the train leaving London behind and suburbia gives way to rolling fields.

I review the day, after spending more time in Camden I have to say it has lost some of its lustre for me, why I hear you say? Well, friends know I love the place but this time it felt too busy and though there are some amazingly good shops there are lots more selling the same touristy rubbish and cheap t-shirts. I still love Camden and its avant-garde bohemian vibe and I'll always return for buying clothes but this time I felt the good shops seem overwhelmed by touristy ones and this is a real shame. Camden is a special place but it is also very commercial these days too.

One final thing, my 'Boblbee' rucksack was amazing on the day, so comfortable to wear and its amazing how much you can get in it to say it is not overly big, it really did the business on the day. On the downside, my Sony Ericsson X8 phone was an epic fail. The battery ran down quick even though I used it maybe 5 times for different tasks of no great length. I need to get rid of it soon and also change networks as Orange is a pretty dire service provider these days.

43

So today I chalk 43 years on the board of life. Its been a quiet day, lunch with my dad and then a couple of drinks and good conversation with a friend. I've done some reading and watched some clips of my favourite films. I'm really taken back with the amount of birthday messages on the internet, surely birthday cards will one day be a thing of the past!?

Tomorrow I'm off to Camden for some retail therapy and a good few hours in a place I usually have little time to myself when I visit. So hopefully a good chance to browse the quirky shops there and also check out places I've not done so before. I've really enjoyed the fact today has been low key, restful and though another year has dropped off the calender I'm a content hobbit.

Hair

Hair is a funny thing, we groom it, comb it, toy with it, wash it and style it. We don't realise it but it's quite a big thing in our lives as we tend to use hair to make statements about ourselves or project our personalities, we usually spend a fair bit on hair vanity and upkeep, especially women, and rightly so as it looks good. Our hair makes us stand out or look individual, it can reflect who we are in many different ways.

For many years now I've had long hair, truth be known I love long hair and there's been protracted periods in my life where my hair has been a fair old length. Up until recently its always looked good despite the fact I have fine hair but lately the hair brush and the mirror have indicated my hair was getting thinner in a couple of areas, not vastly so but noticeable on scrutiny. The fact I have fine hair highlighted it more. Instead of letting my hair hang down and free I seemed to have in more in a pony tail over the last few months or would use voluminous type sprays or gels to sweep it in directions etc.

I very much wanted to keep my hair as I did like it long but age catches up with men's hair in many cases and although I wasn't rapidly balding by any means I still didn't want to look silly or be over proud in the face of nature taking its course. Baldness doesn't run in the family and the crown of my head is fine, the front though was receding quite a bit and it just didn't suit my long hair - it was time to take reluctant action and face certain facts (and listen to what some folk have been telling me).

I pondered things for a few days, procrastinated and my heart and head swung like pendulums on what course of action to take. The reality is I knew I had to let it go, as long hair weighs heavy on the scalp and shows things up even more, shorter hair wouldn't be so bad. I've never been one for mid style haircuts though, not since my twenties so the only real solution was a really short style that was graded.

This morning as I looked in the mirror I knew it was time to say goodbye to my hair. I knew of a barbers in Nottingham that is open around 8:30am, as I regularly see the guy washing down the steps of the place at that time. I had a hunch he'd be empty as I walked past and he was. So I went in and asked for frank advice. At first he didn't realise I had long hair until I whisked the pony tail before him and then I sat in the chair and it was down to business. He commented it was a real shame as my hair was thick for fine type hair and was only let down by the front a little but agreed with me on my thoughts. He fired the clippers up and dug into my mass of brown hair, as it cascaded to the floor I felt sad to see it go but happy of a new beginning in some respects. He graded it to a 3 and then down to 2 on my orders before rinsing it and checking for odd stray longer hairs and performing some cosmetic titivation. Then it was done. I looked down and saw my hair there and thought it looked tired and a little bedraggled - I'd done the right thing I mused.

Walking out I donned my black beany hat as my scalp felt cold being bereft of hair, I sighed yet felt relieved and to be honest now its shorter it just looks like short hair and nothing like balding hair at all, so it's all good.

Booked !

The ticket is booked, Camden town here I come! Instead of a drunken escapade or such like I've elected to have some 'me' time this year and go off and do something I want to do. Camden has always been a perennial favourite of mine yet I always spend little time there, so this time when I alight at Kings Cross I am just heading to Camden. I'm going to do the shops in depth and then when they close a few beers before heading home, maybe some other possible things planned. Lets hope the weather is fair and the gods of retail therapy are with me .... and that coming from an atheist! :-p

Trouble Ahead?

I popped into my local pub this morning for a coffee and to see if my letter had been published in the area newspaper (see blog below). In no time the staff pointed out an article about a newly formed local wing of the EDL (English Defence League for those reading overseas). The EDL is a right wing nationalist organisation that is gaining some degree of popularity so I guess it was only a matter of time before my sleepy little town had its own collection of motley bigots.

The staff also told me that a shopkeeper in the convenience store on the next road to me had been attacked the previous evening after a group of EDL supporters had been in my local beforehand, what a coincidence! The owners of the shop are probably of Iranian or Turkish origin, or from that part of the world and when I pop in they've always been very polite and helpful, they speak excellent English and the shop is well stocked and set out.

In the local paper the newly formed local EDL are stating the aren't against multiculturalism but don't want sharia law or islam rising within the town. To my knowledge there are virtually almost no Muslims within my small town population wise. Whilst I am no fan of Islam in a religious context I've nothing against people who come from Islamic regions of the world as long as they aren't fanatical about their beliefs. If we have a large group of foreign people within the town then it is East Europeans and though I personally do think there are too many over here again I have nothing against them as people, I just think it is a political issue and past and present governments have let us down on immigration and the numbers let into Britain. I love the fact we are a multicultural nation and we have cultures that have influenced us over generations, after all where would we be without a good curry house or Chinese takeaway?

In the article it mentions an EDL march of some sort in the near future but no date is given, in fact it's all very vague on their part, I wonder why? Perhaps they don't want any opposition when they parade. I hope it remains vague and they never really get organised. Nearly all of the local population here would agree with me and say this sort of thing isn't wanted here and my own view is if you have strong nationalistic views then be legitimate with them and follow a political route with relevant dialogue, not that it really did the British National Party any good in the past election. My own view is that there are problems within society and multiculturalism, especially in some areas of the country and its only recently David Cameron has commented upon this contentious subject. There's nothing wrong in being proud of your country and having opinions especially in these problematic days but lets be quintessentially British here and show that we can be calm and sensible about such matters without resorting to violence and racism, there's positive patriotism and negative and we certainly don't need the latter.

No Surprise

It came as no surprise that a letter I sent to my local paper wasn't published. I suspect they thought it was controversial and didn't want to rock the boat with their christian readership. I certainly didn't pull any punches with it because I wanted to be as direct as possible, so here's the letter below.

'Editor

I write this email in regard to last week’s Newark Advertiser dated 30^th June which had an article on page 32 called ‘Credo’ written by Pastor Carl Meachem of the Newark Evangelical Church.

The article states the church ‘plays a vital role’ but very speedily launches into religious rhetoric and quotations from a book that is ambiguous in factual content at best. I fail to see how any article littered with biblical quotes and comparisons for example ‘the church is the body of Christ’ really conveys to a reader of a ‘news’ paper. Personally in a secular society I do not think we need to see this kind of article within a local publication, should anyone want to read or hear religious ramblings then they can of course go to church.

Mr Meachem closes with the point of ‘around the world we hear of Christianity’s rapid growth’. All I can say to this is that here in Europe it is in fact on the decline as people adopt a more sensible, pragmatic and humanistic way of life. I would also like to mention that people don’t want to hear Mr Meachem’s religious rants in public, I refer to his occasional appearances on the corner of Bridge Street/Market place in which we are force fed words written by ignorant old men long ago. Modern society needs optimism and common sense and not someone wailing to us as we shop that we are ‘doomed sinners’ etc. '

Yours .......

Again in this weeks edition we have more christian fervour and rhetoric, christ is coming back etc, this time by a baptist minister. We have so many different types of believers locally all trying to sell their own take on the bible but none in my view are more odious than the local Jehovah's Witnesses or the fanatical Evangelicals. These are the sort I am vehemently against as they are committed to bringing biblical bullshit to the streets and doorsteps and if they had their way we would all be thrall's to their misguided beliefs.

In closing if you are reading this Pastor Carl Meachem I'd just like to point out to you that its been in the news this week that christian bookshops around the UK are closing rapidly which totally contradicts your claim that christianity is booming once more - religion is hopefully in permanent recession.

Stupidity And Revelation

A depressing day today. Stomach ache to begin with and a muted morning filled with thoughts of apathy and futility - it's not me at all really. Nonchalant grey clouds hung in the sky above Nottingham and I felt detached from the city as I made for home, it all felt like some very pallid pointless dream. Not even listening to Infected Mushroom and the nubile multicultural amazons of Nottingham can lift me.

It was a day of stupidity and revelation. The stupidity coming from an oldish woman letting her precious pet dogs pee between the automatic doors opening in the entrance to the train station to reading revelations on Sartre and existentialism on the sojourn home.

It's about time the state got tough on dogs and dog owners, reintroduce high dog licence fee's I say and you'd see a lot less of this kind of thing. You wouldn't get the whimsical crowd having dogs to appease inane urges of vanity.

I get back home and feel totally craven about the day, my book read being the highlight. Its on days like this when you loathe everything that death and nothingness seems an appealing promise ahead of you, a silence and darkness which are the perfect escape, nothing can succour today for me, I just want to be alone till this cloud passes.