Midnight

The Lords of Midnight was a game that had me hooked as a youngster. So much so that in my final year of school in 1984 I'd stay up till almost the next day playing it on my Sinclair ZX Spectrum. It was an amazing strategy role playing game that will always stay with me as one of the most influential games I've ever played. Today a friend emailed me to say the creator of that game series had died, his name was Mike Singleton. This report in the Guardian describes the game better than I ever could. I do feel a tinge of sadness at his passing, of course I never knew him or anything about him personally but it was his game that had me hooked on a game genre that I cannot give up to this day, on reflection it really was a ground breaking game.

I fondly remember nights sat peering into a colour portable tv having loaded the game in via a clunky cassette recorder. I'd immerse myself in the game, plan strategies, make notes and replace the game cassette with something like Duran Duran. I still recall listening to The Chauffeur by them whilst playing the game, oddly it seemed to fit the pace and mystery of the game. Happy nostalgic memories, and to Mike Singleton, a true visionary - thank you for those memories and rest in peace.

Westward Bound?

'Move out of the way!' some tracksuit clad yob shouted as he ran down the alleyway in front of me.

I stepped aside slightly, not that I was exactly in his way and mused if he was a thief with the haste he was in. The next road was no better, a cyclist hurtling down the pavement with no regard for anyone. Arriving on the market square my eyes casually scan across it. I see lots of mothers with push chairs, many are of Eastern European origin chatting in their own native tongue that never seems to come up for air. Where ever I look there seems to be underclass type people in tracksuits despite the fact they aren't practical in this cold weather, they shout instead of talking in guttural slang, it barely resembles English. Perhaps I am being one sided here, but it is what I saw, and what I keep seeing on daily sojourns through the provincial market town I live in. In fact I've witnessed a few things recently, none that I can really draw positives from. In some respects it's a sign of the times and getting endemic in most towns across the country.

Reflecting back, I recall these type of people were one of the reasons I left the last town where I lived, not the main reason by any account but one of them.

Do I like where I live? The answer is yes, the simple argument being that there are worse places to live, though that said - there's better. I might be cynical but I really can't see things getting any better, as ignorant generation produces yet more increasingly ignorant generations. The social changes I've seen since I was a teenager have been quite frankly unnerving. I can't deny that I am feeling restless here.

For some time now I've looked to relocating to the coast, the south west coasts of Somerset and Devon really appeal to me for many reasons. The older I get the less interested in town life I am, a small place by or near the coast in a large historical village or small town is what I ideally want. The air would be better for my asthma, there'd be less idiots (though every place has them I confess) and it'd be a better environment generally. When you get older your priorities change and what I wanted before are changing. I don't want somewhere that has nothing but the basics will do fine, a sprinkling of nice pubs, a few shops, bank post office etc, I'm sure you get the idea, quiet and functional yet picturesque. I'm not a snob, I just want to escape to something more 'me'.

I guess this all sounds like a dream, a fantasy or wish, and I concede that in some respects it very much is. The thing is, if I don't look into these type of places, visit them, check them out for suitable jobs then I'll never know or make it happen.

Squander

I'm not going to lie, I don't like the Conservatives and never have done. In my opinion they have always been out of touch with the common man in the street. That said recent backing of gay marriages when a vote becomes available is to be commended by them. 

Anyway, the point I wish to gnash my teeth about is the fact the government is allocating £50 million to commemorate the centenary of Word War 1. I personally find it staggering that almost a 100 years on and in harsh economic times we are going to squander such a large amount.

Do I respect what the servicemen did during the great war? Of course I do, my great, great grandfather fought as a cavalry man in it but I think a war that was mainly about colonial powers jostling and bumping heads should now start to be committed to the history books more. Sure, have the memorials, remember the sacrifices, keep it alive in museums and classrooms so that new generations can understand and learn from it.

Let me put it in another perspective. Outside of Athens, just a short bus ride away is the site of the Battle of Marathon. On the shoreline graced with wooded pines is a triangular area with a hillock, inside that hillock Athenians citizen soldiery are buried that defended the fledgling democratic world from Persian dictatorship and tyranny. The battle of Marathon in 490BC is considered by historians as perhaps one of the most important battles of all time because of the implications of its outcome yet its dead lay in a simple setting and millions worldwide are unaware of their important sacrifice. 

Should we remember and honour our fallen, without doubt but we should also educate to classrooms the senseless slaughter and folly of that war too. We should have services and memorial ceremonies but seriously, in these dark times should we really be throwing £50 million on it? The government seems focused on bigging up Britain at the moment whilst the reality of what is really happening in the country is yet again glossed over.

I'm pretty sure the soldiers who died would want to be remembered and rightly so but they'd also want us to have a better country with money spent wisely.

A Moral Regret

I was in town today, sat in market place drinking coffee outside Starbucks, coat buttoned up against the cold whilst talking to a friend. We noticed a man hovering around near us and when we paused in conversation he came forward and politely asked if he could ask us both a question? We both nodded and smiled and the man told us he was a Dutch guy who was over here with his girlfriend but had run into a problems. He went on to add he'd stayed at York and used his bank card with no problems whilst in a hotel, however he'd since been unable to find an ATM machine that would dispense money to him. He went on to enquire if we knew of any banks that would help him?

We pondered for a moment and then pointed out the major banks in our small town, the HSBC bank being the most well known internationally. He said he'd tried that one and they were unable to help. At that moment his girlfriend returned, they spoke quickly in Dutch and then thanked us for our help, adding he'd called home for assistance. His phone then rang and they wandered off.

Sitting musing the situation my friend and I pondered things. I added maybe if they were struggling I could have got them a coffee each, after all it was a cold day and a couple of coffees don't cost much. As we mused more questions arose, such as why didn't they carry cash or other cards? After all if you are going abroad there's many ways to carry cash in different forms. I'm not saying these guys didn't seem genuine, in fact they had probably just ran into bad luck and not prepared for their journey that well. I love Dutch people, they spoke in Dutch, I have a Dutch friend, in fact there seemed little to doubt.

A few minutes later they passed by us again at a distance and waved and smiled before vanishing from view, maybe the phone call he received was good news? My overriding thought was I wished I'd asked them to join us for a coffee and regretted not doing so. Was it right to be wary and cautious, I believe so to some degree but couldn't help feeling 'What if I ever needed help when abroad?'. As it happens I have, in Thailand once, and a Thai man helped me more than I could have imagined and yet today I felt at a loss after for not helping more apart from offering some advice. It's really funny how life throws us these little moral dilemmas at times and how they play on our minds after.