• The passed two years haven't helped me to readers who leave me comments telling me they at least read my blog. That's okay, tho it hurts... editions in red...blogger gives now the possibility to check how many times your blog has been read. It seems people do find my blog, but don't leave comments. Gee thnx people! Or they still don't bother to read it. Turns out, most of the visit counts come from bots using my blog to only further their own advertizing. Bots have lots interest since I don’t post all that often anymore. Might increase again.
• My computer is not ready to log on to the rkop-chatbox...still not after two years, but who cares..I don't at least...I hardly ever visit RKOP these days and I forgot what chatting is (j/k) What's RKOP? (j/k) What’s a computer? (j/k)
• The new sound boxes I bought...SUCK! With a Capital SUCK and an exclamation mark...still do...still do, but I bought new ones which make me happy...The sucky sound boxes are now near the end of their lives; one has already given up completely. I'm thinking of buying a new set for in the bedroom. Now my good boxes are slowly joining the choir of dead sound boxes. I'm thinking of buying new ones for in the livingroom and for in the bathroom and maybe for in the bedroom. I still own those good boxes; they’re now in my bedroom. I bought really bad boxes for in my bathroom which produce some light and bad sound. I now also added a bluetooth version in the bathroom. In the livingroom I’m using my friend’s old boxes which have a heavy bass.
• Dennis Morris and Charlie Mingroni -without the ‘e’ at the end. I can also spell "Gyllenhaal". …and Garfunkel…I can't however, write "Roy Hal...Hall..H-hh...Hal-Halee?" Oh, fer chr...!!!
• I was up at 7.00 am this morning....I could have been....I was awake and up at 7 am to empty my bladder, then went back to bed to play the Sims FreePlay. Bad (bed?) me. I was up real late. I really need to change my life rhythm. Maybe try getting up at 8.00 instead of 9.30. I'm pathetic. Nope, still pathetic (got up at 9.20), I just don’t care anymore.
• I reviewed my passed two years using my review from a couple of years ago which I recycled as well...I actually took the time to review several lists and brought them back together in a list that lists what is applicable now. I used that last revised list, see the link below. Still old list. Might add another point.
• I'm too lazy to write a completely new review...I thought it would be funny to use this list again...See previous addition...and again. I'm wondering when this stops being funny. I might have reached that point already. Personally, I still think it’s funny. I love the fact I can now trace the history of a personal futility; my speakers.
• I hate the font I used for this list. Maybe I should change it. I did start to use more colours; might get a bit much after a while.
List of Fact: Ala 2014
Friday, June 17, 2016
Old Friends
Something I have no experience in, and won't ever have; I don't call any of my old friends still friends.
I liked this blog: The unbeatable love and hate of old friends
The best part about old friends is their ability to overcome and overlook your flaws
Priya Ramani
Actor and comic Billy Crystal gave a funny, lovely eulogy about his 42-year friendship with Muhammad Ali at the boxer’s funeral. Photo: AFP I was so excited when Babyjaan met her first bestie at the age of 3. Three years on, they’re enrolled in different schools, but I have a feeling that, one day, in the words of singer-songwriter Paul Simon, they’ll be old friends sitting on their park bench like bookends.
They’ll cackle and recall their cantonment teenager days riding a Royal Enfield Classic 500, silencer removed, the air around them thrumming with that testosterone-filled Yeh Dosti vibe.
Of course, Simon’s relationship with his old friend Art Garfunkel, which began in class VI and resulted in a partnership that won 11 Grammy awards, ended badly. They recorded their first song at 16 but split at their professional peak, shortly after their biggest-selling album, Bridge Over Troubled Water. They’ve come together often after that break-up but it’s never been the same. On the live recording of Old Friends: Live On Stage, a reunion concert held in 2003, there’s this bittersweet exchange that only old friends who’ve loved and hated each other can appreciate properly:
Garfunkel: They cast the two of us in the elementary school graduation play Alice In Wonderland and I was the Cheshire Cat, and it’s been a lot of laughs ever since. With a few interruptions, this would be the 50th anniversary of this friendship that I deeply cherish.
Simon: We met when we were 11 years old in Alice In Wonderland and I was the White Rabbit—it’s a leading role—and Artie was the Cheshire Cat—it was a supporting role...a very important supporting role. Now, we started to sing together when we were 13 years old, and we started to argue when we were 14 years old. So that makes this the 47th anniversary of our arguing.
Old friends are like that worn T-shirt that’s become a second skin now—the one your spouse sometimes wonders why you’re still wearing. They are a repository of your growing up memories, a dependable backup of your hard drive that will not be easily lost. That day you, a cocky pre-teen, sat on the edge of the 22nd floor parapet, posing for a picture (that your mother later saw, alas), is etched as clearly in their mind as it is in yours.
Staying up late on an overnight train ride counting the cockroaches and exchanging dark secrets, falling in and out of love (sometimes with the same person), not leaving you alone when you lost a parent, getting drunk, being introduced to Ozzy Osbourne, hitching a ride, casually stalking a crush, joining a Gorkhaland march while on a trek in Darjeeling, cookouts in an oversized handi because back then nobody worried they were eating too much—your old friends are standing right beside you in all the early snapshots of your life.
The best kind of old friends are those who have exchanged letters (not to be confused with texts, WhatsApp messages or Facebook updates) along the journey. When I was homesick as a graduate student in the US, old friends took turns to write to me, ensuring I received a letter every single day for the first few months.
But the best part about old friends is their ability, cultivated over a lifetime of knowing you, to overcome and overlook your flaws. “Old friends allow me the comfort of being myself. There are very few places in life where you can be yourself, most places there is a certain amount of performance involved in what you do,” says one of my philosophical friends. Another pal says old friends are those to whom she can vomit out her thoughts, no matter how ugly they seem inside her head. “You know they won’t judge you,” she adds.
These days though, in a world that’s become increasingly polarized, many of us judge our old friends for their political views. It’s often easier to exit than to engage. What’s the point of arguing with someone who may have gone to all the same liberal educational institutions as you but whose views diverged sharply along the way, right? But losing an old friend is like giving up a part of yourself, so some of us do a precarious balancing act, hoping that we’ll touch common ground one day.
Old friends are great when you need someone to stand up and talk about you. Actor and comic Billy Crystal gave a funny, lovely eulogy about his 42-year friendship with Muhammad Ali at the boxer’s funeral. Their unlikely friendship began when Crystal got a chance to impersonate Ali in front of him. After he was done, Ali gave him a bear hug and whispered, “You’re my little brother”. From then on, he always called Crystal that.
“Ali forced us to take a look at ourselves. This brash young man who thrilled us, angered us, confused and challenged us, ultimately became a silent messenger of peace, who taught us that life is best when you build bridges between people, not walls,” Crystal said at the funeral. Old friends can be counted upon to say good things about you when you’re gone.
I met my oldest old friend when I was nine years old and we were both selected to be on the school’s athletics team. We were polar opposites (neat vs messy; language vs math; proper vs most inappropriate). The days the phone didn’t ring repeatedly my mother would ask: Fought again? But that was childhood. After a deep trough that lasted a few years, we’ve recently been clawing our way back into each other’s lives again, helped in no small part by our daughters, born three days apart.
On WhatsApp, that scary place that can immediately recreate the dynamics of a group of old friends exactly the way they left it on that battered stone bench behind the college canteen 25 years ago, I gathered the courage (because who knows what she might say) to ask my oldest friend to share some thoughts about old friendships. She messaged back several one-liners which I’ve reproduced without tinkering.
How you hate and love them.
No walls.
Knowing the essence.
Knowing the buttons.
No need to explain anything.
Trust.
No need to read deep into anything.
And then, just as I was relaxing, her killer conclusion: Old friends can love each other yet grow apart. Have deep loyalty but not know what the fuck to say to each other any more.
Old friends can always be counted on to be honest—even when you don’t want them to be.
I liked this blog: The unbeatable love and hate of old friends
The best part about old friends is their ability to overcome and overlook your flaws
Priya Ramani
Actor and comic Billy Crystal gave a funny, lovely eulogy about his 42-year friendship with Muhammad Ali at the boxer’s funeral. Photo: AFP I was so excited when Babyjaan met her first bestie at the age of 3. Three years on, they’re enrolled in different schools, but I have a feeling that, one day, in the words of singer-songwriter Paul Simon, they’ll be old friends sitting on their park bench like bookends.
They’ll cackle and recall their cantonment teenager days riding a Royal Enfield Classic 500, silencer removed, the air around them thrumming with that testosterone-filled Yeh Dosti vibe.
Of course, Simon’s relationship with his old friend Art Garfunkel, which began in class VI and resulted in a partnership that won 11 Grammy awards, ended badly. They recorded their first song at 16 but split at their professional peak, shortly after their biggest-selling album, Bridge Over Troubled Water. They’ve come together often after that break-up but it’s never been the same. On the live recording of Old Friends: Live On Stage, a reunion concert held in 2003, there’s this bittersweet exchange that only old friends who’ve loved and hated each other can appreciate properly:
Garfunkel: They cast the two of us in the elementary school graduation play Alice In Wonderland and I was the Cheshire Cat, and it’s been a lot of laughs ever since. With a few interruptions, this would be the 50th anniversary of this friendship that I deeply cherish.
Simon: We met when we were 11 years old in Alice In Wonderland and I was the White Rabbit—it’s a leading role—and Artie was the Cheshire Cat—it was a supporting role...a very important supporting role. Now, we started to sing together when we were 13 years old, and we started to argue when we were 14 years old. So that makes this the 47th anniversary of our arguing.
Old friends are like that worn T-shirt that’s become a second skin now—the one your spouse sometimes wonders why you’re still wearing. They are a repository of your growing up memories, a dependable backup of your hard drive that will not be easily lost. That day you, a cocky pre-teen, sat on the edge of the 22nd floor parapet, posing for a picture (that your mother later saw, alas), is etched as clearly in their mind as it is in yours.
Staying up late on an overnight train ride counting the cockroaches and exchanging dark secrets, falling in and out of love (sometimes with the same person), not leaving you alone when you lost a parent, getting drunk, being introduced to Ozzy Osbourne, hitching a ride, casually stalking a crush, joining a Gorkhaland march while on a trek in Darjeeling, cookouts in an oversized handi because back then nobody worried they were eating too much—your old friends are standing right beside you in all the early snapshots of your life.
The best kind of old friends are those who have exchanged letters (not to be confused with texts, WhatsApp messages or Facebook updates) along the journey. When I was homesick as a graduate student in the US, old friends took turns to write to me, ensuring I received a letter every single day for the first few months.
But the best part about old friends is their ability, cultivated over a lifetime of knowing you, to overcome and overlook your flaws. “Old friends allow me the comfort of being myself. There are very few places in life where you can be yourself, most places there is a certain amount of performance involved in what you do,” says one of my philosophical friends. Another pal says old friends are those to whom she can vomit out her thoughts, no matter how ugly they seem inside her head. “You know they won’t judge you,” she adds.
These days though, in a world that’s become increasingly polarized, many of us judge our old friends for their political views. It’s often easier to exit than to engage. What’s the point of arguing with someone who may have gone to all the same liberal educational institutions as you but whose views diverged sharply along the way, right? But losing an old friend is like giving up a part of yourself, so some of us do a precarious balancing act, hoping that we’ll touch common ground one day.
Old friends are great when you need someone to stand up and talk about you. Actor and comic Billy Crystal gave a funny, lovely eulogy about his 42-year friendship with Muhammad Ali at the boxer’s funeral. Their unlikely friendship began when Crystal got a chance to impersonate Ali in front of him. After he was done, Ali gave him a bear hug and whispered, “You’re my little brother”. From then on, he always called Crystal that.
“Ali forced us to take a look at ourselves. This brash young man who thrilled us, angered us, confused and challenged us, ultimately became a silent messenger of peace, who taught us that life is best when you build bridges between people, not walls,” Crystal said at the funeral. Old friends can be counted upon to say good things about you when you’re gone.
I met my oldest old friend when I was nine years old and we were both selected to be on the school’s athletics team. We were polar opposites (neat vs messy; language vs math; proper vs most inappropriate). The days the phone didn’t ring repeatedly my mother would ask: Fought again? But that was childhood. After a deep trough that lasted a few years, we’ve recently been clawing our way back into each other’s lives again, helped in no small part by our daughters, born three days apart.
On WhatsApp, that scary place that can immediately recreate the dynamics of a group of old friends exactly the way they left it on that battered stone bench behind the college canteen 25 years ago, I gathered the courage (because who knows what she might say) to ask my oldest friend to share some thoughts about old friendships. She messaged back several one-liners which I’ve reproduced without tinkering.
How you hate and love them.
No walls.
Knowing the essence.
Knowing the buttons.
No need to explain anything.
Trust.
No need to read deep into anything.
And then, just as I was relaxing, her killer conclusion: Old friends can love each other yet grow apart. Have deep loyalty but not know what the fuck to say to each other any more.
Old friends can always be counted on to be honest—even when you don’t want them to be.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Stranger to Stranger
About a week or something ago Paul Simon released his umpteenth album, Stranger to Stranger. Go listen! It’s actually good.
If I sound surprised, it’s because I am. I tend to get bored with albums quite quickly and just listen a few songs before I turn it off or start dreaming about other things not hearing anything anymore. This album…Can’t say it had my undivided attention (that would be a trick), but I do want to go back and listen again.
If I sound surprised, it’s because I am. I tend to get bored with albums quite quickly and just listen a few songs before I turn it off or start dreaming about other things not hearing anything anymore. This album…Can’t say it had my undivided attention (that would be a trick), but I do want to go back and listen again.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Simon & Garfunkel
So far, 2016 has already seen many famous people die. To me it seems evey other week one of them drops out. I find it depressing. One of them was Alan Rickman; that really saddened me, I loved Alan Rickman.
Last year I wrote this blog: http://wiwipedia.blogspot.nl/2015/06/save-me.html
It was a rather sad and confused piece, yet clear in its intentions. It’s a sentiment I still feel, but now on the other side of emotions.
Obviously, as the tag told you, that was a piece about James Beck, best known as Private Walker in Dad’s army. I reacquainted myself with the series out of sentiment.
In my early teens I got interested in popculture and started soaking up every little detail of information or utterance from popartists. In those same early teens I also started to discover what was worth in popmusic and that the 60’s were a pop palace of richness, creativity and a new sense of identity. I got the message; it got hammered in by all who lived through those days and those younger once who had already learnt the significance of the music that came out of it and the musicians that had created that music.
I don’t think at that age, I quite got the importance. It was my first venture into general popculture, not kiddie entertainment, and everything was new and overwhelming. It was all too much to take in at once, so I selected my favourites by means of natural interest.
As I wrote many times before, my first interest was Take That. A new group that took me into the world of popmusic, like a first walk in a big city. Shortly before that time I came across Michael Jackson and Madonna. During that time I heard names like Freddie Mercury (from Queen) and Paul Simon (from Simon & Garfunkel). It was brought to me in exactly that way: “Freddie Mercury, from Queen…” and “Paul Simon, from Simon & Garfunkel…”. The former had just died and the latter had just had a hit. I both stored them in my brain for later research. In 1999 it was Freddie’s turn, or rather Queen’s turn and now, in 2016, it’s Paul Simon’s turn, or rather Simon & Garfunkel’s turn.
Now I’m back to where I came into the circle, my teens first realizing Paul Simon was really someone. I can draw this back to Alan Rickman as well; his was another name I stored for later research. When I got into my Alan Rickman phase, I realized I watched ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’ and Alan Rickman already got hold of my interest. I had forgotten a lot about the film, but it all seemed very familiar to me. It was nice going back in time, but having new experiences and new objects to study in pop culture. It felt like I just walked around the block and decided to give that building I had seen before, a proper look. That’s exactly how I feel about Simon & Garfunkel.
I remember sensing Simon & Garfunkel were a duo you just simply had to know. If you didn’t, there were serious gaps in your pop culture knowledge. I got that, I didn’t do anything about it, until now.
I was bored and watching top 10’s on Youtube. One of the top 10’s were of songs that make you cry. On number 9 was ‘Sound of Silence’. I knew ‘Sound of Silence’, I even knew it was a Simon & Garfunkel song. I picked up that much, apparently. It was the trigger for me to finally check out their music proper. So far, no regrets, not even about being late to the party.
What’s there to say what has not yet been said about them? Yes, their music really does grant their status of legendary. I am thoroughly enjoying the songs as they were written, as they were recorded, as they were performed and sung. And I thoroughly enjoy that’s there so much of it and the density of quality in their work. I fully understand and under scribe the goo-ish glory and hallelujah that they get for their songs.
In the previous post I said I was happy, because of a little tidbit from an Art Garfunkel interview. Now I am happy, because the songs just make me happy.
Last year I wrote this blog: http://wiwipedia.blogspot.nl/2015/06/save-me.html
It was a rather sad and confused piece, yet clear in its intentions. It’s a sentiment I still feel, but now on the other side of emotions.
Obviously, as the tag told you, that was a piece about James Beck, best known as Private Walker in Dad’s army. I reacquainted myself with the series out of sentiment.
In my early teens I got interested in popculture and started soaking up every little detail of information or utterance from popartists. In those same early teens I also started to discover what was worth in popmusic and that the 60’s were a pop palace of richness, creativity and a new sense of identity. I got the message; it got hammered in by all who lived through those days and those younger once who had already learnt the significance of the music that came out of it and the musicians that had created that music.
I don’t think at that age, I quite got the importance. It was my first venture into general popculture, not kiddie entertainment, and everything was new and overwhelming. It was all too much to take in at once, so I selected my favourites by means of natural interest.
As I wrote many times before, my first interest was Take That. A new group that took me into the world of popmusic, like a first walk in a big city. Shortly before that time I came across Michael Jackson and Madonna. During that time I heard names like Freddie Mercury (from Queen) and Paul Simon (from Simon & Garfunkel). It was brought to me in exactly that way: “Freddie Mercury, from Queen…” and “Paul Simon, from Simon & Garfunkel…”. The former had just died and the latter had just had a hit. I both stored them in my brain for later research. In 1999 it was Freddie’s turn, or rather Queen’s turn and now, in 2016, it’s Paul Simon’s turn, or rather Simon & Garfunkel’s turn.
Now I’m back to where I came into the circle, my teens first realizing Paul Simon was really someone. I can draw this back to Alan Rickman as well; his was another name I stored for later research. When I got into my Alan Rickman phase, I realized I watched ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’ and Alan Rickman already got hold of my interest. I had forgotten a lot about the film, but it all seemed very familiar to me. It was nice going back in time, but having new experiences and new objects to study in pop culture. It felt like I just walked around the block and decided to give that building I had seen before, a proper look. That’s exactly how I feel about Simon & Garfunkel.
I remember sensing Simon & Garfunkel were a duo you just simply had to know. If you didn’t, there were serious gaps in your pop culture knowledge. I got that, I didn’t do anything about it, until now.
I was bored and watching top 10’s on Youtube. One of the top 10’s were of songs that make you cry. On number 9 was ‘Sound of Silence’. I knew ‘Sound of Silence’, I even knew it was a Simon & Garfunkel song. I picked up that much, apparently. It was the trigger for me to finally check out their music proper. So far, no regrets, not even about being late to the party.
What’s there to say what has not yet been said about them? Yes, their music really does grant their status of legendary. I am thoroughly enjoying the songs as they were written, as they were recorded, as they were performed and sung. And I thoroughly enjoy that’s there so much of it and the density of quality in their work. I fully understand and under scribe the goo-ish glory and hallelujah that they get for their songs.
In the previous post I said I was happy, because of a little tidbit from an Art Garfunkel interview. Now I am happy, because the songs just make me happy.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Yay! New obsession!!!
And this time it's: Simon & Garfunkel.
I'm reading an interview with Art Garfunkel and came acrosse this tidbit:
"9. Kindness
When I ask what advice he has given his son he makes me laugh with his answer: “Watch out for traffic.” Anything else? “Be kind to people. I’m working on that second one myself, because I’m not always kind. I’m judgemental and picky. When I order room service and they get it wrong I try so hard to be kind and I fail. ‘But I only asked for three things! How could you get one wrong?’"
I'm so happy....
I'm reading an interview with Art Garfunkel and came acrosse this tidbit:
"9. Kindness
When I ask what advice he has given his son he makes me laugh with his answer: “Watch out for traffic.” Anything else? “Be kind to people. I’m working on that second one myself, because I’m not always kind. I’m judgemental and picky. When I order room service and they get it wrong I try so hard to be kind and I fail. ‘But I only asked for three things! How could you get one wrong?’"
I'm so happy....
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Mr. Holmes - film review
Last Saturday we went to see Mr. Holmes.
Not the person, but the film. The film was about an older Sherlock Holmes who had forgotten what happened in a certain case, and why he felt so guilty about it. He figured he must have done something very wrong.
For those who have not yet seen the film, I’m not going to tell the plot; I’m going to talk about the story telling in it, which really pleased me. Incidentally, the film partly talks about story telling, how Doctor Watson wrote the stories and how Holmes disagreed with the, in Holmes’ eyes, lies that ended up on the paper. However, at the end of his life, Holmes learnt something from Doctor Watson, and it translates into how Holmes decides to reply to a letter of a man he had recently visited.
I like how the separate stories are tied up together. To me it looked very realistic and not forced like you see so often. The woman didn’t turn out to be the long lost sister or daughter of the woman from the other story. Nor was the father the uncle or other relation to one of the women. There were none of those relations and yet the story connected them all up, without having any of them meet each other. That really pleased me. That’s what I mean with: “…it looked very realistic and not forced…”. Cause in real life, most people are not your uncle, long lost sister or even distant relative. Most people are not even acquaintances, but they can still be connected to you in some way. It’s the game ‘Six degrees of…’. That’s what this film does masterfully among a lot of other things.
The other things are the thoughtful way of portraying characters and situations, or the showing of relations between people, the situations they force by their actions and the resulting pain from those actions. This story is a story about how life tends to flow, more than a story of how Mr. Holmes is or isn’t coping with these situations. It’s definitely not your typical Sherlock Holmes film, in which Holmes is the master and everyone around him are just blindly, or in confused state, following him. This time Mr. Holmes is the student and all the rest of them are the teachers. To me, it made Mr. Holmes more real, more human, and more likable.
Not the person, but the film. The film was about an older Sherlock Holmes who had forgotten what happened in a certain case, and why he felt so guilty about it. He figured he must have done something very wrong.
For those who have not yet seen the film, I’m not going to tell the plot; I’m going to talk about the story telling in it, which really pleased me. Incidentally, the film partly talks about story telling, how Doctor Watson wrote the stories and how Holmes disagreed with the, in Holmes’ eyes, lies that ended up on the paper. However, at the end of his life, Holmes learnt something from Doctor Watson, and it translates into how Holmes decides to reply to a letter of a man he had recently visited.
I like how the separate stories are tied up together. To me it looked very realistic and not forced like you see so often. The woman didn’t turn out to be the long lost sister or daughter of the woman from the other story. Nor was the father the uncle or other relation to one of the women. There were none of those relations and yet the story connected them all up, without having any of them meet each other. That really pleased me. That’s what I mean with: “…it looked very realistic and not forced…”. Cause in real life, most people are not your uncle, long lost sister or even distant relative. Most people are not even acquaintances, but they can still be connected to you in some way. It’s the game ‘Six degrees of…’. That’s what this film does masterfully among a lot of other things.
The other things are the thoughtful way of portraying characters and situations, or the showing of relations between people, the situations they force by their actions and the resulting pain from those actions. This story is a story about how life tends to flow, more than a story of how Mr. Holmes is or isn’t coping with these situations. It’s definitely not your typical Sherlock Holmes film, in which Holmes is the master and everyone around him are just blindly, or in confused state, following him. This time Mr. Holmes is the student and all the rest of them are the teachers. To me, it made Mr. Holmes more real, more human, and more likable.
Monday, July 20, 2015
James
It seems I have a tighter grip on where my obsessions come from and why they wax and wane or flourish. However, a touch of mystery is always welcome.
I realized it a few weeks back, actually. Youtube must have come up with the suggestion of Dad’s Army, because in April they were still filming the new film. I followed through on the suggestion, because I was bored and sentimental, and there wasn’t a better suggestion.
The mystery part is why James Beck keeps attracting my attention. I still don’t know, and I’ve got the feeling I’ve got the wrong end of the stick about him…meaning that I think I know a few things about him, but those things might very well be wrong.
Then there’s Thetford.
Ever noticed the sun was always shining in Walmington-on-sea? Ever noticed that Walmington-on-sea only knows two seasons; a warm spring and a bit chillier, but still pleasant spring? That’s because David Croft not only reserved the locations to film on, but also the sun to weather the scenes in some sunlight. Bollocks, of course, but the sun always seemed to be shining when the Dad’s Army team was filming the outdoor scenes in Thetford.
Then there are the many stories about their times in Thetford, with the whole crew and cast including the extra specials. There are the stories of people roaming the cafes in Thetford in between shoots and the one big diner held at the principal cast’s hotel where crew and cast including the extra specials, would meet to eat, talk and have a merry old time.
It sounds rather idyllic, with the ever shining sun and all the good spirits (mental and alcoholic). So, you find it strange that’s the place and time I imagine to be at?
I tried different kind of scenarios; me just being a bystander, me getting mildly involved, me getting heavily involved. I leave it to your own imagination what “involved” means in these cases.
One thing never differs; I meet him.
None of the above I will ever be a part of. It’s a shame, but something I can live with. What I find harder to accept is, I will never have the chance to meet him. I will never have a chance to tell him I enjoy his performances, and that I’m very keen to see more of his work. Well, I can tell him, but I won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes while I do. I will never get an answer from him, or a reaction. There will never be, in any way, a connection between us. Because he died before I was even born. Mind you, he would be 86 if he was still alive.
One funny, weird thing, one of the main characters in the film Truly Madly Deeply is called Jamie, and the film is about Nina, his girlfriend, missing him terribly after he suddenly died. I find in my fantasies that’s the situation I fantasize up when I fantasize about Jimmy. I had done that a few times before I realized the similarity.
And this is where I see the weird connections: Halfway through the 90’s I saw Truly Madly Deeply for the first time and the film stuck with me. It was also around this time I saw Jimmy for the first time, and he too stuck with me. I say “stuck with me” on purpose, because it was them sticking with me, not the other way around; I wandered off and went exploring other interests. Now both Jimmy and Jamie are back in my life.Hilarious!
To get that last joke(?) you have to know the film. Oh, and I imagine they’re both actually named James. I know that of Jimmy, I’m guessing that of Jamie.
I realized it a few weeks back, actually. Youtube must have come up with the suggestion of Dad’s Army, because in April they were still filming the new film. I followed through on the suggestion, because I was bored and sentimental, and there wasn’t a better suggestion.
The mystery part is why James Beck keeps attracting my attention. I still don’t know, and I’ve got the feeling I’ve got the wrong end of the stick about him…meaning that I think I know a few things about him, but those things might very well be wrong.
Then there’s Thetford.
Ever noticed the sun was always shining in Walmington-on-sea? Ever noticed that Walmington-on-sea only knows two seasons; a warm spring and a bit chillier, but still pleasant spring? That’s because David Croft not only reserved the locations to film on, but also the sun to weather the scenes in some sunlight. Bollocks, of course, but the sun always seemed to be shining when the Dad’s Army team was filming the outdoor scenes in Thetford.
Then there are the many stories about their times in Thetford, with the whole crew and cast including the extra specials. There are the stories of people roaming the cafes in Thetford in between shoots and the one big diner held at the principal cast’s hotel where crew and cast including the extra specials, would meet to eat, talk and have a merry old time.
It sounds rather idyllic, with the ever shining sun and all the good spirits (mental and alcoholic). So, you find it strange that’s the place and time I imagine to be at?
I tried different kind of scenarios; me just being a bystander, me getting mildly involved, me getting heavily involved. I leave it to your own imagination what “involved” means in these cases.
One thing never differs; I meet him.
None of the above I will ever be a part of. It’s a shame, but something I can live with. What I find harder to accept is, I will never have the chance to meet him. I will never have a chance to tell him I enjoy his performances, and that I’m very keen to see more of his work. Well, I can tell him, but I won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes while I do. I will never get an answer from him, or a reaction. There will never be, in any way, a connection between us. Because he died before I was even born. Mind you, he would be 86 if he was still alive.
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| Jamie (Alan Rickman) & Jimmy (as pte Walker) |
And this is where I see the weird connections: Halfway through the 90’s I saw Truly Madly Deeply for the first time and the film stuck with me. It was also around this time I saw Jimmy for the first time, and he too stuck with me. I say “stuck with me” on purpose, because it was them sticking with me, not the other way around; I wandered off and went exploring other interests. Now both Jimmy and Jamie are back in my life.
To get that last joke(?) you have to know the film. Oh, and I imagine they’re both actually named James. I know that of Jimmy, I’m guessing that of Jamie.
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