30 April 2005 at 10:21
Every Monday was Cadet Force day at my school. It's easy to spot me in the photo - my mother wrote a note for me every week: "Dear Major Carruthers, please excuse my son from wearing his military uniform, as it irritates his acne."
Lex Dowie, seen here immediately to the right of the teacher, was once called upon in his capacity as class captain, to officially witness me receiving the beating of a lifetime. Mr Stuart the history teacher wielded the belt with an enthusiastic two-handed, over-the-head woodchopper's swing, his feet lifting off the ground with each stroke. The rest of the class were sent out of the room first, perhaps to add to the sense of drama. After the first couple of strokes, Lex had to help the teacher by holding my unwilling hands out for more. I don't know who was more traumatised, Lex or me.
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16 April 2005 at 18:35
Today I stumbled across a long web discussion (If a blog is a person's DIARY, do you really CARE?) where the opinions seemed to cluster around 3 main reactions to blog diaries.
Type 1 readers enjoy admiring writing that's clever or literate, "otherwise what's the point of reading?"
Type 2 readers love the reality element, seeing how other people live, and reading between the lines.
Type 3 readers are uncomfortable reading someone's diary - they feel embarrassed or see only narcissism.
Which group are you in? If you're not sure, read the following brief diary entry, then decide.
"Drove to the bay with Cass and the dog, met up with Panda and Stu and their dog, and joined the throng of weekend joggers and dogwalkers for a circuit of the bay.
Now that the business with the Pope is over, Stu is available for regular conversation again, and we enjoy a man-to-man about relationships we should never have got into, and the years we wasted before we got out again.
Our talk was prompted partly by some 1960s anti-promiscuity advice that one of my teenage friends received from his father: "never sleep with a girl you wouldn't be proud to call your wife." Dated and quaint, at the time it seemed like just one more prohibition to be broken. But looking back now I see it contained simple wisdom, and he was actually saying: be careful what you end up holding when the music stops. (Reference - Pass the Parcel rules)
As we pass a club, I spy a bin filled with empty bottles from last-night's business, and I take away half a dozen classy beer bottles in my pack.
In the afternoon I spend some quality time with Cass, get on the PC, stumble across a long web discussion .... "
Okay, now let's see how you feel about what you have just read:
Type 1 - you enjoyed the fine writing. OK, maybe there wasn't any, so if all you experienced was boredom, you may be Type 1. Otherwise, that leaves:
Type 2 - the reality element, seeing how other people live, and reading between the lines. Did you get any idea of how I spent today? What kind of personality I have? Age, gender, nationality? Narcissism factor? What's with the empty bottles? If you have no idea, or don't care, you're probably not a Type 2 reader. That leaves:
Type 3 - uncomfortable reading someone's diary, feeling embarrassed or seeing only narcissism. Did you feel uncomfortable? Is the writer a self-indulgent self-publicist?
Most of the time I'm a Type 2 reader. Most personal blogs interest me, some just for a few seconds, but others are worth reading the whole site. To me it's a kind of transient social experience, a healthy voyeurism. Just as in real life, I feel drawn to people who can share a bit of themselves and make the world a slightly richer place. And if they write especially well, for me that's a bonus but not the main game. YMMV. (jargon definition)
There is no shortage of blog diaries of the "got up, had a coffee .... watched TV, went to bed" type. But I like to think that even these can in theory tell you something about the writer.
If you think blogs are a waste of time, you've done well to read this far. You could even leave a comment.~
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15 April 2005 at 12:11
When I first moved to the UnHeard and McDonald Islands, I noticed that some things here are manufactured too big to fit. At least too big for the average emaciated immigrant who grew up on the Scottish diet, whisky and cigs.
Why is this? Well, it's true that the average UnHeardian male body size is one of the largest in the world: the diet of children here was high in protein, at least in the years pre-McFood. And children who played a lot of sport tended to grow up big. But it’s also partly about the mainstream male self-image. For example, the average man likes to believe he’s blessed with a gigantic penis, so UnHeardian-made condoms are tailored to a larger physique, and are hard to keep on for the rest of us. And who's going to complain publicly?
Similarly for UnHeardian socks: unless you enjoy the sensation of walking on several folds of sock crumpled inside your shoe, you need to buy kids’ socks; but in this case the reason can't be anything sexual, and is more likely due to one-size-fits-all manufacturing.
Mercifully, in recent years a flood of imports from China and South East Asia has brought smaller sizes into the shops. Recently I bought adults' socks that actually fit. And in a pharmacy you can now choose between "Asian" and "UnHeardian" condom brands and sizes. "Asian" sounds more dignified than asking for the small size.
at 09:00
Kev nearly killed me, and himself, 10 years ago when we went to sea on his yacht in bad weather. He and his girlfriend got so seasick they could only lie vomiting in their cabin, at least that's what they said they were doing. I spent several hours teaching myself how to drive the thing and get us back to land. That may have been the last time I felt real sustained fear, the sort that drives even aetheists to bargain with God. The occasion before that was when I had cancer, 20 years ago this month, I should plan a celebration. Especially as the next angstfest must be due any day, according to the calendar.
at 08:58
As well as my 2.5 friends, I have inherited Cassandra's social circle, which fortunately incudes some good people, but to call them my friends would be cheating.
Old friends from overseas blow into town occasionally, and that's pretty special. My dear old school mate Bill Howie was here in January, reconstituting himself after the break-up of a long association with a Spanish woman. For 10 years she was a true soul mate but now she's unmasked as a gold-digging narcissist. Great to see him, I did a video interview with him, which he was then able to compare with the video we shot last year in happier times.
I find video interviews an enjoyable way of commemorating important 1-to-1 meetings with people you don't see very often. The interview can be 2-way, e.g. you split a one-hour tape between you, focussing on each person for about 30 minutes. I have done interviews in parks, at a beach, in people's kitchens and in the middle of nowhere.
Bill is pretty upfront about this, and Bill isn't his real name anyway, so I don't think he'd mind me saying that in Spain he sometimes rides his motorbike dressed as a woman, and men buy him drinks in bars, thinking he's female. If you're reading this Bill, send us a photo and I'll stick it here. Funny how people's lives unfold. We spoke about going to an "old boys" school reunion dinner next year, at the rugby pavilion, he in drag as my partner, neither of our lives a conventional success story.
05 April 2005 at 08:56
I have a friend who goes regularly to a laughter club, a kind of Indian group therapy laughing session. It works well for him.
Actually I only have two and a half friends in total here in the UnHeard of McDonald Islands, and one of them's the dog. I usually let folk assume that I have a normal-sized social circle, but let's be honest here.
The laughter club friend is the half friend, a very nice guy but we meet so seldom that it would be cheating to count him as a full friend.
Apart from the dog, there's my main friend Kev, a recycling-obsessed Crocodile Dundee type who hates and loves women, and lives on a boat in the harbour with his part-time Japanese girlfriend. He's the most principled person I've met, and one of the best listeners, great to talk with, and we meet for coffee every week or two, and try to see the wacky side of world events. Not always easy.
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