Too Gruesome?

This is remarkable. Thanks to William Gibson for retweeting.

It earns the Ring of Truth award (which is not just for writing).

It takes about a minute and a half. See what you think. I've put down a few thoughts on the previous post.

Embrace Life

SPOILER!! If you haven't seen the Embrace Life clip on my next post,, watch it now.

The clip with everything

They threw it all in: Everyman; the sudden, sickening violence of a road traffic accident; despair; motherhood; daughterhood; the protecting strength of love; a happy ending and loads of sparkly pot pourri. I didn't see the apple pie, but I'm sure I could smell it in the stove, lovingly timed for Our Hero's triumphant return.

Not quite what I was expecting

I don't know about other countries, but anyone familiar with the UK's hard hitting road safety campaigns will have had certain expectations. These tend to focus on the cheerful, careless, everyday routine of travel and then the sudden, sickening, life changing (if you're lucky) impact. Lingering in gruesome detail on the ruinous result.

I saw the classic setup and confidently expected that in very short order the beautiful family would be heading, in gloriously lush, detailed slo-mo, through the windscreen.

But no! In a truly magical moment, the moving child morphs from helpless victim to powerful protectrix. Just when he has lost all hope, she and her mother wrap a web of safety around Our Despondent Hero. The family is saved.

And what a wonderful tag-line.

Will I feel my beloved and best beloved's embrace when I next "clunk-click"/"buckle up"?

Making a negative into a positive

As any good salesman knows, you can turn almost any negative into a positive. All the same, finding the good side of a road accident must have been something of a stretch.

The usual message is "you could die: take this seriously". Of course, we all know that. So they took it as read and turned it on its head, to "you could live: take this seriously".

Satisfyingly clever. Actually, this seems to me to be the best metric of cleverness: how huge a negative can I turn into a positive?

I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I suspect that, deep down, we all are. Though it'll take AGES to pick up all the sparkly pot-pourri.

Of course, it's not just seat belts

A car crash isn't the only sudden impact that we will have to face. At work we may face task explosions, promotions, demotions, political thunderstorms, failure of a key project or loss of key people. Our finances may fall apart, or our health, or our homes, or our families.

The carmakers thoughtfully provide us with seatbelts. For everything else, we can look to scripture and saga for guidance. The message from our forefathers is clear: we must weave our own support networks. We must pay attention to them, strengthening them from day to day.

I have neglected mine.

I feel a resolution coming on.

Thanks, David

There are those who believe that David Allen's evangelism for the labelling machine is misplaced: absurd even. They are wrong.

My boys can frolic with their chums, picking up any horrible diseases of the chin  they may choose. I will be perfectly safe!

Do it now, or...

I just laid out the key points of a post. The subject is important. I grubbed up a good picture and some relevant, amusing and wise links. With a little work on the wording, it could be a nice, solid piece of work.

The idea had come to me as I tramped the snowy fields of Berkshire with my dog at lunchtime. I've let my subconscious noodle away at the key themes, and I think it's done a good job. It feels smug and self satisfied.

Unfortunately, I have clean forgotten what gave me the idea. And suddenly I feel very uncomfortable with the idea of blogging it. Why? It's still the bones of a good post - might even be useful to someone one day. BUT it doesn't seem to belong here.  It needs some link to my life to come alive itself.

Or it could simply be insurance against banality. ("What, you had the same thought yourself? Seth Godin said it better? How nice! I'm just jotting down some bits of my little life - move along: there's nothing happening here.")

Perhaps it'll come back to me, or I'll conquer my scruples. Meanwhile, the draft is there. Waiting. Patiently.

My subconscious is very cross with me. And rightly so.

Must Try Harder

A kind great uncle recently took the trouble to find me and pass on some family papers. These included pictures of two grandparents I never knew: my paternal grandfather, who died when I was two, and my grandmother, his wife, who died when my father was eight.

There were also two letters.

One from my grandfather in 1939, just after his wife had died. The words of a strong, honest man coming to terms with his pain and groping for the strength to go out and minister to his parishioners. Which he did for the next twenty years.

One from my parents at Christmas 1986. This was a routine, chatty update including the throwaway line: "William only had a couple of days off over Christmas, this year, so so he didn't come up from Reading and we weren't enlivened by the patter of grandchildren's feet."

That was the year my first marriage broke up. Does it show that I wasn't trying hard enough at home and taking refuge in work? Or that I was lost and dazed? Bit of both.

How can I compare the tragedy of a marriage torn apart by a horrible lung disease and my own grubby misery? Although cursed by events, Harold was blessed with a clear mission and the resolve to see it through. He conquered his grief and carried on with a life of meaning.

I drifted.

Compare the steely focus in the first picture above with the vacant gaze from the scruffy stripling below.

I feel (a) resolution coming on.

The Dog Ate My Home

You really don't want your Irish Wolfhound puppy to get bored.

Or he'll help with the mail

And sculpt the walls

The defendent showed no remorse:

Lumberjack essentials...