In a terrible year so far for losing so many talented people both within and without the show business world, it is very easy to overlook one or two. In fact that is precisely what I did last week when I failed to register the passing of someone pivotal to the success of some of the most famous film musicals of all time.

Last week Marni Nixon died aged 86. I think a lot of people probably would have gone ‘who?’ Indeed, I would have for many years and I consider myself to be quite a fan of musicals. I actually came across her name first in a slight obtuse way as I was at one point a fan of the late Andrew Gold (whose song ‘Lonely Boy’ is one of the relatively few things that the Lovely Wife and vehemently disagree about – if it came on the radio she would turn it off, while I would turn it up and happily sing along, but hey, as marital disputes go I think our marriage will survive this one). Marni Nixon was Andrew Gold’s mother. So it was in some amazement that I suddenly found out that some of the singing in a few of the most iconic film musicals was – at least in parts – dubbed.

The three most famous musicals that Marni Nixon provided the bulk of the singing vocals were ‘The King and I’, ‘My Fair Lady’ and ‘West Side Story’ (the latter allegedly without Nathalie Wood being aware that it would be so). In the case of Deborah Kerr and the gorgeous Audrey Hepburn it was abundantly clear that the actresses were chosen for their acting skills and not their singing (not that it ever harmed Rex Harrison’s career as he happily talks his way through all his numbers). So it was left to Marni to fill in – and superbly. But without the stardom and in some cases even uncredited.

This is Hollywood magic at its best really; I adore ‘My Fair Lady’ in particular and it is something to the credit of Mani Nixon and Audrey Hepburn (who of course has to mime seamlessly) that you would never know that the singing you are hearing is not coming out of the mouth. Over dubbing is done all the time to fix sound problems and there have been many cases over the years where actors have been overdubbed by a different performer because in the editing suite it was clear that their own voice didn’t work or because they were unavailable for the pick-ups needed. While I have a lot of respect for David Prowse but I think it would be fair to say that Darth Vader might not have made such an impact (instant trivia fact – there is a Darth Vader carving on the National Cathedral in Washington DC) if he had sounded like the Green Cross Code Man. Incidentally, that’s a great excuse for a bit of nostalgia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRUBMBi_lp4

In fact, considering how some people seem to cross the roads these days, we need the Green Cross Man (possibly in partnership with Tufty the Squirrel) to remind people who to do it safely. Actually, they should just get Peter Capaldi to glare at the camera and tell people off. It would not be the first time the Doctor has been involved in road safety campaigning after all

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xby9Jt9_UNQ

Now remember – ‘SPLINK!’

Got a bit distracted there. Anyway, it is probably fair to say that ‘in the business’ Marni Nixon was well respected and there are some good stories about how much collaboration between her and the actress she was dubbing – at least with Kerr and Hepburn. But it must have been interesting to have not had the level of public recognition that maybe her talents deserved. According to the BBC website she is quoted as comparing her work to that of a stuntman and I can understand that. The job was one of a professional singer in the same way as a body double has the skill to take the fall that actor might not. A reminder that movie making is always an ensemble piece no matter who the star seems to be, and that many of the people whose role is unsung (pun, as always intended) can be vital to making the project a success. In real life, I think that is true too.

So to Marni Nixon I’d like to say simply thank you for the music.

Now a few weeks on from the Sea of Hull installation people still keep asking me have I gotten all the blue paint off yet. The answer is almost. Something about the lotion based body paint that was used is particularly persistent when it comes to nails, although it comes off pretty easily from skin and hair (thankfully). The nails however seem to cling onto the blueness… And while I faithfully scrubbed the hands until spotless – I was lay assisting the next morning and that might have been somewhat off putting for people taking Communion – the toes still look faintly as though I’ve been moonlighting as a lady called Lola at the weekends with light green toe nails. Oh well, suffering for your art and all that. Nothing compared to the North Sea breezes and walking on surfaces that while they may be cheap and/or look good are not really conducive to being walked on in bare feet (cobbles for example are quite hard to walk on, perhaps surprisingly). While we are on that subject though, I must say that the street cleaners of Hull did a great job – considering they had to clear up the inevitable broken glass debris of Friday night in a Northern town – at an even more stupid time in the morning than I had to get up – as the place was spotless. Well done folks (as usual, the people who do the real work very rarely get a look in).

The other thing that has struck me is the (relatively small, but vocal) negativity strain that seems to exist about such things. What I find odd about human nature is not that negative views exist – everyone has different opinions, although I am not convinced they are always ‘entitled’ to them, but that is a different debate – but instead holding the view that anyone is interested in their small minded little dribbles. You might not want to every take part in a large scale nude art installation (indeed, the Lovely Wife would happily inform you that this is the case) but you do not have to. Nor do you need to go to the exhibition next year. In fact, you can largely ignore it. There are somethings far more important that you should be spending your time and ire on – our inability to deal effectively with poverty or our continued wanton destruction of the environment for example.

I’m overweight and have very low self-esteem. I run when I can in order to stay as fit as possible and have had to endure any amount of abuse from people who think it is funny to call fat people doing exercise rude names. Some people are not bothered with that – after all I know perfectly well that the loudmouths are by definition only slightly evolved from bacteria (and there are bacteria I’d rather spend time with) – but I’m not one of them, it hurts. I get it less now, but I think as you obviously age there might be just a tiny inkling in what passes for a brain that I might actually stop, run over and punch the little twonk in the nose. It has been close.

But why do, as Miss Swift correctly points out do the ‘haters gonna hate’? Ego probably – certainly rarely do you get abuse from one person on their own (unless they are drunk, in which case they probably have a huge imaginary throng of an audience in that vacant wasteland of a head). Sometimes I feel, certainly with the running lip, that there is an element of guilt there tow – which they kind of know they should be doing something similar but the pull of the TV is too strong and therefore they have to try and drag someone down instead. Some people are just sick.

I run because I enjoy it and it has kept me fitter over the years than I could ever hope to imagine considering the complete lack of voluntary exercise that was present in my childhood. I took my clothes off a few weeks ago because I like the artist’s work and I thought it would be a laugh, which it was, and I’d happily do it again. It reminded me that we are far, far too hung up about nudity in Western society and it is not healthy as it sexualises it on one hand and makes hung up about our bodies on the other. We seem to have lost the concept of modesty, in judging what is appropriate at what juncture and therefore seem stuck at the extremes and not just on this topic. Which is a shame.

If you ever have abuse from someone when you are making and effort or doing something that matters to you, remember you don’t stand alone. Reality is that for everything we love doing there are people out there who, malign intent aside, simply do not understand what you are doing or why. There are many things I see people doing that I do not ‘get’ but I usually manage to have the grace to keep my views to myself. Hopefully I can avoid being hypocritical in future (always the issue when you engage in rant, which I guess this is) and instead remind myself to be respectful of others views and needs and supportive of those suffering verbal abuse for whatever reason – that cannot and should not be tolerated. Being made fun of; being criticised – maybe. But while the difference between these and abuse may sometimes be unclear at the borderline I think if we are honest there are times when it is quite clear that whatever it is needs to stop.

One of the things that some people have noted in the voting patterns in the recent UK referendum vote is some of the demographics that indicate the majority of people at the under twenty five age bracket voted Remain, while the opposite was true in the over fifties. Apart from the concern that this raises in terms of a gulf between two important sections of the UK community, it does leave you wondering why.

Partly, it must be due to mind set and the way that many people in both these groups see the world, based on their own experience and influences over the years. It is hard not to think that in the older demographic part of the decision may have been less than pleasant memories from the wars, from a time that they may not have lived through themselves but would have known a lot about from their parents and other adults who had been affected by that conflict.

Even past the two world wars it might also be some contribution from the fact that many of the member states of the EU now were then (admittedly against their will, based on the friends I have from those countries) behind the Iron Curtain and so wrapped up in feelings about the Cold War. We focus today on concerns with Russia, but in my childhood the threat was the USSR and that was always more than just Moscow.

Old prejudices die hard and while they may not be decisive they might be a strong influence.

In some ways it is the negative aspect of history, where the past drags us down rather than teaching us to move forward without making the same mistakes. It can also provide ample opportunity to offend, often when not meaning to.

I am guilty of this. Back in 2000 I had the pleasure of spending several months in Japan, and thoroughly enjoyed immersing myself in what is a quite unique culture with a fascinating history. I came back to the UK with a great fondness for the place; inevitably I brought back plenty of souvenirs including several T-shirts and the like. One such shirt had a wood cut image of a Samurai warrior emblazoned on it. One day soon after returning home I was walking around Staines with it on when a young Chinese girl came around the corner. She just about stopped herself from screaming; she had responded instinctively, and fearfully, to the image on my shirt. I apologised of course but the damage was done for me. I never wore that shirt again. I had not realised how for some people the interaction between these two great countries still had such rawness.

I reminded myself of my own fallibility in this area this week when I saw something that made me instinctively – and as I reminded myself later, somewhat irrationally – a bit cross.

It was nothing much, just a school kid carrying one of those retro shoulder bags that went through a popular phase a few years back.

Some of them have ‘classic’ logos on them, and this was the problem for me. The logo was ‘Pan Am’.

Now, for many years the now defunct Pan American Airlines was one of the most famous airline carriers in the world (infamously also appearing in ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ as the operator of flights into space… By the time of a later movie – ‘Silent Running’ – it had become American Airlines who owned the space lanes which seems fairly unlikely too, but I digress). The decline and fall of the airline was a long and complicated process but that is not my point of contact with the logo – for me, this is linked irrevocably with Pan Am Flight 103, which was destroyed by a terrorist bomb over Lockerbie in Scotland, December 21^st 1988. This terrible event had more of an impact on me than perhaps would be expected. This was because it happened at the same time as I was out in Newcastle with my school friends to celebrate the fact that we had just finished school that year (long before the days of school proms in the UK, we had to arrange our own celebrations).

For many years that association was to stick with us and we always tried to meet in some kind of commemoration. It has stopped now for various reasons and I miss it; but it does means that this one tragic event has always been on my heart.

So seeing that logo used purely for fashion purposes seemed at that instant in very poor taste. I had reacted instinctively due to my prejudices.

Then I reminded myself that this young lad has no idea he is providing offence or at least making me feel unsettled. It is highly unlikely that he knows anything about that logo or its story (or cares). Maybe I should be disappointed at ignorance, but that is a different thing. So I told myself off for being oversensitive and to get on with more important things.

But it has made me wonder how many of us harbour specific little prejudices of our very own…

… And then how many of them I have triggered to cause offence in my innocence. If I have done so, I apologise.

Can we consign that to history now and move on?

I am being a bit self-indulgent here, but since a fair number of people have been quite curious I thought I’d go over my impression of being a naked Smurf last Saturday.

On Saturday morning I participated in the Sea of Hull installation in, well, Hull. In 2017 Hull will be the UK city of culture and the council and local art gallery had commissioned the artist Spencer Tunick to create a series of artworks for an exhibition next spring as part of the overall effort. Tunick’s work is mostly in large scale installations of nudes, usually around well know landmarks and on various themes. I have been a fan for some years and when the email came around asking for participants it was a fairly easy decision to sign up.

A slight aside; I would not consider myself a naturist. I do not find the idea of being unclothed and going about normal things such as cooking or sitting chatting with a cup of tea an appealing prospect, far from it (although to those that do, fine by me). However, as someone who has always (and still has) body image issues I have tried hard to find things which challenge me and actually every time I have come away with a better appreciation for what God has given me – and a respect for others. I’ve previously taken part in a mass skinny dip in Wales for charity (about 400 people) which at the time was a world record, and it was a hilarious experience – I felt like a 5 year old and there was much giggling to be had. I hoped with Hull there would be a similar feel, and the absurdity of adults acting differently from normal was certainly present, but there was something else too, which I will come to presently.

(As another aside, I will point out that the Lovely Wife was not participating with me – this is absolutely not her thing at all. At the skinny dip, she spent the time helping organise everyone – this time she slept through it)

So how did it work? Well the hardest thing about it was the time. I had to be on site for 2.45 am in the morning, and while I am a ‘morning’ person that was a struggle even for me, as was dodging the drunken yobs wandering aimlessly through Hull city centre (presumably having been thrown out of the clubs that were still in full swing). Having registered I was directed to a queue to pick up a bag with the jar of paint that would be the adornment for the day. Then it was mainly sitting around waiting for instructions. I was on my own, but there were a lot of couples and small groups. Ages were widely spread, from students through to the elderly. Eventually we were briefed on what was going to happen – once we were ready, it would be a series of installations through the city centre. After the briefing – more waiting, this time really for daylight.

Once this arrived, the notice went out to get ready, so off came the clothes and on went the paint. Now I will say one thing here. If you ever do anything like this, just get on with it. The most difficult bit about being naked is the undressing so the less time you can spend doing that the easier it is. Once that was over, a rather sweet collaboration developed with your neighbours to check that the bits you could not see – including your face – were properly covered in paint, as everything (including hair, something of a challenged for many of the girls) needed to be completely one of four shades of blue that you had been randomly allocated to when you registered. Once done, we all trooped off to the first installation, cajoled by assistants with megaphones.

From that point on the main difficulty was following the instructions over the noise of over three thousand people nattering to each other about how strange this was, how weirdly good some people look painted green and just how bloody cold the breeze was. I’ve never seen so many goose bumps.

Although occasionally things did seem to take rather longer to set up then perhaps they might, most of the shoot went smoothly and we were released to go back to our clothes at about seven in the morning. There was a certain level of grumbling about the rather loose interpretation of ‘a short time’ – the promise in the instructions for how long we would be undressed, which in fact was the best part of three hours. But most people took it stoically – in the end if it had been five minutes there would not have been much less of embarrassment (if indeed there was any). Walking back to the hotel was a surreal experience – people with heads and hands painted blue and green otherwise dressed normally did make you feel you were in the middle of a low budget 1980s science fiction movie, and people starting their journey to work greeted by the same image probably found it even stranger.

Having managed not to terrify the Lovely Wife as I got back to the hotel room and having managed to get most of the paint off, I am left to reflect on a very odd experience. I enjoyed it, and am quite proud to have taken part in a collective art installation – we’ll be back in Hull next year when the final art is exhibited (all that has been in the newspapers is the press coverage not the final photos).

In addition, it taught me in the most graphic way possible the levelling that can happen between people and the subsequent unity that can then evolve. Naked and painted all over means you have no idea what someone does, how well off they may be, even the colour of their skin. It is an interesting way of stopping you making judgements about people and for a few hours folks with nothing at all in common in their normal lives worked and laughed together. If we could only try and achieve that with clothes on and without paint, this country would be a much nicer place.

At a time like this, I am heartily glad that I have things to draw support from or escape into. From the start, obviously you cannot escape the issues forever – that is irresponsible and cowardly (unlike a distressingly large number of politicians it seems) – and they need to be dealt with, no matter how much you wish they did not exist (much to my disappointment the current situation has not yet turned out to be a very long and vivid dream sequence, and if it is this is truly a record breaking shower) or how difficult the obstacles seem to be.

I believe in miracles, but you get more of them if you put in some effort first. But often we need something to ground us, to allow us to recharge, to wipe off the sweat, can give us some encouragement and push us back out into the ring for the next round with a renewed sense of vigour.

What this is for each of us varies from time to time but I was trying to think positively today and came up with the three that are most important to me.

Belief: I do not just mean belief in God; although for people like me that do believe then obviously that provides comfort. For others, and this includes many of my friends it is a belief in an innate goodness in humanity that might win out in the end, that ‘humanity’ itself will eventually win out because there are more good people then bad people. I tend to fall in both camps – I despair of humanity in general when I listen to the news, but then I meet wonderful people of all ages every day of my life, which reassures me that there is always something good in the world despite appearances sometimes to the contrary.

Each Other: Relationship is essential to us. Without it we cannot survive. I am lucky enough to have the Lovely Wife is a rock I can cling to (sometimes literally) when everything else is going wrong. I am sure she would also agree that friendships are also important – even more so in cases where perhaps you need support which is different from what a partner can give. I am renewed and elated by my friendships – not just by them being an ear to hear, but because I can also rejoice in their successes because of my connection to them – in the achievements of their children, in the success they are having in their various careers or just knowing that maybe someone you know thinks of you and smiles.

There is also energy in knowing that your friends might need you, and while it might seem counter intuitive, knowing that you are responsible for being ready with that crisis can also remind you that you cannot just walk away from life.

On a different scale there are the community groups that we operate in –fan supporter groups (whether that be related to sports, music, cult TV show or whatever), church communities or indeed just enjoying the same things… It is very rare to meet someone who you cannot find a connection with – but in terms of supporting each other that connection has to be a strong one.

Save the tenuous ones for making polite conversation at a party when you are never going to see the other person again.

Imagination: While some animals show a low degree of being able to create a vision of what may be rather than what is, we humans do this to a degree that no other creature comes remotely close too. Imagination, and the benefits it brings, is a huge gift. All of art – whether that be music, painting and sculpture, TV, theatre and film or whatever – leaps from the imagination of individuals but then becomes part of a wonderful melange you can partake of – should you wish. We all prefer to partake from different sections of this particular smorgasbord. But while sometimes this can seem very unimportant, listening to certain kinds of music, or reading a favourite book or, as in my case, binge watching 1980s Red Dwarf (I forgot how funny this could be) is a perfect way for a short time to get away from the crap and later wonder… In a world that created this, surely we can find a way to make it work? And then get on with hopefully doing my bit to get things as much back on track that we can at this time.

Needless to say I’m not a happiest person in the universe at the moment.

I am a little too disappointed in my country to even want to talk about it. But there is plenty of time for that. After all, despite what many people seem to be assuming the UK has not actually left the EU yet, and the government has put off the act of invoking article 50 to at least October. So plenty of time to stock up with cheap booze on the continent before Christmas I guess.

Seriously though, I’m sure there are some twists to come yet.

Now it is a time for being calm, let negotiations happen and stamp down hard on the racism that appears to be insidiously creeping into some parts of the country. Out of date patriotism I might be able to put up with, I’m not going to put up with hate crime of any sort.

Good people – do not stand by and let bad things happen. It is our responsibility and scary as it may be, we must not shirk it.

What is on my heart this week is the younger generation. I had a really informed, sensible conversation at the weekend with an eleven year old over the referendum result. He was very concerned and wondered what it meant for him, someone who had no say in the matter and will not get that say for some years yet. What struck me was (1) how much more informed he seemed to be than many of the adults in this country I’ve spoken to and (2) how much I wanted to be able to do what adults normally can do when children ask big questions.

By that I mean reassure them, explain to them what will happen as the voice of experience and allow them to get back to worrying about the next set of mock exams, or whether Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston really are now a couple. But in this case I had nothing to say, as I do not know what is going to happen next and what the repercussions will really be for someone who is eleven at the moment. After all, I do not know what the impact is going to be on the Lovely Wife and myself, as someone whose job is mostly centred around Europe.

So I had to admit this. My young friend understood, but I do not think it made him any happier.

But does makes me a little happier is that in the twenty somethings and below have a very different world view to my age group and older, and a more positive attitude towards people of other countries (or indeed to other things that traditionally separate people from the ‘not we’). It is not always the case of course and I am not criticising the old. But I do believe that it is different.

Now I’m not trying to prove a point here – this is only anecdotal based on personal experience/ But thanks to previous youth work and the prolific breeding of friends I have the pleasure of knowing a large number of young people pretty well. And in their different ways they are wonderful bundles of potential and not encumbered by the same kind of baggage that I feel I carry around with me.

It may take some time, but if we can limit the damage and stop the younger generation form becoming disillusioned – a hard task, but one I’m going to focus as much personal effort on as I can – I believe things will get better when they are in control.

To my young friends – please do not prove me wrong on this (as I am on so many other things, it seems). Watch and learn from our mistakes – and successes – you owe a lot to your parents and previous generations and there have been good decisions as well as bad (take advantage of hindsight!). Stand united with each other. I need you to hold each other’s hands through social media and other tools that we now have that can remove the separation and isolation that we might otherwise fall into.

For many years I have worried about the loss of ‘community’ in this country that I remember seeing as a child, and in many places that has indeed gone, and to some detriment. But looking at it a different way there is a growing community of young people that is not based on which country you were born in or what sex you are (and/or think you should be). It is potentially the most beautiful thing, but only if the younger generation can seize its potential and make it a reality.

As for the old fossils like me I am reminded of one of my favourite T shirts that features a cartoon dinosaur shouting

‘Save Yourself Mammal! We will fend off the asteroids!’

I’ll do what I can to help, but some of you need to grab your future and start moulding it into something we can all be proud of.

I do not usually like being even remotely controversial – I’m a conflict avoider by nature after all. But even I cannot avoid making some comment on Thursday’s Referendum. It is too important – so here goes my pub conversation opinion (and that’s all it is…)

I do not like referendums. By nature they boil things down to what seems a simple question, when things are never that easy. It then asks people to make a decision that the majority are not really equipped to make because of the level of complexity and the need for specialist knowledge that most of us simply do not have (nor should we normally need it).

I am in a rare position in that most of my work revolves around EU regulation and how that happens but most people are not so well informed. But if you ask me about economics and I’ll probably look blankly back at you and defer to people I know who work in that area (and I do not mean politicians, I mean the people who actually work in that area, as usually the experts are in Industry in my experience).

But a Referendum is what we have and we will all have to live with what the people decide (whatever that is) and the implications, whether this be continued engagement with the rest of the EU and the compromises that will inevitably bring on UK policy (as it would in any trade agreement of course), or the uncertainties that a Leave vote will bring. I subscribe to the view that neither course is clear and anyone who says that it is probably selling something.

I normally fiercely protect my political views – it is a secret ballot for a reason – but for me I do not see this as a political vote (difficult to be when the major parties at least formally all back one side). And anyone who has actually discussed this with me knows I will be voting to Remain.

I believe that way people will vote will be based on a mixture of general attitude, whatever access they have to (the limited and insufficient) data and an unhealthy(?) dose of ‘what is best for me.’

Certainly I cannot say I am not impacted with that. As someone whose job is technical regulatory convergence (a slow and painful process at the best of times) to support something that at least sets up the environment for divergence post exit would be hypocritical in the extreme. A UK exit will impact me negatively both in terms of finance, and while I do not think would threaten my job it would certainly complicate it and make it more difficult. There are some things I am prepared to fall on my sword for, but not the political ambitions of certain players, scaremongering on immigration (for goodness sake, this country would not run if people did not come here and some of the most positive places in the world I have been built on positive acceptance of immigration) or some misplaced sense of ‘regained sovereignty’.

More importantly – I’ve spent the last twenty four years working with people from all over Europe, in industry but also with groups such as the Commission and other EU ‘institutions’. And with very few exceptions that period has been a rewarding and enriching experience and the friendship and togetherness I have felt with many of those people is extremely important to me. The world’s problems cannot and will not be solved by separatism – I challenge anyone to tell me how that is going to work. So fundamentally I cannot do anything but personally reject the philosophy of a Leave vote.

Everyone must vote based on their own reasoning (although for goodness sake please do vote one way or the other, it is too damn important not to).

But, for the record, I’m IN.

[On some aspects I am less familiar with – which incidentally came to me via the weirdest source – a shared post from aging Leftie Folk rockers Oysterband on facebook – a talk from someone more informed than I if you have a spare 25 minutes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USTypBKEd8Y]

Before I start rambling, is it only us that have been surprised by a lack of swallows and martins this year? The swifts normally arrive last, but they suddenly turned up without their normal precursors. Maybe not be anything, but the skies do seem a bit emptier than normal this year.

This year he garden has not been as interesting as in the summer of 2015. If you recall, we had two sets of guests move in, one welcome, one less so. We are fairly sure that the Great Tits that were nesting in the soil pipe from the bathroom fledged successfully, despite the magpies knowing exactly where the best was – but unable to get into the pipe to get the fledglings (incidentally, we do not hold anything against the magpies – the poor things have had their own nest predated by the local pair of crows, so what goes around comes around). The less welcome visitation was the wasp nest in the loft, which caused a certain amount of concern in whether they would bother us and the neighbours in the garden or worse perhaps find their way into the house – I still remember coming home to the house I was sharing at the time to find my bedroom literally crawling with dead and dying wasps (my erstwhile housemate at the time had arranged for them to be fumigated but had failed to either tell me and/or check they could not find their way into the house. But then he was an idiot.

As it happened our small stripy lodgers behaved themselves pretty well and did not seem to give us any reason not to live and let live in this case, which made the Lovely Wife and I happy – wasps are fascinating creatures and very useful in the garden except when determined to get into your Pimms or later in the season when they are effectively starving and go a bit nuts.

So far there has not been much sign that anyone is taking up on our garden’s offer of accommodation, although according to the Lovely Wife the bird box we put up in the apple tree was inspected by some of our feathered friends (albeit then turned down). It is now getting quite late in the season, and indeed the one thing we are starting to see is parent birds bringing fledglings into the garden and introducing them to the joys of bird feeders (no more caterpillars for you chaps, its sunflower seeds and fat balls from now on). Starlings and sparrows for the moment but hopefully we will get some more species with their juveniles in tow soon. They are always a cause for some hilarity as like teenagers the poor young birds have not quite worked out what all their limbs are for or how the ‘system’ works – and like many young humans as well are so keen to get their beaks on the food that they have not really taken the time to see how mum has obtained the treats in the first place… At least for a while, until the adult birds get so irritated with their offspring’s lack of getting their act together that they stop feeding them and youngster has to learn or starve. Generally we do not go down that path ourselves in functional families (that’s called being a college student I think) but I wonder if there is a temptation sometimes.

So not a vintage year so far but plenty of time for things to improve still, we are fairly sure our resident fox is a young vixen and she has been missing for a while so (thinking positively) maybe she is rearing cubs. Our pond may yet give up some new frogs to try and avoid catching in the lawn mower. The arrival of a band of badgers however will have to remain locked firmly in the land of fantasy, however.

One of the things that popped through the letterbox when I was away (OK, was handed to the Lovely Wife as it was considerably too big to get through the slot) was a mysterious large, flat parcel that when shown to me via Facetime to inspired a complete lack of recognition on my part. This is unusual; although I am certainly guilty of buying too much stuff from on line retailers I can usually keep track of what I had ordered and when it was likely to arrive, but I was drawing a blank on this one.

Turns out I had to wait until I got back from Asia to find out it was actually a bumper issue of Doctor Who Magazine (from here on referred to as DWM) which has turned in issue 500.

I have no embarrassment in revealing I’m a subscriber and while the tidal wave of BBC merchandise that has appeared related to the series since it came back on television in 2005 has rather washed over me – I still have trouble believing just how much Who related stuff is out there – this is one thing that I have stuck with. And it has been a long relationship. The first issue I picked up was in 1979 – issue three, in those days you never actually found out about such things existing except by stumbling across them in a shop which nowadays even I feel strange looking back on considering targeted internet advertising making it harder to avoid knowing there is something you could spend you hard earned pocket money on. But there it was, Tom Baker on the cover being menaced by a (not actually that menacing) ‘Revenge of the Cybermen’ class cyberman (as an aside I have now just educated my spellchecker that ‘cyberman’ is a thing) lurking in a newsagent in Blyth in Northumberland, in October Half Term. Thoughts of sweets or some Spiderman comic vanished in an instant and I pounced. The relationship was off to a good start, and it is still going strong.

Love of DWM is almost a separate thing to a shared love with the rest of the leadership of the programme. The best way I can put it is that over the next 497 issues (plus specials!) I’ve grown up with this magazine and reading the celebratory 500^th issue it brings it home quite sharply – I know all the in jokes as well as the contributors, probably better, because the best in jokes are ones that are subtle and known only to those who think themselves clever enough to notice. I suspect younger readers are somewhat flummoxed by this month’s exercise in nostalgia but I don’t really care. This month is not for them, it is for long term followers like me who had my parents subscribe to it from issue 4 and who now automatically renews his own subscription – and probably always will until it folds.

Why such loyalty to a magazine? Well, part of it is Who off course, but I think at the moment the magazine speaks straight to me. It is written for adult fans and most of the people writing for it, as well as the people actually making the programme are within a decade either way of myself; similar touchstones. Perhaps more importantly during the wilderness years – 1989-2005 with a blip in 1996 – DWM, together with the Virgin New Adventures novels was the main crutch for fans like me that were missing the programme that we loved. Endlessly creative in finding ways of filling the gap when there was nothing really new to report it rarely felt padded and if anything it seemed quite odd when the programme came back with so much publicity – and certainly they are playing an interesting game in featuring the new stuff but not neglecting the old that aged fans like me still want to see covered – and it is an important game as they cannot afford to upset the old timers. Like any specialist restaurant or pub you might patronise (in the proper sense of the word) the casual purchasers are what gives you profit, but it is the regulars that keep you afloat. A pub without regulars will usually fail at some point, and a specialist magazine without subscribers will go the same way; thankfully my favourite magazine seems good at playing the long game.

Well that was fun.

Although being overseas has its problems, and being apart from the Lovely Wife is one of my least favourite things, having the opportunity to live and work in another country and culture – albeit for a short time – is one of the most interesting things I think you can get to do. I had an eye opening experience back in 2000 when I had the opportunity to work in our Japan office, which is still one of the most fondly remembered periods of my life (especially so as I met the Lovely Wife the weekend I returned, with timing I still find hard to believe). The recent much shorter sojourn in Singapore and Beijing may well rise to mythic status in my memory and certainly I am starting to miss things already, and not just the people. It does not matter where you are, or how beautiful a place is, it is the people that I think really forge your lasting impressions. In this case, a fine, welcoming and enthusiastic crowd who it was a pleasure to interact with. Generally I find Asia a stimulating place as there is a real feeling of opportunity, even in places where the place you are starting from may seem very low; I wish sometimes I could see such get up and go back in my own country, but too often I see almost a forlorn acceptance of the situation and if any energy is expended it seems to be in the form of bemoaning the lot you have been dealt with. My parents expected me to work my way into a better place (a task I find instinctively difficult as in my estimation I am at heart of an inherently lazy disposition given half the chance) and there is no point in life dealing you good cards if you do not use them boldly. I have come back with a little bit of a spring in my step and a reminder to look for opportunities. Sometimes I need these reminders.

I’ll miss the food also. I do not think I have eaten so well and relatively healthily for some time. It did provide me with some amusement that everyone seemed convinced that I might struggle with hotter dishes, and it took some convincing to point out I wanted some extra chili, please, not less. In the end despite tempting fate several times on the heat side I did not come across anything hotter that the Chicken Jalfrezi at the Indian restaurant around the corner from home which I do like when I am actually eating it but comes back to haunt me later. I had no such problems in the last month. I cannot really replicate some of the things I liked out there – you rarely can – due to lack of access to some ingredients. However one thing I do want to try and replicate is a sensible attitude toward portion size. Looking at the mounds of food that I have again experienced now that I am back – including in my own kitchen, I still have a tendency to over cater – and think about what and how much I was eating in Singapore, for example, I do not recall to ever feeling anything other than pleasantly and not overly full on considerably less. Yes, partly that is the kind of food, and in that kind of hot, muggy climate you do feel less hungry, but it is another principle that I have forgotten/never got quite a hold on, and really should.

So I’ll miss the place (don’t start me raving about the Botanic gardens in Singapore – loved them), the people and the food; but the positive memories are something I’d like to relive here from now on.