London… the novel… a book review…

I have never just randomly done a book review before… but this book is freaking awesome! It was written by Edward Rutherfurd, copyrighted in 1997. It follows the lines of ten or so fictitious families, all the way from when London was a small Celtic fishing village, through the Roman conquest of Julius Caesar, past the Norman conquest and the building of the White tower, and then down through the ages to beyond WW2.

It is so well written, the characters are delightful, and it all takes place against the backdrop of two thousand years of real history. The author was Cambridge educated, and it shows.

You not only get a real sense of the history of London, the politics, the people, the lives of both rich and poor alike, but you even get the backstory on many of the words used today in England that most people in the world have at least heard, but know nothing of their origins.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough!!!

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Uh, we are playing a game now where we make up funny fake names for small English towns, preferably involving cheese of some sort… please join us…

This came about because of my silly little post where I dreamed of retiring someday to an English village called: Cheddarcheeseham… (not a real place)… and might be an offshoot of a post I did long ago, just after returning from England, where I made a long list of funny English town and village names, of which… (supposedly)… half were real and half were made up, and asked you to guess which was which… (but, when I looked at a map of the United Kingdom, there were so many awesomely funny… and quaint and adorable;ely-hard-to-pronounce names, that I just used all real names of real places… and I mean no disrespect, because I love England, and have seen the queen!)…

Here is one of my comments from the recent post, cut and pasted, entirely out of context,  just to get you started…

**********

No… it’s true… you go by Clamdip, turn left at Fromageington, continue on into West Littlebigfordshire, past the old holy city of Swisstonmarket, and if you reach Fonduewichester or Velveetaston, you went too far… way too far…

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If you have to have one in the back seat of your car…

… it is far better to have theoretical dragon than the heretical dragon…

Just sayin’…

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Sorry about all the words…

I am still on my little adventure… so I am taking a lot of pictures to share with you, but I can’t get them on the blog right now. I am doing a lot of typing. Believe me, I would rather be breaking these posts up with photos of baby gorillas and birds and flowers and, of course, me… and I don’t even have Photoshop right now, so I can’t do funny pictures to make fun of Trump or whatever…

I realize that, when I am just left in front of a keyboard, the crack squirrels in my head tend to go a little stir crazy, so I hope you will bear with us.

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I don’t have the fashion gene… or fashionable jeans…

Can somebody explain fashion to me? There we were, prehistoric people in all our glory, proudly running around naked when we weren’t huddling in our caves, and all of a sudden, one bright fellow looks at a woolly mammoth and thinks to himself: ‘Hey, that mammoth looks quite warm, and this ice age is lasting longer than we expected, I wonder if there is a way I could borrow that mammoth’s coat.’

Well, since they were planning on eating the mammoth anyway, this inventive fellow decides to take the skin… with the wool still on it… and wrap it around himself. He did it just to be warm, but in this way, fashion was invented.

Now, at the risk of getting sidetracked… and even possibly offending some of my female readers… I could make a joke that, at this point, one of the women in the tribe looked at the guy wearing the mammoth skin, and asked him if he could get her something warm to wear too… but maybe it could be a tiger skin, because stripes are so slimming, and the colors would really make her eyes pop… but I’m not stupid enough to make that mistake.

In my opinion, clothes performed only two valuable functions since their invention. They protected us from the weather… and they gave us pockets so we could carry stuff around. How, then, did we evolve from that very first animal skin to a business worth billions of dollars, with its ever-shifting looks and fads. How did it become so ingrained in our collective outlook? How do we even take fashion seriously?

I mean, even on the face of it, it is pretty silly. They dress models up in clothes and have them parade along a cat walk… which, I am fairly sure is only called a catwalk because of that first girl who had to have a tiger skin to wear… and people say to themselves: ‘hey, look at that, that girl looks very pretty, it must be the outfit, I should get that dress’… uh, hello… people… that are models… they already look pretty, that is what they get paid for. You could dress them up in a barley sack and they would still look pretty good. It doesn’t automatically follow that the rest of us will look good in a barley sack.

Someone once said that, if women’s clothes down through the ages had been purposefully made to keep them in a position of inferiority, they could not have been better designed. I have occasionally wondered how many women over the centuries have been killed because they were wearing shoes and an outfit that made it difficult to run away from some disaster… I am not making light of this subject, but if you were in one of the twin towers on 9/11, and had to race down a few hundred flights of stairs in high heels, it might have decreased your odds of making it out before the buildings collapsed.

I can see why women fall for the ideals of beauty that the fashion industry spends billions of dollars throwing in our faces constantly, but I don’t like it. I am appalled at the mixed messages we are sending to our young girls. I am aware that, to a degree, life is a big game of dress up… a costume party that goes on and on… but, guys, you too?

You aren’t a peacock… you don’t need to parade around impressing the world by having the biggest and brightest display… you can’t really be that shallow, can you?

The thing about fashion… and this is a thing I may have mentioned before… but you know who I respect? The very first person who comes up with a new fashion. You know who was cool, the very first person to walk out of their house dressed as a punk rocker. Everybody else who saw somebody with a big mohawk and a safety pin in their nose and decided to show their individuality by copying that person, I just feel sorry for them.

And kids, one last word of advice. Whatever fashion you think is cool right now, the droopy pants or whatever, someday, you will look back at pictures of you and your cool friends and wince in pain and embarrassment. Just sayin’.

(As a norte of historical interest, the very first person who went out wearing their pants that low was either too poor to buy a belt and pants that fit, or was so busy leading an interesting life that he didn’t even notice his pants were falling down… either way, that guy was much cooler than you are)…

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I just want to retire to a small English village called Cheddarcheeseham…

… is that too much to ask?

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The intersection between blog and real life…

My wife is not a fan of this blog… which is funny, since she has never read a single word of it. I think she knows it is good for me. I know she understands that it means she doesn’t have to listen to all my weird ideas because I now have another place to vent them. She absolutely refuses to have any photos of her appear here, which has caused me to do some pretty funny things in Photoshop to get around that rule.

The thing is… (and this is a thing that I can totally see from her point of view too)… but I do share my whole life here… and the fact is, she is part of that life. I mean, I share stories and pictures here of many things that are as much or more about her than about me. I shared pictures of her surprise birthday party recently, and our romantic second honeymoon on Maui too. But I did it in that amusingly shameless and self-centered way that I have that makes it seem like it is all about me.

She often says that I am missing out on my real life because I always carry a camera, and she knows damn well that I am taking the pictures for all of you as much as I am for us. I return from a trip, and put all the pictures in one folder on the computer, but then I save all the ones that don’t have her or my younger daughter in them, and put them on the blog. I have even been known to crop them out or cover them over with something amusing. I don’t see this as a problem. I love looking at the pictures again, I love sorting them into various groups for posts, and then tying them together with amusing stories about where I took them and what I was doing.

The other thing… (hello, other thing)… is that doing this for you, taking all these pictures, doesn’t mean I am missing out on life. Quite the contrary, it makes me go out an experience life even more. I loves me some delicious irony! I am still off on my mysterious adventure, just so you know, and the other day, I was really sleepy and a little hung over. And I almost spent the whole day doing nothing but reading a book and writing a chapter in my new novel… and then I decided that no, I was going to go out, get in the car, and get some more photographs to share with you. And when I post those photos, with the funny little stories between them, I will relive that part of my life as I share it with you, a part of my life that I otherwise might have wasted.

I call that a win/win.

 

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Yeah, that naked guy doing jumping jacks, that’s what it’s like…

I finally figured out what a blog really is… it is a search for intelligent life in the vast darkness of the universe… like that probe we sent out into deep space… you know the one, it had recordings of music and languages, and it had a metal plate with that picture of the naked guy doing jumping jacks on it… the one drawn by Leonardo DaVinci… or one of the other Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…

Because that is, when you come right down to it, what most of us are doing here… searching for voices in the far-flung void… hoping to find fellow travelers, to connect with like-minded souls.

And, just like in real life, we are occasionally lucky, and we stumble upon a being whom we come to call friend.

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Well, if this guy doesn’t have the answers to all the world’s problems, why does he even have a blog, I hear you asking yourselves…

I’m glad you asked that question… it is really a rather interesting story, and if you are new here, you might not have heard it yet.

This blog serves many functions, most of which actually have very little to do with you at all, I am chagrined to admit.

It started off, as so many things in my life do, as a mere whim.

My daughter… the older one… the one who is getting married soon, and is so much like me that we sometimes drive each other a little crazy… suggested it. Yes, she said it would be fun for me, but I think the real reason was that, like most people I know, she was looking for some way to distract me. In short, she wanted the crack squirrels that live in my cranium to have a place to play. The simple truth is that, before I had the blog, I had to let every crazy idea, every bad joke, every amusing story or exciting adventure out… through my mouth.

Try to imagine what it was like for the people closest to me before the blog. You all know I post too much. All the stuff I put here… and the stuff I don’t have time or room for… used to just flow out of my mouth. So we can’t really blame my daughter for coming up with the brilliant idea of shunting all this energy into a place where she could chose to read it or just ignore it.

Then, as I was just getting started with not only the blog but also trying to get my books published, I read… in a book my wife gave me called: ‘Getting Published For Idiots’… that having a moderately successful blog increased your odds of being picked up by a publisher.

And I discovered, as the blog grew in both size and popularity, that it was really good for me. I had a way to release everything that was bottled up inside. I could share my art, my stories, my sense of humor… in short, my entire life… (except for my young, rebellious years, because this is a family-friendly place, and also, a permanent record that could be used against me)…

So, it all grew into this… whatever this is… my secret lair from which I plan to take over the known universe by the use of clever humor, interesting tales, photographs and funny Photoshop pictures.

And this is where you come in… Somehow, you stumbled into this weird, magical mystery garden, populated by hordes of rampant crack squirrels and fictional characters and aliens and real people too. It is a playground that is open to all. And if I may say, in my own, not-so-humble way, I can categorically guarantee that if you poke around long enough, if you scroll down far enough… (or, you could just use all the handy search methods and tags and the word-cloud and other helpful things I have added to help you find stuff)… you will find things that will make you laugh, or perhaps move you or even make you think.

This is my life.

Welcome.

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I think that by now, you probably think that it is strange that I am thinking about so many things lately, that’s what I think…

The thing is… (you know how I like my things)… that I haven’t been thinking about anything much at all. I have a head full of crack squirrels who do all my thinking for me, why would I waste time doing it myself?

So why, I find myself being forced, as their worldly translator, to ask, have the squirrels been making me type all these silly little posts about thinking?

I believe they are trying to make a point. I think… sorry… I presume… that they can sense the frustration in the world outside their cramped living space… the frustration that is making people do crazy things like Brexit and maybe even thinking about voting for Trump. I th… I imagine that they are aware of how hopeless we all occasionally feel when we examine the huge problems in the world around us, and we feel as though we have no voice amongst the people who actually have some power to change things… that we are surrounded by issues that are beyond our ability to solve… that we have more questions than answers… that we are being let down by our leaders and we are being swept along by the tides of history towards some future that we have no control over.

But, I mean, I could be wrong… maybe that isn’t what they are trying to say at all.

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