Category: Blog

  • Week 03 – Writing Workshop Task B – Think of a Film

    I’m sure we’ve all had times where, in the aftermath of some important action, we have been asked “what were you thinking?” and found it hard to answer honestly. We might come up with a narrative to explain what we’ve done, a rationalisation after the event, but most of the time we act emotionally. I’m thinking right now as I formulate this post, but the “decision” to start writing was more of an impulse. If I’m honest with myself, I wasn’t thinking, I just saw an interesting question and my mind very quickly to one specific movie which does an excellent job of communicating this kind of instinctual decision making, so I started writing.

    So when we ask what a character is thinking, words are often inadequate. We can show more easily than we can tell, so I believe that film is an ideal medium for this because the amount of information that can be communicated is much higher than in a text. Body language, light, the point of view of the camera, even the movement of the camera can all communicate emotion and impulse more effectively than a long descriptive passage.

    The movie I’m thinking of is Cool Hand Luke, a 1967 prison movie set in the deep south of 1950s USA. All the cast are male, except for one essential scene in which the central character, Luke, is visited by his mother. This is also the most dialogue-heavy part of the film, and sets up a lot of the later action, but otherwise a great deal of the communication between characters is non-verbal.

    In one stand-out scene, new boy Luke is challenged to a boxing match by an overbearing long-serving prisoner known as Dragline. The camera work here is close in, the perspective of a referee not the crowd that has gathered to watch, but the establishing shot is wide and shows this little work camp in open countryside. It emphasises the loneliness, the sense of being apart from the rest of humanity and civilisation, the dehumanisation the men are subject to.

    Luke is physically no match for Dragline, and after giving a good account of himself is knocked down. The other inmates urge him to stay down, and as a viewer we understand that honour is satisfied. Luke has proven himself a man, earned acceptance, and there is nothing to gain by continuing. Dragline is standing by, content, but Luke gets back up and confronts him again, causing Dragline to show a little surprise and also the beginnings of respect. They fight and once again Luke loses, and then again.

    The audience are becoming more and more agitated, their concern for Luke is evident as he keeps getting back up for more, and Dragline starts shouting at him to stay down. It’s clear that he doesn’t really wanted to hurt Luke, he was just asserting dominance, and for him the fight is over. But Luke keeps coming, doggedly but not angrily, and Dragline can’t walk away without that being perceived as defeat. It’s a battle of wills.

    The fight descends into farce, with a punch-drunk Luke swinging wildly at Dragline, who dodges and blocks but doesn’t try to fight back. He has a look of anguish on his face by this point. Luke eventually throws a last exhausted punch and Dragline ducks under his arm, taking him in a fireman’s lift. The scene ends with him standing in the middle of a silent crowd with Luke’s unconscious body over his shoulders. His stance is protective, he has taken Luke into his heart.

    The other scene that comes to mind instantly features a chain gang working on a road. A truck has dumped piles of road grit at intervals along a long rural road, and now another truck will drive down it spraying hot tar. The prisoners have to follow behind and shovel the grit evenly over the surface of the road, and get a stern lecture from the guards about keeping up. It promises to be a long day of hard physical work in the hot sun, with the threat of punishment always looming.

    So the truck moves off at a steady pace and they start to follow, but after a while Luke speeds up, and the people around him tell him to slow down and conserve as much energy as possible. He doesn’t ignore them, but grins and goes even faster. Without breaking his rhythm, throwing down a challenge, “the man wants speed, let’s give it to him,” and flings another shovel full of grit with a little shout of exertion. Hup! This all we need to know about his thought process, such as it is. Nothing here needs more exposition.

    The men nearest to him respond to the challenge and accelerate as well, and when men further down the line protest they just look at Luke. Everyone gets the message, the pace picks up, and soon the whole gang is racing to catch the truck. Luke is portrayed whispering “give it to the man” to his friends as he runs past them to the next section. It’s never stated, but the relationship of the men to their labour is transformed. Their thoughts are conveyed by their actions and the change in the way they carry themselves. They are not doing demeaning work as a punishment, they are racing to defeat the machine that oppresses them, laughing, asserting themselves.

    Again, the camera work is close in, this time from the centre of the road and low down, moving forwards, conveying a sense of the speed of advance. The audio track focuses in on grunts of effort, sounds of shovels, grit hitting the road, bringing us into the midst of the action as the camera rolls forward with the men. We see sweat, effort, smiles, pride, grit flying, and growing consternation among the guards. Patrolling in their usual positions their feet are showered unexpectedly with grit, they start glancing around uncertainly, and fingering their firearms. Their postures change, they don’t know what’s going on, and they can sense that they have lost control of the work gang. We know this without any narration and with minimal dialogue, the guards’ thoughts are communicated by their actions and body language.

    Eventually, with several hours left before sunset, the job is complete and the men collapse in exhaustion – and exultation. They know they have just “stuck it to the man” and have regained their pride. For this moment they are human again, and guards’ demeanour shows what they think about that.

    The second scene in particular depicts an important decision being made without conscious thought. It ties into folk traditions such as the tale of John Henry, philosophical movements like stoicism, and even touches on Marxist theories about the alienation of labour. Every man in the gang, at some level, was able to connect with their inner desire for meaning and status, and despite being stripped of agency over their own lives, they found a way to achieve that. Most of them would probably struggle to explain their decision in words, or even articulate their feelings, but the viewer understands instantly what is going on without needing to have it explained.

    I would be grateful if someone could find a way to connect B&R’s inability to see this with the most famous line in the movie: “What we have here is a failure to communicate!” I can’t quite make it fit.

  • Weather alert!

    I was on the beach a couple of hours ago when my phone started making this urgent warning noise! The government wanted me to know that the rain is coming and I should head for the high ground.Coincidentally, this was the exact same beach that I was on two years ago when my van suffered a catastrophic breakdown. I was stranded here and living in a tent when the worst storm in living memory killed several hundred people.

    Jean Claude, my damn van, was undrivable and stuck at a garage that couldn’t look at the problem for a few weeks, so I loaded everything thing I could into a taxi and checked into a campsite on the beach for a month. I didn’t have an electric hookup and was pretty depressed so I just turned my phone off and went to sleep for a week. I never got the warning messages!

    All I knew was that the weather was miserable and I had to splosh through standing water to go to the toilet block. I forced myself to take a walk on the beach every day, and watched as the waves eroded it away. And took a few meals in the campsite restaurant, which stayed open for the duration.

    It was from there that I heard about the death and destruction, and realised what had happened around me. Shrug. They let me charge my phone, and I discovered my mother was going frantic because she hadn’t heard from me for a week and she knew I was in the affected region. Oops.

    I had to stay in the area for a while because I was waiting for van repairs, so I also learned that the local government had been roundly criticized for not doing enough, not warning people enough, all the stuff that people know about when something happens and they’re looking for someone to blame. So when I got this alert today my first thought was that they were sending it to cover their arses, it was probably nothing to worry about.

    And in any case, I knew I was in a safe locale. I wasn’t in the campsite this time, but Demerzel (my newly renamed van) was in the beach parking just 200m further south. It’s on the edge of a residential area that was unscathed last time around, I couldn’t see any special risk.

    The difference now was that I wasn’t in the campsite, I was in a pretty small van. No toilet, limited space or cooking facilities, and it was going to be very hot and humid. Rain means no solar energy coming in but I had a fridge to run and I needed all my electronics to stay operational for the duration. I have stuff to do online which will keep me busy so long as I have electricity. It all looked a bit grim when I stopped to think about it.

    So now I’m parked at a motorway service station 20 kilometers away, waiting for the rain to start. It’s due in another hour. I stopped along the way and fueled up, just a precaution, and my solar panel is working away right now to get my batteries fully charged up.

    I’m a safe distance above sea level, with good drainage, and most importantly there is an air conditioned restaurant a few paces away. They have toilets, comfortable seats, electricity sockets, and food if I get bored of cooking for myself. It’s not the most beautiful spot I’ve ever camped for a few days, but I think it’s the best place to be while I weather the storm.

    Wish me luck!

  • Fuck that!

    I bottled out! Not making the trip. 😟
    I’m surprised at myself, feeling analytical. I’d like to understand my own thought process on this, see what I can learn.
    First, crew issues!
    The skipper is a decent guy and seems to know what he’s doing. We do have different thinking about clutter, and like different foods though, although the former is not a deal-breaker. The latter could be a problem, but it’s the kind of thing you can put up with and work around for a couple of weeks if you’re really committed.
    There was another crew member, a very intense lady who struggled to manage her own stresses. Clutter was an even bigger deal for her, she was even more particular about food but her tastes were even more divergent from mine than the skippers. After a few days of prepping for the trip she threw a wobbly and stormed off, roundly cursing me and anyone else in earshot.
    So then we were two, and that made it all a bit harder. The issue is capacity and redundancy. With three people on board you can easily manage the boat if one is incapacitated, and have more hands and problem-solvers if something goes wrong. With just two you’re generally fine, but have nothing in reserve. I’m not an especially experienced sailor and this was a long trip far from land, I’d rather be part of a bigger crew.
    And let’s talk about the boat.
    I’ve sailed, and owned, old boats before. It didn’t really bother me that this one was 50+ years old. And it seemed to be in pretty good shape over all, until I learned that the solar panels had all been rescued from rubbish bins at different times. Someone had thrown them away and my guy had decided to fit them on his boat, to cross oceans with.
    Hmm. Ooooookay! 😮
    So the panels worked, but then the skipper mentioned that he would need to turn the fridge off at night because there wasn’t enough juice in the batteries to keep it running. This alarmed me, and not just because I want to keep food fresh for as long as possible. If the fridge is well-insulated it will stay cold overnight, which means it doesn’t need a lot of power to stay at its proper temperature. But if it warms up overnight because it’s not well insulated then it needs a lot of power to get the temperature down again the next day. Either way, you don’t actually use less electricity overall by turning the fridge off at night. Something was wrong here.
    If your batteries don’t hold enough juice to run a fridge overnight, how long will they last if the sun doesn’t shine? You turn the fridge off, and then what? How long until your navigation equipment stops working? You’ll be 500 miles from land, sailing by dead reckoning, and I didn’t see any paper charts on board.
    Again, the issue is redundancy, spare capacity. Everything will probably be fine but if it all goes titsup then you have nothing to fall back on.
    But really, the issue here is that I just wasn’t committed. These concerns made it easy to justify bailing on the trip, they’re not the whole reason.
    Normally when I go sailing I’m unbearably cheerful about it. I’m ebullient, boisterous, excited to get out on the water. There was none of that this time around. From the start I was distracted, checking my messages, not in the moment.
    I simply had too much going on to let me relax and be in the moment. I had been busy trying to figure out my next moves for the remainder of the year and through the winter, and nothing was resolved. If this opportunity had come along a month later, and I had completed the season as intended rather than getting fired, I would have been stress-free and had no cares in the world.
    Instead my head was elsewhere and I was worrying about missing emails, missing opportunities, while I was at sea. I wasn’t in the moment, wasn’t able to be in the moment, so I was very susceptible to discouragement.
    It was a fucking expensive lesson. Ryanair don’t fly to Terceira, and it cost me a fortune to get back to the UK. I hope I don’t forget it!
    PS The other crew lady came back and took my place, and I watched their position updates online. They made slow progress northish for a few days, meandered around a bit, then returned to Terceira as slowly as they had left. They got back about a week after starting out, and I haven’t been in touch to find out what happened, but I feel a bit vindicated.

  • A sailing opportunity

    I’m on my way to the Azores islands! All that time spent online has paid off, and I’m joining a boat that’s sailing from Terceira (wherever that is) to Conway, in Wales.
    We’ll make a stopoff in Ireland but apart from that we’ll always be 500 miles from land, for up to two weeks.
    It’s a big thing, and I’m excited! Catching a plane today, will sleep on board tonight.

  • Lakefest – what’s better than camembert and jam?

    So Lakefest is over and I have a few thoughts…This was a family festival, lots of people bringing kids but overall a middle-aged crowd looking for music from the 80s and 90s. Good stuff!

    I was the first of our crowd to arrive and discovered that our beloved leader had failed to organize the accreditation properly so nobody could issue me my proper wristband to enter the festival grounds. She had some personal stuff going on so she’s forgiven, and I made it my business to sort it all out, which eventually took about 24 hours. But in the meantime the organizers gave me a setup pass which gave me full access everywhere – including backstage! 😎

    This was a pretty good start and when the rest of the volunteers arrived the following day we got everything else set up and then I pretty much left them to it. We had more volunteers than we needed, there was no point me sitting around at the gate with them, so I was basically free to go and enjoy the festival for the whole all weekend. I got called on to fix some electrical issues, help start a few cars, etc, so I was still useful and earned my ticket, but it was a pretty sweet deal.

    Now here’s the thing: I especially wanted to see Madness (they were crap), Bananarama (not great, but glad I saw them), and Flash, a Queen tribute band who turned out to be excellent. But the best thing about festivals is the things you find unexpectedly that turn out to be absolutely brilliant.

    Elvana: Nirvana songs sung by an Elvis impersonator! Sounds ridiculous, I know, but try it. Not only was the audience absolutely loving it, the lead singer looked like the happiest person there. He really seemed to be enjoying every minute of his set, and singing to/with his audience rather than at them.

    Passion, delight in the day’s challenge, being totally in the moment and in the groove, that, my friends, is what life is all about.

  • Festival time!

    Driving south pretty aimlessly, I naturally ended up going to visit family and staying with my mother! And lovely as she is, that’s not what I want to be doing.So I’ve spent most of my time online, looking at Facebook groups and jobs websites to try and reach some kind of decision about what to do with my time. This is the most annoying thing about my situation right now, I’m having to spend hours every day staring at a screen when I should be out enjoying the sunshine!

    So when I found somebody who was looking for volunteers to help with a little startup business at festivals, I was all over it! We exchanged a couple of emails, had a chat on the phone, and then I jumped in my van and drove to Cambridge!

    So here I am at a Folk Festival, and actually living out of my van for almost the first time. I managed to get an electrical hook up and there’s water nearby, but no showers. It’s only for a few days and I’ll cope, but I should buy shares in the company that makes wet wipes. 😂

    The volunteering part is pretty easy, the car park is miles away and most of the attendees are quite old so some of them struggle to get their tents and camping beds and food and everything all transported to where they need it. We rent out battery-powered carts, anything that anyone might have forgotten, such as tents and sleeping bags, and also provide assistance for those willing to pay for it. It’s easy work, very social, and although it’s unpaid we get full access to the festival, so we get to see all the bands.

    I have something to do, people to talk to, some interesting events going on around me, a whole new business concept to analyze and discuss endlessly, and I even got a bacon sandwich this morning.

    Life’s pretty sweet, we leave here on Monday, and have to be at the next one on Wednesday. It’s just what I need, very pleased!

  • Of course I didn’t get paid!

    So payday arrived and of course the bitch has tried to stiff me.
    In a civilized country such as Taiwan or the UK, this is not something I really worry about anymore. Years ago, working in construction in Germany, not getting paid was an occupational hazard. It happened all the time, but since then I’ve learned to deal with it by taking advantage of government agencies which exist precisely to stop this kind of abuse.
    A few years ago, someone in the UK tried to get out of paying money that was owed to me for work done and I just rolled my eyes and started going through the process. Get everything in writing, send an email or even a WhatsApp explaining what you think your owed and why, ask them to reply within a week. If you don’t get a satisfactory response then write again and tell them you’re going to start a process through ACAS. Give ’em another week to reply.
    Get all the forms filled in online, it’s pretty straightforward, and the moment your deadline passes (“midday on this date”) just hit send. You get an email acknowledgement with the case number, and forward this on to the employer with a note to let them know someone will be in touch.
    And then you just wait. It takes a few weeks but eventually someone is assigned to your case. They email and then phone you, and if you agree to mediation then they contact the employer on your behalf to try and get things sorted out. They try not to take sides, but will generally offer an opinion on whether you have a case.
    After some more waiting, and maybe some back and forth, it’s all over. The outcome is confidential, so you can’t announce in your blog that you got x amount from someone, but I think it’s okay to say that I was happy with the outcome I got.
    So when I left my last job unexpectedly I was pretty relaxed about whether I would get paid. I had money in the bank, no bills, and I wasn’t under any pressure. I could see there was a possibility of a bit of a shitfight, but was confident it would be sorted out eventually. I just need to be ready.
    So I looked through my record of hours worked and identified the weeks where I hadn’t reached the guaranteed minimum. I wrote down how many hours were owed, and added that to the total of hours actually worked in the current pay period. Then I added that number to the total hours worked since I had started the job, to calculate my statutory holiday entitlement.
    I added those numbers together to get a final total of what was owed, and send it to my employer with an explanation of how I had calculated it on WhatsApp. (That was our usual channel of communication.) The first response was to tell me that she wouldn’t discuss it until payday at the end of the month, then she went on to tell me that she was going to charge me a cleaning fee for my room. I knew that she knew that was illegal, pointed that out to her, and since she was obviously being difficult told her that we could discuss at the end of the month.
    The next thing I heard from her was when a payment landed in my bank account that was substantially lower than I was expecting. Obviously tax and national insurance would be deducted so there’s no point querying the final amount until you know how it was calculated, which is why she’s legally required to provide a payslip. But she hadn’t sent one, and when I asked for an explanation on WhatsApp I realized she had blocked me! 🤣
    No worries, I just sent an email giving her seven days, and went off to fill in the ACAS forms. She never replied so they got sent in and now I’m waiting for them to assign me a case officer. Yawn. It’s all kind of sad and routine, not stressful, just disheartening.
    If she was just a bitch who thought she could get away with this I could be enjoyably and righteously angry, but I think she’s just a limited individual who doesn’t even understand what she has done wrong or how this is going to play out. I feel not exactly sorry for her, just kind of depressed that this is normal, this is the level that most people work at.
    It’ll take a few months to get my money, meanwhile I’m at the beach! 😎

  • On the road again!

    Well this is a turn-up for the books! I got fired!
    I’m not quite sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with me complaining about not getting enough hours. I took this job with a clear guarantee that I would be working at least 35 hours a week, and that hasn’t been happening so I started to push back.
    And two days later I was out on my arse, and quite sanguine about it.
    People who live a routine life may not get this, but I find that very often when you leave a situation you start thinking about it more objectively. Then you start acknowledging things that you had quietly suppressed because you can’t go through life bitching about the small stuff.
    I’ve always tried to to follow the principle that if you can’t live the life you love then you should love the life you live. Especially as a nomad, I can’t really blame anybody else for whatever situation I happen to be in. If I don’t like my job I can quit, and if I don’t quit then that means I have decided that it’s good enough – I shouldn’t complain about it, I should just focus on the positives.
    But as I pottered around my room getting packed up and looking at the rain outside, I was reflecting on how I had spent months telling people how majestic the desolation was. It doesn’t hurt to get wet if you can come home to somewhere warm and dry and change your clothes, blah blah blah. And everybody was very friendly and welcoming, I had found a great community, there was so much laughter and jollity in the pub where I worked, etc.
    Yeah, the same few faces spending their afternoons drinking and having the same conversations every day. The truth is that I was bored, grievously bored, and feeling increasingly isolated and lonely. The rain was really getting me down, I was sheltering in place during my excessive free time, becoming a hermit!
    So really she had done me a favour by firing me, and as I headed off to the ferry port I felt my mood lifting. Sitting on the boat as it headed out to sea, I felt a surge of anticipation and enthusiasm for the future. And the next morning, seeing flashes of sunshine reflected off the puddles in the road as I drove south, it seemed like there was a weight lifting from my shoulders.
    It wasn’t long before the sky really was blue and the roads were properly dry. All that day it grew warmer and I left behind the dreary weather that had covered my little Island for the last six weeks. I left behind the dreary little pub and the dreary little people that inhabited it. I left behind the feeling of oppression that had being growing for months, unnoticed, like the ominous background music in a movie that you don’t even realize is there until it stops.
    On the road again! I put Credence Clearwater Revival on loud, opened the window as I sang along, and wondered where I would sleep that night. The future looks bright. 😎