Halloween

I’ve always liked Halloween.

When I was a child, it wasn’t anywhere near as popular as it was these days. We’d get together, our gang, and tell scary stories on the steps of each others houses and frighten each other with stories of Chalkie White, missing children and persistent, peripatetic spectres in council houses. We’d hollow out turnips (yes, hello ‘austerity Britain 2010’ with pumpkins for 50p) and stay up far too late.

But still, it resonates. I’ve been through every horror phase: comics, books and movies. Each has built a fascination and fear of the supernatural that although seems somewhat diminished at my age, it still informs a lot of what I enjoy.

So I got to thinking: what were my top five scary films?

After lots of discussion, both on and offline, here they are in no particular order. What are yours?

1. Halloween

The first 18 film I ever saw in the Odeon Cinema in Leeds has left a lasting impression. John Carpenter’s genre defining movie has it all: a relentless, demonic killer with supernatural overtones, middle America that looked like the promised land, plenty of gratuitous boob shots of babysitters and stacks and stacks of tension and shock value. The soundtrack was home-made and brilliant – of its time and at the same time, timeless.

It’s lo-fi horror with the bad guy wearing a cheap mask and a boiler suit who hunts down the local suburban kids in what would become a staple scenario for years to come.

It still sends a chill up the spine with its knowing old movie references and its cold, cold heart. Oh, and Michael Myers, who just won’t lie down.

2. The Haunting

Of course, you’ll know that I mean the original Robert Wise version from 1963. How can a film made the year I was born pack such a chilling punch? This film is all about what is not shown on the screen – the mind does all the work here and as I write this a chill goes down my spine and goosebumps appear. That’s the power of this film.

Not much else to say except don’t find yourself at home, on your own, with this film on the television.

3. Alien

This film is not a traditional frightener in my books, in actual fact.

But the first time I saw it – again at the Odeon in Leeds I seem to remember – the theatre was packed with tension. Word had got out about the ‘chestburster’ scene and people were nervous about it. Before that, the tension builds portentously and after that it’s pure adrenalin punctuated by moments of genuine horror.

Ridley Scott builds the tension beautifully of course and the genius is that we don’t see the monster until near the end and even then we don’t really get to see it. Our minds work over time. I remember in the days before VCR, it took 8 viewings at the cinema to appreciate HR Gigers’s magnificent monster.

4. Blair Witch Project

It’s funny, when I got to thinking about the films that affected me at the time that I saw them, there weren’t many modern horror films. Oddly, when I saw Blair Witch at the cinema, I marvelled at the fake marketing campaign around it and enjoyed the thrill of one of the best ‘must see’ cinema events of recent times.

It was only when I first saw the film on a television, in a hotel room, a long way from home, that the full power of the film hit me. Made for the small screen, it really hit home – the jittery, claustrophobic filming and the one hundred per cent believable scenario drew me in.

I looked around the empty American hotel room except for me and my imagination and again, my mind filled in all the gaps and made it way scarier than anyone could have made it. It builds and builds to a pretty chilling crescendo that genuinely chills you to the bone.

5. The Exorcist

I mentioned horror books earlier, and the daddy of them all was William Peter Blatty’s The Exorcist. As an avid reader of horror and sci-fi as a teenager, this was the bad boy of them all. I seem to remember plucking up courage to read it after mum had put it down and after reading it, wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Books always leave a bigger impression with me (that imagination again) and this one was no exception. it was chock full of horribly visual and very realistic set pieces: the whole country seemed to be talking about how bad it was.

When the film came out I was too young to see it at the cinema and it took years for it to appear on VCR. I avoided it. I knew it was scary – I’d seen bad clips of Linda Blair doing horrifying things and I’d read the book so I knew what was coming. When I eventually summoned up the courage to watch it, it was part of an all night horror video session with me and Carl Milner. It was scheduled for a 2am slot (scheduled because we reckoned that’s when we’d be at our lowest ebb and therefore more susceptible to frights) coming right after Romero’ frankly unsettling Dawn of the Dead.

Suffice it to say we had the lights on and we made plenty of cups of tea when it got a bit much. It still has a hold of me even now – it was on tonight, I wouldn’t watch it: there’d be something else on.

Frustration

Ever since I upgraded my broadband package with BT in late August, I’ve been frustrated.

You’d think paying top dollar for unlimited broadband would have me kicking my heels in joy.

Oh no.

I won’t bore you with the details (if you follow me on Twitter, I’ll have bored you with it already) but I’ve pretty much had no internet access at home for over two months.

I’m reasonably philosophical about these things and I try to find other things that need attention in my life other than blogging and downloading stuff.

But I’m at the end of my tether. It’s nowhere near fast enough and I’m told that it should be getting better – and it’s not.

And do you know what? There’s nothing I can do, except speak to the nice people in a contact centre in India (genuinely doing their best) and wait for it to be sorted.

Even my wife is getting frustrated – and when that happens, it’s tin hat time.

Today’s thought

A Zen Day

This is what I hope is going to be the first of many guest posts.

The book club that I’m a member of decided it would be good idea for us all to write a short piece for our recent trip to Rome (more on that later) and we all reviewed each other’s work. It was quite nerve-wracking, but ultimately quite uplifting.

One of our other book club members wrote a fantastic piece about a subject very close to his heart – cycling. I asked his permission to publish it on my blog and he kindly agreed.

If you’re a cyclist you will absolutely love it, if you’re not a cyclist it will actually make you want to be one, it’s that good.

A Zen Day

Today is going to be a good day, or at least that is my hope and intention.  It has already started well even though it began was last night.  Good tunes were playing and a great red was open, which had been kindly donated by friends at a previous get together but not drunk.  So there I was with a weighty red on the table and oily hands as I prepped the bike.  There are times when prepping the bike is quite frankly a pain in the arse, you don’t have enough time, energy or inclination so it gets rushed and in my experience you will pay for it later out on the trails.  Last night was none of those things.

For me music is such a fundamental part of life and can really come into it’s own when you need to concentrate on what you are doing.  It never ceases to amaze me that, for example, if I was to start listening to music at work it would lead to me being hauled in in front of the boss as music is classed as being a distraction.   How come then heart or brain surgeons have it on when they operate?

Anyway the bike’s propped up on its stand, wheels are off and I’ve fitted on my knobbly tyres with no trouble.  Back mech has been hand cleaned so it sparkles, cables loosened, lubed and re tightened.  Wheels re fitted and flicking through the gears there is a perfect change – one tap one change up and down everytime so no excuses tomorrow for hitting the wrong gear.  Gear laid out, food made and water pack chilling in the fridge.  Ready to roll.

I’m normally an early riser on a Friday but today is special.  Flexed the day off work, no one knows what for and no one knows where I’m going, which adds a real schoolboyish excitement to the buzz I’m already feeling.  Alarm at 5.  No problem getting up but the fear is what is outside.  Peak through the curtains and it looks clear and crisp, got a way to travel but not going to check just head out.  Downstairs make up some soup and coffee, pack the bike and kit and hit the road.  Still dark.

Heading east towards the rising sun, nothing on the roads at this point but mind whirling.  Ipod plugged in on shuffle and the volume cranked up.  “Son I’m thirty I only went with your mother cos she’s dirty” – the voice of Shaun William Ryder blasts out, what a great way to start a journey.  Mind starts to wander at this point to the theory that your ipod knows what you want and for example never plays a random shuffle but picks tracks that you are more likely to want to listen to.  I’m shaken out of this train of thought by the dam right spooky second track of “Is there a ghost in the machine” by Band of Horses.  Weird but great.  On it goes track after track of genius comes blasting out as I roar towards the sun singing my head off.  Starting to see some commuters heading the other way now and to them I must look like the Ghost Rider on my way back from doing the devils bidding.

I’m at the forest for 7.30 and park up at the barrier waiting for the rangers then decide fuck it lets unload here and bike in so I reverse back down the approach till there is a clearing and get the frame, wheels and kit out.  Before assembling I take a good hit of coffee, no point rushing now and spoiling the prep.

For some reason I always have problems putting the wheels on without having a bit of disc brake rub.  Drives me nuts.  Take my time today and despite the bitingly cold fingers slot the wheels in tighten up and spin.  Total silence apart from the gentle whir of the hub.  Yes.

Load up and fire road it down to the car park.  This was just what I wanted no one here, no cars, nothing.  The most massive smile is spreading throughout me and I’ve not even started.  Flick a few turns to feel nicely warmed up and head for the trail.  I love this start, snaking sharply uphill with 180 degree switchbacks as you climb into the tree line.  At this point you can already get a feel for how things might go.  I’m low geared but smooth – for me smooth is everything, forget speed it is all about the flow.  Legs working at a comfortable and reassuringly familiar cadence, heart beat rising but steady and then into the trees where the gloom and stillness hit you.  Sounds feel magnified now under the canopy and my breath is billowing out in front of me.  It’s crisp but I’m already warm.

I know at this point that I’m taking a risk here.  Never bike trails alone is my mantra but I’ve wanted to do this for ages, it has gnawed at me until I had to succumb.  I’m reaching the point of commitment and nerves are rising, I start thinking of other things, distractions, coming off, need to quickly get back to the flow.  Smooth and safe smooth and safe, concentrate but be lose and adaptive.

Here we go into the first rush.  Downhill fast now with berms banking left then right coming quickly.  Flick the bike from one to the next, high on the lips, higher than I’ve been before but feel so in control.  I can feel the rush in my body and brain, see the drop off and manage to pull up before I hit it so go airborne for a short time, land perfectly and into the next section of berms.  Whooo haaaa 2 more hours of this to go, but what a start.

Can you be at one with a machine or pieces of metal?  A few months ago I grappled with Mr Pirsig and his Zen ways.  Eastern mysticism, zen Buddhism, greek philosophies, western consumerism, family relationships and education clashed in a dizzying odyssey and it affected me greatly.  I find myself often thinking about it and today is no exception as I feel close to the moment, the flow the oneness, the zen whatever it is.  The weird thing though is that I’m flesh and bone sitting on metal, plastic and rubber riding over compacted soil but feel very much more than the sum of those constituent parts.  Some days I clank and I really mean clank along.  I feel stiff, each turn of the cranks feels forced, I feel every bump in the road or trail, traffic blocks me, the gears are never smooth, the breathing is strained and it feels like hard work.  Other days it is the total reverse, smooth turns, silky changes, breathing totally natural, traffic parting for me as if I’m Moses and no red lights.  I muse a lot on what causes this difference.  Can you mentally prepare to be in the moment, does it just happen or is it all simply an illusion.

All I know is that today is one of the best ever, it is as if my senses have become super alert, I can feel the tiniest stone that I ride over and I’m constantly adjusting, adapting, manoeuvring and predicting in a constant series of smooth, flowing moves.

Good mileage has been put in so I stop near a clearing next to a tumbling stream and get into the soup and sarnies, simple but great.  Lie back and look up through the trees at the autumn sunshine flickering and bouncing down through the branches savouring the beauty of the stillness.  Maybe it’s stillness not oneness that is the answer, no matter how fast I’m moving if my brain and body are settled and still then I’m in the zone, who knows.

Need to get moving again as my temperature is dropping significantly.  Off onto my favourite stretch now, pure swooping, swirling, undulating single track and it doesn’t disappoint.  So great to be able to ride it at the exact rhythm you want not worrying about faster riders coming through.  The purity of it is so special today as I have not seen a person in hours when this stretch can often get crowded.  Up and down, in and out, whooping swooping delirium.  Then down the final stretch of berms and it’s done.

Perfect timing as I can start to feel the tiredness, not in the body so much but the brain from reading the lines, which is when you start to make mistakes.  So sad in a way to be finished but it was the right time.

Café is open and I become the only customer.

Get a great big pot of tea and sticky cake and lap it up in the most contented way imaginable.  Rerun the ride in my head and store it for future times when hopefully I can recall it and remember the feelings in me that it has generated.  Wonder in years to come when I’m older and creakier and maybe no longer riding will I be able to raise a smile of this day and think to myself that I had it if only for a moment. Realise I’ve got the whole way round without any dab downs which is a first for me.

Legs aching now so pack up and head back, tunes on singing away with a tremendous feeling of calm exhaustion.  Feel still.

Shower up and open the fridge.  There is one bottle of Czech’s finest, crack it and gulp it down.

Today I was the ghost rider.

Today was a Zen Day.

Ian Street

Perfect Evening

We recently enjoyed an evening in the avuncular company of Felix Dennis, erstwhile publisher and now fully fledged poet. The tour was superbly monikered ‘Did I mention the free wine tour’ and as promised the sensibly priced ticket did include as much fine wine as one could manage.

Bizarrely set in The Birdcage nightclub (famous in Leeds for transvestite cabaret) this was an edifying and thoughtful evening incongruously set in a basement nightclub in Leeds city centre.

Felix Dennis is genuinely a poet of the people and seeing him read his work was a revelation. His prose is accessible, simple and unpretentious and his readings bring alive the words and bring depth of meaning into every sentence.

If you get the chance read his work or better still, try and catch him live.

Here’s one of my favourites, click this link if you’d like to hear him read it

Perfect Day

Today was one of the best days of my life.
Nothing of any importance occurred—
I cut my finger on a paperknife
And marvelled at a busy hummingbird
Plucking out wet moss by a waterfall;
Broke bread with friends and shared a glass of wine;
Wrote this poem; swam; made love. That’s all.
Why should it be some days erect a shrine,
A cairn, a white stone day, in memory?
Is it, as Buddhists claim, a lack of need,
Or want— or simple serendipity —
The perfect flowering of one small seed?
   The wise will say our frames are none too pure:
   How many perfect days could we endure?
WEST INDIES, 2007

Did Gap really get it wrong?

My initial thought on seeing the recent furore over Gap’s new logo was – did they do this whole thing on purpose?

Gap is a huge, multinational company with a vast customer base. While it’s important to demonstrate a willingness to listen to your customers, typical ‘big brand behaviour’ involves a certain confidence and strength of image. Not making a complete u-turn in a matter of days over something as crucial as a brand logo, just because of some negative comments online.

A closer look at the proposed new logo does nothing to negate this initial reaction. It looks a little half-hearted, as if Gap isn’t actually committed to making any major changes. A rebrand is a huge commitment, and one that no company, especially one as influential as Gap would take on lightly. We’re talking months and months of planning, creative input and production, culminating in a dramatic change that suggests the company is committed to moving forward and changing the way it is perceived. Holiday Inn’s recent rebrand is a good example of this.

Gap’s new logo looked uninspired and thrown together. Subsequently opening the floor to disapproving customers and using crowd sourcing to design a new logo seems an odd decision, and one that has met with some adversity in the design community. There’s a reason that companies hire professionals to put months of hard work into their branding. It’s unlikely that a logo designed by a member of the public would have the same impact.

I find it hard to believe that Gap could make all these fundamental mistakes without good reason. Over the last few days the company has been in every industry publication and had national exposure, as well as generating considerable word-of-mouth as the public campaigns to bring back the old logo.

I predict that the old logo will be reinstated, and that this was the plan all along. Cadbury’s hugely successful Wispa relaunch demonstrated the power of the protest campaign as a brand builder. Let’s see if Gap can emulate this success.