Monday, September 05, 2005

Are Those The Lovely Bagpipes I Hear?

I have just returned from two work-related days in Edinburgh, Scotland. Edinburgh is a very beautiful and culturally rich city that I intend to visit again many more times in the future. It was the final two days of the Edinburgh International Festival, and revellers from all corners of the globe were very much in evidence as I strolled the Royal Mile; that long stretch of cobbled street that stretches from Edinburgh Castle to the Palace of Holyroodhouse.

I was in town specifically to attend the Edinburgh Mela, which touts itself to be the largest southern asian festival in the whole of the UK. As someone who is qualified to wear the tartans of both the MacDonald and MacNaughton clans, I actually found it quite entertaining to watch a band of traditionally costumed Pakistani musicians marching through a park in the middle of the Scottish capital, while playing Dixieland Jazz on brass instruments, Asian drums, and the bagpipes. The only thing missing was haggis served with a red curry sauce.

Unfortunately, I had to board the high-speed Virgin Train for my southern trek back toward Whalley, just as the fireworks were being launched from the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle. A multi-color light spectacular announcing the culmination of this year's festival. Are those the lovely bagpipes that I hear, as my train pulls out of Waverley Station? Aye, laddie. That they are. Calling out to this son of Scotland and beckoning him to hurry back home really soon.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Up, Up And Away In A Beautiful Balloon...

I couldn't help but recall those lyrics from the classic Fifth Dimension song, as Sarah and I went chasing hot air balloons across the Ribble Valley yesterday evening.

After finding that the gardens of nearby Stonyhurst College were closed in preparation for an upcoming event, Sarah and I decided to drive down the road to the DeTabley Inn. This was a very fortuatous decision on our part, as a local hot air balloon sightseeing company was preparing to launch two of it's bulbous craft from the inn's adjacent cricket field. We quickly discovered that one of the individuals preparing to climb into the balloon's passenger basket was a long-time friend of Sarah's, who was given this ride as a surprise 40th birthday gift.

With camera always in hand and at the ready, I captured on film the roar of the flaming burners as hot air transformed limp fabric into ever-growing, symetrically beautiful and colorful shapes. Towering above us and filled to stretching, they strained to be released for their ascent into the heavens.

With the support vehicle leading the way, and additional photo ops on the horizon, we gave chase as the two balloons drifted across the skies over Lancashire. Eventually, one balloon landed not too far from our very home, while the second one startled some of the unsuspecting patrons exiting our village's Italian restaurant, before once again attaining a reasonable altitude. After a pursuit that lasted almost two hours, our impromptu adventure finally ended in the middle of a grazing field, which was gently being lit by the rays of a sun setting itself to rest.

How did you spend your Monday evening?

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Deep Throat

A thirty-year mystery has finally been solved. Former FBI official Mark Felt has stepped forward and identified himself as Deep Throat, the legendary informant who guided Washington Post journalists Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in uncovering the facts and political intrigue that is euphemistically referred to today as Watergate.

Burglaries, illegal wiretaps, money laundering, and other criminal subversions of the American political and justice systems were authorized by then-president Richard M. Nixon and carried out by White House operatives. Using clues provided by Mr. Felt, the Washington Post published a series of now-famous news articles that would contribute to the eventual collapse of a scandalous presidential administration.

Not surprising, former Nixon Administration speechwriter and failed presidential candidate Pat Buchanan has already publicly branded Mark Felt as a traitor. That is a badge of honor that Mr. Felt should proudly wear.

Calendar Girls & The Prince

I have made reference in the past to those members of the Rylston Women's Institute who shot to worldwide fame eleven years ago for posing nude in a very tastefully produced calendar, in their effort to raise money for leukemia research. Six of our original Calendar Girls, including ringleader Angela Baker, have been invited to attend a special reception being held in their honor at Clarence House by the Prince of Wales.

Prince Charles has apparently been a longtime fan of these ladies and wanted to celebrate the fact that their efforts had hit the 1 million pound mark. The six friends who continue to be involved in fundraising have dubbed themselves the Baker's Half-Dozen, and the money they have raised has helped to open a pioneering cancer research institute at the University of York.

Even happier news is that Angela Baker will soon wed the Rev. Charles Knowel, the long-time family friend that consoled Mrs. Baker after her husband's death from leukemia. I wish her and the vicar much deserved years of happiness together.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Mea Culpa

It has been quite a few WEEKS since my last journal entry, for which I am most apologetic. I have been negligent to those who have become regular readers of my ramblings, plus I have been negligent to myself, as well.

In addition to my work as a photojournalist, I have recently taken on the added responsibilities of planning and producing festivals and other special events for one of the local borough councils, here in the northwest of England. Hence, the recent absence of regular journal entries.

Working within the environment of local government, especially for someone who is not a career governmental functionary, is a very interesting experience. Doing so within the confines of British local government is an entirely different dynamic harkening back to the age of Feudalism. Remember the classic Mark Twain tale, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court? Well friends, I am currently living that tale. I'll let you know how the story progresses...

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Look Up In The Sky!

A milestone in aviation history is expected to be made today as European aircraft manufacturer Airbus Industries is set to carry out the maiden test flight of its A380 double decker “super-jumbo” airliner. More than 50,000 people are expected to be on hand to watch and cheer as the world's largest passenger jet rolls down the runway and climbs into the skies above the southern French town of Toulouse. Many more will be watching the live television coverage.

There won’t be many cheering voices in the United States, however.

Competition between Airbus and U.S. aviation giant Boeing has always been intense, even feverish at times. The A380 has become not only a symbol of the latest battle between two competing aircraft builders, and high capacity long-haul aircraft versus smaller capacity short-haul aircraft, but of the growing political and cultural war between America and Europe.

The growing animosity spreading across the Atlantic Ocean goes well beyond a clash of words between presidents Bush and Chirac over the war in Iraq, Bush’s refusal to answer Chirac’s telephone calls, or the attempted renaming of French Fries to Freedom Fries by a small group of childish Fox News-watching Americans.

The production of the A380 has intensified a trade row between the US and Europe over government subsidies paid to the aircraft industry. The European Union and the United States have accused each other of helping Airbus and Boeing with illegal government subsidies. Airbus receives support from the European countries where its various consortium members are headquartered. Boeing receives financial incentives from the states of Washington and Kansas, where it’s two major production facilities are located (plus billions of dollars through its countless U.S. defense contracts). Talks broke down earlier this month and it looks as if both sides are heading for a showdown at the World Trade Organization (WTO).

As for me, a simple aviation enthusiast who automatically looks skyward in response to the sound of ANY type of aircraft engine, I will be eagerly keeping my eyes peeled for this latest of mankind’s technological achievements.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Nothing Trivial About The Bard

A bit of cocktail trivia that was originally shared with me by my wonderful high school English Literature teacher, Ms. Merle Gould, way back in 1976. Today is famed dramatist William Shakespere's baptismal day. The Bard was born on April 23rd and baptized three days later on April 26th.

Just a little something to keep stowed away until you need to jumpstart a conversation that has come to a screeching halt, at the next social gathering you're attending. I'm always glad to be of service...

Sunday, April 24, 2005

George Washington Slept Here? His Ancestors Certainly Did!

Today being a warm and sunny spring day, Sarah and I packed up the photographic gear and made our way north to nearby Lancaster and the coastal village of Heysham. After downing a caffe latte in a teashop that we found along one of Heysham’s many cobble stoned alleyways, we took a short stroll to the ruins of Saint Patrick’s Chapel, which lies on a high grassy bluff overlooking Morecambe Bay.

A few miles further up the road is the village of Warton, which has the distinction of being the ancestral home of both Winston Spencer Churchill and George Washington. The local pub is named in honor of the first president of the United States and the imposing bell tower of Saint Oswald’s Parish Church was built by one Robert Washington over 500 years ago. Inside the church, we found framed copies of both Washington’s and Churchill’s family trees. The last member of the Washington family to live in Warton was Thomas Washington, who was the vicar of this very same church from 1799 to 1823.

While pouring me a pint of ale, the owner of the George Washington pub and inn shared with us that on every July 4th the Stars and Stripes is proudly flown from atop the church tower that President Washington’s ancestor had built. It is comforting to know that the people of Warton hold no grudges over the War for Independence.

Before Sarah and I began our return journey towards home, we paused long enough to photograph Rev.Thomas Washington’s tombstone and to sign the church’s guest registry. It was interesting to note that someone from Maryland had made a pilgrimage to this church and had signed the registry book just a few days prior to our own visit. We may have to make a special return visit to Warton in July.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

What Now, Fellow Catholics?

Approximately twenty-fours hours have elapsed since a column of white smoke appeared above the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel, announcing the successful election of a new Pope.

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, often referred to as The Enforcer and God’s Rottweiler, for his role as the dogmatic head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (the papal department that was once known as the Holy Inquisition) will now be known the world over as Pope Benedict XVI. It was an open secret before the conclave that all but two of the bishops from his native Germany were opposed to his candidacy. What now lies in store for the Roman Catholic Church, and the state of ecumenicism? At this stage, your guess is as good as mine.

In a biographical profile published in today’s edition of The Guardian, the former Cardinal Ratzinger is quoted as saying that rock and roll music is intrinsically un-Christian and the festivals where rock music is performed take on a cult-like tone. I guess Andrew Lloyd Webber had better not make any plans to stage a revival of Jesus Christ Superstar in Rome anytime in the near future…

Thursday, April 14, 2005

RMS Titanic

Ninety-three years ago today, on April 14, 1912, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg while sailing on her maiden voyage from Southhampton to New York. Of the approximately 2,223 passengers and crew on board, there were only 705 survivors.

Two very notable people who distinguished themselves on this fateful night were from the local area where Sarah and I currently reside. The ship's very talented bandleader, Wallace Hartley, was born and raised just a few miles away in the town of Colne. He and his fellow musicians calmed the passengers with their music, playing their instruments right up to the Titanic's final minutes afloat. A monument honoring the memory of Mr. Hartley was constructed not far from Colne's municipal hall. Also keeping order, and doing his best to save as many people as possible, was Second Officer Charles H. Lightoller. A native of nearby Chorley, "Lights" would go on to distinguish himself 28 years later when he navigated his personal cabin cruiser to the shores of Dunkirk in 1940, successfully saving the lives of many British soldiers who were fleeing the advancing Nazi onslaught.

Tonight, Sarah and I shall raise a glass and toast the memory of Titanic and all who sailed upon her. I hope that if the opportunity presents itself, you will all pause and take a moment to do the same.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

The Assassination of Richard Nixon

I am self-admittedly very jaded when it comes to viewing and enjoying a motion picture. What is being projected up on the cinema screen of late tends to rarely impress me. The same can be said of the actor Sean Penn. For years, my impression of him has been that of an angry and immature young man who was using acting has a means to channel his inner angst at the expense of the theater-going public, instead of seeking out the services of a good psychiatrist.

I experienced an epiphany yesterday afternoon, while sitting in a movie theater in Manchester.

Sarah and I finally had the opportunity to see The Assassination of Richard Nixon, which opened in British cinemas on April 8th. Before preceding any further, I must make a disclaimer. This film was written and directed by the fiancé of someone whom we consider to be a very special friend; someone who Sarah happened to work with when she was still at Warner Bros. That now being said, we just viewed “A Film by Niels Mueller” that took me on an emotional roller coaster ride not experienced since I first saw Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter (with a strong dose of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman thrown in for good measure). I have but one word to pass along to Niels: Bravo!

Watching Sean Penn interpret Niels' script and direction, we witnessed an individual who has finally matured as an actor, and more importantly as a human being. From now on, I shall look upon and treat Sean Penn with the newfound respect that is due him. As for Niels Mueller, his blip is clearly on the radar screen; here is a writer and director that we should all be keeping our eyes on.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Farewell MG Rover (?)

The BBC had reported late last night that the venerable automobile manufacturer MG Rover is going into receivership. All of the morning newspapers are featuring this as their lead story, as well. After 100 years, the last remaining British-owned automaker it is to be no more.

Unlike many other members of the male gender, I never considered myself a testosterone-driven car dude. Automobiles have always served a practical purpose to me; a means of transportation to effectively get from Point A to Point B. However, as far back as I can remember, I have always dreamt about driving upon that winding ribbon of highway that stretches from Point A to Point B, and beyond to the exotic destination known as Wanderlust, from behind the steering wheel of a 1947 MG TD.

Vauxhall has long been a subsidiary of General Motors. Jaguar and Land Rover are both owned by the Ford Motor Company, and Rolls Royce was acquired not long ago by BMW (Germany’s final revenge for losing two wars to Great Britain, I suppose). And now, with the Chinese-owned Shanghai Automotive Company backing out of a proposed Hail Mary merger, the bells of doom are already tolling throughout Birmingham and the rest of the UK.

Why were the Chinese approached, and not a U.S. automaker, to “save” MG Rover? More importantly, why didn’t MG Rover export its product to the very profitable U.S. automotive market? American car enthusiasts love the MG and would have queued up to purchase the very zippy, yet affordable, MG TF as quickly as it could roll off the assembly line. The MGB and MG Midget were both very popular in America during the 1970s. Has the British government properly handled this situation? Should it not have stepped in long ago, in the national interest, when MG Rover’s financial situation was first becoming apparent?

Many more questions will be asked in the coming days and weeks, not only by the soon-to-be jobless autoworkers and parts manufacturers in and around the Longbridge assembly plant in Birmingham, but also by the British populace at large as Tony Blair and the Labour Party seek re-election and a referendum on their domestic economic policy on May 5th. I’m going to sadly miss you very much, MG.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Pope John Paul II

The news of the death of Pope John Paul II did not come as a big surprise; I, along with the rest of the world, have been pretty much prepared for it for some time. The day of his funeral has now been set for this coming Friday.

He never received a large approval rating from me, primarily because he undid most of the progress set into motion by Vatican Council II. Saying that, I still remember attending the Papal Mass at Dodger Stadium, back in 1987. While I could never agree with his views on issues such as priestly celebacy, female clergy, and birth control, there wasn't anything that would keep this former altarboy from attending a Mass celebrated by the Pope. While I pray that the next pontiff will be more progressive in his thinking, with a College of Cardinals made up primarily of John Paul II-appointees I am not holding my breath.

Good to see that the archbishop of Los Angeles, Cardinal Roger Mahoney, is already in Rome; he was briefly interviewed outside the Vatican yesterday by the BBC. Once considered by many as the possible future first American Pope, I believe that the attrocious way he has handled the recent cases of sexual misconduct among priests in Los Angeles has pretty much negated his chances. But, we shall see in about two-weeks time.

One good thing has already come about: Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles have been forced to delay their marriage ceremony a day, so that it won't conflict with Friday's Papal Funeral. Poor kids.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Calendar Girls, Part Deux

Sarah and I were apparently a big hit with our Behind-the-Scenes at the Oscars presentation; we had a very attentive audience of about sixty ladies.

Lots of ooohs and ahhhs were heard as images of Debbie Reynolds, Shirley Temple, and Douglas Fairbanks were projected on the screen. I had also included many of the photo images that I had personally taken, as well. The attendees seem to really enjoy hearing the many personal anecdotes from the twelve Academy Award show productions that I had worked on, and were asking plenty of great questions. One of the women in the audience came up to us afterwards and inquired if we might be interested in doing it again for another group in the autumn. Looks like I might have to get myself an agent and take this show on the road.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

I Might Have To Give Up Eating Lamb

Lambing Season is well underway, here in the Ribble Valley. When traveling along the many country lanes that crisscross this little corner of the world, the sight of newborn baby lambs prancing and grazing upon our lush green meadows is very much in evidence and quite hard to miss. I have spent the past two days attempting to capture on film this very glorious sight. We will see if I have been successful when the fruits of my labor return from the processing lab. During this past holy week of Easter, it was difficult not to be reminded of the symbolism of the Lamb of God while gazing out across the neighboring pastures.

While returning from an errand in Warrington this afternoon, Sarah and I spied a sign outside a small roadside store, which read, “Come And See Our Newborn Lambs.” How could we refuse such an invitation? The store was closed, but the owners were home in their farmhouse next door. Before you could finish humming the notes to Mary Had A Little Lamb, my better half was stroking the soft curly fur of one three-day old lamb, and I was feeding another one milk from a bottle. It gets even better. Both of these little critters were each wearing wool sweaters, fashioned out of the sleeves of an old human-sized sweater. All the while, a month-old lamb (sans sweater) was lying nearby chewing on some blades of grass and patiently waiting for us to turn our attention towards her. Where in Beautiful Downtown Burbank could someone have this kind of experience? Someone please let me know.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Calendar Girls

Remember that wonderful movie Calendar Girls, which told the story about members from the Women’s Institute who posed “almost nude” for a charitable fund-raising calendar? Well, the story was a true one, and there really are WI chapters throughout Great Britain. And just like in the movie, I am told, they commence each meeting by singing the Anglican hymn, Jerusalem.

I am to be the guest speaker, next week, at a meeting of the local WI chapter. Somehow, through no intention or fault of my own, news of my existence on these British shores has managed to leak out among the populace. I have been asked to give a presentation chronicling my behind-the-scenes experiences working on the Academy Awards. In an act of charitable mercy, so that they won’t be subjected to a talk on the nocturnal mating habits of the ring-tailed marmoset, I have accepted their invitation. I’ll report back on how it went.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Houseguest

We have a houseguest staying with us for the next two weeks. Prior to his arrival, Sarah and I gave our home a top to bottom sprucing up, right down to fluffing up the throw pillows that permanently live on the sofa and love seat. Even though he hasn’t traveled very far, as with any guest who pays us a visit, we want our good friend to feel comfortable and right at home.

Jasper is the nine-year-old black Cocker Spaniel who lives next door to us. The human members of his family departed yesterday for a much-needed holiday in the British resort town of Orlando, Florida. Next to Lanzarote, in the Canary Islands, plus Malaga, Spain, holidaying snowbirds fleeing the seasonal cold of Britain tend to flock in the warm environs of Florida. I’ll have to elaborate further on my observations of the migratory habits of the Britons in another journal entry.

Unable to bear the thought of 'Good Neighbor Jasper' being confined to solitary confinement at some impersonal kennel, Sarah and I insisted that he stay with us instead. During the past twenty-four hours, he has more than expressed his gratitude for our hospitality and has been the ideal houseguest. If he could have reached the kitchen countertops, I am sure that Jasper would have donned his chef’s hat and prepared us a gourmet dinner last night. This highly intelligent canine has a lot of Snoopy within his inner being. Instead, he ensured that Sarah and I had a safe and comfortable slumber by standing sentry in our bedroom; curled up and snoring at our feet.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Hi Ho, A Strolling We Shall Go

Sunshine decided to pay a visit upon the Ribble Valley today, so Sarah and I laced up our hiking boots and took full advantage of this break from the winter rain and snow by taking a brief walking tour of the territory that immediately surrounds the housing estate where we live.

Much of the Ribble Valley consists of sheep meadows and pockets of woodland, both of which are in full abundance in our very own backyard. Coming upon one of the many public footpaths that crisscross the local countryside, we decided to see where it would lead us. Trekking past the grounds of the nearby Edwardian-era psychiatric asylum, I couldn’t help but notice the buildings of Stonyhurst College off in the distance; the Jesuit-run boarding school where JRR Tolkien had once been a teacher. The lush green pastureland that we were strolling through was his inspiration for Middle Earth, in the Lord of the Rings stories that he had famously written.

As I have previously written, dogs make up a considerable percentage of the local population, and we were soon joined by a very handsome, though somewhat muddy Springer Spaniel and his human companion. Our very knowledgeable fellow trekker quickly brought Sarah and me up to speed as to what meadow belonged to which farmer, before he and his canine friend detoured toward a new direction. Approaching the winding banks of the River Calder, we were not to be alone very long. Taking a brief break from their daylong chore of grazing, a trio of sheep greeted us with very inquisitive eyes and welcoming bleats, thrown in for good measure. Looking down at our mud-caked boots and up again at the fluffy-white balls of wool before us, I was tempted to ask them what their secret was, but quickly thought better of it. Bidding them adieu, our four-legged Q-Tips returned to their dining and Sarah and I continued on a journey that would soon bring us full-circle back to our front doorstep. We’ll have to definitely repeat today’s walk, but next time we’ll bring Mr. Nikon along for company.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Oscar Memories

It is that time of year, once again. Later tonight, the film industry will come together to participate in Hollywood’s Biggest Night at the 77th Annual Academy Awards.

While it has been a few years since I was last involved in the production of what would be a yearly ritual for many of us at ABC-TV, I couldn’t help getting a bit nostalgic today as I allowed myself to take a brief trek along Memory Lane. Some of my recollections included:

Robert Redford – Nominated in the Best Director category for his work on Ordinary People, he was also presenting a special Oscar to fellow actor Henry Fonda. During the course of rehearsals, Mr. Redford and I found ourselves sitting in the back of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, waiting for his turn to go up on stage. Amongst the many subjects we casually discussed through the course of the afternoon was his relaxing enjoyment of the sport of fly-fishing. A few years later, he would direct the critically acclaimed A River Runs Through It.

Shirley Temple Black – Sitting down to lunch with the child actress turned ambassador and foreign diplomat, I was self-conscience that I would use the wrong fork in front of the United States’ former Chief of Protocol. I was soon put at ease by this engaging conversationalist.

Lawrence Olivier – Always insisting that he be addressed informally as “Larry” (I compromised with “Mr. Olivier”), Lord Olivier made one of his final public appearances by presenting the Best Picture award to the producers of Amadeus. Despite the absence of pretension by either Olivier or his wife Joan Plowright, you knew that you were in the presence of the greatest actor to ever walk the boards.

Debbie Reynolds – A very classy lady who could get away with telling a joke that would make a roomful of crusty old stagehands blush and laugh with tears at the same time (and did!). Ms. Reynolds made sure that all of her fellow MGM veterans, like June Alyson, Ann Miller, Cyd Charisse, and Howard Keel knew that the same doctor who delivered her son Todd had delivered me as well.

I also fondly remember the Farkles; the “regulars” who would camp out, year after year, outside the Artists Entrance and up in the bleachers along the red carpet. The friendlier (and more sane) of them would bring us up to speed and fill us in on their lives from the previous 11 months, and often be our eyes and ears for potential trouble within the crowd of fans.

These are just a few of the printable recollections that I had today; there are others where I would have to change the names to protect the guilty. Sarah says that I should write a book. It may happen someday. In the meantime, may I have the envelope please…?

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Raise Your Hand If You Remember Dale Carnegie

This has been far from a quiet week, here in Britain and Europe.

Has President Bush been reading Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People? Given that Dubya is not known to be a voracious reader (and also by his past attitudes and actions), I seriously doubt it. Even so, he has jetted himself over to this side of the pond in an attempt to “make nice” with France’s Jacques Chirac and Germany’s Gerhard Schroeder. He is scheduled to meet with Russia’s Vladimir Putin today.

Britain’s Home Secretary, Charles Clarke, definitely has not attended a Dale Carnegie course. He has been pushing for a new (some say draconian) law, which would give him the personal powers of arrest and other deprivations of civil liberties, all under the guise of fighting terrorism.

Received a very nice email from L.A. talkradio broadcaster Michael Jackson yesterday. We are both veterans of the “pre-Disney” American Broadcasting Company. After being absent from the airwaves for much too long, he is now happily back behind the microphone at KNX Newsradio. I am pleased to hear that his wife Alana is making progress in her post-stroke rehabilitation. Michael has a highly informative website (www.michaeljacksontalkradio.com) which I visit whenever possible.

The Arctic Express has pulled into the station, towing behind it a slew of wintery snow. And that snow keeps falling, and falling...

Saturday, February 19, 2005

The Duke of Whalley

Home to Sarah and I is the quaint Lancashire village of Whalley. Surrounded by the Ribble Valley’s lush green grazing land, the ruins of a former monastic abbey, and country lanes which are shared by motorist and equestrienne alike, Whalley is where Mrs. Miniver would have lived had she been a Lancasterian.

Due in large part to the dictates of our current seasonal climate, my daily garb often consists of a pair of corduroy slacks, turtleneck shirt and a weather-repellent hooded coat, topped off by a trusty felt hat that I picked-up in the Yorkshire town of Kirkby Lonsdale. Noting that I resemble the local landed gentry, my father-in-law has begun referring to me as the Duke of Whalley.

While going about our business along Whalley’s high street on this brisk, yet sunny Saturday morning, an automobile pulled alongside and it’s two occupants asked for directions to the abbey. With the knowledge and authority of a native, I helpfully pointed these visitors to our village in the right direction. In between her bouts of laughter, the Duchess of Whalley informed this recent arrival from America that he had given excellent directions to the couple visiting his dukedom. I guess I am finally settling in.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Want to Emigrate to Britain? Please First Turn and Cough.

As part of its pre-General Election posturing, the Tory Party has proposed a set of new immigration laws which contain such "radical" and "discriminatory" components as mandatory testing for HIV and TB.

Radical? Discriminatory? Human rights proponents here and in the EU claim that medical screening for these two highly infectious and deadly diseases would be discriminatory and violate an individual's human rights. This is a screening process which has been in place for years in many countries, including Australia, Canada, and the United States - and to which Sarah went through without complaint when she first emigrated to the U.S.

I didn't realize that it was my unalienable RIGHT to live and work in the United Kingdom without having to meet any settlement criteria. Foolish me! I thought that I was here at the PRIVILEGE and pleasure of Her Majesty's government.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Food, Glorious Food

Chef Jamie Oliver has produced another food-oriented television program, which will soon begin airing on the UK’s Channel Four. On the heels of a previous program that documented his opening of the restaurant 15, where he trains disadvantaged young people to be professional chefs, this new series follows Chef Oliver’s attempt to improve the quality of lunches served at a South London public school, while remaining on the already established (and appalling) daily budget of 37 pence (approximately 60 cents) per student.

Apparently, it was a lot easier to develop a healthy and flavorful menu than it was to convince a junk food bred generation of students (and parents) to embrace this experiment. Viewers tuning into the show have been promised scenes of parents handing food from McDonalds through the school’s railings to their children, while yelling at Chef Oliver, “Oi! Are you responsible for that menu? It’s crap!”

That single parental statement speaks volumes about why there is an obesity problem in both the UK and the US. By the way, I am happy to report that the recent physical exam conducted by my new general practitioner shows that my cholesterol count is at a healthy level and I weigh an equally healthy 185 pounds. I do miss the Smoke House restaurant (and their world-renown garlic cheese bread), back in Burbank, however.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Prince Charles & Me

Less than 24 hours after my last journal entry, Clarence House has announced that the Prince of Wales and Camilla Parker-Bowles are engaged to be married, with the ceremony scheduled for the 8th of April.

Is it actually possible that Prince Charles has been a visitor to this blog website, and has actually been reading my daily journal entries? Could I have possibly influenced the course of British history? Oliver Stone might think so, but the realist within me says otherwise.

Knowing that the Prince of Wales is a long-time friend of Monty Python's John Cleese, it would be almost comical to envision Charles turning to Camilla and saying, "I know how to show those pesky MPs, and have the last laugh at their expense. This will be better than the Dead Parrot sketch..."

At least the Windsors are finally becoming a bit more public relations savvy, and have opted against a big public affair, and will instead partake in a small civil ceremony at Windsor Castle's chapel. The loyalists to the late Princess Diana's memory could easily start something short of a civil war. However, judging by the unofficial public opinion of the last few hours, the British citizenry seems to have more pressing things to think about than Charles and Camilla's upcoming nuptuals, and pretty much could care less.

Speaking of matters of love...

This evening, Sarah and I watched our DVD copy of Love Actually (again). With a cast that includes Hugh Grant, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, and Liam Neeson, we can view this movie over and over, and never tire of it. It seems to get better each time we run it. It's a sad commentary about the MTV-induced diminishing attention spans of the many people who complained that there were too many plot lines in this film. Their loss. We need more well-written "feel good" movies like this one.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

I Adore The British Theatre

The General Elections will soon be upon us, here in the UK. How do I know? Our Members of Parliament (MPs for short) are acting even sillier than is their norm. One does not have to journey to Stratford-Upon-Avon or London’s West End to see good theatre; the current performances playing at Westminster more than aptly fills the playbill.

The flinging of accusations regarding political dirty tricks, by and at the Tory, Lib Dem, and Labour parties, far exceeds a good Keystone Kops pie fight.

To distract the British public away from hot button issues like the war in Iraq, the economy, national health care, immigration, membership in the EU, and even foxhunting, the MPs have decided to question the Queen and the Prince of Wales about their respective financial portfolios. The Royals are not being questioned about their official state incomes from the tax-payer supported Civil List. Instead, certain MPs are inquiring about income derived from centuries-old private holdings; specifically the Duchy of Lancaster and Duchy of Cornwall, and if the Royals are investing their money wisely.

The investigating committee has also expressed concern that the Prince of Wales might be paying the living expenses of his long-time mistress, Camilla Parker-Bowles, out of his own pocket. It gives one a very warm feeling to know that our MPs are so concerned about the Royal Family’s financial well being and not doing something as caddish as keeping one’s mistress in the style that she has grown accustomed.

I guess it could be worse. The short campaign period here in Great Britain could last as long as the year and a half campaign season that exists back in the U.S.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Sundays With Auntie Beeb

In my book, the top interviewers currently gracing the airwaves are veteran Los Angeles broadcaster Michael Jackson, along with the UK's Michael Parkinson and Sir David Frost. I think it is more than a mere coincidence that all three gentlemen received their “formal schooling” at the BBC.

Sunday mornings and early afternoons can usually find Sarah and I perusing the morning newspapers and spending a pleasant visit with “Auntie Beeb” – In the form of BBC Radio 2. This morning, as we attempt to do every Sunday, we tuned into Michael Parkinson’s weekly radio program. “Parky” can best be described as Britain’s Johnny Carson. His radio show is a wonderful blend of music, a review of the Sunday newspapers, and topical discussion of the current events of the day. Additionally, he hosts a once per week Tonight Show-style program on ITV, which is a mandatory stop for any celebrity passing through London.

Today’s radio broadcast was an extra special treat, as Parky’s special guest was the equally erudite Sir David Frost. Among many topics, the two discussed this week’s opening of the new Winston Churchill exhibition at the Cabinet War Rooms museum in London. Sir David, when not fulfilling his Breakfast with Frost television hosting duties, has been moonlighting as one of the chief fundraisers for this new and permanent exhibit that chronicles the life of Britain’s most celebrated statesman.

Sundays spent with Auntie Beeb, are hours well spent receiving listening pleasure and food for the soul. Immediately following Parky’s broadcast, we were treated to 90 minutes of Broadway, West End, and Hollywood musical show tunes as presented by actress-singer Elaine Paige. The star of such productions as Cats, Grease, and Sunset Boulevard, Ms. Paige injects anecdotal remembrances in between the musical tracks she plays every week. Her program is followed by another hour of music hosted by 1960’s singing artist Lulu, most famous for her recording of To Sir, With Love.

Yes, a Sunday visit with Auntie Beeb is a very fine way to put away what we left behind, and approach what awaits us in the coming week.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

In Praise of the British Dog

Moving from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles to the more tranquil and sensory enriching English village that is now our home, it is difficult not to observe certain things that either didn't exist in El Lay, or were just not as evident as they are here. The importance of the dog in British society, to name just one.

On our almost daily walks to the village high street, we have had the opportunity to exchange pleasentries with many of our local neighbors. We have become good friends with Jasper, George, Hattie, Spike, Griffin, and Daisy, amongst others. And through them, we have become acquainted with the humans who belong to them. Dogs abound where we reside. Be they working dogs who keep an ever-vigilant eye upon the sheep herd grazing upon the fells and moors; a foxhound participating in the weekend hunt; the handyman's "helper" providing company and a neat (if slightly wet) tool pile; or most importantly, the most loyal of family members, who happily and lovingly greets your return to home. Dogs seem to have always held a place of importance and esteem in this little corner of the world. Gaze upon a portrait or landscape painting by an English artist. How often can we find a dog, either prominently displayed or making a Where's Waldo? appearence?

During a dinner conversation with a pair of our human neighbors the other evening, we were discussing the current real estate market in the area. There had apparently been a recent advertised rental listing which specified "No Smokers. No Children. Dogs Permitted." Who said the British don't have their priorities in order?


Vodka Martini. Shaken, Not Stirred.

It has been announced that the next James Bond film will be based upon and share the same title of author Ian Flemming's first novel, Casino Royale.

This will actually be the second Casino Royale to appear on the cinematic screen. The first outing was not produced by the late Cubby Broccoli, and had three seperate actors portraying Agent 007: David Niven, Peter Sellars, and Woody Allen (and the same number of directors, if I recall). Needless to say, the only good thing that can be said about that film was the Burt Bacharach - Hal David musical score, including a catchy title theme performed by Herb Alpert and the now classic song, "The Look of Love," which was recently re-recorded by songstress Diana Krall.

Too bad actor Pierce Brosnan will no longer be donning his tuxedo on behalf of Her Majesty's Secret Service. He definitely matched, if not bettered, Sir Sean Connery in exercising his License to Thrill, and was reportedly more than willing to carry on the duty of serving "Queen and Country." It will be interesting to see who inherits the Walther PPK and martini glass, and if they measure up to those who preceded him (or her?).

Friday, February 04, 2005

Technology

Technology, when used properly and honorably, can be a marvelous thing. I awoke this morning at 3:30 a.m. in order to try out a new piece of "technology."

Using a system called IRLP, which linked the radio signal emitted from my personal "ham radio" to the Internet, I was able to converse with some of my old friends and colleagues in Los Angeles (who are also amateur radio operators), from here in England. A true marriage between modern computer technology and the "old" technology originated by the likes of Alexander Graham Bell, Thomas Edison, Samuel F.B. Morse, and Guglielmo Marconi.

Yes, it would have been easier and more "efficient" to simply use the telephone, or send an email. But, there's no challenge or novelty (or nostalgia) in that, is there? The next time I witness a pair or trio of teenage girls sending each other "instant text messages" to and from their mobile telephones (their interpretation of intellectual conversation), as they stand within a few feet of each other, I'll think about this morning's minor accomplishment...