As a concession to Rob, this is one song Queen were involved in that I love. Especially when Queen don't perform it.
That said, the recorded version works really well as soundtrack (I really liked Studio 60 by the way, such a shame there was only one series). I love the way the comtext of film and drama changes it's meaning and feel.
Like the Sound of Silence in the opening scene of the Graduate.
Or, let's face it, Don't Stop Believing. It just works at in the final Sopranos scene.
But feels, ahem, different in the context of Glee.
It had been quite a week. As I write, my little baby girl is in hospital for the 6th day,with her Mum looking after her (and the NHS' finest). Nothing to worry about, all fine and will be home.
Home is an odd word right now. I'm writing this on a sofa, surrounded by boxes, while Will sleeps in his little bed upstairs in his amidst his own little cardboard city. We're moving tomorrow you see.It also makes you thankful for family who have helped in all sorts of ways,including babysitting, lifting and general support.
But with my family strewn across our home city it reminded me that a house doesn't make a home. People do. You can have the most palatial gaffe, the latest designer furniture and all the mod cons but it's the people that live in the house that matter, not the stuff. I can't wait for us all to be together again.
It's a little daft to think of any house as 'yours' anyway. Before I was born, someone thought the place we're leaving was theirs, just as someone else thought the same of where we're buying. Few people live in the same place all their lives. Like I said, it's the people you live your life with, not where you live it that matter. Or at least that's what I think.
Today, not unusual for the UK, it rained a lot. That meant I couldn't play outside with my little boy. No farm up the road to see the moo moo cows and ba bas, no swings in the park.No going swimming either. We're off for his lesson tomorrow. But we have the garden centre.
That's right. The mecca of having 'given up' for any self respecting grasping at youth GRUP.
Well balls to that. My boy loves it. Running amok amidst the, just in, glittering chistman trees. Pointing in awe at the womderfully kitsch gnomes and outsized frogs. But that's nothing next to the petstore.
He can spend hours gazing into the fishtanks, trying to touch the turtles through the glass, cooing over the 'babbits'. Then there's the parrots and stuff.
He loves tapping the cages of the birds and watching them flutter all over the place. Scratch that. It makes him laugh so hard he'll give himself a hernia.
There's magic in the way a toddler laughs. It's never put on like a grown up. It doesn't require a social setting or the right mood. It's a force of nature. He's happy, it's funny and he laughs. That's it. But Will just doesn't laugh, he explodes, dribbling like a demented idiot, guffawing from deep inside his little belly.
Nothing in this world could make me happier that he does.
Except for having another. Which is lucky because it's coming on Wednesday.
There's so much to look forward to, while at the same time feeling determined my little boy will never feel like he's missing out now there's a new one...and feeling equally resolved to be as close to number two as the chestnut flash we already have.
So that's it for two weeks or so (genuinely this time). While we get used to not sleeping again, move house and get used to being four rather than three.
..Bauhaus furniture, an thriving agency community in one square mile, impossibly attractive receptionists, artfully designed decor (you know, the knackered warehouse look, the lego land look, or if you go a media agency, the shiny metal corporate look) and the like.
I get a chef that cooks me stuff like fresh cullen skink, every day.
Just finally got around to reading Cognitive Surplus. And you know what, I find it disappointing.
Maybe it's because what he's on about has already seeped into the way we go about our collective day jobs and I've jut got to it too late, so it's not new.
But I'm not so sure. I like books that compress half formed thoughts, suspiscions, opinions and and habits I have into something simpler. Somtimes I need someone else to tell me what I think (that's why I like colloborating with certain people at work). Where Good Ideas Come From is one those books. It re-arranges much of what you already know pr believe into something bigger and simpler somehow.
I don't think this book does. Mostly because I don't agree with his main point. He goes on about lots of stuff we already know (social humans, technology changes but people don't etc) but adds it all up to the premise that people wasting spare time watching telly and stuff is an artificial construct and actually we'd all rather be making things and joining movements together.
I just don't buy this. If there's a fundamental principle of humans, it's that we always go for the path of least resistance. TV, reading books and stuff or just playing with the kids is easy. And most people need that because they work hard. There will be busy bodies around the fringes, but most people can't be bothered really, and until we take away long working days, that won't change. Digital stuff is really a more interactive (possibly social) form of entertainment.
That's why most people can't be arsed to upload vidoes to brand sites, vote in a manufactured community based campaign or anything else that requires too much effort.
One of my favourite sporting books is this biography of John McEnroe.
I love the writing. I love the insight into the golden age of tennis- from the late seventies to the early eighties. Mostly, I love the insight into the man. If there was ever a flawed genius, it was this one.
Anyway. I particularly love the description of why he was only an average amateur. In part, because it was fun at this point and only part of a much wider sporting repertoire that included 'soccer'. Mostly because he has a big problem with making other people look like an idiot.
He had all the tools, but just couldn't bring himself to make the other guy look so bad. One exception was an opponent who kept on cheating on line calls (amateurs called their own lines). He have the guy one more chance and asked him if he was sure it was out and then, when he still didn't play fair, McEnroe cut him to ribbons with sheer brilliance.
While that approach obviously doesn't work in sport too well, it does if you work in an agency. Especially if you're a planner. Next time you're in a meeting with a really good account handler, see how they handle debate and negotiation. You'll notice that they're always at pains for nobady to feel like they've 'lost'. Everybody feels like they've come away with something. They never make anyone look like an idiot in public, never set out to show someone how wrong they are in front of everybody else. Because they know that the secret to any negotiation -and planning life is full of negotiation, from agreeing how to develop a route in a creative route in a review to carefully changing bits on the brief so the CD will sign it off - is making sure nobody feels like they've lost. No one should feel they've lost 'face'.
Leave winning to professional sport.
But you'll also notice there are moments when the same suit proceeds to 'cut the opposition to ribbons'. They know they've given someone every chance, but eventually it's time to demonstrate a little authority. And it's so much more powerful when you don't use it very often. And even then, they'll try to do it in private rather than humiliate someone in public.
So for a planner, yes, you can probably cut someone else's argument to ribbons any time you want. But that won't really get you anywhere. You have to take people with you. But occasionally, showing a little steel can work too.