Avid readers of this blog (are there any of those?) may recall a post back in 2007 where I shared my terrifying experience at the hands (paws?) of some vicious monkeys. Now, some sceptics doubted the veracity of my 5 year old recollections. But in the aforementioned photos I discovered some corroboration.Anyway, on with business. As I move tentatively into my third decade my thoughts have turned to how I'm progressing in the overall scheme of things. I don't mean in the more mundane ways you might think. I'm not that worried about my career or my financial prospects, I'm comfortable with the fact I don't have any children and I'm rather relieved that I don't have a house to worry about. No, what has been making me think is how I have progressed in a myriad of small and insignificant ways.
Can I juggle yet? (No) Have I breathed fire? (Yes) Have I been best man at someone's wedding? (Yes) Have I ever visited Weston-super-mare? (No) Have I eaten an Israeli Dragon Fruit? (Yes) Have I jumped out of a plane? (Yes) Have I abseiled down a tall building? (No) Can I play a musical instrument? (No) Have I adopted a penguin? (Not yet)
These, and so many others, have been crowding my head for ages. This got me thinking - how can I gauge my progress as a man? When I saw the following photos, I realised it was all so simple. (apologies to Paul for ripping off his 1st letter to the Corinthians)
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child and I screamed the place down when I sat on Father Christmas' knee....However, when I became a man I put away childish things and made small children cry in terror as Father Christmas...
It may amuse you to know that I have actually 'been' Father Christmas twice in my life. On each occasion I was helping out after regular Santas pulled out with beard strain or something equally improbable. I learned a valuable lesson on each occasion. The first time I learned that young children never want to meet Santa, it happens simply because cruel parents want a cutesy photograph with which to humiliate their offspring in the future. The second time, I learned to never hold a nervous child on your knee, particularly if that child has been stuffed full of party food and jiggled around by its unthinking mother as part of some hideously cheesy christmas party game. Suffice it to say, the result was neither cute nor amusing despite what a room full of middle aged mothers thought...
Event Horizon ***
The Prestige ***
Family Guy: Blue Harvest ****
The Fly ****
West Wing Season 1 *****