The Hanging Gardens.

The dichotomy of friendship

The dichotomy of friendship - to move, in the space of a week, from the total betrayal of your unconditional friendship, to such depth of feeling for a friend in crisis - that is what differentiates true friends from fraudsters. A friend who is no longer a friend, never was a friend. And friends who can reconnect after years apart in silence, prove that human propensity for respect and kindness will never die. These are the people that will mourn for you at your passing. These are the connections you want in your life; the individuals that will be there no matter what, to help you steer your way through life's icebergs.

For after all, we are all just our own Titanics. We are so full of hope and potential, confident in our youthful invulnerability, yet ultimately doomed to sink in the ocean that is life and time.

For as we journey through life and time, we hit our own personal icebergs; at which point we can sink or swim. And so we pull ourselves from the wreckage of what we had, or were, climb aboard our own personal stumbling block of ice, and lay marooned awhile.

In time we learn to scour the berg of strife for the tools and material to rebuild ourselves and our life once again, and set out to journey once more on the ocean of life.

Until life once more throws another berg in our path.

And so we journey through Life's ocean.

The Zipper Club

I’m not sure exactly how many people that I know, know that I have an extremely unique coronary condition; there are only 8 recorded cases at the last count. But this is not about me. The people who know me and are aware of my condition know how rare it is. What they don’t know is something that I’ve become aware of since 2009 when I discovered my condition. I am not alone. Not just with 7 others with my condition, but with countless others who also have congenital and non-congenital heart conditions. Many thousands. We are legion. It took over 40 years for my condition to be diagnosed. Modern medicine now detects this at birth, and even in the womb. From babies being born at this very moment, to people of my age, younger and older who have discovered later in life, just as I did.
I would like to share some of their stories with you through my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/RussGurnhill.
These people are heroes to me - I understand their situation, their pain, their anguish, their concerns and worries, and the limitations and problems they face. And yet they keep on going. I salute you all.
I also salute those that love you - your families, friends, colleagues, team-mates and all who are there for you. They are going through this hell with you - they are by your side. Respect to you all.
We are The Zipper Club, and I share with you this photo - my own scar - my badge of honour - received February 10, 2010. My son-in-law (I am proud to call him that) was badged on the same day a couple of years ago. What are the chances?
On February 6th, there is a Wear Red for the Fight Against Heart Disease Day. As a devout Toffee (that’s an Everton FC fan for those not in the know) this gives me a dilemma - RED is anathema to me. I own no red clothes and avoid the colour at all costs (my insistence drives my wife nuts!) I am a TRUE BLUE and my legendary Dad (himself in The Zipper Club) was buried in his Everton shirt. But on February 6th 2015 I will be proudly wearing red. Please join us.

Do you ever wonder if the technological revolution is over? I don’t mean that we don’t need or use tech any more, just that it’s now just mundane and everyday, especially for our children; not actually a revolution anymore. I’m seeing more kids in groups out on the streets when I’m walking the dogs, something I haven’t seen for years. Kids seem to be moving out of their bedrooms and communing again. Are they being less insular due to access to and the proliferation of, mobile devices? After all, back in the last century, when PC’s started to take over our lives and homes, you were rooted to a computer desk and modem. Now, you can do everything on a mobile device of some kind that fits into your pocket or bag; phone, tablet, kindle…music, photos, files, documents, spreadsheets, movies…any media you wish.
But then, returning to my original point that is - do you ever wonder if the technological revolution is over? - how can it be? Just because everything is mundane now, and we’re used to all the gadgets and gizmos, don’t they keep developing? So any revolution must still be ongoing, surely? So, how can it be a revolution? This has taken years to develop as it has; it wasn’t a sudden change. We put a man on the moon for the first time in 1969, and this year we placed a man-made object on a natural and moving object millions of miles from earth. Progress, not Revolution.
This was supposed to be the Technological Revolution (note the capitals that give it importance and validity) that followed the Industrial Revolution. And yet we still do exactly what we did before, but quicker, easier, on the move. Just because everything’s gone electronic and downloadable, doesn’t mean that the content is less valid because the form it comes in has changed. And we still have those forms. Nothing was overthrown, merely developed. But have we, as human beings?
So, I think that perhaps calling these developments in Human (capital H) culture, society and technology is less of a Revolution, and more of a Darwinism.
I leave you with Pearl Jam and my final thought on the subject: it’s Evolution baby.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDaOgu2CQtI

Do you ever feel weird when you're listening to your music library on one of your devices and a song by a convicted paedophile comes on? No, wait. Hear me out. You know the songs I mean - Gary Glitter being the most obvious culprit here. Back in the old days, we used to have limited means of listening to our music collections. 45, LP, C90. If you've no idea what I'm rambling on about then you're probably under 25. Nowadays we can listen to our tunes on a myriad selection of devices - phone, ipod, ipad, PC, laptop, MP3 or 4; the list goes on. And how many of us sit and plough through our substantial collections and back catalogues and pick and choose every tune we drop onto these devices? I certainly don't - I tend to give up after 20 minutes and just move bulk files onto the thing. The problem then is that we have no control, when we press Shuffle, or Random, or whatever mechanism your device uses to randomise the running order of tracks, of what's coming next.
So, last Friday night, laying in the bath, chilling to my Kindle that was playing via Bluetooth through my soundbar on the landing, I suddenly experienced the Glitter himself asking me if I wanted to 'Touch' him. Hmmmmm. This caused me a dilemma, not to mention some mental discomfort. You see, back in about 1989, I went to see Glitter play live, at the Dome in Doncaster. And it was awesome. Really. Honestly. Ask anyone who saw him in concert. It really was very good. But...the thing is...if you did ask them, would they now admit to it? Hmmm. Because the thing is...he's now a convicted paedophile. Which in anyone's book - and this may be my opinion, but I'd like to think that anyone who doesn't agree is not someone who should be free to roam - is wrong in every way imaginable. And not only wrong, but indefensible. But why should I feel this way about listening to a song? As though I'm guilty of something. As though, if someone walked in at the exact moment I was listening to this music, I should hang my head in shame and apologise, explaining my reasons for listening to something. I wouldn't do that even if my old mum walked in on me whilst I was screaming - you don't want to hear me singing, trust me on this - along to 'Friggin' in the riggin'' by the Sex Pistols (and she has before, when I was a teenager).
Another case in point - Ian Watkins. My youngest daughter - now 20 and due our second grandchild any week now - was a massive fan of Lostprophets in her early teens. She even got me into their stuff; Rooftops, A town called hypocrisy (now there’s irony in action) et al. On her bedroom wall she had a giant poster of the guy. Now? You hardly need to ask. And yet why should it devalue what the band did? Why do they lose all income and royalties because of one sick individual? Do the tunes become worthless and crap, for want of a better word? Of course not. And yet...
Finally, what about the most obvious case of all - Michael Jackson. The King of Pop was lauded and worshipped and earned multi-millions from his entire catalogue. Which promptly disappeared without a trace once accusations were levelled at him about child abuse. Jacko couldn't buy airplay, let alone release anything. Then what? As soon as the case went away, back came the music, the tours, the merchandise, everything Jacko.
I appreciate that hearing all this music will always associate them with the individuals i
nvolved. But, guilt by association? Does listening to it, let alone liking it, make you an accomplice? Can something that was so successful and so well loved all those years ago suddenly become worthless, utterly devalued in the aftermath of a court case? Barthes said that 'the author is dead', meaning that once a work of art or a creation is out there, released, it is no longer the property of the creator. It belongs to the public consciousness and becomes a piece of cultural currency. The recipient - reader, listener, viewer, whatever medium you experience it from - decides on the value, worth and meaning of the work. I like to believe this. And whilst I would like to believe that these people would - in my opinion - contribute more to the human race by being dead, I like to think that once they released these works into the public, they gave up all control over them, and they became mine, in my own unique acceptance of my reading and understanding of them; they are part of the story of my life and development into the person I am, and no matter what these people turn out to be, they cannot and will not be allowed to destroy my enjoyment of something I liked or loved since I first heard, saw, or read them; and am determined to continue doing so.
They can rot in hell; whilst me? Friday night, as always, I will luxuriate in a soothing hot bath, lie back, and enjoy the music I grew up and grew along with - without an ounce of regret or guilt. What about you, reader?
Return to The Hanging Gardens

H3llo: good evening and welcome back to the Hanging Gardens.
In the fruit basket this week we find those perennial nutters from Europe - the bureaucratic imbeciles paid to make idiotic laws and our lives more difficult.
It seems that the morons have been listening to those bleeding heart liberal panic-mongers again - the ones who see fear in every paving slab, and the climate-change bogeyman behind every firelighter.
Their consultants’ wisdom has this time led them to ban ‘over-powerful’ vacuum cleaners - you know the ones; ideal for keeping your home and car clean, even when you have pets. The reason? Reducing our carbon footprint. Of course! That old chestnut. The one-size-fits-all excuse for imposing their misguided views onto normal people under their control.
So now, Mrs Smith will have to fruitlessly hoover up with a machine that has as much suction as a dyspeptic asthmatic in a chicken coop, and is currently suffering from a really severe feather allergy. As much suck as her great-great-grandmother with her false teeth in.
And, to be honest, will YOU be happy trying to keep your home clean for you and your little ‘uns when the best level of cleanliness you can get is like something out of Ramsey’s American Kitchen Nightmares? Of course not.
The solution? Give up your carpets. Great. So the carpet industry goes bust, and sheep farmers go to the wall because we don’t want their twist-pile anymore. The price of lamb plummets in the glut then goes sky-higher than caviar when no more sheep are born. Ever. Sunday lunch is screwed.
We deforest the rest of Brazil, then half of Bolivia just to laminate our carpetless floors, getting rid of the trees that soak up all our carbon emissions. And because wood floors leave our houses colder, what do we do? Pump up the heating even more, burning more fossil fuels than ever and creating even more carbon emissions than ever before. Which increases our carbon footprint…oh bugger. Guess the big knobs in Europe have thought this one out well…As usual.

‘nuff said…picture of the week

Banality personified: Shock horror of the week is that all that rigmarole in the papers over recent years, and decades, and…zzzzz. Sorry; where was I? Oh yes, that rubbish we endured for so long over phone hacking obviously solved the problem - not. So, it wasn’t high-profile enough for celebrities to maybe think that putting ‘personal’ stuff onto the internet or cloud would be a bad thing. It’s not like there’s an army of deviants out there (apparently they’re called ‘hackers’ - perish the thought) who just might like to spend their time trying to gain access to it and post it online for - teehee - pure devilment. Allegedly.
Now there’s a hundred plus stars up in arms over having their mugshots posted all over the place, thus gaining them lots of airtime, interviews and attention that they would rather - as celebrities of course - not receive. Yeah right. And every singer and band that ever played a charity gig didn’t do it to improve record sales and court publicity whilst gaining a reputation as a philanthropist. As for ‘naked’ photos - anyone who wants to see half of this mob in the buff needs to get out more. And have a really good read of the dictionary for words such as ‘shocking’, ‘intimate’, ‘exposure’ and ‘promotion’, because they obviously misunderstood the first time. There’s plenty on the internet that covers all of those monikers, and believe me, ‘leaked’, ‘naked’ photos of celebs ain’t it. Why not just take Polaroids of each other in flagrante, pop them in the blue waste box and leave it on the end of your drive on bin day. Then complain when some nosey-parker decides to nick ‘em and sell them, or just pass ‘em round their mates in the pub. There’s probably less chance of ‘em being nicked from there…
Final thought of the week: Piers Morgan - what a twat.