After Shave After Time

It is quite possible that I have mentioned this before. Many things get mentioned in these pages over time. Perhaps a little reprise before heading off into newer pastures.

An awful lot of years ago, when I was just a small person (known in polite circles as a child), we used to take a bath every week whether we needed it or not. It was the custom, a tradition of the times.

Nowadays, of course, we have shower units in the house and so a daily—or even a twice daily, shower bath is the order of the day.

When it came to the daily wash or the weekly soak in the tub we would lave ourselves industrially with perfumed soap.

Perfumed. Yes. We had ‘Wright’s Coal Tar’ soap and ‘Pears’ soap—that was the one you could almost see through. Smelt good.

After using either of these you would emerge from the toilette fresh as a daisy and smelling good. Well, clean, perhaps, if not actually ‘good’!

The alternatives were limited. We had ‘Ocean Spray’ scent, or some sort of conifer based perfumed soap like ‘Pine Forest’ that smelt vaguely like the resin from a fir tree. Some expensive soaps were scented with camphor wood or a similarly exotic product.

Our ‘cheap’ ones were ‘Rose’ or ‘Devon Violets’; slightly up-market would be ‘Lavender’ or ‘Musk’.

Gentleman’s scents were not readily identifiable as anything specific but we would all wash in flowers or pine trees of some sort.

Today I had a shower. Not remarkable, really, except that I cleansed myself with ‘Honey and Goat’s Milk’. I could have had one of sundry fruits like ‘Apple’, ‘Strawberry’, ‘Melon’ in which case I should have been delayed in my ablutions because my brain would almost certainly have been mired in a decision making process—wash with it or eat it?

When did we move from cleaning ourselves with flowers, trees and ocean scents to using food?

At what point did the soap makers decide that we needed to lather ourselves in cider?

At what point does it stop? Are we heading for ‘Fruit Cocktail’ shampoos or, perhaps, a medley of ‘Raspberry, Strawberry and Peach Yoghurt’ shower gel?

Yes, ‘Peach’. Mine ran out the other day I am deliriously excited to inform you.

My point is, what is next? Where do we go in the future for yet greater excitement in the bathroom?

I hesitate to mention ‘Dogs**t Aftershave’ lest some manufacturer reads this and cries, “Eureka! The wave of the future!” taking me at my word in the process.

But, seriously, where next?

The thought that occurs to me is that with the gradual depletion of our stocks of hydrocarbons, diesel fuel may become the new ‘Chanel No.5’.

We could lather ourselves with the “Refreshing Aroma of ‘Lead Free Gasoline’!” Our shampoo might be redolent with that good old-fashioned scent of ‘Brent Crude—a light way to start your day.’

Tar. We did have ‘Wright’s Coal Tar’ soap. That could make a comeback. Perhaps there might be a delicate miasma of naphtha wafting around our bathrooms when oil out-prices gold on the Stock Exchanges floors.

My son thinks that shampooing in ‘Fruits of the Forest Aroma Therapy’ is normal, what will he think in the future? As I do? That not all changes are for the best?

We sci-fi writers tend not to think too much about the personal habits of our characters but what if we did? Perhaps we should think more about personal hygiene in the future and the scents that surround our heroes and villains.

I wonder what the ‘Hulk’ smells like?

Rabbit, Rabbit!

In London, England, the term ‘rabbit’ refers to ‘talk’. They will say that so-and-so has lots of rabbit meaning that he talks a lot.

Some years ago a popular singing duo (Chas and Dave) had a song called ‘Rabbit, Rabbit’ that was about a person who talked a lot.

Where did this expression come from? I have no idea. It doesn’t, as far as I know, follow the normal pattern of Cockney rhyming slang like ‘trouble and strife’ – wife, ‘plates of meat’ – feet, ‘apples and pears’ – stairs, and so on.

Perhaps somebody will enlighten me about that.

In the last ‘Blog’ I said that rabbits are good. They don’t smell bad; they are quiet so they don’t mess with other people’s lives.

My ‘pets’ are similar, they escape—they die. Why? They are fish. The only thing that might disturb the neighbours is the sound of the water in the tank but even that is very quiet.

Did you know that all fish are called ‘Bob’?

Also in the last ‘Blog’ I said that I dislike cats and dogs. This is a very sensitive issue because the inference is that I must be cruel. That is very far from the truth.

I also dislike senseless cruelty to any living thing. Not liking cats and dogs does not make me amoral or evil in the slightest but the suggestion that is read into that is mostly negative.

People like to read negatives, they like to infer worst case in every scenario. Does it make them feel better? Superior, perhaps.

Here’s an example: a short while ago I read an article on some, now forgotten, web page. The contents were so sad. The whole thing came about because of a poor command of English; I am often told that I am too fussy with language but it is with language that we communicate our ideas. If it is ambiguous or poorly written then we do not convey what is in our minds accurately.

In this case the story was of a girl whose age was not mentioned and is, in any event, irrelevant. She had posted something on ‘Facebook’ that everyone associated with her found offensive. To the point that she committed suicide when everyone ‘unfriended’ her. A note left behind said, clearly, that she did not understand why everyone suddenly hated her, they refused to speak to her or even, it seems, acknowledge her existence.

What did she write? She commented, “I hate Jesus.”

Simple. Nothing complex there, a clear message but one that is ambiguous.

All her friends are deeply religious and yet without that charity of heart that would allow them to question what she had written. A simple query would have resolved the issue and saved a life.

She was referring to a young man at school who was making her life miserable. He was called ‘Jesus’ (Hay-zoos).

How readily we hate. How easily we fall into the trap of wanting to believe the worst of people who do not conform to our idea of ‘good’ or ‘normal’.

Say, “I hate Chrysanthemums!” and you are smiled at. Others will nod and some may agree.

Say, “I dislike cats and dogs,” and you get hate mail.

Now see what happen if you say, “I hate Jesus!”

Rabbits

There are, it seems, a lot of people out there who like animals. I am one of those people.

I like wild animals.

It is my belief that all animals are wild, it is just that some are tamer than others.

In spite of the risk of receiving hate mail I shall brace myself and tell you that I dislike cats and dogs.

Rabbits are all right—I’ll get to them later.

If I prefaced this account with, “I dislike skates and rays,” everything would be fine. Similarly, if I said, “I dislike rats and cockroaches,” there would be peace surrounding me.

In reality I have no emotional feelings towards skates and rays unless they are cooked and somebody (no names, no pack-drill, as they say) attempts to make me eat them and then a war zone exists—temporarily, of course.

Rats and cockroaches are another thing.

Neither of them are soft and fluffy although, I am reliably informed, rats are highly intelligent and make wonderful pets. Fine. You can keep whatever pet you like but try hard not to involve me with it.

Both rats and cockroaches are living things. The difference between them and cats and dogs is our perception of them.

Sadly, our perception of cats and dogs is coloured by the things they do with us and that is, largely, based on what these creatures do in the wild.

Cats are, for example, loners in the wild just as they are in a domestic situation. Yes, yes, lions are an exception.

Dogs are pack animals. They go around in groups; your family, to them, is the pack. The family leader is the Alpha male/female. They are not being affectionate when they lick your face, they are asking for food. This is what they do in the pack.

We are inclined to anthropomorphise cats and dogs—also computers, cars and pretty much everything else.

When the car doesn’t start we may very well pat the dashboard and encourage it with calm and soothing phrases; when the computer plays up we may well argue with it. They are machines. They will remain impassive and unresponsive becausethey are inert.

Cats and dogs are the same. They are animals.

Now I shall receive protestations that ‘my dog understands every word I say’. Nonsense. It understands nothing. You do not understand ‘woof’ so why should doggy understand your words?

It is an animal. It licks its bum and then licks your face; this is extremely unpleasant.

The faecal matter deposited by cats and dogs is stuffed with so many diseases that it is pretty well lethal to children. Yet we allow children to play with them.

Neither dogs nor cats like being ‘cuddled’; it is not in their nature to enjoy this although many will tolerate it up to some un-predetermined point.

They are not ‘mini-humans’, they are not 'fur-babies', they are animals. They have their own traditions, customs and, some say, their own agenda.

They are animals just like rats.

But rats are vermin. Grey squirrels are vermin—red squirrels are not vermin.

Hmm.

Rabbits? Rabbits can be vermin unless they are pets. But rabbits are wonderfully soft and fluffy things. They are, like rats, extremely intelligent unless they are crammed in a hutch twenty-four hours a day and then they go stir-crazy, their brains atrophy with disuse.

Rabbits are fine but for one thing. They always do their business in one place. Very orderly, very civilised. What you may not know is that grass is not very easy to digest. To get the most out of the grass that they eat they will digest it twice. This means that they will eat their own ‘pellets’ the first time around, the second time through they will leave them on the ‘dumping ground’.

Cool.

Rabbits are animals, too.

They also taste good.

Stephen Fry

Stephen Fry said, “If ignorance is bliss, why aren’t there more happy people in the world?”

Nice, pithy observation.

Shall we look at that?

We are, as humans, discontented. Discontent comes from comparisons.

Comparisons come in different forms. We may be discontented with our spouses because they don’t look like George Clooney or Salma Hayek; perhaps we are discontented with our jobs because our job is boring, monotonous, repetitive, poorly paid and we are unrecognised in it compared to one of our colleagues who is constantly getting ‘noticed’ and rewarded; our life may seem poor because we don’t have money to spend like rich people do or because we do not have the time to pursue our dreams like others seem to manage.

Then comparisons lead us down the road into unsavoury behaviour.

Irrespective of whether you are religious or an agnostic or atheist, you may decide that the other person is a moron because they don’t understand that your belief system is far superior to theirs—you are making a comparison based on your wants and needs.

On the social media this then devolves into a series of personal abuses that may be general in nature (yes, I understand that ‘personal’ and ‘general’ are antitheses but on the social media the lines are somewhat blurred) or aimed specifically at individuals.

There are occasions when the majority will take over the abuse against a minority which is only wrong when the minority present their case in a way that involves an abuse of liberty of the majority; in this instance I am thinking primarily of this ‘Westboro’ Baptist Church’ situation.

To be honest, I am not really sure what these people want or hope to achieve but their methods of getting an end result do appear rather negative—certainly they have inflamed the emotions of the masses.

Whatever they want it is because they have compared their reality with what they see as an external reality, they have reacted to this comparison in a way that has resulted in antagonism to other people.

The comparison has made them unhappy.

“Ignorance is bliss” only up to a point. At some stage there is a need for people to impose their views, their perceptions of the world on others. They will not see themselves as ignorant. They will see themselves as dedicated and knowledgeable individuals who may well team up with others of that ilk in order to change everyone else’s perceptions.

That effort makes them unhappy and it will, for a short period of time, make other people’s existence unhappy.

Only a short period of time because history has shown that these people come and, equally rapidly, go. The passing leaves a small ripple that, in time, becomes smooth and disappears.

Then someone else will appear and create another ripple, they will stir things up to muddy the water so that other people will join in. Perhaps conspiracy theorists will also arise and hurl pseudo-evidence in the wrong direction to muddy the waters even further in the public perception.

“Ignorance is bliss” is the equivalent of burying your head in the sand.

Sometimes it works.

Often it does not.

Military Life v. Civilian Life

A very short time ago I put a story on my ‘Facebook’ wall involving a difference in phrasing and communication between an Army officer and a Royal Air Force SNCO (Senior Non-Commissioned Officer).

The officer did not, in spite of his advanced rank and time served in the Army, have any cognisance of the RAF rank system.

We are all guilty of that—those of us in the military, that is.

Many of us do not understand the rank structure of other branches of the services and yet we knock into them on a fairly frequent basis.

Working with foreign military is even more confusing. The LuftWaffe ‘Oberfeldwebel’ and ‘Stabsfeldwebel’ are, more or less, defined by the British military as Flight Sergeant and Chief Technician and that translates in WO2 and Staff Sergeant in the Army. 'Adjutante Premiere' (Warrant Officer First Class) is less well known.

More or less. I do not propose to get into a debate about it.

Then there are the Americans who have OR (Other Rank) numbers. Seems that I, a Chief Technician, was OR7 and so was permitted into the Officer’s transit accommodation. Such unbridled luxury. It was luxurious in that the TV worked! Not that there was anything worth watching on it.

Twenty seven years of loyalty and dedication. At the end the life became intolerable, it was time to go, to seek pastures anew in civilian life.

Things became complex.

There was much I did not understand.

In the first place was this absurd idea that people leaving the military cannot expect to be paid as much as they received in the Forces.

Why?

I argued that if I were leaving one civilian job for another job it would be termed a ‘career move’. Surely that was what I was doing?

One prospective employer told me that such expectations were naive. Good. I was naive, then.

Naturally, companies—especially large corporations, lied. They said that the pay scale requested would be no problem; they said this often, loudly and with a straight face. When the job offer came through it was for a derisory salary. They were surprised when I turned their offer down.

One of the main things that take a lot of getting accustomed to is the way people give you work to do.

In the military nobody ever says, “Can you do this?” they say, “Do this.”

You are expected to get on with it. People who give you tasks are, by and large, familiar with what your capabilities and limitations are.

In the commercial world nobody wears badges to tell others what their level in the company is. There is no clue as to what their job or position is within the company.

So the boss comes to me and says, “Are you able to do...?”

To which I say, “Yes,” and get on with it. Makes life so much easier like that.

From the point of view of writing stories, it is much easier (for me) to write stories that are based on a military mind-set because, quite honestly, I still do not really understand the way civilians think.

I suspect that if you are in a crowded environment and shout, “DUCK!” all the military and ex-service people will immediately drop and all the civilians will look around, frowning, asking 'where is it?'

How do you convey that mental condition and imagery into words?

This is difficult to accomplish. Just recently I had to write a story that developed from two previous stories but it needed to explain what had been going on previously. Now I had to describe a growing mindset of androids that had no specific mindset other than that with which they had been pre-programmed; but the programming was becoming unravelled.

Equally, one of my American friends wrote a comment to which I responded normally. She replied by saying, “My sarcasm didn’t come across too well there.”

You can’t write feelings unless you say, or indicate, what those feelings and emotions are.

We do try, don’t we?

A Taste of Something Different?

A colleague of mine, who works on the east coast, possesses some fruit trees. He has very kindly invited me to his house to sample both his hospitality and the fruit.

It is to be hoped that, very soon, I shall be able to drive over to the east coast to work and then, en route for home, detour to his house.

Not much of a detour since it is, almost, on the road back to Kuala Lumpur.

The fruit in question is a favourite. Not only of mine but also of most Malaysians. Indeed, it is a favoured fruit amongst the inhabitants of South East Asia generally. The taste for it is unlikely to spread very much beyond this locality because it is banned from airlines and, indeed, from most hotels even here.

You would think that the popularity of the fruit would enable it to be taken into hotels here but no, it is banned.

The fruit is called Durian.

Musang King Durian

There are many varieties of Durian. Wild ones are quite popular but there are also a number of clones available. The expensive Durian is called ‘Musang King’ (see above), it is sweet succulent and has lots of flesh around a small seed.

Some Durians have large seeds and little flesh—those are the cheaper ones.

I do not know how this variety came to be called 'Musang King' because a 'Musang' is known to Westerners as a 'Palm Civet Cat'; these are not known for eating Durians!

Musang (Palm Civet Cat)

Now that I have told you that they are sweet and succulent, tasting something like a superior custard, I should also tell you that, to the uninitiated, the smell is how one imagines the sewers of hell to be.

Once you are accustomed to the smell it is attractive, it tells you that there are Durians nearby ready for the sampling.

Naturally, the obvious thought that will spring immediately into your head is this, “When the very first person to come across a Durian found it and realised that it was the source of that incredibly foul smell, what possessed him to consider eating it?”

It is a fair question and one that has been asked, no doubt, by people through the ages.

The other point about it is that it has an impressively armoured skin beset all around with extremely sharp and hard spikes.

How did they open it?

The answer to the last question—and possibly the first, is that they watched monkeys eat the fruit. Possibly the Durian burst open when it fell from the tree; it should be said that Durian trees are very high. But, still... the smell...

There are a variety of Durian products on the market. It is not just the fresh fruit that is in demand. There is a number of Durian flavoured products on sale.

One of these products is Durian Dodol. Dodol is pretty well pure cane sugar! There is rice flour and coconut milk added to it but it is mostly sugar. It is a little bit like toffee but inordinately sweet, sticky and thick—it has the consistency of a very chewy jelly.

Making Dodol

Dodol Ready to Eat

Cooking Dodol takes about nine hours, it has to be stirred incessantly throughout the process or it will be burnt and taste bad.

Sometimes it is flavoured with other things and guess what? Durian comes pretty high on the list of things with which to flavour Dodol!

Other things use durian, too. In some places they ferment the Durian flesh and turn it into a sort of thin soup to eat fresh water fish with. This is called tempoyak. It is delicious but not, I should say, to everyone’s taste.

If you don’t fancy tempoyak you might have Durian custard or Durian porridge.

The World is full of variety.

You don’t have to go to MuckDonald’s for a culinary adventure.

Nonsensical Radio

As we loop over the hills and valleys of life we bump into some odd things. Some things are more odd than others, naturally.

At the beginning of civilised life, as I know it, we had a radio. It was big. It was like a piece of furniture. It had on it the name ‘KB’ so that, one presumes, was the manufacturer.

It was driven by a lead-acid battery from a car or tractor. It was only good for about an hour and then the battery would fade and start to boil if we were not careful.

Presumably this is where the phrase ‘steam radio’ came from.

I am now amused by the idea of ‘steam punk stories’ that are gaining in popularity—and rightly so, for many are well written and entertaining.

At some point either the radio was adapted or we acquired another radio to suit mains electricity.

Yes, we had electricity and running water and everything! We were in at the birth of civilisation, as I said above.

The thing is that the shows on the radio in those days were odd. Even then, as a very small boy, I thought that the shows were odd.

For instance; I would go into the nearby town on Saturday mornings to watch a matinee movie. It might be ‘Flash Gordon’ or a cowboy film involving Tex Ritter or Roy Rogers. Just occasionally they would show a full-length movie. This was a joyful occasion for such as we. I remember seeing ‘Rosemary’ and ‘McDonald of the Mounties’—Canadian Mounties were very popular in those days.

We had such a treat one Saturday morning, we saw ‘The Conquest of Everest’ starring Sherpa Tensing and Sir Edmund Hilary, who was a Kiwi. They were the first to climb Mount Everest, they did it in Coronation Year. That was the Coronation of Elisabeth II. It was at that precise moment that the Tudor Queen Elisabeth became Queen Elisabeth I, of course.

I was at the Coronation. We stood in Hyde Park watching the procession of dignitaries. Most memorable figure was Queen Salote of Tonga, she was very regal if not very large.

Queen Salote Tupou III of Tonga at Queen Elisabeth II’s Coronation

I had to have my tonsils out to go to the Coronation. My parents lied to me. They told me, “The Queen wants all children to have their tonsils out before the Coronation.”

A lot of radio programmes were missed for that occasion.

Much time was spent listening to short wave radio. I listened to different languages and tried to decode what they were saying by transposing digits in different words. Such is the naivety of extreme youth! It all fell apart when I found that ‘orange’ in English is ‘orange’ in French! Just pronounced differently, of course.

Now I’ve lost track. What were we talking about? Oh, yes. Odd things.

Some programmes on the radio were, to me, completely nonsensical. They still are.

Example: On Sunday afternoon, after ‘The Navy Lark’ that started just as we were finishing Sunday lunch, there was a programme that was introduced by a tune called ‘The Carousel Waltz’. This was from the film ‘Carousel’ by Rodgers and Hammerstein. The programme that it introduced was called ‘Movie-Go-Round’.

It was a radio show about films. Stunning. There were, during the programme, several clips but, of course, they were audio only. It seemed very strange to me that the radio would feature films that were visual entertainment.

Of course, in those days we had no television. Some people, in the cities, maybe, did have TV. Those of us that lived in the far-flung corners of the Kingdom did not.

Odd, isn’t it? We had a Queen. Why did we not have a ‘Queendom’?

To cap it all, we had a programme called ‘Educating Archie’.

This is something that you will, in all probability, not believe.

This was a general entertainment show—humour for the whole family. There is no problem, personally speaking, with the script. The problem arises when we consider the characters.

One character on the show was a dog. It was actually a fellow called Percy Edwards who played another dog, called ‘Psyche’, on a programme called ‘The Life of Bliss’.

That was reasonable enough, I suppose. But. The main character was Archie Andrews.

Here is the killer punch.

Archie Andrews wore a loud, striped blazer and sat on the knee of Peter Brough. Archie called Peter Brough ‘Brough’, logically enough, in the show.

He sat on Peter Brough's knee because Archie Andrews was a ventriloquist’s dummy.

On a radio show.

Beggars belief.

April Fool

I should suppose that, this being the first day of April, I should make a fool of myself.

Seems I did that already. The title of my last ‘Blog’ was supposed to be a philosophical pun to make a point but it fell flat. I was criticised for spelling ‘reigns’ wrong!

Sighs deeply.

April the First. All Fools Day.

In British terms it traditionally ends at mid-day but in other parts of the World it goes on all day.

Where did this idea that we have to play jokes on each other come from? Is it some weird American thing—as so many of these odd ‘traditions’ tend to be?

They inflicted the ‘hula-hoop’ on us so it is not such a stretch of the imagination to presume that this April First is also theirs. Is it?

Amazingly it pre-dates the United States by some considerable margin. There is talk in ‘Canterbury Tales’ by Geoffrey (Joffy?) Chaucer of foolishness associated with this date. A cockerel, called Chanticleer, was tricked by a wily fox on this date but, there again, there is a confusion with old English that suggests that the actual date intended might have been May First (thirty two days after March). If you want to refer to Chaucer you will find this in the “Nun’s Priest’s Tale”. Beware. Chaucer was quite naughty here and there.

Other people will point at the change of date of the New Year to January First from April First when Pope Gregory XIII instituted the new Gregorian Calendar in the 16^th Century as being the initiation of April Fool’s day. Note that accountants have yet to catch up—their new year still starts on April First!

There were ‘silly’ days earlier. The Romans had a ‘Hilaria Festival’ on March 25^th, which is pretty close. There was—is, a ‘Feast of Fools’ day on December 28^th that is celebrated by Spanish speaking people.

In 1508 a French poet called Eloy d’Amerval told of a ‘poisson d’Avril’ (April Fish) that could have been about this day.

The first British mention is from John Aubrey (1686) who referred to April First as “Foole’s Holy Day” although it is no longer a holiday.

In spite of the Gregorian calendar, many places in Europe still celebrated March 25^th as New Year’s Day. This is the date set for the ‘Feast of the Annunciation’. This New Year’s holiday was, especially in France, a week long holiday ending, naturally enough, on April First There is a theory that those who celebrated New Year’s on this date were made fun of by those who followed the January First date for New Year.

It may be that this day of jokes started in Iran! They play tricks on each other during their New Year, which is April 1^st or 2^nd. According to their records this tradition goes back to more than 500 years BC.

I liked the April Fool’s Day hoax in 1698 where people were invited to buy tickets to watch the lions being washed in the Tower of London.

Nothing is new, is it?

We think we have all the bases covered, we think we are modern and smart but, really, we could learn a thing or two from the old days. I mean the OLD DAYS! Not just ‘back in the day’ type ‘old days’!

I wonder if I should rewrite ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ as an honorific to John Wayne?