Home cinema: DVD entertainment during the months of lockdown ranged from Toy Story (all four films), to classics not seen for 30 years, such as Ghost and Airplane! - and a new "old" discovery Breakfast at Tiffany's
In the strange world of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown, the realm of films and shows brought comfort and escapism.
Yes, there was television news and updates, and re-runs of shows on the broadcast channels. But personal choices from a DVD library were more intimate and treasured.
It was escapism to a place of familiarity; seeing how we lived before the world was turned upside down. And it was an opportunity to suspend belief and enter a different realm for a few hours.
The films, shows, and characters became friends during a time of uncertainty.
So what did you watch during those stay-at-home months?
Here is our selection. Toy Story - all four films. I'd never seen any before, but for two consecutive weekends the saga unfolded one delightful movie at a time.
Likewise, the TV comedy show Still Game - which spans nine series and 20 years. The lockdown days were immensely brightened by the half-hour gems of laugher. And the good news is the box set is not yet exhausted.
Comedy and romance were well served, with a sprinkling of adventure, from a first viewing of Breakfast at Tiffany's, a delight, to comedy classic Airplane!, Friday, and the 80s/90s moments of Ghost, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Sliding Doors. There wasnew flicks in the shape of Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker, and Stan & Ollie. And the out of season treat of animated classic The Snowman, plus the truly uplifting Sunshine on Leith.
Somewhere down the road they'll be watched again, perhaps when we are back in a "normal" world. Though even then, I'm sure, they'll jolt a flashback to the strange uncertain days of the lockdown, and the pleasure, comfort and familiarity they afforded.
VIDEO:Please Don't Go - a musical moment from Sunshine on Leith.
Tomorrow will be a good day: Captain Tom Moore was among the heroes who were a light to the world during the pandemic
Did it all really happen? I ask myself.
The past four months feel like a surreal dream, in which we have all been cocooned in an isolated lifestyle, a globally shared singular experience the like of which has never happened in living memory.
From watching, with unusual interest, each turn and twist in the daily news, to cheering for heroes - the NHS, and Captain (now Sir) Tom Moore, who was a light to the world and told us "Tomorrow will be a good day".
We witnessed images of city streets deserted, and stared at the blue sky, glorious and untrammelled by the vapor trails of planes.
The world took on a hush and the sounds of nature, of wildlife and birdsong, came to the fore to soothe our anxious minds.
Who will ever forget the children's rainbow artwork for the NHS adorning countless windows and doors. They brought joy and a feeling of togetherness and hope, and lifted my spirit when I saw them while travelling on a near empty bus, through a subdued land, for a rare grocery errand.
Yes, the land was subdued, but also recharging. Values about what is important in life and what are mere niceties or extravagancies, were being challenged.
There has been a recalibrating of what we know, love and cherish; a greater appreciation for the wonder of life and the world, and for the people we see, often in fleeting glimpses, but who are sharing the all-encompassing experience that defines the moment and will be remembered for as long as those us here today are still around.
Did it all really happen, this global coronavirus pandemic? The rainbows in the windows say yes.
Dave Greenfield: at the heart of The Stranglers' sound
(Photograph by Stranglers French Forum)
Thirty-four summers ago, Dave Greenfield climbed into the back of a former London taxi for a short ride to a disused quarry lake in Cambridgeshire. The man at the heart of The Stranglers' sound carried a shoulder travel bag - an ever-present accessory, the contents of which followers of the band have forever guessed at.
It was a tight squeeze in the taxi. Greenfield rested his enigmatic bag on his lap. I gazed at the bag and wondered if perhaps it contained one of his many pet rats, the rodent synonymous with the band since their debut album Rattus Norvegicus nine years earlier.
But no question was asked. What else was a teenager, awed by the presence and aura of mystique of the musical mistro to do? Besides, there was work at hand to build and test a bathtub boat, an enterprise led by fellow Stranglers member Jean-Jacques Burnel. That pursuit would culminate at the World Bathtub Racing Championships in the south of France later that summer. That was why I was there. Greenfield, who lived nearby, had put in a surprise appearance to observe and lend support.
The taxi ride lasted only a couple of minutes, and then we piled out and set to work on the Ravenlunatic bathtub boat. Greenfield watched from the grassy bank.
I thought back to that day when, a week ago, news broke that Greenfield had died at 71, having contracted Covid-19 while in hospital. A few months earlier he had completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand with The Stranglers.
He was the keyboard player and an occasional vocalist. Along with Hugh Cornwell, Jet Black, and the aforementioned Burnel, he made up the classic original line-up of The Stranglers that was responsible for memorable hits in the Seventies and Eighties, such as No More Heroes, Peaches, Strange Little Girl, Always the Sun, and Golden Brown. Indeed, it was Greenfield who was central in creating the latter. He had continually offered up the waltztime tune at rehearsals only for it to be rejected, until the day came that it was used as the framework for the No.2 chart hit that was the band's greatest success.
Greenfield's distinctive keyboard playing and the sound of Burnel's bass are arguably the defining motif of the band through their career that now spans 46 years.
A year before the taxi ride, The Stranglers played a concert at the Music Hall in Utrecht, Netherlands. In the hours leading up to the concert, I stood at the entrance to the locked venue, listening to the band's soundcheck echo through the empty corridors and halls within. An instrumental run-through of the track Let Me Down Easy - a touching lament on life and death - was haunting and beautiful that early evening, accentuating the keyboard skills of Greenfield.
The Stranglers' music has been part of my life for more than 42 years. I've seen them more than 20 times in concert, across four decades. My first piece of printed journalism was a concert review of their Brixton Academy show in 1989, which helped land me a newspaper staff job the following year.
In September 2001, a three-day Stranglers Convention was held, with the band and many of their supporters taking over Pontins Leisure Centre at Brean Down, Somerset, for a weekend of live shows, quizzes, Q&As, and a five-a-side football contest.
On the first evening, my best pal Rob and I walked into the campus restaurant/bar, The Queen Victoria, and saw Greenfield sitting at a table near the door. Much has been written about his approachable nature, and that evening he was happily engaged in a group conversation around drinks with some fans. We decided to head elsewhere where we later renewed our "bathtub race team" friendship with Burnel. We'd hoped to speak with Greenfield on the way out, but by then he had gone.
Beyond those two brief moments - in the taxi, and at Pontins - my memories of Greenfield are all from the many shows I attended - including the London Roundhouse in 2007 when Greenfield's keyboards malfunctioned, causing the band to restart four times - including a complete relaunch of the gig that was at that stage more than half-an-hour into the set.
Greenfield shone on so many of The Stranglers' finest work, memorably on Down in the Sewer, Genetix, Waltzinblack and their cover of Walk on By.
The Stranglers' career can be sliced into three distinct eras, defined by the coming and going of lead singers Cornwell, Paul Roberts and incumbent Baz Warne. Each era came with its own idiosyncrasies, nostalgia and memories. But through them all Greenfield, Burnel and Black were the group's mainstays. Ill health forced Black to step away from all touring about five years ago.
Life can be said to be like a taxi ride. We are passengers, getting on and off at different points, not too sure where it started or where it is going. But the things we love, the friends, the music, the experiences; they are all part of the ride.
A quote attributed to John Lennon goes: "I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another."
Dave Greenfield has now left the taxi.
Fond adieu, Dave. Fly straight.
Online video tribute to Dave Greenfield (music Golden Brown):
Stop the noise: silence is important when trying to reflect,
engage deep-thinking, thoughts and creativity
It's increasingly difficult to find peace and quiet in today's world. So how does constant noise impact on our wellbeing, our thoughts, creativity and temperament?
I treasure silence. It is the best situation for me when gathering deep thoughts, reflections, or projecting ideas. It's as though the brain is a computer, with a special short-term memory function - a RAM [random access memory] if you will - for such immediate tasks as critical thinking and creativity. But this RAM is vulnerable to interference from outside distractions - the sounds of voices, commotion, and barking dogs, to name a few that result in a diminished capacity to conjure and hold thoughts and to build on them.
Silence does not mean a complete, deadening void. Ambient sounds such as the wind through the air or moving over branches and leaves, or the beat of rolling ocean waves, and even the murmur of indistinct faraway voices are forms of "white noise" and generally a nonintrusive backdrop to the peace needed for deep thought and reflection.
In this world of constant motion and noise, that art of reflection so needed to make sense of who we are, and what things mean for our lives and emotions, is increasingly crowded out.
Where we are heading? At the end of the day you might escape the disruptive noises of the workplace only to find the neighbourhood bliss is no more. It has been replaced by a minefield of pet animal calls and frustrated squeals, garden machinery and the sound of traffic.
Oh for the sounds of nature, the chirp of birds, the soulful swish of the wind, and the chance to reflect deeply on this journey we call life.
So if you have them, guard those secret places of silence and solitude, and treasure their redemptive and energising qualities.
Twenty-five years ago: city lights from a viewpoint
Is it really 25 years since we lived and studied together beneath blue skies and crimson and mauve sunsets?
Is it a quarter of a century since we shared those concrete sidewalks, bus journeys to college, visits to the beach, to hangouts, and to viewpoints overlooking the twinkling lights of a city sprawled across two valleys?
Twenty-five summers have come and gone, and 25 autumns, winters and springs, since our tight-knit group, transplanted to a foreign land, shared a bond that would stay with us for ever.
Though we have gone our separate ways, and not all of us are here today, those sweetest days live on in our thoughts. And in the memory of the world, for I am sure it has such.
Time passes, yes. But stretched across 25 years, the march of its footsteps are so far apart we do not always hear them until we stop and listen.
A plane soars, its tail fin livery redesigned from a quarter of a century ago, like all the others; generational changes an echo of time's deep footsteps.
And so, 25 summers, autumns, winters and springs have passed.
Who would not yearn to do it all again? But to have done it once is a treasure indeed.
Busy movie: JJ Abrams managed to fashion a
mostly believable conclusion to the Star Wars saga
The Skywalker saga is over. The 42-year cinematic odyssey that had some soaringly high points and a few equally low moments, has ended in an acceptable fashion with Star Wars: Episode IX -The Rise of Skywalker.
But it will leave some fans of the original films lamenting what might have been had this sequel trilogy been thoughtfully planned out.
In places, The Rise of Skywalker has sparks of emotional connection that were lacking in the previous film in the trilogy. Interestingly, director JJ Abrams has made this film mostly leap over the divisive The Last Jedi, and act as a sequel to his episode 7, The Force Awakens.
For the most part you can watch this without having even seen The Last Jedi, which will be a bonus for many people.
What else did we learn from this film? Well, it seems tossing the lightsabre is now a thing, and possibly a future Olympic sport.
The humour is more in line with the classic Star Wars films, although in some places is misplaced. For instance, a jolting moment comes when Poe and Rey engage in a conversational joust that is annoyingly out of place and petty. It comes after the Millennium Falcon returns to base and, given the gravity of the story at that point, would they really be arguing about who got the spaceship or droid damaged the most?
At its core, The Rise of Skywalker is a return to the simplistic, formulaic Saturday morning science fiction shorts of the 1930s, think Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers, that lent much to the genesis of the original Star Wars trilogy. And there is a charm in that.
If you go into the theatre with lowered expectations, you'll likely to be pleasantly surprised. That's hardly a ringing endorsement, but after the train wreck of The Last Jedi it says much.
Following the story-telling void of its predecessor, Abrams somehow manages to concoct a believable, if at times contrived, story arc within the film's 2 hours and 25 minutes' running time. It's cluttered and moves at such breakneck speed it is impossible to take in everything, or savour moments that deserve more.
This lack of finesse highlights the folly of Disney's handling of such a premier intellectual property. The studio allowed the concluding trilogy to be made without first having a mapped out, overarching storyline for the three movies. As such, there are plot points in The Rise of Skywalker that would have been bettered served in the previous film, rather than shoehorned into this finale.
However, back to the good things about The Rise of Skywalker. The actors appear more natural, comfortable and real, although for the newer generation there is still very little buy-in that would make audiences overly concerned about their stories or fates.
The character of Rey, played by Daisy Ridley, shows a touch more believability and emotion. Adam Driver, as Kylo, is the strongest main character, as he has been for the trilogy.
The late Carrie Fisher returns as Leia. Her part is adequately done considering the constrains of having to rely solely on footage and outtakes from previous movies. We are left to imagine how much more satisfying it would have been had she still been with us.
Mark Hamill's portrayal of Luke, while marginal in the film, does provide the most emotionally satisfying moments. His character is one of the film industry's greatest heroes, and he receives the redemption and explanation needed in the wake of The Last Jedi.
There is still a sense of mystery about his lost years from Return of the Jedi to The Last Jedi - and in the hands of a skilled writer and director a spin-off "latter days" Skywalker movie could fill the gaps and ultimately add important background context to this final trilogy. Disney, feel free to call.
In conclusion, 3.5 out of 5 for the movie, but full marks to Abrams for the ending scene.
VIDEO: The final trailer for The Rise of Skywalker.
That 1980s vibe: Hollywood-Burbank 'Bob Hope' Airport is among
the airports where music from the Eighties holds sway
At airports I tend to notice the background music (or muzak) that is being piped through the sound system. Increasingly, those ambient sounds are songs from the 1980s, with perhaps the odd one or two from the decades either side of the Eighties.
So what gives? Why does music from the 1980s hold sway in airport departure terminals. What is it about that era that continues to see its songs given preference in such settings?
It could be that many of the people passing through the terminal will identify with the music they personally experienced earlier in their lives. But that theory only holds true for so many travellers, there are plenty of others using the airports who belong to a generation untouched by the Eighties.
I say it has to do with the clarity, simplicity and feel-good combination of the songs. That is what those providing the background music are seeking to provide travellers - unobtrusive tunes that float around on the periphery of most people's hearing. In addition, for some folk the songs will bring a touch of reminiscence for times past and happy memories.
As a lover of music I enjoy tuning-in to any background melodies. At airports I have particularly noticed the 1980s musical playlists at Hollywood-Burbank 'Bob Hope' Airport, JFK International Airport in New York, and Boston Logan International Airport.
It's not only airports; shopping malls are another venue that often delve into the tunes from the Eighties. What does this say about music? Were the 1980s truly the peak years for timeless, enjoyable mood and ear-friendly music?
