The Curing Sunday - Blog 4, Introducing Michael

Blog 4, Introducing Michael

 

The following paragraphs are from Chapter 1, Life Story, of The Cure:

 

"I can never forget the woman that looked back at me that day. Her smile was breathtakingly beautiful, much more so than mine would ever be; a smile that I had never been fortunate enough to see. It was the only living memory I would ever have of her and I am never going to forget it even if it was only my own reflection. It was my one and only moment with her. It was not a photograph that my father had taken of her during a romantic weekend away. It was not a photograph that a relative had taken of her at a family event. It was not just another moment frozen in time. It was real. It was a moment that I had experienced. It was a moment; my one and only moment with her and I would always make sure that it was a moment that I would make happen again and again in my mind.

 

And to my pleasant surprise it has always been quite easy to do. I just have to stand in front of the mirror, close my eyes and think of her and she reappears as the twenty-seven year old, her age when she died, pale faced, which was slightly morbid looking but I always put it down to the fact that in my mind she was dead and always had been dead to me, with her beautiful smile and a perfect figure of my imagination. It seems weird I know. But I do not have a memory of her as my mother. All I have are pictures of her as a daughter, a cousin, a friend, a girlfriend, a fiancée or as a wife. But there was not even a photograph of her when she was pregnant with me. There was no proof of her as a mother except for me.”

 

Chapter 1 gets straight to introducing Michael, the narrator and the central character of the novel. Talking about his childhood and certain moments that will stick with him forever, Michael is simply a normal 18 year old lad who is still uncertain about who he is, what he stands for and, most importantly, he is absolutely clueless about what he is capable of. Having lost his mother the day he was born he dislikes being made a fuss of, especially around his birthday. He sees nothing special in himself, he knows he has a lot to learn yet he doesn’t want to fall in to some generic male stereotype. He knows he is different, he knows that having grown up with no mother and being overly smothered by his father because of this has moulded him. However, he fears it has moulded him for the worse; he fears that he is not normal. He fears relationships as he fears that he is completely clueless in the art of emotion. Yet at this stage in his life he has nothing to fear but it will be his fears that allow him to grow. It will be his fearless instincts that make him who he is.

 

 

The Cure to the Lads Mags

Anything Goes Friday

So the actress Romali Garai (I’m not sure who she is but nevertheless) is heading up the campaign to take the “Lads Mags” Zoo and Nuts off of the shelf in Tesco. Her success will probably mean the end of these two magazines costing people their jobs and livelihood but fair enough I say. I don’t read them anyway. According to a few experts out there these magazines are misogynistic and sexist forms of media. No arguments from me.

 

Recent research by Dr Nancy Lombard, for Glasgow Caledonian University, shows that "stereotypical gender roles are evidently pertinent in young people's understandings of men's violence against women".

 

The chief executive of the charity Women's Aid agreed: "The abuse of women doesn't happen in a vacuum. The constant diet of images of women as available for men's pleasure in magazines like these creates a context in which violence against women and girls is more likely to flourish." Where do I sign? I am completely sold on this plan to remove them from Tesco.

 

Garai described media’s inherent sexism, a culture she believes exacerbates inequality in the way men and women are treated that in relation to her post pregnancy: "It makes me sad because I struggled to lose my post-pregnancy weight and I felt under a great deal of pressure to do so. And the unhappiness I feel about my own body is something I know is not exclusive to me; it involves almost all the women I know, and it makes me very sad that women are constantly made to feel that they have to be ashamed or that there is something wrong with them, that they are inherently broken in some way. I think we don't really do anything in our society to counteract that movement at the moment."

 

I agree, it makes me sad too Gerai (Not the having to lose baby weight part. I have never had to do that. More in regard to the pressure she felt of having to do it). I also was a little sad when my female friend told me I looked a “little cuddlier” then when she last saw me but I am a bloke, such comments don’t affect us. Or do they?

 

Yet hang on a minute. This all reminded me of exactly what I and the guys were reading down the pub a few Sundays ago as we watched the football with beer like real men. We were flicking through the Daily Mail’s Femail today with an article about how some female celebrity looked “frumpy”, even though at the most she must have been a size 6 (UK). The same Femail today that applauded another celeb for losing her baby weight too with a before and after shot; when we all thought she looked better as a real mother than a plastic Barbie doll.

 

It was similar when I was having coffee with the girls. A few of them brought along some gossip mags; you know the likes of Heat, Reveal, Now, Hello and Okay. On this particular day Tess Daley was getting a right dressing down for something she wore on TV. It was coming to the end of the summer so they were giving the thumbs up to all of those finely toned celebs on the beaches wearing bikinis with less clothes than the girls posing in FHM. Then there were those put in the category of “better try harder next year” or something like that.

 

Let’s be honest, all of these magazines and newspapers are never afraid to highlight a celeb for looking normal. Just remember how they treated Britney Spears and today they made sure that Kelly Brooke, in her slacks, was posted for us all to see. This would all be fine if it was not for the bitchily toned comment that headed the picture. I didn’t even click on it. As a guy I really did not care but I bet a lot more females out there had a little look.

 

This all made me think; what are you young girls more afraid of? A guy thinking that you do not quite cut the fake, plastic, photo shopped celeb standard or the bitchy response from your female peers? A lot of the ladies I know don’t give a damn about what their boyfriend or husband says a lot of the time; yet tend to get upset if their mother, sister or girl friends say anything. (Forgive the sweeping generalisation. I am sure a lot of you guys have had an ear full for saying the wrong thing. I know I have)

 

There was another article I saw today about how you ladies are too self-conscious to feel comfortable to not wear make-up around a guy you are dating for a ridiculously long time. I found this ironic because the last girl I dated I ended it because all I wanted to do was mess up her hair and start a food fight with her in the ridiculously posh restaurants she insisted on eating at. Yet I felt like she would have gone mental if I did that. I felt as if she was too prim and proper for me.

 

Don’t get me wrong it was not the only reason. We weren’t suited. She was never going to be the Wendy to my Peter Pan complex. When it started raining I would have been delighted if she ran outside and danced in a puddle yet instead she complained about having no umbrella and that the rain would ruin her hair; but don’t worry I had 2 t-shirts on and so one was used to keep her dry.

 

But it makes me think; who set these standards? Who made girls think that they have to look as perfect as you do when you walk down the red carpet at some film premiere on a 7^th or 8^th date? It certainly was not me. Was it the male race that I am a part of? Maybe and if so I think I missed that boat a long time ago, stranded on an island in the ocean somewhere wondering why no one can hear my screams.

 

So ban Zoo and Nuts because as Garai says "Zoo and Nuts are not just pornographic magazines. They also have a culture that makes it permissible to hate women. They are sort of fanzines for misogyny. They grew out of a reactionary culture that was growing out of women being much more public and in the workplace and more empowered in day-to-day life.”

 

But why stop there? Keep going Garai. Go after those magazines that target females to buy them and display some misguided view of what a women looks like in the celebrity world with personal trainers, stylists and photoshop because as you say “media in this country is inherently sexist.”

 

Garai says "I'm a feminist, and saying I am feminist has only ever helped me and helped my life. And I would encourage anybody to say they are a feminist because I don't think it should exclude people. All it ever says is that we want everyone to be treated the same. How can you not sign up to that?"

 

Too true Garai, too true, which is why the Guardian felt the need to put this article in the category titled “Women” secluding the other 49% of the population known as Men. It kind of proves the point of inherent sexism as well as failing to treat the interests of their readers as the same. But hey ho.

 

What's Up With Wednesdays? The Cure for the Summer

So England did it again. After a very frustrating qualifying campaign, personified by having to listen to Adrian Chiles on ITV talk for an eternity as the game was rained off in Poland, England have qualified for Brazil.

 

After blowing away the minnows the Three Lions struggled to deliver decent footballing performances in Ukraine, Poland and Montenegro against teams that are mediocre with a few stars dotted around the pitch. The irony was that we are a team of stars with mediocrity dotted played on the pitch.

 

We managed to scrape by and then with two games to go and an injection of youthful attacking threat the boys in white delivered two wins and two good performances to go with it. Just in time then. I don’t mean just in time for us to qualify, I mean just in time for us to believe that we can actually go to Brazil in the summer and do something. Just in time to hope and just in time to believe and here are my reasons why.

1.    Chelsea won the Champions League so England can win the World Cup:

Firstly, well done to Chelsea for winning the Champions a couple of seasons ago but let’s face it they were not the best footballing side around; just like England. Chelsea were an organised, combative outfit who defended for their lives, rode their luck and when an opportunity came they took it. They beat the model of Spanish football Barcelona in the Semi-finals and the model German style of Bayern Munich in the Final. It’s Germany and Spain who are two of the biggest threats. They are better than us, there is no denying that but as Chelsea showed England, winning the game is all that mattered. There’s is no need to be pretty and nice, just fight for your lives boys.

 

2.    We’ll be Seeded Second:

This is a good thing. Let’s be honest even if we were seeded first we would make a pigs ear out of it, struggle our way to second spot. The good news this time is that we will have one of the favourites in our group, which means (if we get out of our group) we can’t meet them until the final. So hopefully we will get Brazil, Germany or Spain, get through with one of them with the other two having to play each other before they meet us. I am not normally one for the easy route option but we will need all the help we can get.

 

3.    The South Americans are Beatable:

I will do this alphabetically. Argentina do have Messi, Higuain, Aguero and Tevez (plus a whole lot of other guys playing in South America that we have never heard of) yet history dictates that they have never been capable of finding a system that accommodates them all and that gets the best out of them all. If they manage this then I think they could be the team to beat but also think it is more likely that they will hit self-destruct by re-appointing Diego Maradona to the task or something just as crazy.

 

Brazil, as seen in the Confederations Cup are good and even better due to the home support. However, this Brazil team is not of the standard of past Brazilian dream teams. We should give them the respect they deserve but as Mexico showed in the Olympics if you can get in their faces and not let them have it their own way then they can be beaten.

 

Uruguay, they are not even there yet. They are likely to be but they have struggled too. For me the Cavani, Suarez partnership is not as formidable as the last world cups Forlan, Suarez combo. But on their day they can probably beat anyone.

 

The Others; Colombia, Chile and Ecuador. One name Falcao. Colombia are said to be a dark horse. I am not sure why. Saying that England should beat these nations because we are England is silly. These teams will give us problems, especially having the home continent advantage yet at the same time we should be equal to them and beat them because we are England.

 

4.    The Youthful Injection:

So Andros Townsend and Daniel Sturridge looked mightily impressive and Wellbeck did well backing them up. Yet there is a long old season ahead of them and I fear that Townsend may not get played at Spurs. But suddenly England have a lot of youngsters emerging, Wilshere, Cleverly, Chamberlain, Ravel Morrison, Barkley, and a lot can happen in a season. Just look at the careers of the Welshmen Gareth Bale and Aaron Ramsey. One year they weren’t doing too much to talk about on a football pitch and then suddenly they are fantastic. So why can’t one of our English lads make such drastic improvements before they head off to Brazil?

 

5.    The Last Hoorah:

    

     And finally for some of the so called “Golden Generation” players, such as Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard and Stevie G, this will probably be their last world cup and their last chance to show how “Golden” they really are. Maybe just maybe they will give us a last Hoorah to remember.

 

Maybe this is blind optimism but hey it’s time to believe, otherwise what is the point?

 

What's Up With Wednesdays? The Cure for Spotting a Weed Farm.

The Cure for Spotting a Weed Farm Next to You

 

So Conor Woodmen of the Guardian has so kindly let us all know how to spot a cannabis farm in a suburban mist, which has inspired me to go on a one man vigilante mission to crack down on this growing concern. Having grown up in a countryside village with neighbours living in massive houses and owning flashy cars I always wondered how they afforded such things.

 

“The latest Independent Drug Monitoring Unit report suggests there are now as many as half a million people growing cannabis in the UK, which equates to roughly one on every street. So how can you spot the cannabis farm next door to you?” says Mr Woodmen. I knew it knew it, I knew it.

 

I should have known it before just by knowing the people round my way. They are so shady; going for walks with their dogs down a country lane or two is clearly a scouting mission to find the best location to grow. All of those family bike rides with the kids, clearly just a front to hide what is really going on in those greenhouses. Growing tomatoes Mr. Robinson? I think not.

 

So the first guidance is smell according to Mr. Woodmen. A cannabis crop takes about three months to produce. During the final four weeks, the plants stink. It always smells round my way. Suspicions confirmed. Follow your nose is his instruction. So I did and the best way to do this is to dim all of your other senses. So I closed my eyes sniffed around and followed the stink in the air to its source. As I walked I moved away from the cemented road to a squelch underfoot but I persisted knowing that the cause was worthy, the stink got stronger and stronger as I got closer and closer. It was quiet until I heard a “Moo” and I knew what it was. These growers don’t only grow they use the drugs and are so out of it they think they are cows. The stink was at it strongest now so I ducked my head down and opened my eyes; another “Moo” was released as the culprit panicked due to the fact that I had my nose up the rear end of a cow.

 

So, I made a quick exit, not wanting to get arrested for bestiality or anything but still convinced that my neighbours are criminal masterminds I did not give up, instead I remembered another two factors, Heat and Light. Mr Woodmen says “Growers can't get away from the fact that internal farming requires a lot of it: 2,000 watts running 12 hours a day in a small bedroom looks a lot like the sun, so look out for windows that are constantly blacked out to cover that up. Cannabis farms in spare rooms will have the tell-tale sign of curtains that never open. Those lights also give off a lot of heat”.

 

Jackpot, there is a house on my street just like that with curtains always closed as a strange man-made light shines through it. This must be it; time for a stake out and conveniently there is a tree right out front of the house. I took my camera; photographic evidence would be useful to catch this criminal. So there I was, up a tree, camera on the red alert as I waited for something to happen.

 

After about twenty minutes or so the front door opened and two women appeared saying “I’ll see you next time”. I was definitely on to something here, a blatant drug dealer on the monthly pick up from her supplier. So I snapped away knowing that if I gave these pictures to the police they would have this drug dealers profile on record. She even looked the part too in her baggy joggers wearing a white skull print cropped t-shirt from River Island with a silver necklace dangling from her neck. It was just as if she was in some Hip Hop video rapping about dealing drugs.

 

She carefully opened the car door as she did not want to spoil her perfectly manicured nails, which she probably had done for that trip to the Caribbean where she took two weeks out before jumping over to Colombia to pick up the cocaine; all evidenced by her beautifully bronzed skin. She drove away and I went snap, snap, snap with my camera to make sure I got her number plate before waiting again.

 

It was only five minutes until another car turned up; another female arose from her seat confirming my belief that this is a lady only drug cartel. I was not surprised. I had always wondered what those Wokingham Gossip Girls do all day with their comments of high spirits and positivity. According to Mr Woodmen Good Neighbourliness is another sign of having a grower next door. I’m on to you ladies. I am on to you.

 

To my fortune a gust of wind blew through the spare bedroom window adjusting the curtain so I could see inside. The grower walked in to the room gesturing to the lighted box, probably boasting about how her product is so much better than that Gossip Guys grower on the next street down the road. The drug dealer appeared wearing a white gown, or a towel. I thought it was strange but then who am I to comment on how a drug dealer pays for their goods?

The grower put her hand on the lid and again I started to snap away not wanting to miss a moment of the revelation of the cannabis that hid within yet only producing photographic evidence of a bikini clad lady climbing in a tanning bed to top up her tan.

 

In shock of unwittingly becoming a peeping tom I fell with a scream. I got to my feet a bit flustered and started to leg it with a shout of, “Oi, you dirty perv,” resonating through the peaceful evening.

 

Still I will discover who on my street is a grower. So if anyone fancies joining me on my neighbourhood watch committee for finding a Cannabis farm let me know.

Oh and here is the Conor Woodmen’s article if you want to start your own.

NO COW, TREE OR WRITER WERE HURT IN THE MAKING OF THIS POST AS IT NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

http://www.theguardian.com/society/shortcuts/2013/oct/15/spot-if-cannabis-farm-next-door

 

Marky Mark Mondays - Contraband

Contraband

So another recent Marky Mark classic from 2012. I have watched it at least a couple of times and the most recent being a little earlier. This film is a double whammy for me as it has both Marky Mark and another firm favourite of mine Kate Beckinsale, you know her in Underworld.

Mr Wahlberg is Chris Farraday, a retired smuggler who has gone clean by setting up a domestic security company. With his father in jail, his wife Kate Farraday fears her husband would have followed his father if he had continued his criminal ways resulting in their two boys growing up without a father.

Yet their best made plans are thrown overboard as Kate’s brother Andy, still smuggling, has to dump his drug cargo  meaning that he owes the drug dealer Tim Briggs, played by the always interesting Giovanni Ribisi, who reacts viciously putting Andy in hospital.

Chris is forced to help as Briggs' threat extends to his immediate family but the sums of money are too great to do anything other than extreme. Chris consults his best man Sebastien, played by Ben Foster, who together plan to return to their old smuggling ways on freight ships. Chris sets off for Panama leaving Sebastien to protect his family but unknown to Chris Sebastian’s criminal past was actually never in the past.

Devising a cunning plan to foil the corrupt Captain Camp’s greed, played by J.K.Simmons, Chris and his unlikely crew of smugglers nearly crash the boat into the port. The action packed plan comes to fruition with a few twists and problems along the way whilst back at home his family are more helpless than ever. Betrayed by his closest friend and by his brother-in-law the odds stack up against Chris to deliver as the pressure to succeed becomes greater and greater. Yet Marky Mark cleverly takes down those who threaten his family and the corrupt Captain Camp in one swift move with he and his wife making millions in the process.

So a third movie where Marky Mark promotes the bond of family, doing all he can to protect his wife and children and steps in to the firing line in place of his brother-in-law, which is further emphasised by the bit part role played by his brother Robert Wahlberg.

Thecuretotheworld gives this film a 4 out of 5 star plus another star due to its shameless love of Kate Beckinsale, giving it 5 out of 5. In truth, if you love your action, crime, drama genre you will love this film but it probably is one of those if it is “your cup of tea” films.

Other Marky Monday films.

The Fighter http://thecuretotheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/marky-mark-mondays-fighter.html

Four Brothers http://thecuretotheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/marky-mark-mondays-four-brothers.html

The Cure to Making the Bed

Get a girlfriend and leave it for her to do. No, no. I am just kidding yet at the same time I am completely serious. No, no it is a joke yet it is only funny because it is true. I mean that it is just an old fashioned stereotype and as a modern man I am happy to do it myself; or not doing it myself and happy to make excuses such as “I am letting it air”.

Anyway, if you have not guessed what I did last night then keep up. I was making the bed, which for me is a regular thing because I like new clean sheets, the fresher the better for me. Call it OCD, call it whatever you like but there is nothing better than cuddling up and falling asleep in newly warmed sheets.

Yes I am a freak. I can’t just have new sheets that have been sat in the cupboard for a month waiting to be used. I need the fresh out of the tumble dryer clean. It is by far the best yet it is an art. An art that I have not yet perfected but here is how I do it anyway.

It starts like any other day, by waking up in the morning, forcing the eyelids open as you moan hate filled words towards the alarm clock. I admit it. I am not the best morning person. I am not the worst but communicating with people before 9am is a challenge for me. Why anyone would want to talk about things before 9am is lost on me. The answer to the question “What shall we do today?” only will get answers like sleep, hug, stay in bed all day or the such like before 9am. After that time I am like a hyper chimpanzee.

However, some mornings I do get the inspiration to wash the bed sheets. It takes about 5 seconds to strip them off; the under-sheet, the bed sheet, the duvet and the pillow cases. I throw the sheets and the duvet in the washing machine, chuck in the extra soft fabric conditioner, switch it on and then go about my day. It is okay to let them soak all day long. When you get back you chuck the sheets in to dry, not the duvet sheet now. It won’t dry in time. Don’t hang it over a door either unless you want the paint to peel or the wood to stain. Wash the pillow cases and then when they are done dry them with the duvet cover; it should all be ready by bedtime.

Now here comes the important part, this bit Is all about timing, the quicker the better. The sheets should still be luke warm and the duvet and pillows should be amazingly warm but to get the most out of the cosiness. I used to have a double bed that you could walk all the way round so getting the sheet on it was swift and easy but now it is up against the wall it is just a hassle. I can’t reach the far side of the bed, the wall is in the way. I need a sledge hammer to overcome the obstacle in order to make room for tucking the sheets under the mattress.

It is a struggle but I struggle away. Yes I do, it never quite looks like something out of a catalogue but it does me. Then on to the duvet. For me, this is where you really have to get stuck in. I take the quilt with the corners in each hand, the tags at the bottom, the tags are always at the bottom. I then dive into the quilt cover finding the matching corners before standing up as if I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween; a ghost that could not find a white sheet so thought the curtains would do yet nevertheless still a ghost.

The warmth spreads all around me falling in to place as I creep out. I match the last two sets of corners together and I am a ghost no more. Back in the land of the living I button up the buttons and then take the duvet and giving it a good and thorough shake until I lay it to rest. With a cold chill I quickly jump in and wrap myself up to await the dreams or the nightmares to come; not caring about which because they seem one of the same.

Women's Institute's Cure

So Captain Darch has written a book about his terrifying ordeal as a captive of Somalian pirates. He went to speak to the Women's Institute about the ordeal and his book and guess how they greeted him?

Apparently he took it all in good humour.