Dr Zhivago

I hate to tell you this, but I bought the Mail on Sunday last week and this. Of course its a crap paper with crap politics, but it had a free DVD each week. It was the TV adaptation of Dr Zhivago. I think it was panned a bit by TV critics, but I thought it beautifully shot, directed and acted for the most part.

Half way through the second part I found myself really disturbed by the character Strelnikov. The first world war, and then the Russian Civil war warp his idealism into monstrous avenues. And I thought to myself how like him I had been before I met Kaz. Strelnikov has no hesitation in using any means necessary to achieve his ends. The killing of thousands is nothing in the larger historical mission of the working class to usher in communism.

It is an issue I've always wrestled with. The working class defended their revolution, but gradually it was undermined by the party of Government, so independent trade unions are banned, the working class militarised and sailors gunned down at Kronstadt. The working class distroys itself on the alter ofwar to save the revolution- which ironically merely reinforces the evil of one party rule under the Bolsheviks as Stalin emerges- the red Tsar. Ultimately the revolution devours its own children.

The real message of Dr Zhivago- the movie- is the importance of the individual and the ability to love and be loved. Indeed Che Guevara said

At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.

If we are not inspired by love of family, friends and the abstraction -"the people"- how can we ever really commit ourselves to the task of building a new world where humanism lies at its heart? I'm not a religous person but I am reminded of a christian saying which goes something like "What gainth a man if he gain the whole world and loseth his soul?" If in the process of revolutionary change we are motivated by hate rather than love, then that hatred will permeate everything that we try to build and we will not gain the world.

Obviously as this was going through my head, I lost myself a bit and had to go back several scenes on the DVD...

Madam Y of Carpender's Park

The most intriguing comments I received were from the flirtatious femme fatale, Madam Y.

She said:

I am very disappointed that my sexy boots have not featured on your blog. Madam Y is feeling left out and has returned to Carpenters park feeling dejected. Make me feel good about myself please you wood craft folk master!

To oblige:

I first met Madam Y at Ty and Tina's just after Izzy was born, and we were doing that visiting thing you do when your mates have a baby. There's a very special atmosphere at that time which can never be equalled. I experienced the same feeling when my children were born. Its hard to describe. Its a quiet calmness soaked in tranquilty. Its like being in a village church alone. Except where churches tend to be cold, this was a golden warmth of hearth and home.

Anyway, Madam Y arrived with her intensely likeable partner.

She has an almost impish look, a bit cheeky, a bit naughty, a face made to smile and laugh. Dark eyes, dark hair cut fashionably short. A slim and stylish woman working in graphics (?) I think.

I've met her on a number of occasions since then. Both her and her partner are self employed and having two children on top, means that she must work like a Trojan. At one particular social gathering of the Goddards, she was wearing a fitted top, tight jeans and the most incredibly sexy boots I've ever seen. They were leather and knee high, if my memory serves me right. They had a little turn over at the top. Madam Y, being a mother and a woman of style, had managed to hit the balance between sheer indulgence, utility and mouth dropping sexiness... All from a pair of boots.

Now before you bleedin' well start... I haven't got a boot fetish or a need to be dominated...well maybe a bit! In those boots she should have signed herself off as Mistress Y! She told me how she'd worn them when taking the kids to school... I can imagine the looks she got from other parents.

Now, the thing is this. When you put on a pair of boots like that, does it make you feel sexy? Or is it just a prosaic thing? I mean, if I put a pair of walking boots on, I'm going walking. If I go on an anti fascist mobilisation I wear my DMs. So what does Madam Y think when she puts on those sexy boots?... "I need to get some more potatoes, the last lot were rotten, that's the last time I buy Mari Pipens."????!!!

These are questions that keep me awake at night.

Oh yeah, and she lived not far from me when she was younger...although to us Council Estate South Oxhey lads, Carpender's Park "birds" were always seen as devilishly sophisticated!

Feedback from my adoring fans

This morning there were some comments on the blog.... how exciting!!! Although one was sent three times...me thinks someone clicked the button too many times. I suspect an IT Luddite was responsible.

Madam P said:
are YOU TELLING ME that you have never noticed all your women friends have looked at each others breasts and not you ? we ve been happy for many years.

Walking eagle replies:
I never look at women's breast... well maybe a bit. I am after all a tit man...come to think about it, I'm a bum and legs man too. And as for eyes...don't even get me started on that one. I have no problem with "it", but I've never seen it before. Its a bit like a winning lottery ticket...I know they exist, its just that I've never seen one myself! Madam P, I'm glad you've been happy for many years...may you be for years to come!

Anon said:
We love your blog....the language is a bit too choice....but it's the best read!

Walking eagle replies: Thank you very f***ing much. Ty says that Google warns my blog contains offensive language...I've searched high and low and can find no reference to Jade Goody type speech regarding Shilpa Sheeti on this blog! Point taken but I write like I speak. I learned Anglo-Saxon at an early age.... you bastard

Man flu & pooing in the dark

Came down with a cold or something, which is a total bummer. Sniffing, hacking cough, high fever, feeling cold then hot, runny nose, feel like death warmed up... in short I'm dying. And instead of being allowed to gently expire on the sofa, Kaz produces one of her intermnible "to do" lists. I always try to put "Rodger the ol' man" on there...but Kaz won't let it get onto the list. Damn! Still you have to try don't you? As I like to say "You're a long time dead."

I lay on the sofa, a blanket tucked lovingly around me, whilst Kaz dressed as a Greek godess feeds me grapes from a silver platter.... see now I'm so feverish I'm halucinating!!!

We have a project in train at the moment. We are totally redoing our onsuite shower room. But its a bit of a task, new levelled ceiling, sunken lights, cloakroom toilet and handbasin and new shower, new tiled flooring and tiled walls. But it requires an electrician, a builder, a plasterer and a plumber... getting all those people into line is like herding cats. Ken, "The Odd Job Man of Ringmer" -first encountered in my blog- "Turtlehead of Light", did a great job and put up a new ceiling. Tim, our electrician, is due to come in mid next week. Between times there is no natural light... nor artifical light either for that matter, in the shower room. Being a bloke, when I do my ablutions I like to read something- Lord of the Rings, or War and Peace. But that's a bit difficult with no light. So I hit on a solution- I go into the bathroom with a head torch on! Makes me feel like I'm camping!! I only pray that the batteries hold out...

Snowed in, in Woodingdean!

Its been a bit hectic over the last week or so, with the right royal Blair Govt deciding to go ahead with quite possibly the most irresponsible privatisation of a public service to date. I'm referring, you may be suprised to hear, about the Defence Training Review. The idea is to close down loads of sites where training is currently provided, move it to South Wales and and sell it off to the lowest bidder. 4000 staff affected and potentially 2000 put into a compulsory redundancy situation... way to go, New Labour! Go back to sleep Britain, your country is safe in these fuckwits hands! Go back to sleep Britain; read the "Daily Shit"! Go back to sleep Britain, don't go outside, stay in and watch reality TV and live your life vicariously...in fact we have a private service provider to do it for you (for a fee).

Anyway, I'm involved in the PCS campaign to stop this job massacre and so was being interviewed on radio/TV etc and meeting the MoD. The Brigadier who runs the programme is genuinely bewildered as to WHY our members want to stay public sector workers! I'm looking forward to the bright New Labour spark who realises we could off shore the armed forces and get BAe Systems or Haliburton to run the show for us by privatising the General Staff et al.... Could you imagine the faces of the Generals, Air Marshalls and Admirals???!!!! Suddenly, privatisation would not be so warmly embraced!

Enough ranting....for now.

The snow fell over night and I had a meeting in Portsmouth, so I had to get up early. Some idiot had decided not to send the gritters out over night and the was mayhem at the crossroads at the centre of Woodingdean. As a consequence the buses weren't running and I couldn't get to the station. The picture above is my house beseiged by snow earlier today.

That was the night that was

God I feel tired today...

Saw Ty on Friday. We were supposed to go walking but rain stopped play. Instead we sat at my house and Kaz came home and we looked for villas in Ibiza. (This is a holiday we're all supposed to go on. Ty, who dances like my dad, wants to go to a super club or five. I can't think of anything more hideous, except possibly... no actually, I can't think of anything more hideous FULL STOP!) It feels like we're looking for a villa that can sleep the entire England Football squad, the WAGs, the coach, managers, physio etc!

Anyway, while we were doing this we sank several libations... well it would have been rude not to, wouldn't it? Latter we had a Woodcraft Folk district meeting at our house- where I had to drink some more gins.

The following day we started doing my favourite three letter thing... no, not that! I mean DIY! Yuk! I always feel like the schoolboy being dragged to the dentist, and try my best to prevaricate as much as I can. Ty, as always, has the solution. He throws money at it instead. I think I like his DIY activity more than mine. Mine involves measuring up, going off to B&Q, pondering, doing, appraising, standing back, drinking tea, swearing, being horrible to Kaz and the kids, sucking my teeth, rubbing my chin thoughfully etc. Ty's involves opening a cheque book and signing his name!

So Kaz dragged me out of the house and we went to the timber reclamation yard just behind the Grand Parade Art College near the all night cafe (the gutbuster breakfast after a night out would just about finish you off I recalled from my younger days). We looked high and low and settled upon a nice piece of oak which they cut down to size. The total cost £20. Bargain! And you get to feel smug and environmentally sustainable... as you drive your people carrier around the narrow streets of Hanover. Oh yeah, and I found a spindle for the banister, which has been broken for about three years... Well a job like that requires a lot of thinking about.

In the evening we were invited over to the Goddard's maisson. They cooked and we ate...my favourite combination. We did take wine (Fair Trade naturally) and a Belgian chocolate cake from the Co-op, which turned out to be as dry as a speech by Gordon Brown, and just as indigestible. Still the thought was there...just.

Ty and Tina, my ITC Luddite friends have finally joined the 21st century and...I don't know how to tell you this... they got BROADBRAND! And now instead of conversation, they lug the laptop from its cupboard and start showing you sites at the dinner table- WIFI has a lot to answer for!

So, Nigel comes round and the conversation turns to Ibiza again. And we start looking at villas that sleep 18 or something. Other villas that formed the backdrop for some photo shhot or other. Beautiful, minimalist and expensive. And all the time I envisage Izzy (Ty and Tina's gorgeous little girl just over a year and half) walking round with chocolate fingers or drawing with a red felt tip on the pristine white walls! My mind wanders and I think of the Durrell's in "My Family and Other Animals"... their villas always seemed like ramshackle affairs. Yet the villas were clearly a great base for enjoying yourself.

More and more drink gets consumed (Ty complained that Kaz and I didn't drink enough gin on New Years Eve, and so I'm trying my best to make up for it tonight). Another friend, I'll call her Madam X, came round but didn't eat...although as she got more drunk, and her words started to slur, she went off to the kitchen for a snack!

It was a great night. Just sitting around talking about college, exes and the problems of child rearing. Izzy was up for a good proportion of the night and then Izzak (her older bro- 14 years) took her off to bed to read my all time favourite tots book "The Little Mole Know Knew It Was None Of His Business". Its a book about a mole who some animal does a poo on. And he goes round with this turd on his head asking everyone "Did you do this on my head?" Its a true classic! I used to read it to my son Liam... whether he wanted me to or not!