Forever Fabulous

Aunt Shirley
1938 - Christmas Day 2010

Sadly my glamorous aunt, whose early photograph graces the header of this blog, lost her battle with cancer on Christmas day. I’d known she was very ill for some time, and it was so hard to pick out a card to send to her, something that would sum up how very much she meant to me and yet something in those last weeks that would be purposefully light and would make her smile. After a good search I found a beautiful card of a stylish Art Deco lady, which just said two words - ‘Forever Fabulous’. Perfect, I thought, and I am so glad to say she thought so too.

XxX

If this is the last card you’ll see
Will you see it and think of me?
I hope so much that it makes you smile
And you can forget the pain for a little while
I wanted to let you know I care
That if you need me I’d always be there,
And that thoughts of you will sparkle bright
In my heart, throughout my life
I won’t be sad - I’ll think with fond laughter
About you forever fabulous in the ever after

Jayne, December 2010.
I didn't put this verse in the card, as that was deliberately kept light-hearted, but it was in my heart.

Don’t You Forget About Me

Goodbye John Hughes – a film director that really seemed to understand what it was like to be a teenager. Although there have been plenty of tributes to him already, please visit ‘We'll Know When We Get There’s blog and read her post ‘Sincerely, John Hughes’. It really is some kind of wonderful…

Tony Hart

As a child watching after school television, amidst all the mayhem of the Funhouse and the drama of Grange Hill, it was the calm creativity of Take Hart and Hart Beat that best held my attention.

I grew up fascinated by The Gallery, and would be inspired to new heights of crayon / glitter creations by the pictures sent in to be given their moment of glory on screen. My seven year old self could see instantly that I could draw trees better than ‘Lucy, age 8’ but how on earth did ‘Leon, age 7’, create that technically brilliant landscape? I still remember the picture I sent in – a beach scene with a cave and rock pools – but never saw it appear in the gallery. I wonder what happened to all the pictures – apparently the show could get 6,000 submissions a week. I bet crayola were happy.

Tony Hart had such a nice manner – he never spoke down to his young audience, and used his considerable artistic skills to fascinate and astound viewers. Blue Peter to some extent also showcased activity, but their finished ‘here’s one we made earlier’ product seemed a world apart from the starting kit of a slightly squashed toilet roll. Hart Beat, on the other hand, made more sense and appealed to my imagination. It made me want to draw.

It was sad news to hear Tony Hart has died, aged 83, and I hope he realised that he was a happy part of so many childhoods. Goodbye Tony, you inspired children to think creatively – I am sure your influence stretches far wider than you ever imagined. And in honour of his memory, I shall dig out my oil pastels and try to recreate that beach scene.

A few hours later... Click play on the clip below, and then scroll down - in my own way I made it into The Gallery after all!

Jeremy Beadle

Subtitle: How I find out about News Items in 2008

I click ‘send/receive’ on my outlook email, and watch as the figures reveal just seven new correspondences overnight. Ignoring emails about The Guardian archives for writers, and press releases about The Futureheads and something called The Adam and Ron show, I go instead to an email newsletter from a website called Retro To Go, and look at all the lovely radios, furniture and prints I cannot afford to buy. Then I read that the BBC are finally closing the school gates on Grange Hill. I obviously haven’t watched Grange Hill for years, but am saddened that the BBC didn’t find a way to update the school drama in a way that was relevant to 2008, in the way I was saddened that TOTP was gradually left to die in a forlorn Sunday slot.

So I think I might blog about Grange Hill, and go to youtube to see if I can find a Young Ones clip of Ben Elton doing a spoof of Grange Hill, saying they were the only kids in Britain that didn’t say f**k. As even though my generation think it was gritty and realistic when we watched it, perhaps there is a bit of that rosy glow thing going on there. However on youtube I find instead some tribute to 80's/90's TV shows, and click on that instead as I eat my cereal. Oh yes, Russ Abbot. Blankety Blank. TV-AM…. My eyes wander down the comments, although I usually don’t read them as all that LOL U SUCK! gives me a headache. Then I see RIP Jeremy Beadle and think what?

I copy and paste Jeremy Beadle’s name into google and click on the first entry, wikipedia. Uh oh, the entry has a death date, this could possibly be true… at this point I think it is time for serious news and go to the BBC website. And it is confirmed…

I loved Game for a Laugh when I was kid, and it was television my whole family sat down to enjoy. I can still remember my dad’s rich chuckles, which is priceless to me considering he sadly passed away a good many years ago. Later on, You’ve Been Framed made me long for a camcorder, as we watched large VHS videos being slotted into state of the art clunky video recorders to play for an audience. Isn’t it funny how dated technology can get so quickly?

Although I must admit, the premise of Beadle’s About scared me rigid. I find watching it, and the sort of shows that sprang up in its wake, almost painful viewing. This is a marked difference to what I thought about Game for a Laugh – perhaps I grew up more and my sense of humour changed, but I started to feel really sorry for the ‘victims’. Jeremy always did seem to time it well and appear just when it looked like said victim was about to call the police/punch a bystander/collapse in hysteria though.

In later years I accidentally caught his LBC show one Sunday, and it was bloody funny, not to mention informative. I couldn’t believe it was the same man that used to terrorise people with his fake beard on television. And hearing his voice made me feel all nostalgic and happy – one of those voices you grow up with, that somehow seep into your subconscious without even knowing it.

Yet it is only with his death at the age of 59, did I realise he did so much work for charity and raised over £100 million for good causes. Bless the man, so many people go through life without even giving a pound in the right direction. Even nicer in a way that it was not publicised, but just quietly got on with, like so many other people in the public eye no doubt do with little fanfare. Decent people, all of them. RIP Mr Beadle.