Park Life

It's raining...nothing new.

As far as I can tell this is a great test for creationism and evolution because one of two things will have to happen in the coming weeks. As the rain continues to fall either a man in a large wooden boat will start collecting animals or my toes will start to develop webbing and gills will start to grow on the side of my neck. Mrs B is hoping I turn into Patrick Duffy in his Man From Atlantis days.

If a modern day Noah is collecting animals can I suggest he leaves things like rats and mosquitos to fend for themselves but if he needs some foxes, well there is a family of them in the park behind the ashram here on the hill.

As you may well know, the palace of wisdom in which I keep my two thrones sits high on a hill overlooking Mansfield. This lofty position has many advantages, not least being that we will be the last to get flooded. Other advantages are that in the height of summer the smell of death and the flies that buzz around the decaying corpses of kebabs and vomit, don't reach this high. There is some noise pollution through the winter months, especially if the wind is in the wrong direction, as we can here the animals howling from the nearby Field Mill Endangered Species Park.

The main joy of living in the clouds is that we back onto a park, a lovely open space in which can be seen all sorts of wildlife and nature. There are the aforementioned foxes, the odd rabbit or two and then there are the tits.

Yes, in the summer the park is filled with tits but not so many recently after the park was invaded by Stags. It would appear the Stags have escaped from the Field Mill Endangered Species Park!

You know the problem with Stags is they are so territorial and they spend all day rutting and bellowing about how fantastic they are. Even Stags that would have no chance of being given a second glance if they were in a bigger arena try and put on a great display in the park at the back of my house.

Sadly, Stag hunting is not allowed and the Mayor of Mansfield has declared them to be a protected species and he has even given them a nice shiny security fence to keep danger at bay.

They are now free to run up and down and roll on the grass pretending to be hurt without the fear of a local peasant out walking his dog, getting in their way. It's a shame really because for many years that is what the Stag enclosure was used for - local people would take their dogs, or their kids and a picnic, and spend a nice quiet day in the park.

There are some cynics who will tell you that the Mayor and the head Stag keeper are in cahoots and that some cash may have changed hands, but that would just be a cynical allegation with no proof behind it whatsoever at all! I'm sure that the Mayor just decided to allow the Stags to take over the park because it might make him look like an animal lover.

Well, I'm an animal lover too - I like stags, especially cooked in red wine!

All of this tomfoolery will come to a head, the peasants are revolting and have even desecrated the Stags territorial markings...what next I wonder? Watch this space.

The Guru Rises

I have been quite remiss in not communicating with my devoted yet shrinking band of followers lately - let's put that right shall we?

Mrs B and I have had a very full diary of late with work and family issues plus we managed to squeeze in a weekend away in the Forest of Dean - these are not excuses for my absence as I'm sure you have not really missed me.

Whilst in the Forest of Dean, we took the time to wander through Puzzle Wood which is where they film some scenes for Merlin - I did search for the boy wizard and Mrs B later admitted she was hoping to bump into King Arthur - charming! I didn't know he was on the list of chaps she would leave me for. I think Michael Ball is no longer at the top of the list - she seems to have developed a thing for Neil Grayston (Douglas Fargo in Eureka).

Mrs B's new crush

Mrs B and I celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary whilst we were away and I think that makes ours one of the longest celebrity marriages in history. With all the stress and strain of fame, we have found a way to rise above it all - it's called humility.

This is why we continue to shop in Tesco when by rights we should have our groceries delivered by Ocado - it's because we want to stay grounded and not forget our humble beginnings. You would find it hard to believe that as a little baby Guru I was raised in very humble surroundings, my bed was a straw filled manger and I could never get any sleep because all these wise men kept popping in with useless presents. It begs the question, how wise could they have been if they thought a curious little Guru would not try and eat the frankincense? Hang on, I could be getting my childhood confused with someone else's again. Anyway, humble humble...

We could shop at our new Sainsbury store but it's very dangerous getting across the car park as the old folks battle it out for the disabled spaces nearest the entrance. They don't care if the car gets a dent or two, it's probably on Motobility anyway.

Whilst we are on the subject of celebrity marriage, the news has just broken that Katie Holmes is filing for divorce...a real shock!

Tom Cruise seemed to have everything going for him - good looks, health, more money than he could ever hope to spend in one lifetime, dazzling white teeth, the moral compass of his faith...what on earth does Katie think she is doing? Just because he believes in all that Scientology drivel and hangs about with John Travolta does not make him a bad person. It makes him something else.

Does the Church of Scientology believe in forgiveness I wonder? We will see.

The Church of England does believe in forgiveness as we witnessed the artist formerly known as Mrs Windsor shaking hands with the artist formerly known as a murdering cowardly scumbag.

The Queen personified grace and Martin McGuinness personifies progress I suppose - that handshake might move the peace process on a little further so it should be applauded. I recall having to write an essay about the threat of terrorism, this was in 1978 and so the bulk of the essay was concerned with Northern Ireland. Imagine if you were sitting down to write about terrorism today -  Ireland would not even get a mention I suppose.

The world has changed a lot in the 28 years that Mrs B and I have been married, for one thing she is now officially the cleverest member of the family as her first class honours degree out classes my 50m breast stroke badge. She continues to impress me and her latest piece of work is a 3000 word essay on mental health issues in young people and the co morbidity of other factors such as autism. She asked me to read it and I pretended to understand it but there is no doubt that Mrs B knows her stuff when it comes to dealing with mental instability - that's why she's managed to put up with me for 28 years!

So what else is happening in the world? Nothing new - bankers are wankers, the England football team didn't win anything, Wimbledon is here so it's raining lots, Wimbledon is here so Andy Murray will get beaten by Djokovic, Wimbledon is here so the Wombles have gone on holiday to Hampstead Heath.

Nothing changes - MP's still can't answer a question, the Pope is still Catholic and bears continue to defecate in the woods although Mrs B and I didn't spot any evidence of that in the Forest of Dean.

I suppose that French chap had it just about right when he wrote that the more things change the more they stay the same...

Oh well, the chocolate shadow is visiting and he has just indicated his desire to go for a walk and as this is a democracy and there are only two of us voting, he obviously wins. That's positive discrimination in action.

Enjoy the weekend and I may be back in the near future to report on Andy Murray winning Wimbledon...actually there is more chance of me becoming a Scientologist!

Sunday In The Reign with Liz

Let's get the Jubilee business out of the way - well done Mrs Queen for lasting 60 years. There will be all sorts of parties celebrating your longevity this weekend and I understand that they are planning to send you down the river in a viking long ship which they will then set on fire, whilst they flambé you in liqueur and serve you with ice cream, very tasty.

All over the country other people, who had their names drawn in a lottery, will be flambéed too - making a chain of beacons as far as the eye can see. What a celebration. And best of all, those who get chosen for this task will be the lucky ones who don't have to watch the concert outside Buckingham Palace!


I know, I'm miserable...in fact I have been defending the Queen of late, some upstarts have been saying that we should get rid of the Royal Family and replace them, as Russia and France did. I pointed out that a fairly benign monarchy is much better than a politically minded, money grabbing criminal being in charge.

Anyhoo, I'm not here to talk about celebrating sixty years on the throne - and I have avoided all toilet jokes on purpose - I want to talk about one aspect of Mrs Queens job description...Fidei Defensor.

As head of the Church of England, our beloved Queen legitimises a state religion and no doubt over the course of this weekend she will be in and out of cathedrals and abbeys being blessed by bearded men in long robes (not Gandalf).

You see not only do we have to celebrate her long reign, we have to thank god for this gift to the nation - well some of us don't believe in god, and it gets a little irritating when we are told that all good and great things come from up above. The mighty and beneficent god that is creator of all things and whose word should be obeyed without question...resistance is futile.

The gap between faith and fact is wide and filled with bitterness as those who stand on the opposite banks shout their opposing views at each other. I don't deny the right of anyone to believe but there should be an equal right of not believing.  I do believe in some things, like pointing out what I see as inconsistencies in blind faith and belief and if any of the faithful want to point out any shortcomings in my own values - please feel free.

I was browsing Twitter yesterday and came across a post from one of those rabid religionists in the USA. For someone who is supposed to be bathed in the love of god, they displayed a great deal of hatred. They hate everything that isn't godly, saving special venom for liberals, homosexuals and President Obama. This one was also having a go at the Queen and the British, describing the whole nation as 'vile'.

The lady in question then posted about her son being diagnosed with an illness and she asked everyone to pray for his recovery - it transpired that she did not believe in medical aid as all the lad needed was the power of prayer to cure his diabetes...I would have taken the young lad into care at this point but that's just me.

I asked what was the problem with medicine and got no reply - well I didn't expect she would speak to a godless heathen from a 'vile' country.

But why do the ultra religious sometimes spurn medical aid?

As far as I can tell there is nothing in the bible that prevents the use of medicine, in fact there are passages which talk about taking the leaves from trees to use as medicine.

If they believe that god created all life, including germs and viruses, then why can't they believe that he would have created cures?

If they believe that prayer is the answer how can they not believe that the answer might be whispered by god into the ear of a scientist who then discovers a treatment for diabetes?

These are logical questions and most sensible folk, even the faithful, will have rationalised the possibility that a god who created man might have given him the wherewithal to make his own way in the world without always having to bother the creator.

You cannot get answers to these questions though, because if you question faith you are in the queue for hell. It's a bit like the queue at Tesco but you don't get club card points when you check out!

The concept of just accepting things as they are, to never question anything, well it just seems atypical of what I understand humanity to be about. We question and we search for answers and we make progress and as we look back over the course of the last sixty years, we can see that in the UK we have made great leaps forward. Mrs Queen has overseen a nation that has grown up in many ways, but I suspect that we will never shake the link between church and state, that's one thing that we all have to live with.

The number of people who go to church is falling all the time (and I think people who are so hateful in the name of god are helping the cause of the logical much more than I ever can) but the pomp and pageantry of the big state occasions, with all the religious trappings, probably secures the Church of England for a bit longer.

I suspect that the 'vile' British don't really mind if Mrs Queen goes to church or not, as long as she smiles and waves and continues to exemplify that best of all British qualities - dignity.

God bless her little cotton socks.

Sadly, the rain is blighting the celebration of the reign and the country will have to rein in its enthusiasm or perhaps not!

The 'vile' British will always come out on top because we will just....

1977 - 1978

Greetings fellow travellers, hope the sunshine isn't too much of a shock for you all?

The title of our lesson today is pretty much self explanatory, it is a reflection of one year in the life of the Guru, and that year is a period that ran from mid 1977 to mid 1978.

Don't fret pet, I'm not going to go through the whole year - it is just that recent events have had me recalling those years when I was a teenage Guru and this period was quite an important time in many ways.

It was a little over a week ago that I attended the concert that I reported in my last blog and of course one of the main attractions of that concert was the music of John Williams, specifically the music of Star Wars.

Star Wars was released across the US in May 1977, here in the UK we had to wait until December but in the meantime Meco released the Star Wars theme as a disco track and I must admit it was played an awful lot in our 5th Form Common Room during breaks and the lunch hour.

I can't recall how many times I actually went to see the film after it was released but it was enough to qualify me as a fan, and as I was already a Trekkie this only added to my geek status.

I will never tire of watching the films (Episodes 4-6 of course) and the music is never off my playlist - both the disco version and the original soundtrack version.

1977 was a great year, not only did we have Star Wars and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, there was also Saturday Night Fever, A Bridge Too Far and The Spy Who Loved Me.

The music of that era was to my liking - never really understood why the music of the 1970's is thought so bad. OK, we had David Soul and Leo Sayer but then we also had Fleetwood Mac, Abba, Stevie Wonder, and all the great dance tracks from the likes of Thelma Houston, The Village People and Donna Summer.

Punk was really getting started - I didn't join that party because I was not angry at anything - I was living a very contented life and so my musical taste reflected that.

Although the film of Saturday Night Fever didn't appear in the UK until the beginning of 1978, we had been hearing the soundtrack on the radio for sometime and I really did love that soundtrack because again it fitted my mood...I should admit that eventually I even bought a pair of white shoes which were proudly worn on the dance floor at various venues including Cinderella Rockerfella's in Lincoln.

Luckily Mrs B was not present at these occasions and I do wonder what she would have thought as I danced myself dizzy.

These were great times to be a teenager, and I suppose the death of Donna Summer and Robin Gibb have brought these memories to the forefront of my mind - adding to the great memories of the films we queued, and queued to see.

I'm glad I was born when I was and where I was, I had a very happy childhood and I was exposed to some great cultural influences - and how wonderful that the brightness of those times is captured forever in film and on disc and in our hearts.

Meco - Star Wars

Donna Summer - I Feel Love

Night Fever - The Bee Gees

Where's The Orchestra?

Forgive me, my children, for I have sinned. It has been some time since my last confession.

I was politely informed yesterday that I was neglecting my little flock so I return to the keyboard in the hope that I have not lost my touch.

A mixed bag of thoughts today held together by a tenuous link which you will have to try and spot for yourself.

I have been living the bachelor life for a few days as Mrs B is required elsewhere, and as yet I have not resorted to fish finger sandwiches as my only source of sustenance. Although tonight I will be savouring the delights of a Sainsbury's own brand Balti curry with a smattering of samosas as an aperitif.

You will please take note that the curry is not from Tesco - well I tend to avoid the place if not accompanied by Mrs B, as I am liable to say something politically incorrect to the staff...and the troglodytes.

The terror of Tesco aside, it was still bad enough standing in a short queue at Sainsbury's and hearing the checkout girl go through the checklist of statements that they are trained to deliver - the first being "sorry to keep you waiting".

"I've not been waiting, I've been queueing and there is a difference" came my rather barbed reply.

The girl looked up and almost swallowed her chewing gum. She then said, without the slightest hint of irony whatsoever, "sorry you've had to queue".

I decided to carry on being mean and said, "but I love to queue, it's why I come to supermarkets and may I say the quality of your queue is first class at the side of some I have been in".

I waited for the flash of inspiration to brighten her glazed eyes, but she simply lowered them back to her duties and intoned "do you need a bag today". (It was so deadpan it didn't even deserve a question mark).

I just gave up - "yes please" was all I could muster.

I packed my things and walked away thinking about how lonely and isolated she seemed to be, sat there in a huge building full of people and yet disconnected from it all. The corporate beatings in the back room as they drilled the statements like 'have a nice day' into her, had left her a very sad sight indeed.

I have also this week performed a funeral ceremony for a man who chose to live away from the rest of humanity, or distance himself as far as he could from the rest of us. He died alone under the wide and starry sky and was not missed for quite some time.

Now this would at first glance strike you as a sad tale but then you must remember that he lived this way by choice.

As I stood waiting to conduct his funeral I watched the wind blowing through the trees in the grounds of the crematorium and a thought came into my head. I included this thought in the ceremony and it passed over the heads of the few who had gathered to pay their respects, pretty much without effect.

The thought was this - when we are most alone we realise that we can never be totally alone because at that point we realise we are connected to everything.

Hearing the wind in the trees made me understand how a man on his own might hear god whispering to him, if he had that sort of mindset. Others may stand and hear the wind in the trees and tune into that more natural conversation that takes place between a man and his environment. I suppose it's a sort of pantheism or a spiritual humanism as we realise that although we may place ourselves at the top of the food chain, but we are still part of the food chain.

Is this too deep? Sorry, but I feel the need to press on - very much like a sanitary towel.

On Saturday I was lucky enough to go and see the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, perhaps I should say I was lucky enough to go and hear the CBSO. It was a brilliant concert in which they played the music of John Williams, with excerpts from Jaws, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Saving Private Ryan and Schindler's List.

An orchestra is made up of about 100 players and each of them bring their individual skills to the event and as they play you can see how lost they are in their part of the process of making music.  But it only works because the sum of all the parts is greater than their individual efforts. And yet, take one of them away and what happens?

Let us consider the case of the man who plays the triangle. It always amazes me that above the swell of the strings and the strident notes of the horns you can hear that 'ting' of the triangle so clearly.

The man who lived apart, the girl on the checkout, me without Mrs B, we all have our part to play in the orchestration of the music of life and I'm going to make sure my triangle is heard.

The battle to be who we are and who we want to be - what a challenge it can be on occasion.

In a world that is trying to beat us all into submission and sit us all at the checkout of life intoning bland statements by rote, we should never miss a chance to listen to the wind in the trees. You might just hear the wind, you might hear something that only you can hear but I bet the next time you do stand and watch the trees dance to the music of life, you will hear the triangle...because that will be you.