Editor on a 'power trip'? Surely not...

I am indebted to the good people of the excellent Venue magazine who have kindly (if just a tad embarrassingly) named me as one of the 100 most powerful people in Bristol and Bath.

I have to say I certainly don't feel that way but I am nethertheless very grateful and I promise not to spend too much money on the new hat to cover my vastly-swelled head.

For the record I finished in a 'challenging' 36th spot which I was bemused and pleased by as it put me ahead of such local luminaries as Ken Loach, the manager of Bristol City, Nicolas Cage (!), the artist Banksy and both our local MPs Dan Norris and Don Foster.

Rather more embarassingly as a Christian I find I am placed 12 places ahead of God because, apparently, 'acts of God aren't common around here'.

However, if that is hard for me or the rest of us to justify it is even worse for the the Bishop of Bristol Mike Hill who also finished nine places above his 'boss'!

Lies, damned lies, crocodiles, trees and statistics

This is a shortened version of my column in the Bath Chronicle of March 12.

I am sure you will all have heard the phrase “there are lies, damned lies and statistics”. Indeed, I have it on good authority that this phrase has been used 1,233 times before in the introduction to blogs like this.

But as the above comment proves, 67.4 per cent of statistics are made up on the spot so I think we should take ALL figures with a pinch of salt – unless they come from highly reputable sources.

Well, I’m happy to say a group of statistics released this week by a very creditable source – the NHS – has thrown up some amazing, intriguing and totally believable numbers which prove that yes, facts can be stranger than fiction.

The NHS’s Hospital Episode Statistics report has revealed the many reasons why people spend time in hospital - and trust me some are very odd indeed.

For starters, did you know that in a year, more than 1,000 people below the age of 60 had to go into a hospital bed because they had fallen out of their own bed? Or, that 404 people had to go to the hospital having had accidents with mowers? The one that really intrigued me, however, was the fact that 1,243 people had to go to hospital in a 12-month-period after falling out of a tree.

Out of as tree!

What on earth were they all doing up there? What is so great about being up a tree that makes you risk life and limb to do it? If your response to this is ‘kids have always climbed trees’ then answer me this – how come 12 of these people were aged over 75? I want you to picture somebody of the age of, say, the Queen falling out of a tree. Now you can see how weird it is.

If these physical mishaps are ones you can at least relate to (accidents will happen etc etc) , then there are other unusual reasons why people enter hospital which are probably a little bit more worrying. Did you know that in the period this survey covered (2007/2008), 21 people had to spend the night in hospital after being bitten by rats.

Does that unnerve you?

If not, then how about the fact there are also instances in the report of people being hospitalised (here in the UK remember) after bites from lizards, snakes and spiders? Best of all (although certainly not in his case!), there is also details of one gentleman who had to spend three days in hospital after being bitten by . . . a crocodile.

Try explaining THAT one to a nurse....

A little bit of research shows that even our super-fit sportsmen get hospitalised for the oddest reasons. I have seen reports of the great and good of the sporting world having to face doctors after injuring themselves doing everything from rupturing a knee cartilage after stretching to pick up the remote control or even getting injured while doing the ironing which hardly fits the macho world of sport.

Probably my favourite instance of a sporting injury, however, concerned a Red Sox baseball player in America. He wore false teeth and always took them out every time he went out to face a pitch. Sadly for him, one day he forgot to put the dentures back in his mouth and he left them in his back pocket.

As a commentator famously said, when he later slid onto second base, he then quite literally ‘bit himself on the ass’.

Classic.

Happy birthday? Baah humbug........

On Tuesday it was my birthday. Well, hip-hip hooray.

I won't reveal how old I am just yet but I had a perfectly pleasant day despite the fact that I spent more than 10 hours of it at work and it rained constantly throughout.....

The truth is, however, when you hit a certain age, birthdays just ain’t what they used to be. I can still remember the thrill of waiting for the big day when I was younger – and to be fair, I still see it in my two teenage children today – but these days it can all just feel like another hurdle crossed on the path to leaving this mortal coil.

It is very much the sign of the times that I received most birthday messages from 'friends' on my social networking site on Facebook. I put the word ‘friends’ into inverted commas because when you add someone to your site who you know, they are automatically classified as your friends. Thus, according to cyberspace, I have more than 200 such friends, but if so, how come I only received about half-a-dozen birthday cards from non-family members?????

To be fair though I was very touched by all their kind messages on tinternet - even the two who said 'happy birthday Adrian' in light of my apparent looka-a-like sound-a-like to Mr Chiles. As you can see here there is no connection.....

Anyway, the truth is, the older I get the more I fail to understand why we even celebrate birthdays at all. Now I don’t want to come over as the birthday equivalent of the ‘bah-humbug-Christmas-deniers’ but I wonder why we should be congratulated and lauded for something totally out of our control?

Indeed, I came to the somewhat startling (and possibly unique) conclusion a few years ago that on our birthdays we should actually have our own individual mother’s days, because it is them who did all the work. Being saluted on your birthdays is a bit like when you go to a social function and win the raffle for a box of Quality Street and people clap as you go up to collect the prize. Why??????? You didn’t achieve anything by buying a ticket and nor did you when you took your first breath after hours of motherly agony. . .

The other thing which I find different now is that I often forget my age or birth date. As I recall, this never happened when I was younger when it was etched on my brain and I started ‘planning’ for my birthday from practically the moment I had unwrapped the last Christmas pressie.

It is because I know how much children take their ages seriously that I came up with my own ‘Dragons’ Den’ idea (just admit it, we all have one!) which I’m now happy to share with you on the strict instruction that you can’t nick it as it is here in print and so I duly claim the copyright.

I was having a chat once with a former colleague of mine – the former circulation director in Bath, Mark Stroud, pictured here somewhat worse for wear. He is a fantastically funny guy who has a wonderful business brain and is always looking Del Boy-like to how he can get his first million.

So we tentatively shared each other’s Dragons’ Den ideas (his was a rubbish one by the way about how you keep your takeaway curry hot in the car) and I told him mine. And I could see him mentally counting the cash we could rake in . . . .

My idea is half-birthday cards. Ask any child of between seven and 10 how old they are and there is every chance they won’t just say eight or nine but eight-and-a-quarter or nine- and-a-half. These things matter to them so I think there is millions to be made (and huge misery to be put on parents and grandparents!) by having half-birthday cards to be sent six months after an official birthday.

Would-be investors can contact me at the Bath Chronicle – but please don’t do so on October 3 because I will be out celebrating my 45 1/2th birthday!

The universe and nuclear submarines (yep, a BIG subject!)

This is a shortened version of my Bath Chronicle column of February 21.


Allow me to say something that may shock you . And that is that the universe we live in is BIG. No, not just big but pretty damn massive. Think of the biggest thing you can think of and then multiply it by the biggest number you can think of and you might go some way to understanding just how big the word big can actually represent.


The reason I feel the need to express this so very loudly is because last week our galaxy suddenly seemed very small indeed - more of a Galaxy bar than an infinite Milky Way (if you get my drift). This occurred to me when I heard that two communications satellites had managed to crash into each other in space.













What I can’t get my head round is why, if our galaxy is approximately 100,000 light years in diameter, contains 200 billion stars and could be anything up to 1,000 light years ‘thick’, then how come two tiny satellites still managed to crash? With all that space to play with, it is surely impossible for two independent satellites to crash and need the space equivalent of the AA to help them?


I was just about getting to grips with this mindboggling accident when I picked up a paper and read about a recent crash in the mid-Atlantic between British and French nuclear submarines. Now, I know the seas and oceans of the Earth are not exactly of space-like proportions, but let’s not forget they too could reasonably be called ‘big’. There is billions of gallons of water swishing around by our land forms, so how did two nuclear submarines somehow manage to collide in the midst of all that? As Jon Snow pointed out on the news, I know these things haven’t got any windows but this is ridiculous . . .













And there’s another small, tiny, minuscule thing about this issue which also worried me. And that is the word ‘nuclear’. It has been revealed that these British and French submarines (whose sat-navs sound as bad as the cheap one I bought before Christmas), were carrying enough material to carry out (wait for it) 1,248 Hiroshima-size bombings. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem that funny any more does it? Put simply, this could have been the transport accident that may have ended the world. Barmy.


So, what does the fact that it is dangerous to go under the sea and into space (let alone on the local roads!!) tell us? What it tells us is simply that what will be, will be. All the planning in the world simply can’t account for the fact that there is simply no such thing as the impossible.


The chairwoman of CND said this week that what occurred under the Atlantic was a “nuclear nightmare of the highest order”. Just read those words again and ask yourself ‘if that was the case, how come fewer column inches have been devoted to our near-oblivion than the recent dusting of snow’?


Crazy world, isn’t it?


Oh, and perhaps not that big after all . . .

Shock horror...Slumdog wouldn't get my Oscar

Sunday is of course Oscar day and all the talk is that Slumdog Millionaire will walk away with the big prizes (unless that rather dreary looking Benji Button film beats it).

Well, it wouldn't get my vote from the available choices and I sense that is almost heretical at the moment in some quarters in the UK.

Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed the Indian feast that is the Millionaire movie...but I just thought there were better movies last year.

For those who haven’t seen the movie yet, Slumdog is billed as a 'feel-good' film but I just don't get that at all as it features torture, child poverty, abuse, murder and many dark moments. Just because something has a happy ending and a few laughs on the way, doesn’t mean it is a feel-good film.

The reason we love this film is because it takes you, literally and metaphorically, to a different place. And that is the escapism we all crave in Credit Crunch City.

For the record, however, I would argue that one of the other big winners at the BAFTAs, The Reader, is an even better film. Kate Winslet is absolutely wonderful in this challenging film and it is worth the entry fee alone to see her wrestle with her conscience as it is revealed that she has a horrible Nazi past.

It is up against Millionaire and Benji and others for the top gong so it won't win sadly but let us hope the Academy see sense and resist Angelina Jolie's charms to give 'Dame' Kate (only a matter of time!!) the actress award she deserves.

As it happens, although not nominated for the top Oscars, I also thoroughly enjoyed three other films last year in what may just have been a vintage year.

I loved Batman movie The Dark Knight (I don't normally rave about superhero flicks but this was outstanding), The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas (a film which made my entire family cry) and In Bruges which was a fantastic black comedy and a real cult movie in the making.

Oh and even though not many others did, I want to reserve my last praises for Valkyrie, the story of the 1944 plot to kill Hitler. That is a cracking movie which didn't get the credit it deserved because of the bizarre anti-Tom Cruise feeling that abounds in some quarters. A real shame that because he, and the rest of the cast (especially the extraordinary Bill Nighy) really made this great story come alive.

Crunch or no crunch, we NEED entertainment

This is a truncated version of my Bath Chronicle column of February 12

Last Tuesday morning at the latest of our excellent Bath Chronicle business breakfasts, we enjoyed an entertaining talk by Alex Timms about how he is trying to put a smile on the city’s face with the launch of the first Bath Comedy Festival, which begins (appropriately enough) on April 1.

In many ways it could be argued that at a time of such economic doom and gloom, this sort of festival might seem like a good idea but at precisely the wrong time. There is no money around, you could say, and let’s face it, there’s not much for us to laugh about either.

But, quite contrary to this, it could be that the festival is arriving at exactly the right time.

And that is because when the going gets tough we tend to get going. Going, that is, on the lookout for something that will feed our need for escapism and fun.

Towards the end of Tuesday morning’s session, Nod Knowles, from the Bath Festivals, reported that despite the economic situation which has affected everyone from prince to pauper, ticket sales for the forthcoming literature festival are better than ever.

In addition, I was delighted as a keen fan of both film and the Little Theatre, to see our report that this superb cinema had its most successful week ever in January.

The signs are therefore clear – when money is tight, people are still prepared to dig deep to find ways to cheer themselves up and, for that reason, the idea of a comedy festival in the bleak midwinter of our economic gloom suddenly seems very logical.

Of course, people will only turn up for entertainment if it is of good quality and that is where the literature festival, the Little Theatre, the comedy festival and indeed the Theatre Royal (have you seen their latest fantastic, star-studded programme?) have scored.

When every penny counts, every event must be of a standard to get us to part with that cash and it seems all the local entertainment providers have taken up residence on Quality Street.

But can a comedy festival or indeed a dance, singing, music or fringe one really work in a climate where there are more tears than cheers?

The answer is an emphatic yes because we need quality art, quality culture and great escapism now more than ever.

Salute the 'rock of ages'

This is an edited version of my column in the Bath Chronicle of Thursday, February 5.

On Thursday morning, I will be sitting on a hot, sweaty coach bound for the delights of Paris surrounded by around 80 old punk rockers who really should know better.

For, as I’ve mentioned in my Bath Chronicle column many times, I am a devoted (or as some would say ‘dangerously obsessive’) fan of those delightful musicians called The Stranglers and over the next couple of days I will be joining a double-decker bus worth of fellow stalkers and groupies in following the band to see them in concert in both France and Belgium.

This trip has been organised by one of the band’s biggest and most committed fans, Owen, who thought he may get a little bit of interest in the idea of a European road trip but was duly overwhelmed at the response from fellow fanatics.

The fact that those of us in our 40s are still willing to laugh in the face of the credit crunch and indulge our teenage-borne passion proves that rock music is now like classical and jazz in that there is simply no age limit to enjoying the art.

Once upon a time rock and pop were regarded as the preserve of the young but nowadays that concept has been well and truly blown apart and I regard this as very good news.

Put simply, I never want to “grow out” of loving high quality rock music and trust me, oh reader, there is no greater quality than the might of The Stranglers.

And it is not only the fans who are ignoring their birth certificates in all of this because most of the bands are ‘knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door’ themselves. The Stranglers youngest member has only been with them for around eight years and is a mere boy at the age of 44 but the bassist and keyboard player are comfortably into their 50s while our ultimate hero, Stranglers drummer Jet Black, is now 70. Seventy is an age where many think of the pipe and the slippers rather than the base drum and the hiatt but nothing seems to stop ‘young’ Jet and this enthusiasm is symptomatic of the fact that rock no longer belongs only to those with youth club membership.

If you wanted any further proof, last week I bought the new album by another of rock’s elder statesman – Bruce Springsteen – and it is an absolute joy from the start to finish.

Although he is heading for bus pass territory, Springsteen gives not a hint of failing powers and in many ways his new album is as fresh, uplifting and exciting as any he has done. Age simply cannot whither his infinite variety.

So as I toodle across Europe this week I do so safe in the happy thought that I’ve got at least another 20 or 30 years of this to come. Lovely.