Simon Wood

Posts Categorized: hump day post

HUMP DAY: Bacon, The Real Thing

Americans love to pick on English food and while I acknowledge there are some crimes against culinary humanity in my homeland, America, you’re no innocent in that regard either. However, I’m not here to stick it in and break it off about your food, I’m here to educate you on something that’s driven me made for the fourteen plus years I’ve lived here—and that’s bacon.

“What!” I hear you cry. “This is America and bacon is as American as apple pie.”

Yeah, whatever is what I say.

We are two people from two different places and we are also people that get our bacons from two different places.

This is your bacon. It’s essentially pork belly. And like most people’s bellies, it’s fatty. Well, very fatty. I can’t tell you the time I spend in restaurants playing “find the meat” on a strip of bacon. I don’t want the blubber I want the meaty goodness. I look like a weirdo cutting the fat away just to eat a couple of fingernail-sized pieces of meat. I don’t know who told you nice folk that this was your only option when it came to bacon. They had to be a bad person—and shame on them for deceiving you. In England, this kind of bacon is called streaky or poor people’s bacon as it’s the cheapest cut.

May I introduce you to some bacon nirvana. The picture to the side is what I know as bacon. It’s from the back. It’s mainly meat with just a thin sliver of fat. Doesn’t that look gorgeous? Doesn’t that look edible and appetizing? The big complaint about British food that you people have is that it’s invariably overcooked. Vegetable go on the boil the week before they’re need and a meat has to be cooked through and back, whereas medium rare is the norm that all food is judged by here in the US of A. So why in the hell do you guys cremate bacon? Most bacon I see is brown and is as dry as an Egyptian mummy’s wrappings. Can’t you see how lovely this alternative is? Can you see how meaty is it? Can you see that it only needs to be cooked just a tad? Can you see how much healthier it is for you?

I know you’re answering yes to all these questions. So in the name of all that’s holy, can you please start stocking it here? I’m tired of having to import bacon or having to do dodgy deals on the bacon black markets.

Now that I’ve shown you another way, what’s it going to be—the old way or my way?

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Hump Day: A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND

Hopefully people have been keeping up my weekly quote in my A Little Something For The Weekend feature. You may or may not have wondered if there was a meaning to my A Little Something For The Weekend posts. Well, there is and it’s connected to the phrase “A Little Something For The Weekend.” If you’re English, the phrase will mean a lot. If you grew up in my dad’s era, the custom was to get a haircut on a Friday night so you looked your best for the weekends and ready to impress the ladies. When money changed hands with the barber, he was likely to say, “A little something for the weekend?” This was code for “Do you want any condoms?” And that was how Jack the Lad got hooked up for the weekend.

Now picture a younger and much smaller Simon. From the age of seven, I was allowed to go to Graham’s, the local a hair salon to get my hair cut. Graham was a pretty cool guy, a typical hairdresser from the 70’s. Very much a ladies man. The vast majority of his salon was dedicated to the ladies, but one corner was an old school barbers, complete with private entrance. It was dark and grim compared to its more extravagant ladies side. Graham would come around to the gents side to cut my hair. He’d put a wooden board across the arms of the barber’s chair to cut my hair. A right of passage for me was when Graham said the immortal words, “Simon, we don’t need the board anymore.” I was a man (at age 11¾).

However, Graham wasn’t always available to cut my hair, so Graham’s only other barber stepped in. Now this guy was old, old school. It didn’t matter what you asked for, you got the same cut short back and sides that street urchins have been sporting since Oliver Twist was a lad. Needless to say, the first time he cut my hair and I went to pay him, he muttered the immortal line, “A little something for the weekend, son?” I was nine and I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but everyone else did in the room and had a good old laugh at me. I asked my dad what it meant and I had one of those father and son “in the shed” meetings to discuss the matter. I was appalled by what it meant. It was…well…yucky.

So “A little something for the weekend?” holds special meaning to me—sort of…

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HUMP DAY: Cell Phones

I hate cell phones. A technological marvel has become the 21st century equivalent of the cigarette. If you don’t believe me, watch people light them up at the end of a plane flight.
My problem with cell phones is that no place or event is sacred or private. The phone can go anywhere and people forget the world can hear them. To show the limitlessness of place and respect for others, here are a couple of sample conversations:
“Hey, Terry, what’s going on? Me, I’m in the airport, taking a leak. You too? Snap, brother.”
“No, you haven’t caught me at a bad time. I’m at grandma’s funeral. No, I didn’t like her, but I’m hoping to get a slice of the inheritance pie, you know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go, buddy. I’m in the middle of the eulogy.”
Cell phones have become status symbols. Who can forget when you could by a shoulder holster for your cell phone? You looked as if you were packing heat and not just a lack of personality. Thank God those days are gone, but we’ve moved on to the more tedious. Now we have Bluetooth headsets. People can go around looking like a castoff from Star Trek. Now when I see someone talking to themselves, I don’t know if they’re a street crazy or not. I have to put effort into finding out.
Okay, I sort of see how having a plastic thing clipped to your ear can look cool, but you need to have the right ears for it. I see too many people with weak ear cartilage wearing them. Every time they move, their ears waggle and bend from the weight of the earpiece. A far from cool look.
Personally, I want cell phone users to be treated like smokers. If they are considered polluters then excessive cell phone users should be too. So I would like to see restaurants and public places having “cell phone user and non-cell phone user sections.” That way those that love ’em can be together and away from me.
By the by, do I have a cell phone? Yes. Isn’t hypocrisy great?

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Hump Day: Short And Sweet

Screw big and tall stores!

There I said it. Yeah, I’m heightest and circumferentially biased. So sue me. I have good reason.

The reason I’m anti-big and tall is that no one does little guy clothes. Everyone assumes you can wander over to the “mommy’s little soldier” department and pick up something petit there. Well, I’m sorry, that doesn’t work for me. Do you think I actually want to wear “Finding Nemo” and “Spiderman 2” tee shirts? Actually, I do, but that’s not the point. Getting clothes from the children’s section shouldn’t be the solution. Sometimes, I want to wear grown-up clothes, just in small sizes.

What has really gotten me riled up is former heavyweight boxing champion, George Foreman. Having now grown out of his obsession with grilling food, he’s moved on to the clothing business. He’s promoting Casual Male Big & Tall’s Signature Collection. This is a range of clothes with expandable waistbands and collars, courtesy of a telescopic tab that bridges the gap when you can’t button up that collar or your trousers. There are also shirts and jackets with insert panels for that little extra room.

This is another example of big people throwing their weight about to get what they want. It’s easy to see their problems because they are so visible. Well, little guy issues are big issues too. I shouldn’t have to have every pair of jeans and trousers altered because 28-Short or 30-Short isn’t all that short. When I put on a shirt, it shouldn’t come down to my knees and I shouldn’t have to follow a careful rolling and folding procedure to prevent myself from sitting on my shirttails and garroting myself. It would be nice to wear a hat that doesn’t double for a bucket.

The US prides itself on being an equal opportunity nation. It’s a land of minorities made up from people recognized by their color, sex, creed and disability. One minority that is never mentioned is men of reduced size. Well, little men have the right to be heard too.

I want to form a pressure group that will force state and federal governments to recognize the plight of the little men. This is my list of demands:

1. Trousers to be manufactured with an inseam of less than 30″.

2. Stores to stop stocking the small sizes on the highest shelves because it’s funny to watch little people jump up or ask a tall person for help.

3. The halting of all snide remarks from shoe store clerks who say, “You know what they say about men with small feet?”

4. The installation of adult high chairs in restaurants and the elimination of barstools by 2013.

5. Randy Newman to serve a life sentence for his song, SHORT PEOPLE. (You might not want any short people around you, Mr. Newman, but don’t worry, we ain’t too keen on you, either!).

Remember you heard it here first. The little people are rising up. Just mind your ankles.

UPDATE: It looks as if my prayers have been answered. Peter Manning has Peter Manning Five-Eight that makes clothes for men under 5′-8″. About time.  :=)

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HUMP DAY: Resolutionary!

I’m quite lazy at heart.  I’m driven, but I need a chauffeur.  Since I need to set myself goals to ensure I finish things, I always make New Year’s resolutions.  So here are my 2014 New Year’s resolutions.
Reso #1
To enjoy life a bit.  Last year was pretty successful: my books sold well, Julie landed a great job, and we bought a nice house, but we hit a bunch of stumbling blocks that pushed us to our limits at times.  This year I hope to have a little fun along the way.  J 
Reso #2
I still want to finish a 100k bike ride in 3hrs or less.  It’s the same resolution as last year…and is likely to be one that sticks around for a few years to come.  J
Reso #3
Be healthy. I’m still managing my health since my bike accident two years ago.  2014 is the year I get myself right…and accept the things that will always be wrong.
Reso #4
To get back to my short story writing.  Didn’t write one last year and that’s not right.
Reso #5
Have a vacation.  It’s been a while…
2014 is going to be a busy one with a lot of hard work, but I hope to have some fun at the same time.  And what resolutions do you have on your list?

Happy New Year and I wish you all the best. 

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Hump Day: Moths

I hate moths. I hate their fluttery wings and that powdery crap that comes off on your skin when they touch you. It’s like they’re made from a pharaoh’s wrappings. There has to have been some ancient curse placed on them. Think about it. They only come out at night and they seek purification by entering a naked flame. Walk into the light my children. All is good.

Now this fear isn’t totally irrational. I have good reason to fear these scumbags. About twenty years ago, I awoke and reached over for a glass of water and drank from it. Something was in the glass. I spat my drink back into the glass and flicked on the light. My room was filled with hundreds of moths clinging to the walls and ceiling and a bunch had fallen into my glass of water. I leapt out of bed and rinsed my mouth out, but I couldn’t wash away the taste of moth out. Since then I’ve made it my duty to kill moths. I spray them with deodorant. It dries out their wings and they die an arid death.

When I was in Costa Rica in ’96, I did get the chance to test myself in my own personal Fear Factor. In a nature reserve called Rara Avis, this Belgian researcher has this moth and butterfly habitat containing all these rare Central American species. I went in and there were these huge moths. Each wing was the size of an open hand. One came fluttering towards me.

“There are only three of these in the region,” he told me.

“There are only going to be two in a minute if it gets any bloody closer,” I mumbled.

The Belgian didn’t hear but the moth did and veered off.

It’s not all bad news. Nicole Kidman is afraid of butterflies. I think we should hook up and protect each other, as I don’t have a fear of butterflies or Nicole Kidman.

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HUMP DAY: Stormy Weather

It’s December and the weather is really on the change, so it got me thinking about the weather. Okay, England gets a hard rap about its weather, but overall, it rains a bit, it’s a little bit sunny, it gets windy sometimes and it’ll snow occasionally. Nothing to get worried about.

It’s not like that in the US. The rain can wash you away. The snow can bury a town. The wind can relocate your home to a different state. The ground can shake and make everything fall down. And I’m not really used to that. It’s just so aggressive. American weather seems to have no manners.

Weather-wise, it’s been a crappy couple of months in the Bay Area. It’s rained a lot. It might not seem serious, but it sorta is. If my sump pump fails (which it did), I will end up with a few inches of standing water under the house in an hour. The hillside I live on is prone to slides. Waterlogged land means additional weight that it can’t support. But this is pretty minor compared to some of my experiences.

My first visit to the US was to Oklahoma seventeen years ago. Now, I know the Midwest has its reputation so I was expecting some quirkiness, just not some quirks. I noticed most people drove cars with lots of little dents in them. This wasn’t as a result of bad driving, but the golf ball-sized hailstones that had smashed the crap out of their cars. I bought a hardhat after that tidbit.

I also noticed that most bars, homes, and restaurants flicked between sports channels and the weather channel. Okay, maybe to these people the weather channel is riveting entertainment. They probably watch C-SPAN for a little spice.

But, being the naïve pup that I am (forever underestimating the world and all its dangers) I missed something fundamental to the Midwest—tornadoes. And wouldn’t you know, I’d come to Okalahoma in the middle of tornado season. Well done, Simon. You found trouble once again.

People told me that it was unlikely that I would see a tornado, but they didn’t know me about my luck. About a week into my trip, the news hit that a tornado was heading our way. Phone trees informed family and friends that people may be getting a one-way ticket to Oz if they didn’t batten down the hatches and switch over to the Weather Channel.

So there it was, I was facing a head on with a tornado and what was I supposed to do? The official advice: Get in the bathtub. No one had to tell me twice. I had everything I needed–bubble bath and a rubber ducky. Just before the twister reached the outskirts of town, it remembered a prior engagement in Missouri and took a right turn. We were safe!

I expected group hugs and counseling for the emotional rollercoaster, but there was nothing. As soon as the all-clear was announced, everyone came out of hiding and went back to their lives. It was surreal. I’d dodged a wind-driven bullet, but this was commonplace to everyone else. I wanted to celebrate life. Everyone else wanted to get some barbecue. What can I say? It’s a different world.

But here I am in California. We might not have tornadoes but we have earthquakes. I live two miles from an active fault line. A year ago, we were having an earthquake every few days for about a month. Some were mild, but some weren’t so mild with the epicenters less than less than five miles from my home. One earthquake threw me off the couch. During another, a wall slapped me in the back of the head. A couple I’ve slept through.

I must admit that I should have an earthquake kit in case of the `big one,’ but I do know what to do in an earthquake—get in the bathtub. I believe this also applies to wildfires and floods. Little did I know that in case of calamity, I should put my faith in the bathtub. Who knew the bathtub was such an omni-talisman?

To quote Cat Stevens: Baby, baby, it’s a wild world…

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HUMP DAY: Thankful At Last…

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not really into Thanksgiving.  As an outsider to the US, it’s an alien holiday that I’ve failed to warm to.  It always feels like Christmas-lite with Chrimbo just a month behind.  However, not to be the Grouch Who Maligned Thanksgiving, I do have a lot to be thankful for—if I squint a bit.
On the surface, it’s been a year that came with four flat tires.  It’s been nothing but problems and frustrations that have tested my faith in life and the world to the breaking point and a little bit beyond.  This came in the guise of moving house.   Julie’s firm was on shaky financial ground and she needed to jump ship and we needed to move house because it was time and our neighborhood had gone down after all the foreclosures in the last few years.  On the surface it looked like no big thing but it turned into eight months of hell.  First we went through the frustrating saga of being outbid time and time again by investors and all the wasted effort of writing offer after offer that went with it.  When we finally got an offer accepted, our mortgage lender pulled out at the eleventh hour, then proceeded to jerk us around for six weeks.  Every day came with ludicrous demands that left us on the verge of financial ruin with no recourse if the worst case scenario played out.  I remember being in a permanent state of rage to the point of threatening to burn down the house I’d just bought and the house I currently owned and telling whoever what the ashes could have them.  My mortgage broker, someone I’ve known for 14years, is scared of me.  So let’s say I wasn’t in a good place.  When it came to selling our old house, I was in no mood to take any crap.  I think our battle hardened state kept that house sale on track when that threatened to go sideways.  Naturally, this drawn out train wreck tainted my whole view of life, the year and most things.
That changed when Julie and I were reexamining events over dinner.  Actually, under all the wreckage, 2013 has been a good year.
·         Julie got a new job a few months before her old firm went bust. 
·         We found a really nice house and we sold old one for a profit (something that didn’t look likely a couple of years earlier).
·         I had a new book out, sold the foreign rights to a couple of others and had the second best year for book sales.  And I got the rights back to the Aidy Westlake books.
·         Julie’s throat surgery and slow recovery was disappointing but she seems to be moving in the right direction.
So all in all, it’s been a pretty good year.  It’s just that we went to war for every little success and didn’t have any fun doing it.  I’m trying to let go of all the anger and frustration and accept the end result.  Let’s just say that’s still a work in progress.  There are a few people who might end up at Miller’s Crossing should they cross my path.  But I am looking forward.  I’m hoping 2014 is a good year with plenty of plain sailing.  You never know, it could be the year that I’ll embrace Thanksgiving.
Thanks to all my friends that helped out this year and all my readers.
Happy Turkey Day, my fellow Americans.
 

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HUMP DAY: Doctor’s Orders (Whovian Style)

This weekend is quite special for me, as it marks the 50thanniversary of Doctor Who. 

For uninitiated, the show is about an exiled Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who ventures through time, space and history seeing off evil doers who’d otherwise destroy the universe or leave a dent at the very least.  The Doctor is around a thousand years old and possesses the ability to regenerate—essentially reincarnate/rejuvenate himself.  We’re on the verge of his 12thincarnation. 

He is without qualification the greatest superhero to have ever existed.  Sorry Batman and suck it Superman.

I’m a lifelong Whovian.  I’ve been watching the show since I was two years old and I’m still hooked.  Just hearing the mention of the show brings a smile to my face.  I grew up watching it at its height during the Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker eras, and their exploits are indelibly etched in my mind. 

So what drew me to this TV show?  I suppose the appeal for me about the Doctor was the endless possibilities.  He could visit any place in the universe, at any time, so he could be any where and when he wanted.  He could rewrite history and the universe.  What other character can boast those kinds of credentials?

My wife doesn’t understand my love (and possibly my obsession) with the show, but that’s fine.  She wasn’t me growing up.  She didn’t get to see the imaginative might that couldn’t help but brand its fans for a lifetime.  I wasn’t bothered by the cheap sets, over the top actors or the naff special effects.  All these shortcomings faded into the background.  The brilliance shone in the stories.

For many years the show came under attack for its violent content and if I’m being honest the show did scare me.  I remember being petrified of passing my local department store because of the mannequins in shop windows.  The reason for this was because aliens had come to earth and invented intelligent plastic and could bring it to life and have them shoot guns from inside their hands.  I was so convinced that all mannequins were creatures waiting to invade that at age three I managed to summon up the courage to go up to one to see if they dummies or  alien automatons.  I gingerly tapped a hand to see if it would flinch.  Imagine my shock when the hand fell off exposing a metal spike. Doctor Who was right!  They were monsters!!  My scream could be heard from a mile away. 

I remember the monsters in CARNIVAL OF MONSTERS being so scary that I couldn’t eat my dinner.  Because my Doctor Who privileges were subject to removal if I admitted I was scared, when my mum asked me why I hadn’t eaten my dinner, I told her it was because her food was horrible.  Yes, I was affected by the show, but I was never harmed.  The scares that Doctor Who conjured were in the roller coaster and carnival ride vein. The stereotype was that children (and some adults) watched Doctor Who from behind the sofa and I was no different.  My sister and I usually took up residence behind the sofa, watched it from behind our fingers.   The usual conversation between my mum, the sofa and us went like this:

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“If you’re scared, I’m turning it off.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Okay.” Sigh.  “So you’re not scared?”

“No.”

“So do you want to come out from there?”

“Noo!”

I’m not sure what kind of front my sister and I put on for my parents.  At the time, I thought it was pretty convincing—but in retrospect I’m not so sure. 

The show has broken my heart over the years.  Regeneration is the key to the show’s longevity, without it, it would never have lasted this long.  But when I saw Jon Pertwee regenerate into Tom Baker, I thought I’d never recover.  At that point, Jon Pertwee was someone I admired and I couldn’t see anyone being able to replace him.  But the BBC was very good at casting the Doctors.  Tom Baker was a more than worthy replacement, as was Peter Davidson & Sylvester McCoy—Colin Baker is probably the only exception in my opinion.  I think I was most shocked when Adric was killed in EARTHSHOCK.  The doctor and pals were pretty indestructible and it seemed to break a cardinal rule when they did that.  That story remains one of my favorites, partly because of that reason.  I believe Adric is only one of two companions to die.

Speaking of companions, I know many have come under considerable ridicule.  Can I just say for the record that I grew up with feelings (and in later years, urges) for every female companion the Doctor ever had.  They all had something.  Liz Smith had brains.  Jo had bubble-headed charm and a mini-skirt.  Sarah Jane had vulnerability.  Leela had few clothes and was mad keen on killing people (what wasn’t there to love about a girl like that when as a nine year old boy?).  The first Romana had class and timeless beauty.  Perry had cleavage.  And Melanie had red hair.

The show has made me very happy over the years and my only wish is that I’ll get to write an official novel or an episode for the Doctor.  I have one of two up my sleeve.  I also have the story for the Doctor ultimate destiny but I’ll only reveal it to a BBC executive.  It’s that awesome.  😀

So fifty years down the time stream where are we?  On the verge of a new Doctor.  A great reveal of the Doctor’s past.  And the kick off for another fifty years of travels. Come this November 23rd, I’ll be watching—from behind the sofa.  I hope you’ll join me.  Anyway, here’s forty years of my life in sixty seconds.
 

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HUMP DAY: Halloween Viewing

With Halloween around the corner, there’s still time to stock up on some scary movies at Netflix and your local video store (if any exist).  Here are my horror movie picks for this All Hallow’s Eve.
1.    THE THING (1982): Man is the warmest place to hide when aliens want to take you over at the South Pole.  The ’82 remake is the exception to the rule that remakes can’t be as good as the original.
2.     INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978): Another outstanding remake.  Set in San Francisco, the pod people are among us.  The great thing to note here is as creepy as this movie is, it was a PG, proving creepiness trumps gore.
3.    THE CHILDREN (2008): A movie from the UK about a Christmas getaway where as the children get sicker, the more dangerous they become.
4.    SESSION 9 (2001): A masterpiece in bringing out the gooseflesh.  A work crew clears asbestos out of an abandoned mental asylum to expose the insanity trapped within the walls and amongst the crew members.
5.     SPLINTER (2008): A wonderful low budget movie about a criminal on the run and his captives trapped in a gas station from a dangerous form of plant life.  Surreal and odd, but very effective.  This does everything right that the terrible RUINS did wrong.
6.    PONTYPOOL (2008): A small town DJ in rural Canada starts the early morning show as the wheels comes off his little community.  People are losing their minds and it could have something to do with the things we say. A cracking movie helped by the fact it pretty much takes place in one room.
7.    ONE MISSED CALL (2003): Kids in Japan receives voicemails from their future selves.  Of all the Japanese horror movies over the last couple of decades, this is hands down the best. Boiled candy will never be so scary. Just ignore the American remake.
8.   ONE MISSED CALL TWO (2005): One of those rare occasions where the sequel is as good as the original. This one delves into the origins of the first movie to give a satisfying explanation of events.
9.    THE CHANGELING (1980): I could have picked a couple of classic ghost movies such as The Haunted or The Legend of Hell House, but I wanted to go with something a little less known with The Changeling.  George C Scott rents in a haunted house to escape his own tragedies and ends up unearthing another.  A bouncing ball will strike fear into you.
10. A STIR OF ECHOES (1999): An excellent adaptation of Richard Matheson’s book about a man who sees ghosts after he’s hypnotized. Very atmospheric and worth watching for the hypnotism scenes.   
Well, these are just a few of my favorite scares I’ll be tucking into this Halloween, but what about you?  What’ll be playing on your DVD?

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