Simon Duringer's Blog, page 25
August 26, 2014
Another little video
Enjoy...
The Word Volume 1 - Best of Simons 10 Q Interviews
Doctor Who is back… and this time he’s Scottish
I suppose one might suggest this post is about books, after all I used to read them as a child!
But Doctor Who is back for a 12th series and this time is at the helm. I’m not so much a Doctor Who fan these days, but do remember those terrifying daleks back to when I was aged of 4 or 5. A bit of encouragement from my older brother left me in no doubt they were real and out to get me. I recall squirming each time the show aired! For those unfamiliar with the earlier series with the likes of Tom Baker, look no further, here’s an Amazon link to take you to Doctor Who DVD paradise…
Who knows those early scares (and I kid you not, I really was scared!) may have contributed to my lifelong bouts of insomnia. But hey, I forgive you brother but still think Tom And Jerry was a better option…
So, I have seen many an enthusiast in my time but somehow I can’t get on with the show. Perhaps I was scarred as a child by the efforts of my brother to be left in peace to watch the show by his ingenious and believable tale that I was the daleks number one prey. Perhaps I was just too young to be sitting in front of such horror full stop! Seriously, I was not being a wuss… in those days we only had three TV channels and at the age of 4 everything I saw was real… The words “We will exterminate” were never far from my mind…
I do have a past with the Doctor, both types actually, once simultaneously! Around the same age of my brother’s teasing, I was invited to a birthday party and we all travelled off to a Doctor Who Exhibition. I don’t recall much of the day or Doctor Who
, just the banana skin that I slipped on (yes, really), the slide my forehead made contact with, and the ambulance that arrived with full flashing blues to cart me away and stitch my head back together…
Doctor Who also came to visit one of our control rooms a few years back. They used the backdrop of our South Wales Control Room with its huge BARCO TV wall in one program… I was in North Wales at the time, but can you imagine the staff hiding under desks attempting to keep an eye on the M4 as daleks rolled across the room!? Of course, technology being what it is, most of the edit was done after some brief periods of filming. However, one female operator’s leg famously appears poking out from under a desk where she had briefly been asked to remain out of sight!
So, Peter Capaldi has already set new records for an opening episode of a new series of Doctor Who by drawing in 7.3 million viewers on Saturday night. I am sorry, but it is still not my cup of tea, and whilst I wish all of you Doctor Who
fans the best with your new leader and I promise not to spoil it by telling you the outcome of the series in advance, I shall be watching something more sedate, like Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares
or indeed Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen USA
which comes on well after the watershed, but has actually began winning me over, though it has put me off eating out completely!
A bit more light hearted today, so let’s end in style…
May the force be with you… Ah no that’s something else,
Ermmm… May The Telephone Box be with you…?
I think I’m gonna get in trouble. Beam me up Capaldi, I mean Scotty?
Have a great day…

August 24, 2014
Asbos for terrorists… *Eh?*
Once again, they slice, they score… I’m not going to paint it as something it is not. It is awful, barbaric and quite simply a brutal act of murder. Sure there are many risks to becoming a war correspondent as many of Simon’s 10 Q Interviewees are aware (See specifically Martin Fletcher’s longest walk).
Deepest respect go to the family of James Foley (R.I.P.). I can’t quite imagine what positive can be brought out of this utterly negative act, which certainly isn’t the first of its kind, and never does anything either at home or abroad, other than to incite hatred between entire races of people. But one thing it has reminded me of this morning, which also has made my skin crawl since being a serviceman, is how the ‘rules’ of war play out.
“Rules?” I hear you mutter… What rules…?
Hell yes, our own soldiers carry a small card, if memory serves it is JSP 398 (I may be wrong on the number), which outlines a serviceman’s rules of engagement that must be adhered to before opening fire on a potential enemy. One of the most amusing (note there is much sarcasm and cynicism in this post!) aspects of the UK version of these JSP’s is the requirement of being shot at before returning fire. In other words, give the enemy a free pot shot at you, hope to God he misses and then shoot back, if indeed you have the chance or are still able. Of course our British pomp would suggest that any other way is “Simply, not cricket!”
I once had a conversation with a US serviceman at RAF Fairford’s RIAT about the American understanding of our JSP’s of the time. I had been drafted in as the Joint 2nd in Command of night security for the base for the duration of The Royal International Air Tattoo (RIAT). It was due to take place within days of Osama Bin Laden’s latest threat of the time. The air show, one of the largest in the world, was almost cancelled. The concern being that over 100,000 civilian visitors a day would have been something to make any serious terrorist salivate and given a few open and globally announced threats of attack at the time, the prospect of cancelling the show was considered very carefully and at the highest level. But, the British ‘stiff upper lip’ prevailed and we simply quadrupled an already large security presence…and the show went on.
During my first perimeter drive of the evening with my Provost 2IC counterpart, we saw two cold and rather serious looking armed American servicemen standing and guarding a tiny gap left between two near-closed enormous hangar doors. “Let’s go offer them a sandwich” I muttered to a rather nervous looking Provo officer. We were checking on our guards anyway and had plenty to go around. But as I drove closer to the hangar in our unmarked security vehicle I failed to realise we crossed a painted semi-circular line that stretched out from one corner to the other, outwards from the hangar doors… I was not only vexed but slightly concerned as the two Americans reacted like coiled springs, visibly cocked their weapons, started shouting incoherently at us and began running towards our vehicle. With no sign of anybody else within sight I was left in no doubt that if we didn’t do something rather quickly, we would likely be in a whole raft of trouble.
Finding the reverse gear at the speed I did would probably have impressed even Jeremy Clarkson, off BBC’s Top Gear programme… and there might even have been rather a large amount of wheel spin as I blindly reversed backwards, until the soldiers, for no apparent reason, seemed to stop…and slowly, real slowly, lowered their (still loaded) weapons… It was as though they had reached a force field they could not cross!
Indeed, in a sense they had, the semi-circular line was their sovereign territory and I was now “Back in Britain” so to speak! Britain to the US and back in several seconds, Richard Branson would be proud! I exchanged several expletives with my Provo friend, before we decided to turn off the headlights of the vehicle so as not to blind these solitary soldiers and rather than become stuck in a Mexican stand-off wondering who should do what-next, and without attempting to make things any worse, or cause an international incident with our own allies, we decided to approach the edge of the line extremely slowly to have a chat. Driving with one hand on the steering wheel and holding ID cards visibly from the window we edged forward…
The American’s were fairly decent fellas as it turned out and politely turned down our offer of sandwiches! As we became slightly more comfortable in each other’s company, we (me and my Provo counterpart) began questioning what the F*CK they thought they were doing on a UK airbase chasing down the Joint 2IC security on his home soil, after all we are supposed to be allies! “Shoot first, ask questions later!” came the reply. I grappled for my JSP 398 card, which of course only relates to UK serving personnel. The first soldier read the card, passed it to his colleague before they stared momentarily in disbelief at each other. “Sir, with respect, you were clear in my sights and would be dead right now if you hadn’t backed down, and sir, please be aware this line represents the border between the US and the UK”. He was indeed correct, we hadn’t been briefed correctly and I have never, either doubted the man’s sincerity or, since understood the sanity of the UK JSP Rules of Engagement card in modern day peacetime or combat. Though, there was a positive for me from this experience. Having made our nervous introductions, proven our identities and engaged in some banter on an otherwise very cold night, we were briefly invited back onto American soil, shown through the gap in those huge hangar doors, where sat the stealthiest plane of the day, the Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk in all its glory, before being prepared for public display.
So, back to the story… Apologies, I am still rather groggy from my hospital trip, I think we were talking about ASBOs!
Having left the RAF in 2004, I was on a bus down in Exeter where a group of youths were showing off these things on their legs to anybody who cared to pay them any attention. A transponder of sorts I asked curiously what the thing was. I must admit because so many of the group wore them I was convinced it was part of some crazy new teenage trend, stranger things have been no doubt!
The teenager explained to me that it monitored his movements and therefore kept him out of jail… “Does it work?” I asked. “Nope…we’ve worked out how to stop them working when we need to go robbing!”…. In fact need I say any more on the subject? Whether he was spinning a yarn or not, I had no reason to disbelieve this very chirpy young criminal and his band of brothers, who to many more vulnerable within the community must have seemed rather intimidating. For me those were the days when I was still invincible, they posed me no threat.
Finally, to come to the point… A British born person openly decides to go fight in the holy lands, kills British and US troops openly, sometimes on camera and then wants to come home…to Britain. The British response is that we should put a band, which due to my knowledge of the above can’t keep mischievous teenagers in tow let alone trained killers, around their ankles and allow them to carry on as normal within society? It is my understanding that martyrdom is becoming more popularised amongst these freedom fighters… So, once attached to a belt full of TNT, what good is the ASBO idea or indeed an ankle belt/transponder. Unless of course it carries mysterious technology that can bring a terrorists victims back to life…?
Whilst I deplore these backlashes on entire ethnic or religious groups based upon the acts of the few, I must admit to feeling incredibly uncomfortable in the knowledge that those who would fight against their own nationals, could then have any cause to complain if we didn’t let them back into the country, after all am I missing the point or indeed should we not be putting them in the clink and throwing away the key…
I suppose where my brain fails to compute is that, these days, I feel unable to distinguish between murder on the streets and murder for a cause… Isn’t murder simply murder? As an ex-serviceman I have no real political beliefs, I am a voting abstainer on the basis corruption in my view is widespread, across all parties. It would appear to me that even the most well intentioned politicians either have to get sucked into the dark side of the political arena, or be content with a very brief career… It’s just a matter of what or whether they are able to achieve anything in the interim between having morals and losing them that might make a small difference.
Whilst in the services my task was simple: to do or go where my ‘betters’ (yeah, right!) ordered, do what they commanded and return home. In theory therefore I was acting upon the will of the majority, although that has never really been the case either has it? We don’t have referendums about wars do we… Freedom fighters on the other hand are unable or unwilling to discuss or rationalise about their decisions to go to war with others. They have made up their own minds and often in spite of the masses and indeed often their families wishes, they embark upon what they believe to be a justified murderous spree… Perhaps some ’causes’ are justified, who knows, I am simply a mere mortal! But, when all is said and done, if these individuals are allowed to return to the UK, an ASBO is hardly likely to make them quake in their boots, they’re more likely to use the transponder as some form of triggering device… Thanks Britain, for a free source of fuses… (said partly in jest!). I do also wonder which side these people have fought for… because I cannot even comprehend why such individuals should be allowed within the country at all, if they have been fighting for ‘the other side’, whoever that happens to be… Is it just me, I mean I have been ill lately, but I am fairly certain of what I have read to be correct?
Sadly, I don’t have the answers… in fact any answers. I have generally lived on the basis, try not to complain unless you have some form of solution, but today’s problems are beyond me. I simply have a heart that sinks at the thought of what goes on, what people don’t know of what goes on and at the end of the day whether most would even be bothered if they did know?
I find the outlook rather depressing…
There are always and have always been conflicts taking place across the planet. Some publicised and others ignored dependent upon each country’s view of the threat to their national interest, and by that I generalise not so much about border conflicts but more often than not, the availability of national resources. Genocide has also always been widespread, Mozambique, Rhwanda, Bosnia, Northern Iraq etc etc… the list goes on and yet was ignored when it most mattered. I am saddened that charitable aid can end up on the black market and often never reach its target recipients and moreover, as a result wonder why we don’t more often adopt the saying “Charity begins at home”, after all how many pay cuts or freezes has the average person received in the last 7 years in the UK, how bad is the state of the UK pension, the hospitals, the roads? I was always taught to ensure my own house is in order before getting involved or offering advice to others about their own situation… The UK is not in a particularly good state methinks! There are too many well intentioned decision makers out there today who simply couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, perhaps they know what a brewery looks like but they don’t know which brand is being manufactured! The will is strong but the knowledge is lacking to a despairingly low level.
This virus creeps into our own country in the form of poor leadership, billions of tax payers money wasted and an infrastructure so complex that fraudsters seem to penetrate it freely and often legally… The higher you go the more it is apparent. The higher you go the more the rules are open to a more convenient form of interpretation… Whilst George Orwell’s Animal Farm was based upon the flaws within communism, it highlights the outcome quite graphically of the disparity between the rich and the poor in our own society, both, if memory serves correctly at the beginning and also at the end of the book…
I think that is enough of a rant from me for now… ASBO’s indeed… I am not sure whether to laugh or cry, but I do know I despair!
As an afterthought, wars create pollution… I was reminded of this girl who gave a speech to the UN a few years back. It is so well worth a watch. I wonder what she thinks of the world today!?
August 23, 2014
The “Not So Healthy” and The NHS
It suddenly occurred to me as I dialled ’999′ the other day, that if something terminal were to occur that I still had a lot to say…
Moreover, having survived the episode, which, some readers may relate to, (whilst others may simply conclude that my predicament was largely self inflicted and therefore made me a blight on the resource of our beloved institution the NHS) that I should record the episode for what good it may do.
There have been so many cases during the last few years that have led to negligence cases against hospitals that new policies were put in place to protect those employee whistle blowers who have simply seen too much and are too appalled to keep zip lipped about working practices… But, really, we have all seen these corporate policies before and whilst the naïve may hold up the red card to their bosses, they soon evaporate or are managed out of their positions.
I am an author and an interviewer, low to middle grade in most senses of The Word (excuse the pun and the link for those who know me!) and here is a bit about me that most will not know…
1. I am not a great drinker, in fact prior to a fortnight ago, I have probably drank no more than a bottle or two of wine in the last decade… I joke about drinking on occasion as it makes one appear “normal”.
2. I have suffered fairly chronic insomnia for most of my life… born into a fortunate household I was sent to boarding school at the age of 8 and would roam the dormitories at night whilst everybody else slept peacefully. The school matron would often catch me wandering around, and rather than assist me in getting to sleep, she would tan my backside with the heel of her slipper…”six of the best” as it was then known. I was no stranger to a good caning back then, though I hasten to add, my parents have never raised a hand to me other than to waggle a finger of frustration at me on the odd occasion!
3. In recent times I have had to live, day and night, with a high pitched whining in my left ear, something which has driven me to distraction…
4. About a fortnight ago my better half went away on holiday with the kids. I felt I could not go due to commitments etc back home, something I now seriously regret!
5. Finally, I should add that shortly before this episode I was recovering from sun stroke, having decided to try and sleep in the garden after yet another sleepless night in bed! Whilst I was considering that little episode over and done with, it would make sense that I was probably still rather dehydrated…
So, with the scene set, I drive everybody to the airport and return to find myself “Home Alone”.
Now, many distraught parents may have yelled “Whoopee!” time and space and freedom etc etc… But, I am quite the opposite by personality and whilst the first night went not too badly I already hadn’t slept for a week or so. I kept myself busy, God did I have a lot to do that week…
During this time I would every now and again open the fridge, I have been the household cook for sometime now, but on each occasion I would think “Ahhh, there’s no point! Too much to do, why go to all that time and effort and tidying up just for me…” and occasionally I would resort to the odd sandwich to keep hunger at bay.
It was about the third day of being alone that I became acquainted with the term “Silence can be deafening” and with no background chatter or noise, the whining in my ear finally drove me to distraction. Most people at this point head towards the doctor’s surgery, but in my stupidity and anxiety over what I needed to achieve I thought perhaps a tipple of something might be in order. After all, it wouldn’t harm, nobody was home, it might make the whining go away enough for me to focus, and, more importantly to me at that time, it might enable me to get a good night’s sleep…
Ha! It was a no brainer… So, what to buy… Hmmm, a Merlot, Chianti… in fact red or white… actually I do remember years ago finding Bacardi with coca cola over ice being quite refreshing, and given the recent spate of hot weather… Yes that sounded good… So, I headed off to the supermarket in positive mood that I would be sleeping well that night.
It was great… It was refreshing… I worked, the whining dissipated and then I slept… for about 4 hours! The strange thing was that much of the work I had accomplished was lousy, but the additional dilemma that then haunted me was that my head was banging so hard as I woke up and it was still the middle of the night. I sat up, wrote several appalling and probably incomprehensible emails to friends whilst I had a less than refreshing few more drinks… Hey, c’mon it was still dark right? At some period later I headed back to bed, to wake when it became light…
Mission accomplished one might think… Oh no! Now, I am feeling awful… water and ibuprofen were breakfast… I got back to work. By lunchtime I feel rather odd… “shouldn’t have gone for spirits” I thought, but heck, I am not functioning too well here… Perhaps, just perhaps… if I go to the supermarket and get something less potent, that will allow me to function and I’ll be fine tomorrow, besides I can walk to the supermarket and get some fresh air, that should help!
On my return I recall decanting a bottle of port into my sparkling Stuart crystal decanter… I figured drink in style, after all I have standards you know! I merrily pinged the crystal glass which hasn’t felt the touch of a lip in over a decade, absolute nectar… I was quickly on a roll with work and feeling 100% better. I worked my way through the night, ermmm… the entire bottle of port and the best part of a box of red wine… I worked until it was light. At dawn, I realised the err of my ways and in some form of self disgust at my irresponsible behaviour I recall pouring away what was left of the box of red wine before heading off to bed…
When I woke, I quickly realised that not only was I letting others down by the actions of the previous two days, but I was letting the quality of my work slip. I was also letting down my absent other half, those who support me and of course myself! I decided that pain was likely required. I had to bring myself back to a state of normality before collecting the better half, I had to get some proper sleep, I had projects to finish, I had to eat!! I headed to the shop to buy some fruit and proper food… and for some reason that I still can’t fathom, returned with a bottle of wine… Just the one, but nevertheless it was a bottle of wine. It was consumed in a single sitting and that I vowed was that!!
The following day I didn’t actually feel too bad, I went for a walk of some 8km around Chorley, through the park and got some badly needed fresh air into my lungs. Thank God… My concentration levels were low, but I guessed there would be some pain attached with this ‘binge’ and associated factors of not sleeping, the return of the whining, onset of hunger for ‘proper’ food etc. I simply didn’t realise how much… I drank a huge amount of water that day and rather a lot of coffee, but I did feel myself becoming human again. It was a long day and bearing in mind I was now closing in on two weeks without a proper night’s sleep, I forced myself to lie in bed, with the hope of at least getting some sleep…
I don’t quite know how much sleep was involved, but it soon became light. On opening my eyes I felt really quite positive. I sat on the side of the bed and reached for some clothes. On standing up straight… it hit me like a thunderbolt! Dizziness, Spots of lights shooting in front of my eyes… I sat, or rather fell back on to the bed…
“It’ll go away… It has to, I’m not doing a shop run today! Not for anything…”
I was sincere in that last thought and decided after several minutes to head downstairs… It was a long journey, my legs were behaving like elastic bands, I was nauseous, and the lights were still flashing in front of my eyes… I headed straight to the fridge and engulfed the best part of a litre of orange juice before wondering what on earth I could consume to bring my depleted sugar levels up. Short on ideas and with virtually no knowledge of nutritional food values, I headed straight for the ice cream compartment of the freezer…
“A few hours and I’ll be good again!” I convinced myself… I ate a huge amount of sugar related products and decided to head back to bed for an hour or so whilst I waited for the food to be absorbed into the blood stream and the feeling to pass, but my anxiety levels were hitting new levels, I had a new fear. I was “Home Alone”, I was ill… Should I call an ambulance? Would I be wasting their time? You hear so many stories about time wasters… Give it a few hours, I lay on the bed, my heart was pounding and I began sweating profusely.
It was actually 5 hours that I gave it… but the previous elasticity of my legs had by then spread throughout my body, turning me into a 6 foot gyrating mass of blubber… I caved and called ’999′.
This is actually where today’s blog begins, but to all those youngsters out there, or anybody in fact looking for an answer, short term or otherwise, from a bottle… Let me tell you, there is nobody more shocked than I at how quickly my body caved! Granted, my schedule, diet, anxiety levels and probable dehydration due to the sunstroke all played a part. But, I am left in no doubt that the alcohol tipped the balance and I have learned a valuable lesson…
I spent the next two days in a hospital bed, having faced the embarrassment of being carted away by ambulance to the local hospital, more so embarrassing as I was likely to bump into people I knew there as my better half was an ex-employee!
With my blood pressure at astronomical levels, I was pumped full of fluids and vitamins intravenously and had to recount the entire sorry tale on multiple occasions to multiple members of staff who, whilst outwardly were incredibly supportive, would be forgiven for thinking “What a prat!”
My gripe starts here…
The National Health Service is an incredible institution, there are actually parts of it that do make money, but our government is selling it off, piece by piece, only the profitable parts of course. It is selling partial services, the one’s that make money, whilst hanging on to the parts that cost the tax payers money. That in itself sucks!
The front line staff are over worked, on the first evening I hit the “help” button… 25 minutes later somebody came to see if I was OK… To put that in context, the ambulance had only taken 14 minutes to arrive at my house after making the ’999′ call. But, I don’t blame the staff for this, there were people much more deserving of attention across the same ward.
I do blame the management, and I am not talking of the junior managers, but those executives who run these “Trusts” as they are now known… Pencil pushers with nice suits who take home six figure salaries and amass huge pensions whilst cutting wages, grades and throwing millions of pounds into pathetic and senseless initiatives whilst their staff are left with either the wrong or outdated tools to carry out their jobs effectively.
A great example of this is for those who took my details, I mean my entire personal details from name to previous health issues. I have for the best part of my career managed processes… This senseless admin should take place once and then all staff who require access should have that without going through the entire process time after time after time… The administration is prehistoric, the NHS is now so target driven that health has become a bi-product to hitting senseless targets and those trained to treat people are wasting incredibly valuable time repeating basic administration tasks!
My time in hospital was a real eye opener. It was shocking… I saw one lady on each day with what I can only describe to be a dry mop/duster. She was literally pushing the dust around, it was not being removed, just redistributed. I could see something under the bed opposite, it was some form of wrapper and is probably still where I saw it… after all it had remained there for the duration of my 48 hour stay and her two visits to the ward.
Is it any wonder that once the cannula was removed prior to my discharge that my entire arm quickly became infected to such an extent that I had to return within 48 hours with an infection so bad that more antibiotics had to be pumped into me intravenously during the next three days?
The government need to be honest with the people of this country. If you’re attempting to make the NHS lean to sell it off, tell people, let the people vote on it. Don’t covertly slice away at it until the public, that’s right, us little people who pay taxes, have nothing left to vote about. It’s not a politician’s toy but a bastion of our country and one of the few things left worth fighting for in the UK.
In terms of my own predicament… well, a 44 year old man should know how to look after himself better. I only have one person to blame for most of what has happened, though the whining in my ear drove me to make some rather disastrous decisions. I apologise to P and K (you know who you are) for this blip and to all others who may feel let down by what has taken place during the last couple of weeks. But before I close I want to firstly recount something I posted on Facebook a day or two ago… A major reason why I should not feel sorry for what a mess I got into, but also a major reason why the NHS should be protected and remain available to the vulnerable…
“For all those who have sent good wishes I am indeed on the mend…. A very scary couple of days following a painful few with sunstroke. But, that said I was in bed opposite a quite remarkable man. I think it would be unfair to mention his full name so will simply call him Ed! Ed has suffered from MS for 17 years, he has Asthma, COPD and is essentially paralysed from the head down, unable to feed himself, move any part of his body, he also has an eye condition which I can’t remember/pronounce. 17 years ago parts of his body simply stopped working. Ed is one of the most humorous men I have had the privilege of meeting in a very long time. He was moved to a respiratory ward just before I was discharged from the hospital, and whilst I know the only humour he enjoys comes from the spoken word as opposed to any form of books or internet etc. If anybody reading from Chorley hospital happens to see him apologise that I missed his departure to the other ward and wish him all the best, we had many a conversation to which he answered “Yes, but you gotta laugh!” The man was an inspiration and rather well liked by the staff who have known him on and off for many years. If a man like that can retain his sense of humour then who am I to feel sorry for myself…. It makes one think….”
If you can relate to this post, or know anybody that may learn from it, please share it… This has been Simon Duringer… Rambling On!
If you haven’t lost the will to live by reading this, perhaps you will take a moment to watch my latest short video ad… The Word Volume 1 supports the Royal British Legion with 10% of all proceeds…
August 15, 2014
Fruit… we really need to eat it right!
So, are you a fruit addict…. if not have a look at this and the next time you’re at Tescos remember… cut it right!
Boom we should all wear hats!
TRENDING NOW: HATS ON
It’s summer and it’s time to get your hat on! Hats are the perfect summer accessories and no, we’re not just referring to the sun hat. Trending now? The beanie (to toughen up your look), the floppy fedora, the wide-brimmed felt fedora (for summer chic) and the baseball cap for a modern edge.
Georgio Armani showcased great felt fedoras in his Fall 2012 collection – very chic and the perfect accessories for an androgynous take on the trouser suit.
Giorgio_Armani_Fall_2012_Campaign-1
giorgio_armani
ELLE’s fashion editor Asanda Sizani and fashion intern Sachi Okada chose the fedora. Asanda found her felt fedora from Second Time Around (a vintage store) and Sachi’s hat is from Mr Price.
Asanda-And-Sachi
The peaked cap is also hot this season – go to Cloche for amazing peaked caps. Click here for more on Cloche.
Cloche
Susie-Bubble
For the baseball cap to work it needs to be simple – think printed or leather baseball caps paired with a glam outfit. For a sophisticated look, don’t go for the sports-inspired cap – go for interesting textures to dress it up. You can dress it up or down, it’s up to you!
Jen Kao spring/summer 2013.
Runway
Nike-Baseball
Pow
Baseball-Leather
Baseball-Cap
Nike Baseball
Susie
The beanie – Jil Sander displayed great beanies in this collection. She dressed them up by adding a veil and netting over what traditionally is a grunge look. The result? Glam, sophisticated and modern.
Veil-inspired
Jil-Saunder Jil-Saunder2
That doesn’t mean we still don’t love a little grunge – toughen up your look and add a beanie for a bit of attitude.
Beanie
Beanie2
Beanie1
The-Beanie
One for fun – dress up, cover up and have fun!
Hats
Images: Tommy Ton and Style.com.
August 14, 2014
Seriously… is there no end this?
So, the latest victim is Sir Cliff Richard… I just don’t get it. Are there no famous people that are not paedophiles?? It would seems so….http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-28790718
August 13, 2014
50 shades of frozen
Ok so it’s not what you might expect, but watch it… it’s kind of addictive, and the kids will love it!
Ariana Grande
So… I sit down and watch comic shows with my partners daughters and really think this young actress is really quite funny…
Then I open YouTube and find possibly the hottest video of the century and am ashamed to say I watched the entire presentation… OMG I apologise to everybody but Ay Karumba is it just me or is this the hottest thing since Madonna?
I think I should now go and have an aspirin…. watch this peeps and please tell me I am not alone…
August 12, 2014
Lauren Bacall
Lauren Bacall, the award-winning actress and Humphrey Bogart’s partner off and on screen, has died at 89.
She was pronounced dead at New York-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Centre yesterday.
Bacall was a movie star from almost her first moment on the silver screen.
A fashion model and bit-part New York actress before moving to Hollywood at 19, Bacall achieved immediate fame in 1944 with one scene in her first film, To Have And Have Not.
Leaving Humphrey Bogart’s hotel room, Bacall murmured: “You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”
With that cool, sultry come-on, not only was a star born, but the beginning of a legend, her title burnished over the years with pivotal roles, signature New York wit, and a marriage to Bogart that accounted for one of the most famous Hollywood couples of all time.
The Academy-Award nominated actress received two Tonys, an honorary Oscar and scores of film and TV roles. But, to her occasional frustration, she was remembered for her years with Bogart and treated more as a star by the film industry than as an actress.
Bacall would outlive her husband by more than 50 years, but never outlive their iconic status.
They were “Bogie and Bacall” – the hard-boiled couple who could fight and make up with the best of them. Unlike Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn, Bogart and Bacall were not a story of opposites attracting but of kindred, smouldering spirits.
They starred in movies like Key Largo and Dark Passage together, threw all-night parties, palled around with Frank Sinatra and others and formed a gang of California carousers known as the Holmby Hills Rat Pack, which Sinatra would resurrect after Bogart’s death.
She appeared in movies for more than half a century, but none brought her the attention of her early pictures.
Not until 1996 did she receive an Oscar nomination – as supporting actress for her role as Barbra Streisand’s mother in The Mirror Has Two Faces. Although a sentimental favourite, she was beaten by Juliette Binoche for her performance in The English Patient.
She finally got a statuette in November 2009 at the movie academy’s Governors Awards gala. “The thought when I get home that I’m going to have a two-legged man in my room is so exciting,” she quipped.
Her persona paralleled her screen appearances: She was blunt, with a noirish undertone of sardonic humour that illuminated her 1979 autobiography By Myself (she published an updated version in 2005, By Myself And Then Some).
Bacall was born Betty Joan Perske in the Bronx on September 16 1924 and was raised by her Romanian immigrant mother after her parents split when she was a child. Her mother took part of her family name, Bacal; Betty added the extra L when she became an actress.
As a young woman, Diana Vreeland, the famed editor of Harper’s Bazaar, thought she was ideal for fashion modelling and Bacall appeared regularly in the magazine. The wife of film director Howard Hawks saw her on a magazine cover and recommended her as film material and she went to Hollywood under a contract.
Hawks became her mentor, coaching her on film acting and introducing her to Hollywood society. He was preparing a movie to star Bogart, based on an Ernest Hemingway story, To Have And Have Not, with a script partly written by William Faulkner.
By this time she had acquired the professional name of Lauren, though Bogart and all her friends continued to call her Betty.
She wrote of meeting Bogart: “There was no thunderbolt, no clap of thunder, just a simple how-do-you-do.”
Work led to romance. The 23-year age difference (he called her Baby) failed to deter them, but they faced a serious obstacle – Bogart was still married to the mercurial actress Mayo Methot, with whom he engaged in much-publicised alcoholic battles. She was persuaded to divorce him, and the lovers were married on May 21 1945.
“When I married Bogie,” she remarked in 1994, “I agreed to put my career second because he wouldn’t marry me otherwise. He’d had three failed marriages to actresses and he was not about to have another.”
But the party began to wind down in March 1956, when Bogart was diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus. On the night of January 14 1957, Bogart grabbed his wife’s arm and muttered: “Goodbye, kid.” He died in the early morning at 57.
After a period of mourning, Bacall became romantically involved with Sinatra, but when an “engagement” was mistakenly leaked, the singer blamed her and terminated the romance.
Still mourning for Bogart, Bacall left Hollywood in October 1958. She made a film in England and did a critically panned play that was significant because she would meet her second husband during her time on Broadway: Jason Robards.
He was similar to Bogart in that he was an accomplished actor, hard drinker – and married. After Robards was divorced from his second wife, he and Bacall married in 1961 but Robards’ drinking and extramarital affairs resulted in divorce in 1969.
Applause in 1970 and Woman Of The Year in 1981 brought Bacall Tony awards. Her later movies included Murder On The Orient Express, The Shootist and Robert Altman’s Ready To Wear. She played Nicole Kidman’s mother in the 2004 film Birth and in recent years appeared as herself in a cameo for The Sopranos.
For decades she lived in Manhattan’s venerable Dakota, where neighbours included John Lennon and Yoko Ono. She was ever protective of the Bogart legacy, lashing out at those who tried to profit from his image.
Bacall became friends with Faulkner when he was writing scripts for Hawks. One of her prized possessions was a copy of Faulkner’s Nobel Prize acceptance speech on which he wrote that she was not one who was satisfied with being just a pretty face, “but rather who decided to prevail”.
“Notice he didn’t write ‘survive’, ” she told Parade magazine in 1997. “Everyone’s a survivor. Everyone wants to stay alive. What’s the alternative? See, I prefer to prevail.”