Revisiting The Crow

This week I finally got around to reading The Crow, a 1981 graphic novel by J. O'Barr which I picked up second hand at Oldham Comic Con in May.

Most of the time when people think of comics- particularly when British people think of them- we imagine publications for children, for pre-teens. The Crow is anything but that: a tale of a rock star revived from the dead to avenge his own murder, and that of his girlfriend. It's bleak, violent and dark, an atmos exacerbated by the monochrome presentation and punctuated at each chapter beginning with a short poetry quote.

I think I first saw the 1994 movie adaptation when I was 14 or 15, over the summer before 5^th Form. 1997. Although a fairly routine revenge / action film, it's unique Gothic set design and almost-mythical almost-future bleak setting made it instantly stand out from the 30-or-so films I'd watched that holiday.

I got the DVD in '02/03, and decided now was a good a time as any to catch up on it. It's still a brilliantly conveyed story, with a well-thought out colour pallet. I thought Brandon Lee's svelte physique suited the character a lot more than O'Barr's more muscular creation. I can't imagine a rock star spending all that time in the gym and dieting so strictly.

It's also packed with cameos and supporting roles from a host of familiar faces: Ernie Hudson (Winston in Ghostbusters), Michael Wincott (Guy of Gisborne in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) David Patrick Kelly (Sully from Commando) Tony Todd (The Candyman) and Jon Polito (Caspar in Miller's Crossing). Hollywood sure got its money's worth from actors in the 90s.

The 2-disc DVD is a good example of how I don't think streaming sites will have a complete stranglehold on the entertainment market. The discs are stuffed with commentary tracks (with the writer and producer, but strangely not the director), interviews with O'Barr and the cast, Brandon Lee's last on-screen interview before his tragic on-set accidental death, and raw footage from the film's production. It's a gem. I'm not aware that Netflix and the like provide the extras, nor would there be particular demand for it. That's why I'm likely to stick with DVDs for a long time.

Keeping Records with Memory Difficulties

I've recently started keeping tabs on job seeking and my investigations into Marketing and PR as a line of future work. Back in 2007, before I got my current job, I was doing this using Excel, but I remember having distinct problems with this.

At the time, my Excel spreadsheet covered dates, company names, contact names, and other details. This was a searchable list that allowed me to check who I'd contacted and what I needed to follow up. There was one problem, though: when it came to printing the document, the info spread to 3 landscape pages, which sort-of looked better in portrait, only the document wouldn't convert to a decent printable form.

When it came to printing, my computer would only give me the second page. So I was going to the job centre, sometimes to sign on, sometimes to sign off after finding some short term work, sometimes to sign back on again. When I presented the jobseeking record I'd claimed I'd made, I only had old information that they'd already seen. They had to take my word that there were more records at home, and that I had in fact been looking for work since I last met them.

More recently, my DLA has been scrapped and a meagre PIP allocation has been put in its place, plus my Working Tax Credits were stopped for an issue that's still debatable and under review with Citizen's Advice, and I've subsequently been lumped with a £400 bill (which I still haven't paid). I've decided it's time to purposefully look for work again.

This time, however, I've made a table in Word, made it landscape and given it 3 headings.

Date

Organisation

Details

Here I can detail when I made an inquiry, who this was with (a business or public body) and what was discussed. In a day off, I might visit an organisation, talk to a manager or advisor and make notes on our conversations. Once home I'll then type up any notes straight onto this form, taking only a couple of minutes from my day.

This then means that whenever a further meeting occurs with any employment advisors (for example Get Oldham Working is a department of the local authority that I'm currently meeting with), I can print off the relevant pages (whatever was put in after the last meeting), and show them exactly what I've done. There's no need to try to recall anything or root through diaries to see where I was on certain days.

It's a fairly straightforward method of keeping a track of what goes on in your life. It could be that, for yourself, job seeking isn't what's filling up your time but meetings with the NHS (particularly if you've recently had an acquired brain injury). It takes a little time to transfer notes from paper to computer, but unless you're carrying a very fast-loading laptop around with you wherever you go, you can't have everything 100% digital. But then, that's why I tried to learn shorthand- so that I could take quicker notes and could ask more questions in what little time public services, like doctors surgeries, would give me.

So, Word, not Excel, for keeping written records, is always much more beneficial.

VIP Graffiti in 1930s Egypt, Exotic and Not-So-Exotic Dancing

Demoiselle Crane, 47 Squadron's crest

The next installment of my grand-uncle's eyebrow-raising war memoirs.

 

In June 1939 we were alerted to prepare to fly the Vincents up to Egypt to the depot at RAF Abu Sueir. With the overload tanks full we took off for Wadi Halfa, cruising at about 120 knots. All arrived safely and immediately refuelled the aircraft, covered up and picketed the aircraft down.

The 'drome was about five miles north from the town of Wadi Halfa and the journey was undertaken in in about six open V.8 fast taxis, across open desert tracks, with a reward for the one reaching the hotel first. Fifty miles an hour, we were airborne off hour seats half the time.

The aircrew were housed in the beautiful hotel and ground staff given cabins in the Nile steamer moored on the river adjacent to the hotel.

Before take-off the following morning we were warned by the pilot that, prior to setting course for Egypt we would be flying at 'nought' feet over The Nile, in front of the entrance to Abu Simbel's Temple, in order that photographs could be taken.

This we did and is now a photograph that can never be taken again, due to the fact that the temple has now been cut into huge sections and moved bodily to higher ground to prevent it being submerged when the High Aswan Dam was built in 1966/67.

Airborne again, and after about five hours flying we arrived at RAF Abu Sueir, a few miles from the Suez Canal. A total distance of about 1100 miles.

Parking the aircraft, we immediately got aboard three-ton lorries and drove north about 15 miles to RAF Ismailia, where we were fed and billeted. We were to stay about 10 days while the aircrew familiarised themselves with the Vickers Wellesley. Similarly the ground crew went into the hangars to get to know the aircraft.

Ten days later the Squadron took off once again for Wadi Halfi and Khartoum. The fitters were warned that the aircraft on long flights drained unevenly and that it may be necessary for them to open a zip fastener in the fuselage wall, reach into the root end of the main plane and manually turn off certain fuel tank cocks to even up the aircraft.

The tunnel of the aircraft was filled with aircraft jacks, covers, modification kits and desert equipment to the roof, with a short space left for the fitter and myself, the rigger, to sit behind the pilot's seat.

After about three hours flying a hand was seen waving behind the pilot's seat with a note on which was written 'Turn off the Starboard Outer Fuel Cock.'

Another, my fitter, immediately started an argument as to which side was Starboard and insisted that he was finally right and turned off the port outer cock. And this was only after moving all the equipment away from the port side zip fastener. The fuel system was his responsibility and he was adamant.

Fifteen minutes later the pilot's hand, waving forcibly, passed another note with 'What the hell are you doing?'

Finally, agreeing that I was right he turned on the port outer cock and after us moving all the equipment again finally turned off the starboard outer cock. I think the Sgt Pilot at the end of the flight had a lean to one side for a number of days. The fuel system was neutralised later on arriving on Wadi Halfa.

The Squadron Commander had previously decided to overfly Wadi Halfa and make Khartoum in one trip. Passing over Wadi Halfa the aircraft ran into an extended high level sand storm and after half an hour the aircraft returned to Wadi Halfa. Once again we were billeted as previously.

We were given the following day free and as Wadi Halfa is situated on the 2^nd Cataract of the Nile a boat trip was arranged to the hill edging the rapids and on climbing it was found to have dozens of VIP names scratched into the rock face, one of whom I will always remember was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who wrote the Sherlock Holmes series. He died in 1930.

Trying to sleep on the Nile paddle steamer was impossible. Tens of thousands of frogs were croaking all night. The din was incessant, only broken momentarily by the heaving of empty beer bottles in their direction. A few seconds later they were off again.

The next day we landed back at Khartoum with our new, but old, aircraft. We settled back to our routine, once again getting to know the Wellesley.

Later in the year one of the aircraft force landed with engine trouble about a hundred miles out in the desert. A lorry was loaded with a new engine, shear legs, tents, and rations. Cpl. Fife, six engine fitters and myself travelled about 5 hours and finally located the aircraft. Tents were pitched ready for work in the morning. Metal was found in the filter. As the aircraft had landed safely it was decided being a metal rigger that I would be the cook. One of the first things the gang did was to suspend a tent bag in the roof of one of the tents and then fill with water. Very warm water. Then a couple of dozen bottles of beer were put into the water. About 5 hours later the water and the beer was quite cold. The sweating tent bag acted similarly to a 'chatee.' A perfect fridge. (No suitable explanations of 'chatee' online.)

The fitters set to work at first light. The shear legs were erected and a block and tackle hung. The prop was removed and the weight of the engine taken. More weight, then calamity. One of the legs collapsed like a bent elbow.

The pilot had already left the wagon, having already spent the night in the aircraft since he had landed. Operating the radio, contact was made with the squadron and an Indian Army Recovery lorry was dispatched to us. It arrived late in the afternoon. On backing up to the aircraft it was found that the small rear jib had insufficient height to reach over the top of the engine to lift it out. The engine was two feet higher than the jib. So the shovels were produced and gradually a sand ramp was built, higher and higher until when the lorry was backed up it, the jib had clearance to enable the engine to be lifted out successfully.

Finally, the change was made, the engine oil primed, turned over by hand and started. After a few adjustments everything was declared satisfactory and the WT used to request a pilot.

Being the cook, I do not think that I have ever worked as hard in all my life. They wanted a mug of tea in bed, porridge, eggs, bacon, sausage and tea for breakfast. Have you ever tried keeping five old fashioned Primus stoves operating at once, pumping, pricking, pumping, filling. Anyway, they did not starve!

With the aircraft ready, awaiting a pilot, it was decided that we had time to visit a small village that we could see way in the distance. Leaving one man on guard, the remainder trudged across the sand to the mud huts. We were met by nearly naked Sudanese and taken to the Headman's hut. He greeted us and invited us to a compound at the rear of the hut. We sat down in a circle with him on a huge mat and women brought out big bowls of what looked like dried grass and oats. These were passed around the circle with Cpl Fife insisting that we try both bowls to insure we did not insult our hosts.

One of the natives had a good smattering of English and we were informed by him that the headman had laid on some entertainment for us. We were taken to another hut and once again sat in a circle on the floor. In came a rather attractive Sudanese girl of about eighteen, naked to the waist, with very long greasy ringlet hair. To the accompaniment of a drum, she danced in the centre of the ring, in front of each one of us in turn, gyrating and finally with a quick flick of her head wrapped her hair around the face of each one of us. None escaped even though we tried to duck. Her greasy hair smelt like nothing on earth. The dance we were told was connected to the dancing habits of the sexes.

Finally, we were taken to a clearing in the centre of the huts to find that about fifty natives had assembled. At one side sat a dozen old-ish women, on the floor, with drums in their laps.

They sat us down and shortly afterwards the drumming and dancing began. The men were leaping into the air at amazing heights, and every now and then the young teenage men suddenly stopped, placed a stave in the middle of their backs, leaned back on them and the others whipped them harshly on their bare bodies five or six times. The youngsters did not flinch and immediately the women with the drums made their high shrill trilling sound of appreciation. This leaping, jumping and whipping went on for a good half an hour then they came to us to reciprocate. They needed a rest. It was an initiation dance or ceremony to show the bravery of future young warriors.

So we had to follow on. We borrowed their staves and moved into the centre ring and tried to copy their acrobatic leaping. Fat Nash, with his belly hanging over the top of his shorts, managed a jump of about six inches. The natives were in stitches, laughing their heads off and after five minutes, when we could leap no more, the women drummers also gave us a high shrilling warble to thank us. We sat down. Water was passed around. No whipping had occurred!

The men repeated their leaping again and after ten minutes sat down once again requesting us to repeat our act.

We were still not ready for a second session, so after a quick 'conflab' we decided to do the London Palladium opening number act of 6 all differently dressed airmen coming into the centre ring, 1 behind the other, right hands on the chap in front's right shoulder, high kicking our legs alternately. Not quite like thirty fit beautiful girls.

At the side of the ring we reversed and retraced our steps, reversing again and again. Finally, we finished up all kicking each other up the backside around the ring, especially the corporal. Once again the audience were in hysterics and the women gave out their shrill trilling sound.

It was now time to leave, and after we had a collection for the new drums they were saving for we said our happy farewells and returned to the aircraft. Mad dogs and Englishmen!

In the morning we found that the pilot was on his way so we struck the tents, packed up and gave away unused food to the 'chichoes' who had been with us on and off the whole time we were there.

Midday the pilot arrived, carried out his checks, took off, did a short air test and overshot us, waggled his wings and flew off.

We loaded up and in fifteen minutes were on out way back to Khartoum and the Squadron. A smashing experience.

The Squadron, about this time, was presented with a newly designed crest which contained a Demoiselle Crane. This bird migrates from Southern Russia to the Sudan every year. It appears that it was selected due to the fact that 47 Squadron had served in Southern Russia in 1919. The story goes that the Squadron complained about the cold weather so much that they sent it down to Khartoum in the Sudan to a warmer climate. From the sublime to the ridiculous.

The Squadron was also presented with a beautiful solid silver model of a Vickers Vincent in gratitude for rescuing a VIP and his wife from the jungle. This is now resident in the Officer's mess at RAF Lyneham.

A visit to NAAFI one evening resulted in an unusual sight of four white bald 'eggs' sitting at a table drinking beer. One of them had been pulled up by the Station Warrant Officer for a 'haircut' and had decided to have it all off. The three others followed him in sympathy. Four very brown faces and bodies topped off with four very white bald heads looked very funny and strange.

18-24/6

So, this week, I asked Georgia Harrison from last year's Love Island, who she thought would win in a fight between a baboon and a badger. (Baboons, as they're more 'aggy.')

Other than that, I grew some balls and read out a poem about depression at Orton's Writers Circle. I got some great feedback on it and I'm now ready to knock it into shape before churning it out to a few magazines. I felt a little awkward reading it out but the group were understanding and supportive.

Haircut and blogging. #friday

A post shared by Matt Tuckey (@matttuckey) on Jun 22, 2018 at 12:14pm PDT

A few steps forward this week.

I've had a phone interview with Healthy Minds, Oldham NHS' therapy unit. I've been on a waitlist for some time, and have a little more time to wait before being put with someone. I've updated them about Andy's Man Club, and asked them if they would pass on the suggestion of the support group to other male patients waiting for assistance with depression.

I've received 2 CDs from HMRC with the transcripts from calls that I've made to them. In the 7 calls recorded, there has been no mention of the TC108 form that they sent to me, which I admittedly misplaced (I didn't even open it). In fact, in the 1^st call I made the operator told me the request for £416, which HMRC still say I owe them, was based in 'incomplete information' and was 'no longer valid.'

More recently it has been sent to a debt collector.

The case is on hold while I sort this out. I've emailed TJ at Citizen's Advice to update her and will be dropping the CDs off for her on Monday.

I tried to buy Nytol, an insomnia remedy. The chemist in Tesco asked if I was taking anything at the moment. They were fine with antidepressant Sertraline, but wouldn't give me the sleeping pills because I was on Fexafenadine for hayfever. The antihistamine would have reacted badly with Nytol apparently. So I've struggled through.

Decent weather, though. Things could be worse.

I've been eating clean for a month...

Haircut and blogging. #friday

A post shared by Matt Tuckey (@matttuckey) on Jun 22, 2018 at 12:14pm PDT

A month ago I cut out all junk food in an attempt to shape up. I haven't shaved, nor had a haircut, since then. I've hammered the same movements at the gym: 10 min cross train, 10 min run, chest press, horizontal dumbbell fly.

I've just been filmed for something- details later- but by this time my hair and beard were becoming hobo-ish and thoroughly unmanageable. Hence, last night I shaved off the beard completely and this morning got a no.2 haircut and got home just before the camera crew turned up. It just so happens it's exactly a month since I started the project.

I was 83.6kg when I started this project. Today, after a hard session, I weighed in at 81.6kg.

It's time for a short break with clean eating.

Elephant Watermelon Bombing, Cannibal Sudanese, Killer Sorpions

Vickers Vincent

Another passage from my grand-uncle's WWII Memoirs.

Khartoum: February 1939

Two weeks after joining the Squadron a detachment of Vincents returned from a tour of Southern Sudan checking on the emergency landing grounds. It appeared that wherever they had landed they were met by the local Sudanese chief and the District Commissioner. Small tents were erected and talks were carried out with refreshment. In one instance the flight was presented, by the Sudanese Chief, with dozens of large sweet watermelons. They were duly shared and loaded between the aircraft.

Before taking off, the Flight Commander had decided that as soon as the aircraft were out of range of the landing ground they would be thrown overboard. It just so happened that the timing was such that the aircraft were over flying the Bor elephant herd and it could have been the only time when elephants had been bombed with watermelons. Suffice to say, none were hit, the aircraft were the odd thousand feet up. It was not very safe to have melons rolling around on the fuselage floor.

It should be mentioned that the Squadron had also in the adjacent hangar 'A' Flight, six Fairey Gordons which at certain times of the year the wings were folded and the aircraft manually pushed down the road about a mile to the River Nile. There, floats were fitted and the aircraft operated for a number of weeks on the Nile. 'A' Flight also had on charge a Walrus for the use of the CO.

Plenty of sport was played: hockey, football, tennis and swimming. The squadron were in the final of the local cup with Sudan Railways. The Sudan Railways XI turned out in full kit, but within fifteen minutes boots and stockings had been discarded on the touch line. They were hitting the ball just as hard as our lads without boots in their big bare feet.

Each flight had local labour help. 'B' Flight had five natives. One of them was called Bendas and his top front teeth had been filed to points, similar to the teeth of a saw. A generation ago it was understood that he had belonged to a cannibal tribe in Southern Sudan.

In the centre of Khartoum was a beautiful statue of General Gordon mounted on a camel. He had been instrumental in the fight against slave trading, until he was murdered on the Palace steps by members of the fanatical followers of the Mahdi in 1885. He was well-loved. Streets, buildings and shops were named after him. An incident concerning the statue will be reported on later, at the period of Christmas 1939.

Across the Blue Nile Bridge was the 43 Club, a native brothel, controlled by the Army Garrison in the city. It was understood that from those who used it, it only cost ten piastres, two shillings.

The tour of duty of the overseas posting at that time was four years. Two years in the Sudan, because of conditions and heat was counted time and a half, i.e. three years. The last year was spent in Egypt.

Twice a year, Valentias from 70 Squadron Egypt flew down to Khartoum to take rest leave parties back to Heliopolis, Cairo, for leave. At Wadi Halfa they slept in and under the aircraft before undertaking the second leg in the morning. The Valentias were jokingly called 'Flying Pigs.' The pilots always wore a flying topee, being in an open cockpit, at the mercy of the beaming sun when flying. The Valencias were very large bi-planes.

It was not long before the time-ex chaps we were replacing were notified that the troopship on its way home from the Far East would be calling in at Port Sudan to pick them up. Once again a NAAFI party was organised with barrels of beer voted and granted by the PSI.

This time things were even more hectic. With an extension of NAAFI closing hours to late in the evening I watched every piece of wicker furniture thrown over the balcony onto the ground below, formed into a bonfire and set alight, and a few minutes later members of the squadron, completely naked, running and jumping through the flames. The squadron could certainly work and play hard. The following morning they said their sad farewells.

Insect life was present, invariably of nuisance value, but one had to be aware of the danger of scorpions. An engine cover on the ground for a day or so often finished up with a scorpion or two. One airman could not be roused at 18:00 for dinner. A scorpion was found inside his shirt. His bed mates thought that he was having a good long afternoon's siesta. Regrettably he had been stung a number of times and died.

Large spiders often came through the open windows at night and when seen were chased until killed or escaped. We called them tarantulas, incorrectly, but they were easily as big. Mosquito boots or any footwear were always turned upside down before pulling on one's feet. After dusk it was compulsory to wear slacks and long sleeve shirts and use mosquito nets on the beds.

Glengarries were worn for work up to 8:00 and after breakfast until 16:00. Temperatures were sometimes up to 120F (49C) in the shade and 130F (54C) in the sun. Metal parts of the aircraft had to be tackled with rag in the hand. Winding up the inertia flywheels to start the aircraft was a tough operation, especially when the pilot had an abortive start and it had to be repeated.