The nights get lighter, the Covid data continues to improve, and life begins to look a little better – an end in sight? And a lockdown upside? This year, I can safely claim that I’ll achieve a long held ambition of giving up visiting pubs for Lent – bonus. Of Mr Johnson’s long-awaited Monday night address to the nation outlining his ‘cautious’ plan (sorry, roadmap) to free us all from our lockdown lethargy? Mostly as expected, but I do like the idea of (ideally) it all being over on Midsummer’s day. It’s a shame that the ER hasn’t more outside seating, but I’m sure that the landlord is working on a cunning plan to slake the thirsts of his regulars come April 12th when pubs can start to serve outside; we return inside on May 17th and hopefully will start enjoying a few days out and about again.
Continued lockdown must be getting to me for, last Saturday afternoon, I unintentionally found myself engrossed in a jigsaw whilst listening to Joy Division – I’m a fan of neither. The Jigsaw, a 1000 piece 50th Corry anniversary jobbie, turned up after a wardrobe sort out; Joy Division turned up randomly on Spotify. I hear that I’m not alone in jigsawing, consequently, prices have shot up as puzzles become rarer than good sense. It was totally compulsive and I treated it far too competitively/seriously, ignoring essential stuff to complete the bloody thing and giving myself a sore back in the process. It was an excellent time waster, but do I have time to waste? Probably ‘cause I’m still watching far too much unessential television.
As an apostate, I used to think that the term guilty pleasures referred to simple everyday, but naughty, pastimes such as the use of recreational drugs and immoral thoughts accompanied by acts of self-love – Three Hail Marys and an Our Father: Ego te absolvo. Now, having wasted the rest of the last two weeks watching hours of gratuitous relationship porn, I’m not so certain. E4’s, highly repetitive, Married at First Sight, Australia has been addictive for the two of us. Most of the couples appeared normal pleasant folk looking for love, and their 15 minutes of fame. But two participants ripped up the rule book, behaved appallingly to their fellow participants and did a wifeswap – thanks Dan and Jess, total repetitive entertainment, another excellent time waster. I will not be watching the next series.
Since I mentioned Birmingham’s King Kong statue last time, I’ve been inundated with requests for further information. In response: in 1972, a giant, 18 foot, King Kong turned up, in the City’s Manzoni Gardens[1], on a six month loan; created by Nicholas Munro, Kong had been commissioned as part of a nationwide city sculpture scheme. Like Mason’s Forward (1990), Gormley’s Iron:Man, aka the Ironman (1993) & Mistry’s The River, aka the Floozie in the Jacuzzi (1994) that followed it, Kong immediately aroused much public derision and hostility – what is it with the good citizens of Brum and their statuary? Back to Kong, in 1973, he was offered to the City for £2k but they turned it down and he was sold to a local used car dealer for £3k. After time spent advertising the dealership, he travelled around the country a bit (Edinburgh, Penrith & Leeds) and was reported variously as destroyed, irretrievably damaged, and left lying for dead on waste ground, forlorn. That’s why I was delighted to see Kong resplendent, in all his former glory, happily alive and well, living in a private garden in Cumbria and the star of Michael Cummins’ film King Rocker (2021).
Incidentally, Forward was burned down in 2003; Centenary Square has since been totally redeveloped. In 2017, Ironman was put in storage to make way for the City’s new tram system; he was due to return to Victoria Square the following year, I haven’t seen him since. The River, soon developed a leak, stopped flowing, fell into disrepair and was filled in; it’s due to be renovated in time for the City’s Commonwealth Games celebration, next year. Ironman aside, my favourite Birmingham statue has to be Robert Thomas’s Hebe (1966) which was originally situated in Holloway Circus; repeatedly vandalised, Hebe now lives in relative peace at the end of Corporation Street by the Children’s hospital.
I was lucky to get an early vaccination (My age or my vulnerability?) and am awaiting my covid protection to kick in; Miss A got hers on Monday. After my jab, I bumped into a friend who told me that she had just been reading of the dangers of Covid vaxxs in a new paper: The Light. I’d never heard of this and was surprised to find a copy in a bus shelter an hour later; naturally, I took it home and read it. Uhm… The Light, claiming itself ‘A Truthpaper’, is 18 pages of, poorly written, mostly covid-related, conspiracy stuff making several claims and providing little reputable evidence in support. A fascinating read with a few interesting insights and ads, but not helpful. I like the idea of conspiracy theories as a bit of fun, but can’t believe in any of them – that includes yours Mr Icke. My view is that they are usually far too sophisticated to have been wilfully enacted, the world runs on cock ups not conspiracy. If in doubt, ask, who benefits from such conspiracies and why do they bother?
Anyway, gotta’ go – got my first virtual funeral to attend. Goodnight Angela, God Bless.
[1] Now occupied by the Bullring
Michael Holliday 
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