Those were the days

When he was young, in his teens, Ernest learned to strum a guitar. He got the hang of a few chords, just the basics like C and F and A minor. He also sang a little, usually B flat! Anyway, he used to bowl up every Friday night at a local pub when most of the regular drinkers were three sheets to the wind and treat them to his hardly recognisable renditions of the big hits of the day. He strummed and sang and swayed and screwed his face up to show how deeply he was feeling the emotion of the words he was crooning. They always said that he was Ernest by name and Earnest by nature! They always appeared to be enjoying his performances; after all they laughed a lot and even joined in if the song was recognisable. All this apparent adoration gave Ernest the false impression that he was on the way to becoming a major force in the recording industry; one mega break, that’s all he needed. Little did he realise the reason for his popularity.

Thirty years went by and Ernest never did get that break. His performance tended to be in his bedroom, or the garden shed if his wife insisted he stopped making ‘that awful racket’ in the house. His favourite piece to play was Those Were the Days My Friend, his personal anthem. He had a stash of beer in his shed, or studio as he called it, from which he drowned his sorrows. The more he drank the better he seemed to play, or at least that’s how it seemed to him. He felt that he was misunderstood and one day he’d show the world that they had been deprived of his talent for a generation.

Then one boring Sunday night whilst watching a repeat of a repeat of The X Factor he mumbled something under his breath. He’d had an epiphany, a sudden realisation that the perfect way to reach his deserving audience was via Simon Cowell. He looked around the room at his wife and kids and proclaimed that he was going to win the next series of The X Factor. There was a look of amusement on his wife’s face and looks of horror from his teenage daughter and son. Their expressions spelt out like OMG very loudly! What on earth would their friends think if their Dad popped up on the screen; they'd like LOL!

To cut a long, very long story short, he applied to The X Factor the following year and was duly summoned for the auditions. He spent the next few weeks getting himself a new look. Much to his kids embarrassment he now sported spiky balding hair and greyish fuzz on his lower face. When he experimented with wearing his jeans fashionably half way down his back-side, the family said he’d gone one step too far, in fact when he took one step into the street  they dropped down around his ankles. He also felt he need a catchier name to go with his new youthful image and he duly re-christened himself Eric; if it was good enough for Mr Clapton it was good enough for him!

The day arrived. He had expected to be standing in front of the judges for his first performance; it hadn’t occurred to him that there would be a preliminary panel whittling down the many thousands to the chosen few. And of course, the selected acts which were to go forward to the TV auditions were chosen as much for their Cringe Factor as their X Factor. Clearly his act went down well, and when he was told that he was to be appearing in front of Simon and Louis and those young ladies from so called girl bands (what did they know about real music?) he assumed that stardom was only a few songs away.

One of the judges (a pretty girl with a Liverpool accent who he knew was once married to millionaire footballer  and sang in a band he thought was called No Girls Allowed or something like that) asked him what he was about to entertain them with. Those Were the Days My Friend he muttered. Simon asked him to speak up and he bellowed the title down the microphone causing the assembled thousands to jump off their seats as one! He was a couple of minutes in, and he thought it was going down pretty well; after all the judges were pulling faces at one another and the audience were laughing just as they did all those years ago in the pub. Louis shot his hand up into the air and the backing track fell silent as did Ernest – sorry, Eric! He had expected rapturous applause and to see the judges on their feet clapping their hands in utter amazement. But all was quiet. It was time for Plan B. He had another trick up his sleeve if only they’d let him try it. This time the audience were on his side and they started calling E-ric, E-ric, E-ric.  Eric of course didn’t realise that they were more a baying mob than an adoring audience desperate to hear more. Well, he was given a second go, and Plan B turned out to be a more active version of Plan A with Eric attempting frantic dance moves and even failing to perform a hand stand.

Eric – sorry, Ernest didn’t make boot camp, in fact the only boot he got was being booted out of the auditions. His kids asked to go to a different school and his long suffering wife has been shopping online rather than making her weekly trip to the supermarket.  But he hasn’t given up. He’s still convinced that he has a talent deep within him which will someday emerge to enthral and entertain the nation if not the world.

Carry OnTuesday prompt is Those Were the Days my Friend

SundayScribblings  is Plan B

(Fiction)Friday) is Drown your Sorrows

Tommy's adventure

The prompt at Carry On Tuesday this  week is 'He should have seen it coming' and over at Sunday Scribblings it's Easy' 

"How was the exam?" asked Dad as Tommy came through the door.  Tommy dropped his bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the sofa. A big grin spread across his face. “Easy” he said “it was a doddle Dad!”  Tommy didn’t have too much homework to do and anyway, it was in his words ‘easy’, so there was still time for a bit of fun before bedtime.

The sun was setting over the park. Tommy had a feeling that he was being watched. He couldn’t see any one, but he could feel several pairs of eyes peering at him. He looked around. Were there people hiding behind the trees? There was a hedge a few feet away. Was he being watched from behind the twigs and leaves? He jumped as he heard a crunch and a snap to his left. He spun round and as he did so a menacing growl came from behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, he could hear himself breathing and a trickle of sweat ran down his brow.  He ran forward and stumbled into a ditch. He didn’t expect that. Water swirled around his feet – the stench was awful. He spotted a sturdy stick; it may come in useful he thought.  As he clambered out of the ditch a ferocious hair covered creature appeared in front of him welding a spiked ball on a chain. As he creature began to spin his deadly weapon around and around, Tommy leapt forward and smashed his stick against his foes shins. The creature shrieked as Tommy dashed away across the grass looking over his shoulder as he ran. Crash. He’d run into a tree trunk and he fell to the ground. He was seeing stars, and not just stars. Suddenly from the midst of the twinkling lights a two headed vulture swept down from the sky. Tommy waved his stick around in the air and sent a crashing blow to one of the vulture’s heads. It screamed and rushed up into the sky.

Tommy was really tired. He sat there, his heart pounding and wondering what on earth would happen next. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. It made him jump out of his skin; he should have seen it coming. He spun round and saw his Dad standing over him.

“Time to turn off the Xbox for tonight Tommy” said Dad “Time for bed, you’ve another exam in the morning and this time it might not be as easy!”

The windows to the soul

Many years ago I met a girl called Laura. A strange girl, she was never seen without a pair of dark glasses covering her eyes. I caught her off guard one day, and just for a moment her eyes were uncovered; just for a moment I caught a glimpse of her eyes and I was overcome by a strange and indescribable sensation. Let me tell you about Laura. Much is heresay, but those who new her all seem to tell the same story.

You’ve never seen so many sunglasses. All over her apartment sunglasses are tucked and wedged and propped into every corner. Under cushions, in kitchen drawers, on shelves, among the leaves of her houseplants; dark glasses lurk, peer and peek. Watching everything that happens in Laura’s apartment.

Nobody has ever seen Laura’s eyes. Are they blue as the midday sky, or brown like the soil of mother earth? Are they as cold as a winter morn’s frost, or burning like the flames of an autumn bonfire? Do they sparkle or sulk or glisten or brood? Day after day Laura hides her eyes behind windows of darkened glass, each of them framed with a colour of the rainbow or shades beyond.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Laura wants nobody to see into her soul. And Laura has no desire to look into the souls of those she meets. Nobody realises that when they meet Laura, she avoids looking them in their eyes. She looks to their right or their left. She stares above or below; anywhere but into their eyes. But because of her glasses, no one realises she’s looking anywhere but into their eyes.

Laura lost her mother when she was but a few years old. Those that remember Laura’s mother remember only her eyes. They say they looked empty, like deep dark pits. She was it seems, a troubled person though nobody ever knew why. It is said that when Laura looked into her dying mother’s eyes she saw something terrible; something which would stay with her always, and something she never wanted to see again. From that day to this Laura has worn dark glasses so that no one can see into her soul. She avoids eye contact with everyone she meets for fear of seeing something deep inside them which will bring back the terror she suffered all those years ago.

‘If thine eyes be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness’: Matthew 6: 23

Carry On Tuesday prompt is 'when I look into your eyes'
(Fiction) Friday Challenge prompt is 'your character has an unusual phobia but tries to hide it'.
Our Sunday Scribblings prompt is 'Sensation'. 

Please don't make movies from books!

In July of last year I read a book which completely blew my mind! So much so that I wrote a revue here on Keith’s Ramblings. It was titled One Day and written by David Nicholls. Well, here we are one year on, and a film has been made of the book starring American actress Anne Hathaway in the starring role of Emma.


Such was the popularity of the book, the premier of One Day the movie was a huge red carpet event which was held in Leicester Square in London’s West End. The massive crowd held aloft a sea of orange and white books in the hope of gaining the autographs of the stars.


Predictably, as is often the case, the movie received a luke warm reception from its legion of fans. Anne Hathaway’s ‘Yorkshire accent’ has been the subject of much ridicule from the devotees of the book who’ve seen it so far. The emotional poignancy of many of the scenes has been watered down or missed out altogether.

David Nicholls’s previous book was also made the subject of a movie. The novel Starter for Ten was simply brilliant. A couple of weeks ago I read it on a plane during a flight to Egypt; I couldn’t help but chuckle out loud, much to the amusement of my fellow passengers in the adjacent seats! Then a couple of days ago I managed to get a copy of the movie, and surprise surprise, the film was a disaster. Scenes were dropped, characters somehow changed nationalities, and the entire experience was diluted.

The problem with creating cinematic dramas from books seems to be in the limited time available to the film maker. In the case of One Day, twenty years had to be compressed into ninety minutes. It is just impossible.

David Nicholls has three titles to his credit. Before he wrote One Day And Starter for Ten he came up with one of the funniest tales of all time, The Understudy. As far as I’m aware it’s managed to avoid a movie version. I sincerely hope it never gets the silver screen treatment.

Currently the number one best selling book in the UK is One Day. Number two is Starter for Ten and number four, The Understudy; amazing, but hardly surprising. I can’t wait to see what appears next from the pen of David Nicholls.

If only walls could talk

I can’t begin this account of my holiday without first giving you a little background information, much as it pains me to do so.

As I walked through the streets and markets of Luxor it was impossible not to sense tension in the air. There was nothing I could put my finger on, but it’s evident that following the revolution of February this year things are far from calm. Since President Mubarak stepped down, Egypt has been under military rule. Police brutality was considered to be one of the main motives behind the uprising and they disappeared from the streets for a while, but since their return they have been treated with very little respect.

In large conurbations such as Cairo and Aswan much of the population are employed in industry and the public sector. Luxour however is almost totally dependent on tourism. At the time when most families were planning their holidays earlier this year, Egypt was seen as a place to avoid especially as many tourists were among the 846 people who were killed and the 6000 injured in February. As a result, tourists are very scarce and it was therefore not surprising that the hassle factor for which Egypt is notorious was ten times worse than previously! My hotel, one of the more prestigious resorts in Luxor, was no more than 20% full. This time last year there wasn’t a bed to be had. I saw owners of souvenir shops sitting disconsolate on their doorsteps; the horse-drawn caliches stood idle, and most of the restaurants were empty. I spoke to the owner of the café in which I had lunch hours before returning home, and he told me that he has no idea how his business and his family will survive this

Egypt has put up with a lot since it came into being in 3150 BC. Having originally been ruled by the Pharaohs, it was later to become Persian. Then Alexander the Great came and conquered Egypt and so its Greek period started. Then along came the Romans! This chequered history has of course provided Upper Egypt with a wealth of history, traces of which today litter the landscape. I chose to visit Luxor in order to visit many of the sites which have earned this region the title ‘the world’s greatest open air museum’.  Join me as I give you an idea of what I experienced.

If only walls could talk

I’ve seen temples in most of the countries I’ve visited. But the temples I saw in and around Luxor took me to another level! It’s hard if not impossible to appreciate the fact that these enormous sanctuaries were constructed not just centuries ago, but thousands of years ago. Luxor temple for instance was founded in 1400BC.

Click on photos  to enlarge 

I’m not going to bore you with loads of historical facts and dates. To be honest I had trouble in getting all the dates and names into my head, so whenever a guide looked at me whilst spouting facts plentiful, I just stroked my chin, nodded my head and tried to look intelligent! Take a wander around Luxor Temple with me, and whilst you do so imagine if you will that until the late 19^th century most of what we see was completely buried beneath the ground.

There is no doubt that what has so far been uncovered is but the tip of the iceberg, and excavation is still going on today as it will into the far future.There was originally an avenue of sphinxes all the way from Luxor Temple to the Karnack temples some three miles away. Both ends have now been excavated  and work is ongoing to eventually uncover the whole road.

The Karnack temple complex is the most visited site in all of Egypt. It was started by Ramses 11 who reigned from 1391–1351 BC. All of the temples in Egypt were originally brightly painted. It would be wrong of course to use modern paints today to renovate the pillars and walls. Whilst they have some idea of how the paints were made they’ve not yet discovered the secret ingredient that prevents the colours from washing away when it rains for that single day every year! Here endeth the facts! Come for a stroll.

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Click on photos  to enlarge 

Queen Hatshepsut temple butts the mountainside was commissioned by Augustus in 15BC. Climbing all those steps in the midday sun was sheer torture!

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Half way through my holiday I decided to set off down (or was it up?) the Nile. The River Nile is the world’s longest river measuring over 4000 miles. I was surprised to learn that only about 20% of the river actually flows through Egypt. The country is almost entirely dessert, but alongside the Nile there are wide fertile banks on which crops grow and cattle graze. I travelled in a floating palace known as the M/S Orchid. It was great!

It chugged along past village after village whist feeding me scrumptious food and quenching my thirst with flavoursome beers. We even had tea and cakes at sundown! It was a long day from the misty moisty morning until sunset. My arm ached from waving at the ebullient children who rushed to the river bank as we passed. Hardly surprising that the God of the River Nile is known as Hapi! There was a swimming pool on board which was filled with screaming splashing kids for the whole 12 hours. I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been happier playing with youngsters at the riverside, but I resisted the urge to get them to walk the plank!  Anyway, swallow a sea sick pill and come with me; sorry I can’t offer you a beverage!

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Needless to say we managed a quick stop off to visit another temple (surprise surprise!) This time it was a
Greek one, Dendur temple, and it had a roof – that’s unusual I‘m told.

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The Valley of the Kings which dates back to 16-11BC was the highlight of my trip. It was here that the tomb of Tutankhamen was found having been there for some 4000 years.  His tomb is in fact quite modest compared to the other 63 so far discovered. This was the final resting place of the Kings of Egypt; a valley in the mountains on the west bank of the river Nile. Sadly cameras are forbidden (They claim that the flashes would harm the paint -  mmmm) So, I’ve nicked a couple of pictures from another site to give you an idea what I saw.

We also visited the Valley of the Queens which as its name implies is the burial site of the wives of the Kings. Again, photography not allowed!


I mentioned in my preamble that I spent some time wandering around Luxor. I have to say that I’m not one for lounging around the pool. It bores me. The smells, the sounds and the sights I experienced down town will remain with me forever. From the donkey carts to the meat stalls; the shoemakers to the vegetable sellers.Flags strung across streets and brightly coloured washing hanging from balconies. And of course the heat – it reached 45 degrees every day, that’s 115 degrees in old money. Ready? Then off we go.

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I didn’t take lots of photos of my hotel, lovely as it was. But I did take a couple from the bar, after all it was the best place to sit (because of the view of course!) This is what I saw.

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I was of course in the wrong part of Egypt for the pyramids. I may go there one day, I don’t know. My abiding image of them is a picture I saw recently which showed a branch of McDonalds alongside one of those great monuments! I can just imagine the menu – Pharaoh Burger and McRamses fries and Tutankhabonated Cola!

Thanks for joining me on my trip. I can only hope it has inspired you to go there too. As I write this the sun is going down in my little corner of England. Minutes before I left the hotel for the airport I leant on wall beside the swimming pool and took a picture of the very same sun setting across the Nile.

As usual I’ve only used a handful of pictures within my piece. I will shortly have about 50 selected photos over at Keith’s Images. I’ll let you know when they are in place.