Category: Posts

7 Reasons to Support The Referee

Well, that’s it, another domestic football season is over and now we’ve got the World Cup to look forward to. Next season, however, we should do things a little differently than we usually do. We should stop supporting our football teams and support the ref. Now that might seem like a strange and unusual thing to do, but if you consider it carefully, it’s quite logical really. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Colours. When you support your team you only get the choice of home and away kits to wear. When you support the ref, you get a veritable rainbow of shirts and scarves to choose from. Do you know what colour the ref’s going to be wearing this week, or next? You could justify donning a technicolour dreamcoat to support the referee and who wouldn’t want to wear one of those?

2. See More Teams. I need a football team to use as an example so if you could imagine that you support Bury FC, that would be a great help. Don’t worry, this will just be for a moment and you should be able to forget about it later, perhaps with therapy. As a Bury supporter next season, you would have to go to Gigg Lane every other week and watch Bury play League Two football. And then, should you wish to attend away matches too, you’d have to travel all over the country, at great expense, to watch Bury play League Two football. Your life would be dominated by League Two, and by Bury, and you wouldn’t really want that. If you supported a referee though, you wouldn’t have to see Bury-plus-other every week, you’d see two different teams. And if you chose a Premier League referee, you wouldn’t have to watch League Two football at all. You’d get to visit a lovely, well-appointed stadium for most matches, and you’d get to watch football played to a terrific standard every time. Brilliant. You may stop supporting Bury now.

3. Chants And Songs. When you’re a supporter of a popular club, you view matches amongst thousands upon thousands of other people, and it’s hard to express yourself. Most of the songs and chants have already been written. When you support the referee though, you can compose your own: “A rope! A tree! Enshrine the referee!”, “Who needs Mourinho? We’ve got D’Urso”. “He’s tough, but fair, he hasn’t any hair…Steve Bennett. Steve Bennett.” You can sing anything you like, you’re autonomous and creatively free.

4. Save Money. Now, you might be thinking that supporting the referee will cost you more than supporting a team, and you’d be correct. But you could offset some of the extra cost by supporting a local ref – one that lives near you. Then you’d be able to car-share with him because, after all, most refs drive to matches, and it’s not like they’ve got any friends to take up space in their car. They’ll probably be glad of the company.

5. Fair Play. Fed up of watching overpaid prima donnas fall over when an opponent is within three feet of them? Tired of watching aggressive gangs of players surrounding the man in the middle attempting to bully him? I know I am. You can register your protest against it by supporting the ref. Cheer as he pulls out his cards; spell the player’s name out for him as he writes it in his notebook, it’s usually “D-A-V-I-E-S”; shout “exemplary decision, Lino!” as the linesman makes a good call; praise the fourth official for his fabulous grasp of timekeeping. You’ll be sending out a message to sulky, petulant players and managers and you’ll feel good about it. The whole atmosphere that the game is played in will be improved and I’m certain that everyone will thank you.*

6. Heckling. Football, by its very nature, is an immensely partisan affair. Often when following your team, you find yourself allied with – and even supporting – people that you usually wouldn’t have anything to do with. If you’re at the Chelsea vs Newcastle fixture next season, you’re liable to be a supporter of one of those teams. Which means that you’re going to be cheering-on the Chelsea players, or the Newcastle players. If you support the ref though, you’re aloof from all of the partisanship and you can do what any reasonable, right-thinking individual would do. You can shout abuse at both Joey Barton and Ashley Cole.

7. Be An Individual. Everyone with a passing interest in football supports a team, usually it’s Manchester United. If you support the ref though, you’re not one of the herd, you’re an individual. You’re your own boss, blazing a new trail, setting your own rules of behaviour and taking a novel approach to your sporting involvement. You don’t even have to wait until next season. You can adopt a ref during the World Cup. I’m supporting Howard Webb: He may well be England’s best chance of reaching the final. Who’s with me?

*7 Reasons bears no legal responsibility for fans of the referee.

June 1, 2010
7 Reasons The Osmonds Were Right

Today I am offering a public service. To man. By addressing you. The woman. I know man is seen as the least romantic of the sexes, but man still likes to be loved. And, as The Osmonds so wisely stated, he likes to be loved because you actually love him. Not because he’s good with a screwdriver. Something like that anyway. Basically, what I am trying to get at is this. I’ve taken this classic Osmonds tune and edited it. So that you, the woman, will not make mistakes when you tell a man of your reasons for loving him. You’ll thank me one day.

7 Reasons The Osmonds Were Right

Don’t Love Me For Fun Girl, Let Me Be The One Girl, Love Me For A Reason, Let The Reason Be…

1. My DIY Skills. I assure you ladies, telling your man that you love him because he is great with a hammer is not the way to go. Would you like it if man told you that he loved you because you are good at ironing? No. Exactly.

2. My Memory. Don’t tell your man that you love him because he has a great memory. He’ll probably forget. Then you’ll get annoyed that he keeps forgetting. And he won’t know why you’re getting annoyed. And then you’ll split up. So don’t do it. Not if you really love him.

3. My Ability To Be Tall And Reach The Top Shelf In Sainsburys. Man doesn’t mind being tall and actually he is happy that he has some use in the supermarket bar getting in the way and trying to manoeuvre the trolley too fast. But telling him you love him because he’s tall is like him telling you he loves you because you are short enough to get in the attic without bashing your head.

4. My Hair. Facial Hair. Always a delicate one this. And actually you are probably doing yourself a favour by not using it. Man is programmed to reciprocate without thinking. “I love you” is reciprocated with “I love you too”. “I love your moustache” becomes “I love your moustache too”. Not good.

5. My Collection Of Sporting Memorabilia 1994 – Present Day. Man likes his collection of programmes and fixture lists and photos from years ago. It brings back good memories. And he also likes it because you don’t. Man doesn’t share your passion for American Idol or knitting, so don’t share his passion for signed pairs of Gary Lineker worn shorts.

6. My Dislike Of The Lesser Boyzone Version Of This Song. Man likes to think he knows about such topics as music. A woman’s job is to say, ‘Ooh I like this new one from Boyzone’. This gives the man a chance to show off and scoff and say, ‘This isn’t new. This is a cover of a far superior song’. What he does not expect is for woman to switch off the radio and say, ‘Why did Boyzone make such a rubbish cover?’

7. My Marc Fearns Mask. Seriously, man is just going to get very annoyed if you love it when he wears the mask. Unless you are Marc Fearns yourself of course. In which case you’ll probably think it’s a right result.

May 31, 2010
7 Reasons to get an Archipod

This, in case you haven’t seen one before, is an archipod. It’s a home office that you can put in your garden. This is why you need one.

1. External Aesthetics. Look at it. Just look at it! It’s amazing. It’s a pod that looks like a giant beehive. It’s got a door that opens upwards like a DeLorean or a gull-wing Mercedes or a spaceship or something. It has a porthole. A porthole! It looks like the coolest thing in the world; the only things that could possibly improve it would be a searchlight and a diamond-tipped funnel made of titanium.

2. Internal Aesthetics. Inside, it looks like a cross between a Japanese capsule hotel, a Kubrickian spacecraft and an igloo. It’s got a porthole there too! And a semi-circular command station…er…desk. Did I mention how cool it looks?

3. Name. It’s called an archipod, which is a portmanteau word consisting of archi from architect and pod, which comes from pod. But look at what else it contains. It says ipod in the middle of it. This means that all Apple-obsessives, or most-of-my-friends, as I call them, will believe that it’s the most desirable thing in the world; more desirable than a suit of armour; more desirable than a yacht; more desirable than a Fender Telecaster; more desirable than Jennifer Aniston. It even looks like something Apple would make. But I want one too. So it must be better than anything by Apple. And it is, because it’s an archipod!

4. Price. I have absolutely no idea how much an archipod costs. But if they were asking for all of the money in the world I’m fairly certain that someone would have told me, and they haven’t, so it’s clearly a bargain that’s worth every penny.

5. Roundness. Now, I have to be honest: It’s not totally spherical, and that’s something of a disappointment. But if it was a pure sphere, it might roll away, and then you’d have to ask the neighbours if they’d seen your archipod and they’d say, “You have an archipod? Wow, that’s so cool!”. And you’d have to explain that no, you’d lost your archipod, and then you’d be the cretin who lost the archipod (coolest thing in the world) and you would become a social pariah; an object of ridicule; a veritable leper; the neighbourhood reject, cast out of decent society into a hellish solitude of eternal archipod-loss-induced squalor, damnation, misery and…sorry, I digress. Anyway, that the floor is flat is probably a good thing as the archipod will always be where you left it. The rest of it is round, which means that, unlike conventional offices, you can’t have a notice-board covered with dreary “motivational” posters on the wall and no one can put a half-dead pot plant in the corner, because there aren’t any. Corners that is. I have loads of half-dead pot plants if anyone needs one,

6. Foil. The archipod is insulated with foil and to many crazy people, this foil-lining would be seen as a desirable feature that would stop the gamma-rays affecting their brains. It may currently appear that I am one of them but I can assure you that the only things affecting my brain at the moment are the archipod and an espresso – a double archipod with sugar and a biscotti.

7. Inspiration. Here at 7 Reasons we know that there are always seven reasons for everything, but I can’t think of a seventh reason to get an archipod. This is because I’m writing this in a rectangular room full of books and a cat. If I were writing in cooler and more inspirational environs such as…let me see…an archipod, for example, I’d be able to think of one easily. Oh, there you go, that’s the seventh reason to get one. That’s the wondrous power of the archipod: Even thinking of one provides inspiration. Right, I’m off to put my family on ebay now* and to have a lie down.**

*Details on how you can contribute to the Buy The 7 Reasons Team An Archipod Fund will be available soon.

**There’s no particular reason to mark that, I just don’t feel that I’ve said archipod enough yet. Archipod. Archipod! IT’S THE ARCHIPOD! There, that’s better.

May 28, 2010
7 Reasons That Google Shouldn’t Have Revived Pacman

Last week, to celebrate the 30^th anniversary of PacMan, Google put a version of the game on their main page. The game proved so popular that they’ve now made it permanently available. Here are 7 reasons that they shouldn’t have.

1. Age. Pacman is slow, old looking and not as much fun as it once was: This is typical of everything and everyone over thirty. Why not encourage contemporary game developers by putting a new game there?

2. 1980. By reviving Pacman, Google is taking us back to 1980. But there are far better years that Google could celebrate. Why look back to a year that gave us the Olympic boycott, the election of Robert Mugabe, the death of John Bonham and the interminable and tedious saga of who shot JR Ewing? Why not commemorate 2009? Computer games were better; clothes were better; hair was better; England won The Ashes. It’s a much better year.

3. Prominence. Why not use the widely viewed search engine to promote something good? Instead of putting Pacman there, why not celebrate the 65^th anniversary of the end of WWII with an appeal for world peace or commemorate 1986 with an appeal for the Duchess of York to shut up and go away? Who wouldn’t prefer that?

4. Time. According to people that could be bothered to work it out, 4.82 million (Pac)man-hours (sorry, I couldn’t help myself) were spent playing Pacman last Friday. That can’t all have been me, there must have been several other people playing it too. Perhaps you’re one of them. That’s a lot of time spent playing something so obsolete.

5. Ubiquity. Once you’ve been playing Pacman for nine hours or so, your mind begins to unravel a bit and you start to see him all over the place. I’ve produced a pie chart to illustrate this phenomena. Seriously, he’s everywhere.

6. Music. Michael Winner dressed in a purple shell-suit scraping his fingernails down Simon Cowell’s blackboard would be less irritating than the relentlessly jaunty music from Pacman. That it has been seldom heard in the last few years should be a cause for general rejoicing. Offices can already be hellish enough places to work; imagine being able to hear someone at the next desk playing Pacman. Actually, try not to imagine it. Take deep breaths and think cleansing thoughts. Close your eyes and say “Ommmm”.

7. Rubbish. The single worst thing about the revival of Pacman is that I’m bloody rubbish at it. Useless. Cataclysmically useless. Useless to an extent that in years to come, my name will probably be used to redefine humanity’s very concept of uselessness. Nothing in my childhood prepared me for being chased by monsters – not even all of the Scooby Doo viewing – I was too busy playing Space Inavders. Now that’s a real game.

May 27, 2010
7 Reasons U2 Have No Excuse Not To Perform At Glastonbury

So, yesterday, U2 had to pull out of their scheduled headline appearance at this year’s Glastonbury because Bono needs to rest his back. As excuses go, that’s up there with, ‘My imaginary dog ate my homework’. And this is why.

1. Posture. Now, I know ‘rockstars’ like to own the stage. Nothing gets them more erect than running across the stage and whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Given that Bono is a prick most of the time, it will come as no surprise that I believe he falls into this category. But, do you know what? There is no rule that says you have to ponce around the stage. You are allowed to sit down. Or even lie down on stage. So why couldn’t Bono have done this?

2. Location. The Edge and the other two – who don’t actually have names – could easily be on the stage at Glastonbury with a video link to Bono sitting at home, in front of his webcam. He can afford one.

3. Orifices. The last time I checked, Bono didn’t sing out of his back. He talks out of something close to it, but singing out of his back? No. He uses what most of us use. His mouth. Saying he can’t sing at Glastonbury is a bit like me saying I can’t bend down because I have a cold-sore on the side of my mouth.

4. Miming. Bono doesn’t actually have to sing. People will understand. He could just stand there and open his mouth while U2’s roadie presses play on the tape recorder round the back.

5. Geoffrey Knight. I wouldn’t blame you if you have never heard of Geoffrey. Up until ten seconds ago neither had I. But he is arguably the world’s greatest Bono impersonator. Don’t take it from me, visit his website. Now, I know a thing or two about impersonation* and, the truth is, a lot of people – mainly those who don’t bother to read – will believe just about anything. So all Bono had to do was get Michael Eavis to write somewhere on the Glastonbury website that Geoffrey would be appearing instead of him. Simple.

6. Holograms. Yes, so supposing Geoffrey isn’t available – maybe he is out impersonating Bob Geldof – well then it’s time for the lights and projection systems and all that jazz to take over. With all the strobing and flashing lights that happen on these stages, no one is really going to notice if Bono is actually being played by a hologram. And let’s be honest, after all the alcohol that has been consumed by the crowd, the whole thing is just a blur anyway.

7. My Mum & Everyone Else. My mum has a bad back, but she’s the kind of woman who wouldn’t let you know it. Not once has she phoned up the owner of Tesco to cancel her appearance in the aisles later that day. Instead, she gets in the car, does the shopping and then carries everything into the house. Sometimes I think it’s quite harsh not to open the front door for her. And then, like I say, there is everyone else. Everyday, all over the world, people are injuring their backs. Do they cancel their appearance at Glastonbury because of it? No, they do not. Bono, you are pathetic.

*It’s really quite an art.

May 26, 2010
7 Reasons These Phrases Just Don’t Make Sense

1. Get On Like A House On Fire. So this means you supposedly get on really well with someone. Marc and I, for example, get on like a house on fire. Unfortunately, if a house is on fire, it is going to burn to the ground. Soon there will be no house. There will be ashes. It will be the end. So really, if people get on like a house on fire, it actually means the relationship won’t last. So like I say, Marc and I get on like a house on fire.

2. Keep Your Eyes Peeled. Eyes are not like onions. Or carrots. Or potatoes. In fact they are not like any food substance. Unless we are talking sheep’s eyes. But we are not. We are talking about human eyes. And how silly it is to tell someone to keep an eye out for something by encouraging them to get the peeler out of the drawer.

3. Bringing Home The Bacon. This is fine if you’re a butcher, but if you are a banker or a fireman or a solicitor or a professional ferret tickler, you don’t want to have to keep bringing bacon home every night. Particularly as the ferret will probably eat it. ‘Bringing Home The Money’ makes far more sense. Especially if you’ve just robbed Barclays.

4. Drink Like A Fish. Obviously we all know that this means to drink a lot. The correct phrase, however, should be ‘Drink Like A Saltwater Fish’. Freshwater fish, unlike their saltwater friends, do not drink water. They absorb it. Why does this matter? Well if you know that someone who drinks like a saltwater fish is coming round to the party, you can give them a glass of fizz. If, on the other hand, you know they drink like a freshwater fish, well you can run them a bath.

5. Saved By The Bell. No one, in the history of the world, has ever been saved by a bell. A bell is an inanimate object and thus not able to save people. If, for example, you were shot at but the bullet ricocheted off a bell, well you wouldn’t have been saved by the bell you would have been saved by your wise positioning. Or the sniper’s inaccuracy.

6. What A Load Of Codswallop. We use this to describe our 7 Reasons posts quite a lot. It means, ‘what a load of nonsense’ of course. But it shouldn’t. By my calculations it should mean, ‘what a load of fishes punch’ or ‘what a load of fishes whack’. Since when did ‘fishes whack’ mean ‘nonsense’?

7. It’s Cold Enough To Freeze The Balls Off A Brass Monkey. No it’s not. It’s never cold enough to do that. It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a 7 Reasons co-founder, maybe. But not off a brass monkey. And while we are on the subject, has anyone ever seen a brass monkey with balls? Or is that the point? Have they all been frozen off? Okay, you’ll have to disregard this reason. It actually makes perfect sense.

May 25, 2010
7 Reasons Not to Write in the Park

Last week, I wrote a piece entitled 7 Reasons To Write In The Park. I did this because it was a nice day and I thought it would be a good idea to combine a visit to my local park with writing, Having come up with the title for the piece before I set off, I felt duty-bound to complete it, even though my experience showed me that the park isn’t the ideal place to write at all. This is why.

Picture by www.webbaviation.co.uk

1. Sunshine. It was sunny in the park. I discovered that sunlight is incompatible with writing as I couldn’t see what was on the screen of my laptop. I’m not the most accurate of typists and being able to see what I’m keying in is vital to me. After I’d finished writing, I returned home to find that I’d written this:

I had to spend hours rewriting it from memory. Indoors.

2. The Descent Of Man. There’s an ice cream vendor at my local park so I bought an ice cream which, as it was a hot sunny day, melted and made both of my hands very sticky. I needed to type but I didn’t have a tissue or a wet wipe with me; because I’m not very organised and also because I’m not a woman (I don’t even own a dress). I ended up having to clean my hands by dragging them around on the grass. And so it was that I, a modern man, was reduced to savagery by something as simple as a defrosting confection. Pathetic.

3. Women. There were scantily clad women sunbathing in the park; some of them were reading too. This is a distraction I never encounter when writing at home and I got quite hot under the collar (an idiomatic one, I’m not a dog). As I sat there trying to write, I found myself thinking about how attractive women with books are. For reasons that I can’t fathom, a woman reading Dostoyevsky is at least 70% more attractive than a similar looking woman that isn’t reading anything. I was supposed to be writing and instead, I found myself just sitting there, wondering if I’m a book fetishist or even if there is such a thing. Is it the paper? Is it the font? Is it the rustling sound of the turning pages? Anyway, the upshot was that I lost at least half an hour of writing time worrying that I’m some sort of biblio-pervert.

4. Ducks. It’s not possible to write anything near a duck. I know, I’ve tried. They do three things that are distracting; they quack, they waddle and they sleep with their heads facing backwards. How are you supposed to write anything near a creature like that?

5. Words. I overheard a man and a woman that were seated near me on a bench. I listened, because you never know if you might be able to use what you hear as dialogue later on. The woman had a very distracted, slightly disconnected, manner of speech; she would leave long pauses mid-sentence before eventually resuming. At one point she said “…of course, Mike would fall for her…she’s very…”. It was during the final pause that the word bendy popped into my head and caused me to burst into – what outwardly appeared to be spontaneous – laughter. The couple – who had previously observed me dragging my hands around on the ground – soon moved on, presumably a little concerned. Or even a lot concerned.

6. Tan. I thought I’d tanned slightly while I was writing in the park but it turns out that I hadn’t. The following morning I woke with one red arm. It’s a completely different colour to my other arm but, as my highly amused wife pointed out to me, it does go better with the kitchen.

7. Just Because. I don’t know what I was thinking, Trying to write in the park was clearly a foolish act. It’s the wrong thing to do there: it’s not what parks are for. I should have been running around with a ball or a Frisbee (again, I feel I should stress that I’m not a dog) or reading or feeding the ducks. Writing there was a disaster. In conclusion; if you need to write anything, the park’s the wrong place to do it.*

*And it’s full of book-perverts.

May 24, 2010
7 Reasons That We Shouldn’t Make A Podcast

Well, here it is. You didn’t know that you’d been waiting for it, but it’s here anyway: It’s the 7 Reasons podcast. To play it, simply press the play button on the player or, if you want to download it, follow this link, then right-click and select the “save as” option. After all, who wouldn’t want a miniature 7 Reasons team to carry around with them and be in their ears? No one, that’s who. Probably.

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May 23, 2010
7 Reasons You Are Wrong Not To Love The 2012 Olympic Mascots

1. Equality. Wenlock (he’s on the right) and Mandeville belong to a young boy and a young girl. Though for quite a while I thought the young girl was also a young boy. But this has clearly been done on purpose to show solidarity behind those athletes who are still deciding whether they should enter the Olympics as a man or a woman. Caster Semenya for example.*

2. Billy Crystal. Okay, not Billy Crystal per se, but the animated character he voiced in Monsters Inc. Mike Wazowski. He was a one-eyed monster and, at first, children were terrified of him. They had nightmares and all sorts. But eventually they got round to liking him. Loving him even. And that is what will happen to Wenlock and Mandeville. They may terrify you now, but come 2012 you’ll be making your own Wenlock outfits.

3. The Future. While we are on that point. This is 2010. The Olympics aren’t for another two years. Who knows what might happen in the next 798 days? We may get visited by Wenlock and Mandeville look-alikes from somewhere else in this universe. They might turn up and fix the whole global warming thing. And the economy thing. And mend your bike puncture. If that happens you can’t possibly tell me you won’t be happy. You can’t possibly tell me you won’t be immediate fans of Hemlock and Manderlay. So let’s have a little perspective please people.

4. Home Life. The boy and girl live with their grandparents. I don’t know why, but I am guessing that this is because, maybe, Mummy and Daddy have gone away for a while. Possibly to prison. Or maybe they were investigating volcanic activity in Iceland a few weeks ago. Either way, their Grandpa George does something very sweet for his grandchildren. He whacks a bit of steel into some quite funky shapes. The children are delighted. Yet all you can do is complain. Why can’t you be happy for them you heartless bunch?

5. The Beaver. Which would you prefer? Wenlock and Mandeville or Amik The Beaver from the 1976 Montreal Games? I for one am thankful our designers are no longer inspired by roadkill.

6. Security. Let’s not pretend that some nasty people aren’t going to think about doing something bad during the games. If we have a load of one-eyed freaks guarding the stadia, I strongly suspect that they may think twice. Especially as I have heard that Wenlock v1.2 will has a laser beam that he can fire from his eye.

7. The Film. Still don’t like them? Still think we should have had a cuddly lion? Well, watch the film. It’s beautifully made, beautifully told, beautifully funny and beautifully optimistic. You beauty.

*I admit this is in very bad taste. I am even a little bit ashamed of writing it. But I really was struggling for reasons. You understand. All complaints should be addressed to Marc Fearns.

May 21, 2010
7 Reasons To Write In The Park

Something amazing happened yesterday; the sun came out in Yorkshire. With a mixture of delirium, excitement and astonishment I abandoned my plans and headed off to my local park. I decided to justify this dereliction of home improvement duty by coming up with 7 Reasons To Write In The Park.

Picture by www.webbaviation.co.uk

1. Fitness. I walked to the park, something that probably counts as one of my five portions of exercise per day. Had I stayed at home to write I would have had to have paced up-and-down to achieve the same effect. Not for very long, the park’s just around the corner, but still, it all helps.

2. Ice Cream. There is no ice cream in my house, but my local park has an ice cream vendor. I love ice cream, and it turns out that it’s a brilliant accompaniment to writing, better even than the bananas that usually fuel my compositions. Obviously your local park might not have ice cream, but it’s not my fault if your park sucks and mine doesn’t.

3. Inspiration. While I was writing in the park two middle-aged men, deep in conversation, walked past me and I overheard one of them exclaim, “…I don’t even own a dress!” I have no idea what the context was, but at some point I’ll be able to use this in something. It’s currently a monologue, but eventually, I may be able to use it as dialogue – or perhaps even trialogue – if such a thing exists. Those words came free at the park; I wouldn’t have heard anyone say them at home. And by that, I don’t mean that I own a dress, I mean that I wouldn’t be saying it aloud to myself while writing. My wife wouldn’t say it either. She has loads of the things. They’re everywhere.

4. Sunlight. Often, when writing, the location of the writer means that they don’t see much sunlight. In my case, I usually write near a window in a West facing room in North Yorkshire so I’m more likely to see a unicorn piloting a zeppelin to Greenland than I am to see the sun. Yesterday, however, as I emerged from my house blinking and startled into the sunlight and headed off to the park it felt good. I may have even tanned slightly while writing! Extraordinary.

5. Ducks. There are ducks in the park. Ducks are among the cutest animals in the world; they’re amazing. Right about now, you’re probably asking yourself: How did the ducks help with the writing? Well, if I hadn’t seen the ducks, I wouldn’t have mentioned them and these words wouldn’t be here and you’d just be staring at a blank screen. That’s how the ducks helped. Bet you’re glad I didn’t see geese.

6. Comparison. When I write at home I write in a room full of books. From my desk I can see a sizable collection of exalted works by a canon of noteworthy authors. This is intimidating company for anyone trying to write anything. In the park, I was free from any feelings of inferiority and was able to scrawl my hackneyed musings…er…compose my insightful witticisms unabashed. I did briefly sight a man that resembled the late poet Philip Larkin, but it wasn’t him. The real Philip Larkin would never have tripped over a sunbather.

7. Just Because. It’s just nice in the park. It was a glorious day and had I stayed at home I’d have been obliged to varnish the garden furniture or paint a wall or something. But I didn’t. I went to the park, had a good time writing and was nearer to the pub when I’d finished. The whole experience left me feeling thoroughly happy and with a great sense of well-being. In conclusion; if you need to write anything, the park’s the place to do it.*

*Unless you’re Philip Roth or James Ellroy, I don’t need the pressure.

May 20, 2010