paradox city

A photo I took while driving through a familiar part of North Antrim this morning. I was trying to use up the remainder of a film I had used as part of an assignment for the local PWA. I love driving through the Antrim Hills - you see so many beautiful (and varied) sights. I long to leave this country often - but I never want to leave North Antrim.

games affect concentration and... where was I again?

Where was I? Oh yeah; I’ve been thinking a lot about attention span recently. I’m convinced that kids today have a shorter attention span than we did when we were at school. I put it down to TV and Video games but that’s only because I tend to state the obvious (sometimes twice)

A couple of weeks ago the Simon Mayo radio show was brought from some big computer game expo thing. I didn’t catch all of it as I was supposed to be doing work or something. I do, however, remember listening to various people discussing the relative merits or otherwise of modern computer games. They looked at educational value, hand eye coordination – they even made some comment about how they were preparing young people for what was becoming an increasingly fast paced world.

I’ve played the Max Payne and Grand Theft Auto series, I’ve enjoyed them, great for letting off steam – however I really don’t want to be in the kind of world they’re preparing me for.

Another piece of recently published research linked computer games and TV to childhood obesity. They weren’t stating the obvious ‘if kids stopped starring at a screen long enough for them to get off their fat butts and go for a walk they might not be so fat.’ No they were making things just a little more confusing. They suggest that watching TV and playing games before going to bed affects sleep patterns which consequently affects eating patterns which consequently makes kids fat.

Personally I would add to that hypothesis slightly. I believe that watching TV and playing games before going to bed affects sleep patterns which consequently affects eating patterns which consequently affects concentration levels which consequently draws kids to the no-concentration-required world of TV and games which consequently affects sleep patterns… I, of course, have a solution – the Jamie Oliver computer game. No, don’t thank me now, I do it for the good of the kids.

One thing I didn’t pick up on during what little of the radio show I heard was the old nugget about how computer games can affect our behaviour. How some child plays Grand Theft Auto and then has an unquenchable thirst for violence – an urge to go out into the street and beat up a prostitute. Sometimes I think that the media over-hype this kind of story. I really do believe that behaviour can be affected by the games kids play – but when serial killings and group beatings are blamed on some gameboy title it all becomes a little ridiculous. I’ve seen kids in the playground practising some move they saw on playstation the night before. Luckily it was from Pro Evolution Soccer, not Manhunt. And at the end of the day that’s how it will happen – kids behaviour will only be affected by games in the same way it will be affected by TV, movies and even books. I’m a little worried about how all those Harry Potter fans will turn out.

I leave you with some words of wisdom passed on to me by a wonderful Canadian/Swiss/Croatian artist. “They say children are affected by the games they play – if that was true those of us who grew up in the eighties would all be moving manically round, listening to electronic music and swallowing pills … ... oh”

usually I disagree just for the sake of disagreeing but...

Have you ever had one of those "you know what, he may just be right" moments?

education to come?

A quick quote from a novel I read recently. Hayley McDonald’s, school kid in the future, has just finished performing a presentation on why she loves America. This is in a time when corporations have become so powerful that they are more important than government, so important that our surname depends not on our family, but on who we work for:

The teacher jotted something in his folder. McDonald’s-sponsored schools were cheap like that: at Pepsi school everybody had notebook computers. Also their uniforms were much better. It was hard to be cool with the Golden Arches on your back.
-Jennifer Government - Max Barry

The novel is a very enjoyable read. I also found parts of it (such as the exert above) more than a little disturbing. Disturbing in that I can see them happening. There is a huge disclaimer that the start of the book attempting, I assume, to ward off law suites from Mattel, McDonalds, Pepsi, the NRA and especially Nike. It points out that the novel is a work of complete fiction – that none of the events would ever happen.

The thing is I can see some of it happening. The big corporations already influence government – is it such a wild jump to imagine them usurping it? The sponsored schools thing – well that scares me stiff. So you can imagine my horror when I picked up a copy of this year’s school magazine and looked at the back. There, in bright writing, is a list of companies who have ‘helped out’ the school in the past year. It was a long list. A similar list has been put on the brand new minibus that those companies ‘helped’ us buy.

I’m inclined to give the benefit of the doubt and consider such help community involvement rather than out and out sponsorship but how long will it be before we cross the line that we’ve been kicking recently? How long before I’m teaching maths using Tesco price lists?

forgive me

Apologies to both of my readers for the unscheduled break in transmission. This was caused by necessary maintenance to an unexpected fault on the line. Oh, and I had a wee touch of the flu.

Nothing serious – I was still going to work, passing on my germs to countless kids in the hope that an 87% pupil absence rate forces the school to add a couple of extra days to the half term break.

Having said that, the thought of turning on a computer and looking at that flickering screen for all but the most life/career threatening purposes made my stomach heave in a most unsettling manner.

So you’ll excuse me – I know you will – I know that you are the kind of discerning reader who would rather wait a few days than have to scrape vomit off your screen before reading. And for that I thank you.

driving and talking

I was out for a drive today and saw a hitchhiker outside the Causeway Hospital in Coleraine. She was headed for Belfast but I wasn’t planning on going any further than Ballymoney – Still she reckoned every little helps and got in.

Almost immediately we began one of the best conversations I’ve had in months. It just seemed to move seamlessly from topic to topic with hardly a break for her to take a bite of her sandwich or for me to check my dangerously low diesel level.

It turns out she’s from the Yukon, had been wondering what to do, decided to hitchhike her way round Ireland – like you do if you’ve got a spare moment in the Yukon. We discussed people, differences in people, similarities in people, relationships between people, people and their food, people and their jobs, people looking out for other people and people and religion.

It turns out she’s an evangelical Christian. Despite being here for months she claims she only met her first evangelical Christian in that past few days. I found that really hard to believe but was more than happy to take her word for it.

It turns out she finds all the different versions of Presbyterianism confusing – this gave me the opportunity to try out my short explanation of the various Ps. Now anyone who has listened to my explanation of the various Ps will know that the 7 miles between Coleraine and Ballymoney isn’t going to cover it – not by a long shot. And by the time I’d finished and she’d returned the favour by explaining the various Canadian denominations we were well on our way to Antrim.

I can honestly say I had an absolute ball and Elizabeth, despite the fact that I ran out of diesel on the ride home, I look forward to talking to you again sometime… highly unlikely but I look forward to it anyway.

what was I talking about again?

I’ve been thinking a lot about attention span recently. I’m convinced that kids today have a shorter attention span than we did when we were at school. I put it down to TV and Video games but that’s only because I tend to state the obvious… Sorry, lost my train of thought – I’ll come back to this some other time.

it's the interesting facts corner

Did you know… this is an interesting fact I came across recently… did you know… you’ll like this one… did you know that the Bible is the most……shoplifted book in the US.

When I thought about it I could see why. Bibles are usually fairly easily stolen – they’re left sitting around with little or no security – they come in handy pocket sizes – who’s going to confront a pious bible reading, God fearing thief of shop lifting a copy of the Word?

Ironic, wrong, bizarre – but believable.

And for once I’m not going to end with the comment ‘only in America!’ I wouldn’t be surprised if we found something similar over here.

Set in Stone

Set in Stone

I once put a stone up,
A standing stone.
Just me and 699 other people;
There was meant to be a thousand
I guess 300 people weren’t told
Their presence was required.

47 tonnes, 10 metres high,
All to the tune of 2001 a Space Odyssey.
It was a symbol, an emblem
Of the Millennium,
Although it was actually raised in 1999;
June 26th.
I know some people think the Millennium is 2000
And some who believe 2001,
But no one thinks it was ‘99.
I guess the stone pullers hadn’t been told.

“In the spirit of the future”
Peace and reconciliation among the youth
In Northern Ireland.
Punishment beatings a month later,
Homes burned out, children killed,
Riots, victimisation, fear, hate.
I guess no one told the rest of the country about the stone.


© Sam Campbell. Unpublished poem

‘drink sewage if you want to do your bit for the environment.’

That’s what I woke up to this morning.

I like to wake up to the radio so I set my stereo to come on automatically fifteen minutes before I get up. There are probably many psychological theories about people who like to wake up to the sound of politicians sparring with Nicky Campbell or John Humphreys but I just like to give the impression that I know what’s going on in the world. I find that coming out with some random piece of government policy leads people to believe you are more knowledgeable than you really are.

Anyway, this morning I woke up to the above. A shocking way to start the day. It turns out, however that they’re not suggesting sticking a long straw into the sewers and sucking away at raw sewage (presumably as reassuring for you as it was for me to learn) Apparently with our lack of rain and lowering of water tables around the country we are in real danger of water shortages.

The solution is something that is already happening in countries such as Australia – we cut out the middle-man. Now, I haven’t done Geography since I was sixteen but I remember the water cycle diagram that we learned in great detail. Rather than our used water being cleaned up and sent into rivers, then into the ocean, then being evaporated, then forming clouds, then coming down as precipitation, then making its way into reservoirs, then being used by us – we should treat it more than usual and pump it back into the reservoirs.

Of course one other solution would be to make better use of the water we have already, fix up the leaks and learn that our natural resources are valuable – not expendable.

Write a blog – tell a history

Historians have decided that the academics of the future would probably be very interested to read about what we’re all doing in our lives, what we ate for breakfast this morning and what our journey to work was like. Me, I’m not so sure that they will be but I’m up for most things.

A quick visit to the history matters website will allow you to be involved in the ‘biggest blog in history’, an opportunity ‘for you to join in a mass blog for the national record.’ Well if they want to read it I’m more than happy to write it.

Go on, you could be famous in 3121. Future generations may marvel at what you got up to on the 17th October 2006.

A neo-liberal version of the good samaritan

I was sitting in my classroom pondering which of my selection of hot beverages to choose when a colleague came in wanting to fill his kettle at the sink in my room. We passed the time of day and he helped me choose. As we chose he noticed the fair trade logo on the three types of coffee, and all the teas and hot chocolates. I was a little worried what he thought. This guy is what I would describe as straight talking, no nonsense, say it as you see it kind of a man. And in my little world of stereotypes he would be the kind of man who would sneer at the whole concept of fair trade.

How wrong can you be? He was, it turns out, a great advocate of fair trade - in fact he went far beyond the little I do. His wife is a Amnesty Internation rep, he bans non-fair trade chocolate from his house (pity the poor kid who brings a mars bar in) he is officially the most liberal non-liberal I have ever met.

Now I have never been able to have a decent conversation about coffee bean taxation with the badly-knitted-woolen-jumper-wearing-arty-types that hang round the university, never been able to discuss moral premium with the local religious leaders and yet here was a leather coat wearing, mountain of a man with slicked back hair chatting with me about how coffee growing doesn't have to involve chopping down rainforests in Peru as it can be grown in the shade. The man's a computer teacher - not even a biologist or geographer. Once I picked my eyebrows off the ceiling we went on to discuss how famers here have a nasty time making ends meet and how that pressure is multiplied when you, and your family, are surviving on the edge as they are in many third world countries. We talked about how during this harvest thanksgiving season we should be looking for positive ways to level the playing field and praying for those less well off - the man's a non-practising atheist! We finished up with a fascinating discussion about Sri Lankan spices. I'm still in shock - he's knows everything there is to know.

Who is your neighbouring environmentalist? Look around, you could be surprised.

Living

Living
by Ivana Hill

Everyone wanders the world the same,
Desperate for love, but they’re ashamed,
So they just play those little games,
They don’t give their all cause they’re afraid.

Well life was made for living,
And love was made for giving,
So give your love away.
You don’t have to be afraid.

I found a braver way to live,
Step out and take each chance to give,
Find someone lonelier than me,
Give them the love that will set them free.

Cause life was made for living,
And love was made for giving,
So give your love away.
You don’t have to be afraid.

And when your heart breaks just the same,
Time to call on that simple name,
Love unending, love divine,
Jesus’ love so pure, so fine.

Give your heart into another’s open hands,
Though they may give it back He’s got a bigger plan.
It’s better to love and lose than never love at all,
It’s better to try and fail than to live afraid to fall.

Cause life was made for living,
And love was made for giving,
So give your love away.
You don’t have to be afraid.

So the next time you observe
A lonely heart, recall these words.
And as you give, you will receive,
Love will come home and never leave.

Cause life was made for living,
And love was made for giving,
So give your love away.
You don’t have to be afraid.

© Ivana Hill, music & lyrics

not quite the proms but as close as I should ever get

I'm nervous. Very nervous. I don't know why - no actually I do. It's not because we have an inspection coming up in a week or so (we're getting used to those now) and it's not because Northern Ireland are playing Latvia tonight. It's because our harvest service is coming up soon and I'm in the choir.

I've been in the choir for years - I can usually bluff my way about; but this is different. Our church no longer has a permanent music/worship/organist type thing to lead the choir. Different people take responsibility for different services. We are pretty blessed to have so many talented people who can teach us the songs.

This harvest we are being led by a supremely talented young man (I call anyone younger than me young and he was in the year below me at school so he qualifies - just) who tends to push us to our limits. The music he chooses is unlike anything we sing at any other time - sometimes I think we should all be dressed up in costumes and dancing as we sing. Anyway, despite the fact that he claims this one particular song is easier than others we've tried I remain unconvinced that we can handle it. So nervous am I that I recorded our final practice so I can listen to it over and over. You can hear a clip of it there. The loud flat voice would be me as I'm the one closest to the mic.

As you can hear we have a long way to go and only four days and one refresher practice to go. Will we improve? Will I ever hit that high note? Will I post a song to let you see (hear) for yourselves? I'll think about it. Wish me luck anyway.

wowzer! Is he still on TV?

I was reading the back of a rice krispie pack this morning – checking out the latest competition – wondering if I could pass myself off as a twelve year old to win a digital camera for myself and some resources for my school. I would have to create a piece of art using nowt but a cereal box (if I remember rightly practically all the art we did in my primary school days involved little more than a cereal box so I feel I’m at an advantage) The art would be judged by none other than CITV Art Attack presenter Neil Buchanan.

‘Neil Buchanan?’ I thought to myself, ‘Is he still presenting that thing?’ Buchanan was presenting Art Attack (a kids art show for those who have never heard of it) when I was doing my A-levels. I remember this vividly because I carried out a bit of Lever Arch File customisation that had been featured on the programme and was mercilessly ridiculed in school for weeks… ok, months.

Now I know that when I said the name Neil Buchanan some of you recognised him slightly in a kind of ‘where do I know that name?’ way and some of you don’t have a clue who he is at all. However if I were to mention, say, Tony Hart the majority of you (presuming you’re british and over the age of 25) will smile a smile of affectionate recognition. In my mind that is the difference between the generation Xs and the generation Ys or whatever it is they call them. We had true characters – even in children’s TV.

Who doesn’t think of the gallery when they hear that particular piece of music even today? Who didn’t pick sides when Morph and Chas started fighting? Who didn’t make a complete mess of their kitchen trying to do something that Tony Hart made look easy?

When I was a child, right up until I had my own children, I was constantly amazed and entertained by this wonderful exponent of the art of communication. I still remember where I learned one or two of my all time favourite tricks from. Tony had that wonderful ability to make you believe you could do it as easily as counting up to 10.

But it wasn’t just Tony Hart that defined generation Xctv. Think ‘Jim’ll fix it’ (you’re humming the theme tune, aren’t you?) think ‘Danger Mouse’, think ‘Inspector Gadget’ (That’s the original – not the film version or ‘Gadget Boy’ or any other reincarnation)

Buchanan is a great presenter (His huge pieces of art will forever be ingrained in my memory) and I’m sure children’s TV is of a much higher production standard than it was in the 80s. Perhaps we even cringe sometimes when we see the kind of rubbish we watched back then, but will today’s young folks remember ‘Bel’s Boys’, ‘Skyland’ or ‘Curious George’ in the sentimental way we remember ‘The A-team’, ‘Teenage Mutant Turtles’, and of course Tony & Morph? Somehow I doubt it.

For some interesting (for not strictly true) stories about Mr Buchanan check out the page Monkeon have on him. If he’d actually done some of this stuff maybe we’d be saying ‘Tony who?’

wonders will never cease

It seems today Ian Paisley met with the head of the Catholic church in Ireland, Dr Sean Brady. Now, I have to admit that it came as a little bit of a surprise to me. Having said that I am pleasantly surprised. It's only twenty years since he was describing the pope as the antichrist.

Actually I most pleased with the fact that both delegations described the discussions as positive and there are plans for more meetings. It's a rare thing in this little country to hear such sentiments.

I don't doubt Ian's religious views are unchanged - but it's nice to see him trying for a bit of moral high ground.

if you build it they will come

I was listening to a speaker from the Irish Mission talking today. Usually when I think of mission I think of men in safari hats and khaki shorts chasing after men with bones through their noses. He, however, was talking about Carnlough and Waterfoot - places in the Glens of Antrim. Loads of sheep but cannibals are rare.

He talked about his work and, later, about the relevence of the battles in Chronicles 5 to modern mission. But the bit I was interested in was the bit where he said that the Roman Catholic parents had asked them to set up Children's Activities over the winter. Here are the very people they had come to save - to point out the error of their ways. He wasn't leaving us in any doubt about his opinions concerning the afterlife for RCs. He felt they were following a false path. And yet here were these people coming to him. Why? I can't imagine a group of Muslim or Budhist mothers coming up to me in S4 on a friday afternoon enrolling their kids in the School's Scripture Union.

I think - and I could be wrong - I think that there are a couple of reasons these parents came looking for this programme to be set up by a bunch of Protestant missionaries. I think that, although there are undoubted and inescapable differences in the denominations the perceived end game is the same (sort of - we'll ignore pergatory for the purposes of this post) but the other, and in my mind more important, reason is this. Although it wasn't mentioned I am assuming there had been some kind of summer programme for these kids. I'm also assuming that it was fulfilling a need in the community and I'm assuming the parents of these kids felt it would be worthwhile if there was something similar during the dark months. I'm assuming they had found a trust and respect for the people who ran the summer scheme and who else would they go to for something more? As Kevin Costner knows - if you build it they will come.

Isn't that a great way to reach out to people? To be able to get to a stage where you're not running round like a headless chicken forcing hard truths down people's throats - oh I know that's a necessary part of it - I just like the idea of people coming of there own accord with requests. That would be good.

nolan

There are very few people that dent my pride in being Northern Irish more than Stephen Nolan.I have listened to the late night weekend show on Radio 5 for many years – I remember Edwina Curry presenting it – I disagreed with the vast majority of what she said but she presented most topics in an almost balanced way. I remember Richard Bacon presenting it – as I listened I tended to get a mental picture of him sniffing drugs on Blue Peter but he was amiable and interesting. Now we have Nolan. I disliked him intensely on Northern Irish TV and radio – now he’s gone national I like him even less.

On Saturday I actually switched stations – and for someone as lazy as me that’s a big deal. He was hosting a phone in about, amongst other things, Graham Norton admitting taking drugs. When I say ‘amongst other things’ I mean he would take the odd call on other topics, discuss it for ten seconds and then ask the call what he thought of a millionaire presenter taking drugs. The man was fixated on Norton’s pay package. The more he went on the more I began to wonder if perhaps the lady was protesting too much. Surely a presenter who admits he has taken drugs and actually found them a pleasant experience is better than one who describes them as horrendous things – then heads for the nearest nightclub toilet to sniff some coke off someone’s bald head. But that’s just my opinion and not actually relevant. Nolan’s obvious agenda “Do you think it’s fair that someone earning millions each year spends it on drugs – that’s licence payers money you know – you’re paying someone to buy drugs! Your license fee is going to some back street dealer!” made me feel queasy.

And yet the man is nominated for award after award and people hang on his every word. It disturbs me how someone who makes statements so far left field of rational sensible opinion (well, from my point of view anyway) strikes such a cord with the general public. Is it me who is the odd one out in this society?

i should be the new home secretary for education

There’s a lot of talk on the news recently about how the country is running out of prison spaces. Leaving aside the obvious point about how we let it get to the stage where we have only around 200 places left in the whole country (That could be filled after a single football match between Millwall and Cardiff) I have a suggestion.

The education system will soon be facing a problem. A demographic down turn caused by an estimated cost of £165,000 to bring up a child and better television will lead to a funding crisis in schools. Fewer pupils, less money. Less money, less progress.

We could solve these two issues in one swoop by merging them. Criminals and children learning together in perfect harmony. Classrooms would be filled, Classroom discipline would improve, teachers would hold on to their jobs and prison cells would be freed up. Teenage shoplifters would have professional role models and school dinners would undoubtedly improve. It seems a logical step to me.
Just a thought.

who's strange now

Here I am, as usual, sitting in Starbuck with my post-school coffee (differs from my pre-school, breaktime, post-drama lesson, LSU meeting, and lunchtime coffees in that I pay someone else to make it for me) The place is humming and the staff are looking more than a little overworked. School kids are leaving their trademark mess behind them and tables are overflowing with empty mugs and half eaten muffins.

In the midst of all this madness there is a woman walking round between tables clearing them and leaving everything in a tidy pile by the coffee bar. While the rest of us seem happy enough to shove the previous occupiers of our table’s leftovers to the side she is squeezing round us balancing eight venti mugs, three plastic cups and a sandwich cartoon on her fingers. She doesn’t work here, she isn’t even a customer – she just came in to lend a hand clearing tables.

As she lifts the cups from my table she looked up and asked what I was writing about – I told her – She smiled “They’re always busy at this time of the day.” She cleared the table next to me… and left. Her job here was done.

How awesome is that? A true servile attitude. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she went straight over to Ground or some other coffee shop to start all over again. And always with a smile. Isn’t it sad, however, that my first instinct as I watched her was that she isn’t all there? Isn’t it sad that we have gone so far into a self-interested existence that we would rather wallow in some one else’s latte smeared mess while looking disapprovingly at overworked staff than do someone else’s job. What, are we scared of the barista union?

100 yards in 6 (stupid) minutes

I cannot believe how badly set out this world can be at times. What do town planners do all day?

The above image is not modern art - It is not a proposed rerouting of the Drumcree Orange March. It is the route through the town I had to take to get from the front of my school to the back last night.

We were having a concert in aid of the Salvation Army. The evening was hosted by a local celebrity and ,as local celebrities will do, he brought along his entourage.

At the end of the night the audience and performers drifted off. I walked through from the hall at the back of the school to the front car park. There the celebrity was getting into a car. One of his assistants was holding the door for him. When the car departed the assistant went to go back into the school to get to his car (parked in the back car park.) This is where the trouble began.

The door had closed behind him when they went to put the (stupid) celebrity in his car. If the (stupid) door closes behind you it automatically locks. Not a problem - ring the bell and someone in reception buzzs you in - well, they do if there's anyone in the (stupid) reception. At 11pm there wasn't. He began banging the door and shouting despite the fact that a quick look at the empty car park would have shown that there was no one left inside.

He tried to walk around the building. Unfortunately someone had decided it would be a bad idea to have a way of getting around the building and had placed big (stupid) metal fences to stop people doing it.

It was raining - I was feeling compassionate. I offered to drive him to his car. We got in and set off. Almost immediately we were caught up in the (stupid) one-way system and had to travel right round the town. As he drove in what was obviously the wrong direction I could sense his unease. He had his hand on the door handle and I half expected him to dive out at one of the (stupid) red lights that we kept meeting.

I tried to lighten the mood with a little banter - he remained silent.

Eventually, after a tour of a rather uninteresting part of town, we arrived at the back of the school and he stumbled from my car into his. I said goodbye - he didn't look back. Ungrateful sod.

what is it about me?

Do I look like a serial killer?I only ask because as I walked around town today I noticed that people tend to avoid making eye contact with me. Young children look up at me like I have 'child slave trader' written across my head and dogs whimper as I pass.


It's amazing - when I try to look all imposing the school kids haven't the slightest fear of me - yet in the street I am some kind of sinister giant. I have to learn how I do it for the next time I'm covering year 11.

irony

Definition of irony: Getting so frustrated at lack of wifi spots in the town that you go and pay for access at Starbucks only to find, on your return to your car, that you are parked in a free wifi spot.

Starbucks - I'll be getting my soya lattes to go from now on.

'previously on mickey d's'

Out for a quiet drive today I came across a McDonalds in the middle of somewhere I’d never been before – I’d tell you where but I’m not actually sure myself. Now obviously I would normally never partake of junk food - can't you tell by looking at me? But I was starving and the only other car in the car park was a vintage Rolls Royce and so I assumed it was a higher class of Mickey D's.Inside I was the only customer except for two men who were clearly a bridegroom and a chauffeur. Obviously the poor man had lost his nerve on the way to his wedding and his driver had pulled in to the nearest fast food joint for a Big Mac with a portion of counselling on the side. I was intrigued but not rude enough to actually shove my head between them and listen in on the conversation - so I can only surmise. I like to think the conversation may have gone a little like this:

Groom: I can’t do it!
Chauffeur: It’s understandable to have second thoughts on the morning of your wedding – it happens to the best of us. But we put them aside, close our eyes and take the plunge. She’s probably concerned as well but you’ll both get through this together. Think of the wonderful future you will have.
G: No, I meant I can’t eat this. Charlotte made me give up junk food.
C: You’re planning to humiliate the woman by jilting her at the altar and you’re worried she wouldn’t approve of your dietary choices?
G: She says it’s for the good of my health.
C: If you’re so worried about your health I suggest you rethink the idea of jilting the daughter of a shotgun-owning farmer. Indigestion won’t be the half of it.
G: You don’t understand – I couldn’t handle the pressure. It was like she was looking at me and expecting me to hold the key to her future, her family’s future, our country’s future… The future of the human race. I look in her eyes and see dependence. When she smiles at me it’s as if she’s trusting in me completely. Damn it I love her but I couldn’t live with myself if I ever let her down. She may trust in me but I’m not sure I trust in myself anymore.
C: You don’t think you might be being a little dramatic?
G: Why do you say that?
C: The serving staff just gave you a standing ovation.
G: What am I going to do?
C: I’ll tell you what you’re going to do – You’re going to take a bow, wipe that bit of ketchup off the side of your mouth, get to that church, marry the woman of your dreams and live happily ever after. Oh, but just one thing before you do?
G: Yes?
C: Are you going to finish those fries?

I’m a sucker for a happy ending.