The Dolly Parton Epiphany

How classy is this? I had one of those ‘it’s bleeding obvious’ moments of profound realisation in the middle of the Dolly Parton concert in London on 6 July. It was an amazing concert. She’s a remarkable performer with a great voice who can play at least 6 instruments with considerable skill. There were no light shows, no massive sets or rows of backing dancers, just her and her band in the vast O2 arena. Dolly was completely engaging. Even songs that on the albums can sound a bit cheesy (OK more than a bit) she made totally believable. At one point she sat down and told a story that she’s told a thousand times before. It was classic C&W, ‘we was paw but happy’ schtick, but it was her story. It lead inevitably to the song ‘Coat of Many Colours’ about going to school in a coat made of rags and being teased. I knew the story, had heard the song many times and yet it was absorbing and moving. Then it suddenly occurred to me, ‘just tell your stories’. Dolly didn’t need the bangs and whistles, just a story people related to and her raw talent in singing it. It was a lesson about exposing your true self and trusting in your talent.

Dolly’s ability to hook her audience is all the more remarkable in that as well as removing big lighting effects, costumes and dancers from her repertoire of engagement she also removed facial expressions. Other than her mouth opening and closing, her face did not move whatsoever. Set solid and yet she still gripped everyone. 

The only worrying moment in the concert was the fact is was on a Sunday and she tossed in a couple of Jesus songs. I found myself in a middle of thousands of people clapping and chanting along to “He Lifted Me Up”. It must be what a Hillsong meeting is like. I’m pleased to report I was not swept away by the crowd’s emotion. I remained seated and po-faced throughout the song.

Dramatic wording

In my comedy writing workshop I discuss how choosing dramatic wording can have a brilliantly comic effect. In a pub in Bamburgh, Northumberland I got a great new example to use with the sign below.

 

You can just imagine the Gates of Hell opening at 9 o clock every night as the daemons trek into the beer garden. Come to think of it, ‘the fall of darkness’ might not be about night at all but the point where drunk behaviour turns nasty and the daemons come out - which would be a very sensible time to close a beer garden.

‘The Fall of Darkness’ would also make a great title for a book, but imagine your disappointment when you got it home and discovered it wasn’t about the end of the world but about getting to the pub before it shut.

Escaping the mill

I’ve escaped the daily word mill for a research and relaxation trip but it was a close run thing. The mill owners (copywriting clients) had my nose pressed into the loom, churning out bales of words until the last moment. Surely there’s some world UN labour ruling that a writer can’t be forced to churn out 4 superannuation brochure in one day. My fingers almost bled with the repeated typing of ‘save fees by rolling all your super into ...[insert name of fund]'. Just as I was heading out through the mill gates, cloth cap in hand I got summoned back to write an article on the one thing that makes superannuation look interesting - debentures, and not just debentures but an ‘exciting’ new tax ruling on debentures. I won’t bore you with an explanation of what debenture are, just that their are a very dull indeed. Given the number of pensioners that have them, it’s no coincidence that their name is just two letters more than dentures.

Still, I made it through the gates and to the airport for the escape.

In between word weaving I also managed to finish the next draft of Crash Tactic and send it off to the editor for comment. Of course my mind fantasises about her throwing her hands in the air in horror at not having spotted the genius first time and thanking the skies for this second chance to secure it. I shall feed on that fantasy when I wake at four in the morning. It’s  a fake comfort but if it gets me back to sleep it's not entirely useless.

Prohibited Traffic Only

Returning to the UK, the place of my childhood is always fascinating. Something new that you never noticed before always crops up. This time, as we drove up from London to Newcastle on the M1 was just how enigmatic some of the road signs are. The one that really struck me was a blue permanent notice by the side of the motorway with a road going off: ‘Prohibited Traffic only’

I wondered, I am I driving a prohibited vehicle? If so why could only I go up there? It could have been a trap. Would a posse of police officers await around the corner to arrest me for being prohibited traffic? Then I thought if I wasn’t prohibited and I followed the sign, those very police would also get me for going up a  ‘prohibited traffic’ way without being prohibited. Could anyone actually follow that sign and not get into trouble?

It reminded me of an old photo of my sister and an aunt showing bizarre street sign are nothing new. This was back in the 70’s and evidence of Britain’s readiness for alien invasion.