Hello!

She’s alive –  she’s beautiful.

Just thought I’d share.

Here’s to activists who, unlike myself, actually get off their arses and take real-life risks in order to try and protect our lovely, good planet.

One Love

Bob Marley

6th February 1945 – 11th May 1981 

Aged 36

Me only have one ambition, y’know. I only have one thing I really like to see happen. I like to see mankind live together – black, white, Chinese, everyone – that’s all.

That’s all.

Not much to ask for.

Simple.  Basic.  Powerful.

Bob Marley – a spiritual force with a desire for peace and justice that was expressed with depth in his music.

I hope you’re jamming somewhere beautiful Mr Marley.  After thirty years without you on this good Earth, your legendary music is still playing.

Arts cuts, police cuts, nursing, crime and tangents . .

Isn’t it strange how the news regarding police cuts doesn’t seem to get the left as animated as they get towards other cuts.  I know the police have not won many public hearts lately due to their public displays of aggression and intimidation at recent protest rallies and suchlike – and quite right too.  We’ve seen some appalling police behaviour and the lack of accountability is downright criminal but I guess they’re not all our enemy.  Just as there are good and bad nurses and good and bad teachers, the same surely applies to the police.

I had three police officers at my house this morning.  Two officers came and went followed by a crime scene investigator.  They were here, in short, because my eldest daughter’s car was broken into.  The poor girl has only had the car for one week.  She was chuffed to bits about it.  What with the sky-scrapingly high insurance costs for new, young drivers, she thought she would never be able to afford a car.  But to her credit,  she somehow made it happen.  She chose the smallest, cheapest, cutest little car available – one with low economical running costs and not so harsh on the environment.

Being a student nurse,  she receives a little bursary each month which just about pays for said car.  But crucially, being a student nurse, she has to go on placements far and wide and at all times of the day and night so a car is really quite essential.  I was very tempted, incidentally, to talk her out of nursing.  She was all set up for university.  Had a guaranteed place at Liverpool and everything.  She couldn’t wait to start.  Why she changed her mind, I’ll never know.  And why she chose to go into nursing befuddles me even more but I suspect her boyfriend, and the reluctance to leave him, had something to with the decision. Ho hum.

Anyway (tangents dear girl, tangents), her shiny, new little car was violated right outside our house the other night and she was gutted.  The perpetrator just popped the lock right out of the door.  Nothing was taken because there was nothing to take.  The police officer said he was probably looking for spare change or hoping to find an ipod because the car came with an ipod thingy where you can plug in your ipod and listen to your playlist.

The first two officers who attended were very nice and helpful.  They showed care and concern towards my daughter and were very attentive.  After they’d completed their bit they left and told me a crime scene investigator would come along later to take fingerprints and stuff.  They asked my daughter if she would need to use the car today and she said yes – she had to go into uni at 12 o clock so they said they’d try to get the forensic guy to come before then.  I didn’t expect this to happen but lo and behold, the lovely lady turned up at about 10.30 with her little black bag of forensics tools.  I was impressed.  She too was very caring and concerned but she couldn’t do any dusting on the car door because it was raining.

I had been listening to the news all morning and there was much talk about the police cuts and cuts to the Arts.  Objections to the Arts cuts, by the way, are easy to dismiss but I don’t mind admitting that I object to these cuts almost as much as other cuts, not least because Art enriches all our lives but more importantly,  there will be many-a knock-on effect by way of employment, education and suchlike and will result in only the well-off being able to afford to study an Arts degree or pursue a particular ‘Arts’ talent.  And youth theatre groups, sports groups . . . what about all those youngsters who are committing time and energy to something fulfilling that they enjoy . . . something that helps to keep them fit and healthy.  We already know that too many unfit teenagers spend their time hanging around streets with nothing to do and nowhere to go.  Tell me what’s beneficial about taking away their facilities when those things give them a focus, where they can learn about commitment, self-respect and teamwork.  The Arts have the power to transform and vastly improve lives.  I’ve seen it working.  Dance teachers are creating community dance-groups everywhere.  It’s classless, genderless and available across the scale.  The kids who attend such groups are growing daily in self-esteem and self-confidence.  And they’re active for god’s sake!  Off the streets.  Not being thugs!  Not being a nuisance!  Not committing crimes!  Isn’t that the goal?  You need look no further than the absolutely fantastic Dance United to realise just how effective and empowering such groups can be.

Basically, Arts funding is there to provide equal opportunities for everybody to have their lives enriched and improved. The Arts cuts are regressive and will make Art and Culture elite and inaccessible to all but a privileged few.   Osborne’s few.

Anyway, where was I? (More tangents.  Focus girl!) My police experience, although brought about by a nasty and annoying crime, was an altogether positive one but it got me thinking about the cuts and how it might affect the three nice officers who dealt with our case.  I don’t know anything about the structure of police forces.  I know that like nurses, doctors, paramedics etc. police officers take a lot of crap from the public.  They deal with aggressive and abusive people on an almost daily basis and are always the first in line for a bashing and being blamed for everyone’s problems.  I do stand by my belief that a lot of officers join the police force for the wrong reasons (ie: power, means to bully etc) but generally speaking, I like to think that, like nurses, teachers etc., most of them are decent with a genuine desire to help others and like most of us, they face worrying times and insecurities.

There’s more to a police force than the images we see of police thuggery on our TV screens and the government’s promises not to cut front line jobs is meaningless given that front-liners depend on non-front-line staff to do their jobs properly so no matter how they spin it, the cuts will detrimentally affect the police and how they protect the public and no matter how bitter the relationship between activist and policeman is, it’s surely in our interest to support them at this time.

Gosh!  It’s all or or nothing with me.

Erm, it’s been a while . . .

T’is rather hard to know where or how to start when one has been so ludicrously absent from blogs and the posting thereof but I shall give it a go, somewhat sheepishly but hey ho.  No. Actually.  Forget the sheep.  I think I’ll start true to form – with a rant.  Here goes . . .

Yule Tide

Another Christmas has been and gone and I made the same mistakes.  Every year, no matter how much I try to resist, I fall under the spell of consumerism.  Not obscenely so but enough to make for some serious self-berating.  I argue with myself and finger wag at my kids that we’re cutting back this year . . .  don’t expect so much because I really mean it this time!!! . . . but Captain Capitalism always manages to bewitch me at Christmas and forces me to buy all kinds of crap that no-one really needs (and probably doesn’t even want that much if truth be told).  The food wastage alone is a sin of biblical proportions but it’s the whole Xmas package (and packaging!) that gets so mental.  Well what’s done is done.  I tried to be as green and as ethical as possible but if I’m honest I failed on more levels than I care to admit.  Anyhoo, here are some UK Christmas eco-facts:

• Every year some one billion cards are used and only a fraction of them are recycled.
• Almost 3000 tonnes of aluminium foil is used to wrap around the 10 million turkeys we eat every Christmas.
• Almost half of the toys given will be broken or discarded within three months and because most of them will be plastic, they will be destined straight for our delightful landfill sites.
• Approximately 23 million jars of pickles, mincemeat and cranberry sauce will be consumed. If all these glass jars were recycled, it would save enough energy to boil water for 60 million cups of tea but alas only a small percentage are recycled.
• Over 83 square km of wrapping paper will end up in UK rubbish bins, enough to cover an area larger than Guernsey
• [End of rant]

Winterval

The snow queen visited her lovely self upon us for the second year running (well I know we’ve had snow other years but not with any intensity worth mentioning).  T’was another beautiful Winterval with some delightful bright snowy days and our enchanting moon providing some gorgeous nights with its orange silveryness above us (I know. Just use your imagination).  I sometimes find myself wishing I had a really good camera that would do justice to some of the moons I’ve enjoyed this Autumn/Winter.  Mind you, a proper, decent camera would be wasted on the likes of me so my little Nikon will suffice for my limited technical knowledge.  I don’t even use that to it’s full capacity . . . and I dropped it once so now an elastic band keeps the battery cover closed.  I’m really rubbish sometimes. Anyway, some piccies:

Comfort and Joy

Lovely Middlie provided the joy by dancing in the local theatre panto again and of course she was brilliant.  This year it was Mother Goose and it was hilarious.  And in a rare, out-of-character moment, I was actually organised enough to book tickets early enough to get the comfy seats with optimal viewing.

And finally:

The best thing about 2011 is going to be

England lifting the rugby world cup on my rugby-mad son’s 12th birthday.  Yay!

Well that wasn’t so bad.  TTFN folks.

Three years ago today: Sophie Lancaster RIP

Happy 101 Sweet Friends – a meme moment

The delightfully gruff PaddyK has tagged me and right proper chuffed is how I’m feeling about it.  I mean Paddy is one of my very top favourite writers and his dry wit and pragmatic wisdom has me laughing out loud and spluttering into my coffee many-a-time.  So to be tagged by such a force can only be interpreted as a compliment and I thank the good and lovely man for that.  My only problem is that I have to tag ten blogging friends too but I don’t actually have ten friends who blog regularly so five will have to do.

What you do:  List 10 things that make your day and then give this award to ten (five) bloggers.  So here goes:

Ten things that make my day (or made my day once):

1. Hearing an old favourite song played on the radio when I’m alone in the car and it’s played early on enough in my journey so that I get to hear it in its entirety before I get to where I’m going and I don’t have to sit in my car pretending to chat on the phone or look for something till it finishes.

2.  An act of kindness.  As touchy-feely as it sounds, I mean it.  For me it’s the little things in life that uplift, inspire and quite simply make the world seem better.

3.  Hearing me laddie play a piece of guitar music perfectly after weeks of struggling with it.

4.  Watching me laddie score a try at rugby.  His position is hooker and he’s great at that but he rarely scores a try so when he does, my mad  inner-madwoman is usually released and I can be seen jumping,  yelling and whooping on the sidelines like a, erm, mad madwoman.

5.   Morning cup of coffee brought to me while I snooze in bed.  I get this treatment every Saturday and it’s often the best part of my day.  Usually goes pear-shaped from then on due to boring stuff such as laundry, cleaning, mopping, shopping and squabbling kids then picks up again in the evening, which brings me nicely to my number 6.

6.  A glass of white wine, a bowl of green olives and my feet up while hubby cooks dinner.  Another regular Saturday treat.

7.  Seeing three deer jump out of the woods and run across our path right in front of us.  This happened last weekend when we were hiking on Great Gable in the Lake District.  It was one of those heart-stopping moments and it definitely made my day.

8.  My middle daughter getting in from school and telling me all about her day – word for word.  Never a dull moment for this girlie.  Her life is full of sunshine because that’s just the way she is and I love listening to her.  Sometimes I’m busy and I only half listen but that’s my loss.

9.  Coming home from work to a clean and tidy house.  This is a rarity.  Every now and then one of my girls has a rare attack of domesticity and gets stuck into the dishes and the dirt.  Only the women will understand just how wonderful it feels to come back to a tidy home.

10.  Getting a Green MP in Westminster at long last.

There you go.  And the five friends that I am tagging are my other favourite bloggers.  Feel free not to take part:

The romantic Mysoul whose makes me think and writes beautiful poetry and prose.  Her blog is a haven.

The wise and witty Zhisou who is very clever with words.  He makes everything simple.

The lovely Helen who has a warm compassion for humanity.  She’s also a published poet.

The sweet and loyal Jose who has encouraged and supported my blog since I began writing here.

The unassuming and tolerant JimJay from The Daily (Maybe) whose blog has been a great source for Green party information and interesting links.  As a dedicated Green party member I suspect he will be too busy to take part in this.  Fair enough.

Earth Hour 2010:27th March 8.30pm

Less than one week to go now actually.  Time to sign up again if you’re up for it and can stand a whole hour without your comforts and your TV’s and all your other gadgets – a huge challenge for some I imagine but it’s only an hour so it’s not that much of a hardship.  Just look at it as the hour you’re going to lose when we put the clocks forward.  Yes, I know that doesn’t add up but don’t let the pesky details deter you.

One hour isn’t going to solve the climate problem and some would argue that it’s nothing more than a gimmick, but it will raise awareness and perhaps it will encourage us to have more lights out hours.

As individuals, it will take no effort.  It could be fun.  We usually light some candles, get out the nibbles and play board games on the floor.  But please, no Monopoly.

Snow stops play

This morning’s rugby match in Southport that my son was due to play in has been called off due to adverse weather conditions detrimentally affecting the pitch and I find myself (gasp) with some time on my hands.  Four lovely hours of free time that were set aside to take us to the game are now available to spend on whatever I feel like.

I suppose I could/should iron the uniforms ready for school and work tomorrow but that’s boring and it can wait.

Or I could/should vacuum all the popcorn that is scattered around the lounge after last night’s competition to see who could catch the most popcorn in their mouth.  That’s equally boring and can wait too.  There’s no rush.  It’ll still be there later.  Literally.

I could even take my son out for a walk in the snow seeing as he will now miss his Sunday morning activity and will no doubt idle away his unexpected free time doing stuff like interacting with his XBox while listening to the new CD that he bought from Manchester HMV yesterday.  He found a new buddy recently and he informs me that this new buddy has a poster on his bedroom wall of rapper Eminem so of course my easily-influenced son decided that he was a fan too despite the fact that he’s never actually heard any of his music.  Eminem is an odd choice because  me laddie loves rock – electric guitar, drum-bashing, noisy rock music by the talented likes of Hendrix, Clapton, Guns N’ Roses, The Killers.  My boy has even been heard around our house playing the Blues on his guitar.  So I tried to tell him that Marshall Mathers/ Slim Shady or whoever the heck he is probably wouldn’t be his kind of thing and I’ll be honest, I had another agenda of a censorial nature.  I’m not sure just how suitable Eminem’s lyrics are for a ten-year old but he insisted that he was a fan and always has been so we bought the only Eminem album that we could find that didn’t have a parental advisory warning on it and a walk in the snow probably wont happen, not this side of midday at least.

My daughter had some birthday money that she desperately needed to get rid of so we spent the day in Manchester.  Selfridges was our first call and while my daughter and her friend looked around Miss Selfridge on the top floor, me and my utterly dismayed son had a wander around the women’s section.  I was just looking.  Not buying.  I was morbidly fascinated by the designer clothes so I decided to have some fun.  I put on an air of wealth and began browsing through Victoria Beckam’s line.  The assistant was hovering so I refrained from laughing out loud at the £1850 price tag on a little black dress that I could have made myself for forty quid.  I showed my stunned son and whispered to him that the shallow suckers who pay these prices are paying for a name.  I think the Matalan label in our clothes and my sons unruly hair began to make the assistant suspicious that we weren’t genuine customers because she hovered closer so we moved on to another designer.  To our delighted shock we  saw a scarf made by the recently departed Alexander McQueen priced at £195.  A scarf folks.  A  silk chiffon scarf with a skull print design.  It was all a bit of fun and distracted my boy from the boredom for a while.

Anyway, Top Shop was in danger of being the main beneficiary of my daughters birthday money.  Of course this went against my grain because Top Shop is not exactly the most ethical of corporations but as any parent of a fourteen-year-old girl will know, Top Shop is the ultimate heaven for this age group so with gritted teeth, I spent many frustrating hours wandering the floors of Top Shop with an excited girl and an excrutiatingly bored boy whose highlight of the day, indeed the only good thing about the day for him, was having lunch at the Hard Rock Café.  To my relief, my daughter only bought two items from Top Shop, I like to think perhaps due to having been guilt-tripped before-hand by yours truly.

Back to my spare time, I could/should clean the kitchen after last nights lovely meal made by lovely husband who came home from Thanet Offshore Windfarm for the singular, just-for-the-hell-of-it occasion of cooking me a meal after my busy day in Manchester.  Cleaning the kitchen, the most boring of all but I guess it can’t wait because last night’s lemon cream sauce will start to smell and the pans will be a nightmare to scrub.  I knew I’d regret not doing it last night.  Too much vino is to blame.

ttfn then I suppose.  Sigh.

We want it!

Imagine Peace

War is over (if you want it)

This and that . . .

Lordy me!  Where’s this year gone folks?  Is it really December already? I’ve missed so much.  I’ve tried to keep up-to-date with the news, politics etc. as much as my mind, body and spirit would allow but most things have passed me by and I’ve remained blissfully ignorant of all things politico-worldly.  I can’t even find enough emotional will to rant about COP15.  I’m just not optimistic about it and that’s in spite of all the now-or-never declarations that are being cried out.  In terms of a global consensus being reached, last chance saloon and other such metaphors are pretty accurate but still, can’t see it happening folks.  Despondent?  Probably.  And even if agreements are reached, I can’t help thinking it’s too little, too late.  I should take heed of Ben Harper‘s words . . .

What good is a man
Who won’t take a stand
What good is a cynic
With no better plan

And those climategate emails depressed me.  A lot.  But not as much as the reaction from the septic sceptics.  The hoax of the century!  Denialists accusing anti-denialists of being in denial about a conspiracy!  Makes my head hurt.  For gods sake, it’s NOT a huge conspiracy.  Get a grip.  I’d love it if climate change wasn’t happening.  I’d love to be able to indulge, guilt-free, in all the carbon-emitting activities that make our lives easier without agonising over the consequences.  But regardless of the number of people who have already become victims of climate change, the denialists will continue to deny climate change until they’re directly affected by it.

In any case, the green movement in my view is not just about carbon footprints. . . or climate change.  I mean let’s face it.  With or without anthropogenic climate change, no-one can deny that we’re trashing the Earth and there can be little doubt that our lifestyles are both destructive and unsustainable.  Top and bottom is, we know full well, our Western lifestyles and consumerist demands are negatively impacting on other people, other species and the world around us on a daily basis and it’ll all come crumbling down around us.  Sounds preachy I know but am I wrong?

And now for a more lighthearted opinions.

Books: Some more books have made their way onto my ‘still to read’ bookshelf – God’s Elephants and The Plague Dogs.  A coincidence that both book titles have the name of an animal in them, but needless to say they are about elephants and dogs respectively and I’m eager to get stuck in.  I recently read Helen‘s poetry book entitled Better with Friends but it deserves a review on it’s own so that’s my next job.  Also received a mag-book called Green Living Guide on the promise that I would post a review on my blog.  And needless to say, that’s still awaiting my attention too.  I’m pretty rubbish really, all things considered.

Movies: Being a huge movie fan, I’ve seen a couple of great films this Autumn – Up and Nativity! I loved Up.  It’s probably the first time I’ve cried at the beginning of a film rather than at the end.  I loved Nativity even more.  Those kids steal the show. They really do.  And they don’t make you want to throw up the way child actors often do.  They inspire you and they make you laugh.  Utterly adorable.

Music: Well after several years of  mindless X Factors, throwaway pop songs and rampant auto-tune, I was beginning to lament the passing of exciting and innovative music then I watched the very super wonderful Later with Jools Holland and I can now confirm that I love, LOVE  The Big Pink.  No sniggering now folks.  Show me the law that puts an age limit on fan eligibility.  Sure, I probably am too old to be into this kind of music but ask me if I care.  You’ll be saying I’m too old to be a groupie next.  Sigh.  Well, their music has a definite eighties indie feel to it and what with me being an eighties gal, I guess we can put it down in part to nostalgia.  The music is very arty and a bit trance-like.  Or perhaps that should be trippy.  Well some of their videos look like they’ve been helped along by Mister E or some similar banned substance.  Not that I’m criticising the artwork. No.  I’m broad-minded me.  And anyway, there’s nothing unusual about musicians being inspired to produce brilliant work while stoned out of their faces on the current drug of the day.

Anyhoo,  edging closer (slightly!) to my own era, I’ve got Wonderful Land on my iPod and it has to be one of my all-time favourite songs, ever. Mike Oldfield’s version, not The Shadows.  This song lifts my heart and fills my whole body with love.  Cringe all you like.  I mean it.  My son likes it too and is determined to learn it on the fantastic electric guitar that he got for his birthday.  And he’s doing very well indeed.  I’m fair impressed so I am.

So anyway.  That, my dearies, is pretty much that.

Ta ra for now.

Late!

I have no sense of routine and because of this, my life is often chaotic.  My house is rarely tidy, my laundry is usually piled up to heaven, my kids eat too many rushed and unwholesome meals, socks and rugby kits are always missing, ballet shoes are never where they were left and I find myself on the last minute whatever I’m doing and wherever I’m going.  No exaggeration. I am always late and although I despise myself for it, I never learn from it.

My workday mornings are manic.  I rush around at the last minute cleaning shoes, looking for lost Geography homework, counting out the dinner money, signing homework diaries and rushing out of the door while shoving slices of toast into my kids mouths. And when we do try to sit down and eat breakfast together, my kids usually find something to squabble about so any chance of a civil and harmonious meal is minimal to say the least.

I sit in my car in traffic queues, cursing the traffic lights and growling at all the other drivers who exist simply to make my life harder. When I finally reach my first destination, I throw myself out of the car in a mad panic. Then I drag the kids out, rushing and stressing at the poor things while they rub their eyes, tuck their shirts in and wonder what happened between sleeping blissfully in their cosy beds to being pushed into school by their manic mother.

I reach the car park at work and I curse the barrier because it is delaying me even more and the temptation to crash it is high.  Then I prowl around the car park hunting for a space but being late means the spaces are all taken.  I usually end up throwing my poor, abused car into any desperate little space thus contravening the fascist car parking rules and often resulting in returning to a ticket slapped on my windscreen.  Anyway, after illegally abandoning said car, I have to then sprint to the hospital building where I work which is deliberately built a million miles away from the car park and I am usually sweating like a pig and look like a wild woman of Borneo when I arrive at the long since deserted staff room.

It’s not just the mornings that fail me.  Even a simple trip to the cinema is spoilt by my tardy habit because we invariably miss the beginning of the movie and find ourselves scrambling in the dark, trying to turn invisible as we squeeze between the seats, disrupting the viewers who’ve arrived in plenty of time and are sitting comfortably, eating their popcorn and tutting and sighing at the inevitable late arrivals who spoil it for the organised ones.

Well I have come to the conclusion that this chaotic way of life is unsustainable and will one day come crashing down on me.

So I have a plan folks.  A Monthly Planner plan actually.  Every aspect of my life is going to be put onto a monthly planner.  I am going to create a menu planner, a budget planner, a homework planner, a housework/laundry/shopping planner, even an activity planner.

You name it, I will monthly plan it.

So I need to get going because I’m late getting started.  Sigh.

Earth Song

I’m really sad.  He was an unmistakably talented singer/songwriter and his dancing and choreography skills were phenomenally fantastic.

I often felt sorry for the guy.  Without question, he was a strange man.  Denied a childhood in his childhood, paradoxically, he didn’t seem to know how to be an adult.  And because of his odd looks which we know were transformed by countless hours of surgery, he was publicly hounded and humiliated without rest. I hope I’m wrong but I suspect he died a lonely man.

(It won’t be long before the inevitable joke text messages start circulating.  Who thinks them up so quickly?)

Anyway, forget the controversy and the allegations because he was cleared of everything.  Remember the creativity and the unique talent.  And the humanitarian.

Sleep peacefully Michael Jackson.

Summer Solstice at Stonehenge

On this Midsummer weekend, I shan’t be dancing naked in golden meadows because the weather is bloody awful where I am.

But it is comforting to know that the police are fully prepared to take on the reveling revelers at the Stonehenge celebrations this year.  Yes, our good and decent enforcers of the law are absolutely not going to tolerate any illegal drug-taking and unlawful raves.  No folks.  After years of a relaxed police approach to the Stonehenge celebrations it seems that this year, in keeping with the spirit of recent crowd-control tactics that they’ve come to be known by, ie, aggressive and totally disproportionate, they are going to beat the shit out of clamp down on those menacing peacenik druids, those troublesome hippies and those violent New-Age families who are all hellbent on doing bad, bad, anti-social stuff like watch the solstice and drink elderflower wine and smoke wacky-baccy and hold free festivals and laugh and be merry and get high off nature and celebrate the longest day by staying outdoors all (gasp) night (gasp) long.

Sigh.

Seriously folks, there’s no need for threatening pre-event language from the police.  They know jolly well that this is antagonistic.  But that’s what they want isn’t it.

Sigh again.

Here’s my Midsummer greeting for this year:

Stick up thy gentle finger towards the crowd-kettlers.

Dance the dance of the revolt.

Go forth and effect some merry mischief-making.

Laugh.  Sing.  Dance.  Drink.

Celebrate our good and lovely Earth,

Uninhibited.

Merriest wishes folks!

Don’t do that!!

Have you ever had one of those “relaxation” emails sent to you?  A slide show kind of thing with lovely pictures of flowers, mountains, birds and other images of nature?  It’s usually set to ambient mood music to soothe and relax you.  I just had one sent to me and I daren’t bloody watch it because I’ve had so many that start out lovely and peaceful, luring me into a sense of calm, then all of a sudden a horrible, devilish face making a loud demonic shriek jumps out of the screen and scares me half to death.   I swear to the gods, I hate those things.  So now, when I receive a potentially nice one, I have to watch it through my fingers with my eyes screwed half shut and the sound down to minimum.

Spoilt the whole experience it has.

Greenpeace:Inspiring Action – Powerful and Inspiring