Leslie James Clow

Today would have been my father's 63rd birthday. He died almost 4 years ago of a heart attack, long before the world had had enough of him. We were as close as any two men have ever been and I think about him every day. I don't want to be morbid or mawkish, but to celebrate him by sharing some of the things he taught me, (and anyone else who stood at the bar for long enough to listen).

• Life is far too important to be taken seriously.
• Have another drink.
• Try not to litter your life with prudish and narrow-minded people; it's almost always because they're not getting laid and there's probably a good reason for that.
• Preparation method for cucumber; thinly slice, marinade in lightly seasoned vinegar for at least two hours, discard the cucumber and then throw away the vinegar.
• Have another drink.
• A man's toy box is never full.
• Everyone enjoys judging others and hates to be judged.
• Sex is a fascinating dichotomy; it's simultaneously important and trivial, serious and silly. Don't analyse, practice.
• We're here to make babies and look after the place.
• Fancy another drink?
• If you're searching for God, try looking in Yorkshire. It's fairly certain that's where he came from. And why would he have moved?
• Take time out to talk to animals and listen to what they say in return; it will be the most rewarding conversation you'll have all day.
• Always ask. It's surprising what you can get away with.
• Don't trust the seriously rich; it's almost impossible to get wealthy without screwing someone over along the way.
• Playing is better than not playing. If you play, you'll lose more often than you win. Learn to enjoy losing.
• Don't fear death; it's not the worst thing that can happen to you. The worst things are caused by your own fears.
• Ready for a drink yet?
• Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll have something to do until the pub opens.
• Never let your dingle dangle in the dirt.

If you knew my old man, raise a glass and remember. If you didn't get the chance to know him, raise a glass and think about what you missed. Cheers.

Self-improvers

I've always been a 'self-improver'. It started when I was a kid and it doesn't seem to be showing any sign of slowing down anytime soon. For most of my life, it's been a blessing. On the other hand, there are plenty of occasions when I wish I could just flip the switch and turn off the whole self-improvement thing. Just lie back and reflect on the need to do absolutely nothing of any value. But I can't. It's not the way I'm made.

What do I mean? It's hard to define exactly what 'self-improvement' or 'self-improvers' are all about. It's pretty easy to spot them though. They (we) are always on 'courses', or in the library, or trying to perfect a new trick, or learning a language, or training for the marathon, or...You get the picture. It's not just about being obsessive. There are loads of ways to be obsessive without aiming to achieve the slightest benefit; most 'avid collectors' or warriors in the 'World of Warcraft' fit this last category. No, this is something more specific than mere fascination and nerdiness. This is about facing up to the idea that you are never 'finished'. Harking back to the glory days of the great 'Amateur', pursuing the notion that the best things in your life are the things that you do for yourself and that this pursuit deserves all of your attention.

I've obsessively developed more tricks and skills than I can count. My life is peppered with certificates and half-abandoned apparatus, the things that chart my apoplectic progress through many fields of bizarre human endeavour. I may even request in my will that our loft is left untouched after my death, just to confuse future archaeologists to buggery. I wonder what strange religious practice they could surmise for a juggling club, a flipper, some harmonicas, a tripod and a compass?

Not unusually, I've just finished another course. No certificate though; shame, I could have put it with the other ones in the loft. The latest improvement, (over 8 weeks in evening classes at the local college), is in my 'Photoshop Skills (beginners)'. As usual, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was thinking about the other 'improvers' on the course, while I was running on the treadmill in the gym at 6.30 the morning after, with a different set of 'improvers'. What did they all have in common? On the face of it, not much. In fact, there was quite some social distance between the old woman in the sweatshirt emblazoned with 'Dog Person' and Max the DJ, or Sam the ceramicist, (I think that means 'clever potter'). Their reasons for being there seemed to bare no real similarity either. The point of convergence only really emerged at the end of the last session, when the Old-Dog-Person-Woman announced that she'd discovered a class for 'Photoshop Skills (Intermediate)' at a college twenty miles away. Everyone agreed, we'd all see each other there in January. Failing that, there is always 'Conversational Italian' on Tuesdays. The simple fact of it is that doing something useful, however irrelevant, is always better than doing nothing. Now where did I put that Italian dictionary? Oh yes, I remember now, it's in the loft with the others.

Still a pity about the certificate, though. I could always make myself one in Photoshop.