2008 - A Review

I’m not one for sending out Round Robins, but after the year I’ve had, it was time I just started to take stock a little: a year of high highs and deep lows really.

The year started with the death of my Mother (well, technically 30th December 2007), but most of January was taken up with the funeral [MINUS] and the rest of the year taken up with clearing out the family house.

O.K., so now, after probate, I get the house [PLUS]…which was then followed, mid-year, by the credit crunch, the general collapse of finances around the world and about a 20% loss of value in the property [MINUS].

In May, in the same week saw the break-up of a (16 month) long-term relationship [MINUS] and my visit to the Doctor when I decided to quit smoking [PLUS]. As Lloyd Bridges said in the movie Airplane: “Looks like I picked I fine week to quit smoking!”

At least I could concentrate my mind by working on updating and expanding my book Teach Yourself Screenwriting (May-August).

The main benefit from quitting the fags was not the health stuff (boring boring) but the money saved, which meant I could replenish my hat collection and buy a couple of new suits [PLUS].

And spurred on by a friend of mine in Los Angeles (born on exactly the same day and year as me) with has his own musical outfit playing 1920s-styled music, I started writing song lyrics again [PLUS] - the last lyrics I wrote were in the early 1980s. So I started venting my spleen in rhyme, sent them over to him to add the music and he acclaimed them as “works of genius”. So I believe he’s about to start recording his group’s second CD.

Then September came the accident [MINUS] and I ended up in hospital, then on crutches and using a walking cane for over three months. At least it did lead to me starting what is now growing into a rather splendid collection of antique walking canes [PLUS]. Having seen the physiotherapist at the local hospital a couple of times, I’ve now started walking without a stick. As he said “a lot of it is down to getting your confidence back in that leg and using it without thinking about it”.

The trouble with leg meant that my plans for everything were put back about ten weeks [MINUS]. Everything was either scrapped or delayed: the intended Christmas in New York, the house clearance (and plans for renting it out).




I never take a great photo, but some of the photographs taken of me at events during the year have been rather splendid and garnered some very positive and pleasing comments, especially the Victorian ones taken at the New Sheridan Club’s Christmas party [PLUS].



And in November the new edition of my long-established best-selling tome Teach Yourself Screenwriting hit the UK book stores [PLUS] - initial Sales figures are very encouraging…at least we got it in the shops in time for Christmas. 2009 sees its release to the rest of the globe (USA in February, I believe…perhaps I should go over there on a promotional tour…).


















At least AC/DC managed to keep High School Musical off the top of the album charts.

That’s about it - 2008 in a nutshell. And considering everyone I know across the globe has had a pretty shitty year themselves, for me, on balance, I guess it was: a score-draw.

Conclusion? / Resolution for 2009: Things can only get better.

I got BANNED from Woolworths - an hour before they shut their doors for good!

This bizarre story starts about three weeks ago, when Woolworths announced they were going into Administration and were selling everything off.

In my local High Street store, on their CD racks, there were four sets of sleevs, each for a 3-CD set called “The Weekend Starts Here” (yes, choc-full of Mod classics from the 60s). On the shelf it was priced at £7. I took the cover to the Woolworths counter and, after much searching (there were at least four sets in the drawer), she scanned it and…it came up as £14.99.

I pointed out that it was £7 on the shelf, so we both trudged up the aisles to the shelf where the display was. She then bent down, took the £7 sticker off the shelf and said “that was last week’s price”. So I refused to pay the higher price and left the store.

Then last Friday, this particular branch was on its last day and now the reductions were 50%, so I was finally going to get what I wanted at the price I wanted.

Or was I?

I went in and took the one remaining CD cover to the counter and said to the rather sullen looking Neanderthal youth behind the counter “You’ll probably find it in that drawer there, listed under W”. He then turned his back on me and proceeded to finger through the DVDs drawer.

I said “Did you hear what I said? It’s a CD set. You’ll probably find it in that drawer…etc”. So he turned and gave me one threatening look. He aimlessly dawdled through the drawer and then said “Can’t find it”. I took him to task and he replied, in a very rude tone: “Well, we ain’t go’ it, ‘ave we?”.

So I left the counter and decided to tackle the Under-Assistant manageress, a tiny lady who for the last three or so years (I’ve observed) has been nurturing increasingly large chips on both shoulders. I explained the situation, particularly about the rudeness of the assistant. - And her witty ripost?: “If we ain’t got it, we ain’t got it, so there“.

I just replied “Well if that’s your idea of good Customer Service, maybe your company deserves to go to the wall and you lose your jobs”.

“Right. Get out of my store”, she commanded.

I just burst out laughing.

Perhaps this offended the little bossy-boots and she threatened to have me escorted off the premises. But I just exited.

As I left the store, a member of staff was on her mobile, trying to find out exactly when that store did close its doors that day. She discovered it was…in an hour.

There’s a triple-irony here:
(i) the very next day I went to the Woolworths in Romford (the nearest large town to us), which was still open, and I got the very CD set I wanted…at £7. So there!

(ii) on the Sunday I happened to be on the radio that morning and mentioned this story. The texts came flooding in, all supporting me.

(iii) since that radio mention, I’ve been stopped three times on my local High Street, with the words “Ray, what’s this about you being banned from Woolworths”. It seems I’ve become a bit of a local hero for everyone in the area who’s ever had a bad experience with the stroppy staff at that Woolworths in Barkingside.

I believe they call it Karma.

(And a Merry Christmas to you!)

It's Christmas!!!!

As we head for the holiday season, I would just like to take this opportunity to wish you all a Very Merry Christmas: to all those who have responded to my blogs, to those who supported me through some difficult times this year (you know who you are), to the handful of truly good friends I have and to those who have bought (and read) the new book. Thank you.

I hope you have a truly fantastic Yuletide, spent with the people around you that matter in this world: family and friends.

Back soon.

Ray Frensham

Do Cufflinks come in Different Sizes?

So there I was today in Marks & Spencer (in Romford...er...Essex), browsing the shelves to fill up my knicker-drawer for Christmas, and I get stopped by these two young late-teenage Chav(ish) looking young girls looking rather perplexed.

“Excuse me”, they said, “can we ask you a question ?”

Oh madam, you may ask me anything, but my heart belongs to…Me [I thought]. But I acquiesced.

And then came what was (for me) the Question of the Year, they asked: “Do cufflinks come in different sizes?”.

I was a little taken aback but I managed to stumble a reply “Er…no. They’re all the same size".

It seems these two young charmers were searching for a pair for a solicitor (lawyer). [Please, gentlemen at the back, refrain from suggesting “did he see these two through their first court case?”].

Anyway, I managed to steer them away from their natural inclinations to buy Bling and helped them choose an appropriate pair: a circular silver pair with inlaid faux-mother-of-pearl. At least they didn’t regard the pair as “minging” or “gay” (the unfortunate modern vernacular, I’m afraid).

But we met again at the check-out and they seemed to be very happy with their purchase. I felt I had sent them off with a good parting shot: “A shirt isn’t a proper shirt unless it has cufflinks on it”.

So that was my good deed done for the day. Like showing an old lady across the road.

…Do cufflinks come in different sizes?…….dear oh dear!

N.H.S. - A Rant (Aftermath to my accident)

Latest progress on my fall of the 19th September. I'm still using a walking stick but making slow, if steady, progress.

I decided to drop into my Doctor (a splendid chap from Gibraltar) but he was on holiday, so I saw some locum - I could barely understand him, so please don't ask me to spell his name.

I recounted the words of advice from the Hospital "...and if you can afford it, try to see a Physiotherapist". I always thought Physios were available on the NHS (they are) and recent changes have meant that one can self-refer oneself to a Physio by just walking into a Hospital. Well, that's the Theory. In practise, my PCT still requires you to get a Doctor's referral letter.

At least he told me what was wrong with my leg: a torn hamstring muscle behind the left knee.

I asked him if it would need an operation; he said 'No' and referred me to the local Physiotherapy unit (I have to phone them tomorrow).

BUT, I later spoke to my cousin. He has Exactly the same trouble with his knee as I.....and he is due to go into hospital to have it operated on next week.

I think i shall wait until my proper Doctor is back from his hols. In the meantime, let's see what the Physios have to say.....

B.T. - A Rant.....(Apologies for recent silence)

I've been offline for a while as I've been spending a lot of time clearing out my Mother's house (where she lived is a cyber-desert), after her death at the end of 2007.

...and then I came back to the flat to discover BT had cut me off. They said it was for non-payment of a bill.......but I wasn't liable for any bill...Because....

You see (and it's a long story, it would take a separate blog entry to explain) earlier this year, after a long-running dispute with BT, we finally came to an arrangement: from the end of july 2008, BT would give me:
- free line reconnection and
- free line rental for one year and
- free BT Broadband for one year.

And still they tried to bill me...

Anyway, it's taken about a week but I'm back online again (although my landline telephone is still restricted use - I can only take incoming calls - because... the Bill hasn't been paid).

It's stupid, pathetically bureaucratic little things like this that make me despise this country even more.

I shall keep you informed.

And maybe (if the demand is there) I shall tell you exactly the route to take when making an official Complaint against BT: exactly who to go to, the hurdles to jump and how to take it through ADR [Alternative disputes Resolution - that's the one that really gives them the willies].

6 Months Since I Quit Smoking...

I really should’ve posted this up 11th November to get the dates right but, heck, I’m so busy at present (what with the new edition of the book due any day and the ongoing saga of clearing out Ma’s house) does it matter? …anyway….

Well, now it can be told. I quit smoking and that was six months ago. So my apologies if this blog sounds like some self-righteous muezzin proselytising about how great it’s been and how great I feel.

Let’s first look at how I came to be addicted in the first place. It was 1990 and I was in the middle of doing a long-form journalistic feature (about 18 months)about the City of London’s volunteer Territorial Army regiments. Part of this included my spending a week with them on the cruel and unforgiving terrain of the Brecon Beacons in Wales as part of their annual fortnight camp: you know, yomping and bivouacking and crossing rivers and camouflage and all that stuff - surprisingly, the green and khaki warpaint did Not colour-clash with my eyes.

Anyway, during this week, there were so many longeurs, we ended up mostly sitting round a campfire and…smoking fags. So I think I started partly as an attempt to bond with my subjects. [Well, you know, any man in a uniform…].

The irony is: in the years since those days, all the soldiers I kept in touch with had quit smoking. I as the only one left.

As we moved into the new millennium, Tony Blair’s health police were in power. My attitude had now hardened (somewhat like my arteries, no doubt) into: ‘the more this government tried to restrict my freedom of choice and right to smoke,the more I am determined to carry on smoking’. And so it remained for years.

But I suppose it was the convergence of two things that turned me:

1 - I guess by May of this year, I think I just got a bit bored with smoking.; I know I deeply resented the amount of money it was costing me (average £5.70 for a packet of twenty) even with the occasional ‘off-the-back-of-the-ferry’ cheapos courtesy of Harry my postman. And I thought that maybe the next time I visited my doctor I might ask him “if I wanted to quit, what sort of strategies would he suggest?”. etc.

2 - I’d visited my doctor for one of my regular half-yearly blood tests and the results were in. He said to: “Look, It's not your cholesterol level of 5.6 that worries me. What concerns me is your cardio-vascular risk, which is 24%”.

“OK,” I said, “so what pills do you give me to reduce it?”. And replied: “No pills. You may not believe this, but if you were to quit smoking, you would halve your cardio-vascular risk overnight, just like that”.

So I just turned to him and said “well, I suppose that’s as good a reason as any to quit then. There you are: I quit. Just like that”.

At which point he went into paroxysms of concern, “No, no, no. You need support. It’s been statistically proven that you’ll have greater success quitting by attending support groups and using patches and having things for your fingers to fiddle with…”.

But I was insistent: Nope! Don’t need nuthin’ like that. I will do this.

And looking back, I’m astonished at how - not ‘easy’ - well, straight-forward it all was. I’d made a decision, I quit and that was it. OK so there was a few days of some twitching in the veins and a couple of hot, sweaty periods in the night but no spasms of arteries erupting and veins throbbing as I had anticipated.

Another thing: once I’d quit I decided to put away the money I would’ve spent on cigarettes into an old teapot (30 snouts a day, that’s almost £7 worth). After a week I’d collected almost £50, and by the end of the month almost £200.

So at the end of the month I went out and bought myself a new Straw Panama hat from James Lock & Co. (and, later, the now-infamous Straw Boater); and the month after that, a suit from Daks’ summer sale. It’s important to congratulate yourself sometimes. [When I look back at all the money I’d spent I’m amazed I didn’t quit sooner].

Admittedly, for the first couple of weeks since quitting I was continually coughing up phlegm - just basically getting all that crap off my lungs (my Doc said it would take about two and a half years for the lungs to fully repair themselves). But it’s true what they say: within just a few days my senses of taste and smell returned, and my lung capacity expanded amazingly.
But 11th May was the date and, like I said, was astounded at simple and straight-forward it all was for me; especially since the week I quit was the same week that saw the final falling-apart of a 16-month long relationship. As Lloyd Bridges said in the movie Airplane: “Looks like I picked a fine week to quit smoking”.

I can honestly say I’ve not had a cigarette since that day. I have bought myself a couple of fine suits and some new hats though (especially those two beloved silk toppers). They all came from the Ex-Fag Fund.

I guess there is always the possibility of my falling off the wagon (I am a naturally addictive personality-type), but if I ever get a craving - which is incredibly rare - I just say to myself: “Look, it IS just a craving, it will pass”. Then I think: “cardio-vascular risk 24 per cent / cardio-vascular risk 12 per cent. Not Contest!”

Sorry if I’ve come over all evangelical and self-righteous. But once you’ve decided (and I mean completely 100% decided - if you have even the slightest tad of a doubt, don‘t even try it), quitting is remarkably straight-forward and do-able. [I never said it was easy].