Roll Of The Dice

I am not sure what inspired me to choose this weeks’ theme, on which to write a blog post. Being someone who never gambles for money, (out of conviction rather than choice), it’s not really a something you would hear me say during conversation, or even use as a ‘go to’ phrase when waxing lyrical and putting together a series of platitudes to sound clever.

To be honest, when I received the list of themes, for some unknown reason this one triggered my nostalgic sensor in the brain and took me back to the early 80s, and my formative years as a 9-year-old, impressionable child from the West Midlands.

So, before I plough into the main body of this story, I decided to try and find out about the origins of the phrase, with a preconceived expectation of reading something weird and wonderful, of how it came to be. Unfortunately, I was bitterly disappointed. From my linguistic research on the trusted internet, the most common understanding of the phrase ‘Roll of the dice’, originates simply from the advent of gambling using a six-sided die. It’s as simple as that. The chances or risks we take over our lives in the pursuit of gaining something worthwhile. That is all she wrote…

So rather than dwell on this rather anti-climax of what felt like a potentially lifechanging story behind this phrase, lets move on, and take a trip back in time to 1982 where the story starts. Flux capacitors at the ready, let’s go.

Ok… here we are, and hopefully you have all arrived safely, with any travel sickness quick to subside.

“What’s this to do with a roll of the dice?” I hear you say. Please bear with me, I will get to that bit! Being on the cusp of opening ones childhood pandora’s box to take a stroll down memory lane on a journey exploring one of my favourite hobbies which absorbed untold amounts of my free time growing up, is something to be savoured, and not rushed. The best things come to those who wait…

Right, I’m ready now.

Alongside playing with my Star Wars figures, and re-enacting my favourite scenes from A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, I also spent inordinate amounts of time reading Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks, which for anyone who is too young to remember, or who overlooked this in favour or playing house with Action Man and Cindy. I will now take you on a journey into what you have missed.

Fighting Fantasy was a series of single player roleplaying gamebooks created by Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone, first being published in paperback by Puffin books in 1982. These were a series of stories, of a very much low tech single person ole play game, especially when compared with today’s Massive Multiplayer Online Role Play Games such as World of Warcraft or Final Fantasy.

The books were part of an emerging scene, which distinguished itself from the traditional Choose Your Own Adventure-Style storytelling by added the element of chance into the proceedings, creating a dice-based role-playing element into the stories themselves.

Before embarking on your adventure, you were required to gather some basic equipment. Paper and a Pencil (with a rubber if possible), a couple of dice, somewhere quiet with the minimalist of distractions, and a vividly creative imagination.

At the time, my favourite place was downstairs in the living room, on the bright white faux fur rug in front of the electric fire which had fake glowing embers made of coloured glass stones and a flickering light beneath. This place was the ideal spot, although it only worked, so long as my parents and siblings were otherwise engaged, either out pottering in the garden, or busy doing their next DIY project elsewhere.

If the lounge was occupied, usually with the TV hosting a random set of weekend programmes such as for Saturdays World of Sport with Dickie Davis, (featuring the wrestling with Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks or Mick McManus), or if it was a Sunday, Highway to Heaven, Antiques Roadshow, or Bullseye. Then the next best place was on the top bunk of the bedroom I shared with my older brother.

Once I was ensconced in the quiet spot, with all essential equipment safely to hand, then the fun could begin.

Firstly, before starting the quest, each Fighting Fantasy gamebook requires the reader to create their character, using the element of chance, to randomly assign scores to three qualities (skill, stamina, and luck).

These were determined with the roll of the dice, where the higher number you got, the more skill, stamina, or luck you had at the stary of the game. Then as the story evolved, you would gain or loose points on these three qualities depending on how well the adventure was going.

The main text of each gamebook was set out in a delineated fashion. Each story was divided into a series of numbered passages (with an average around 400 in each book). Starting at no 1, you would be given a lead in to the story, offering some background information before being offered you the first of a series of choices of what you wanted to do next.

For example, if a story started with your character having taken a short stroll down a dark path, you may reach a bridge which spans a fast-flowing river. You would then be given an option of either choosing to cross the bridge (which would direct you to another passage buried somewhere in the pages of the book under the assigned a number). Alternatively, you may decide to try and cross the river by wading across using a series of stepping-stones, this would take you to another passage somewhere else. You then continued reading through the story following each set of options in turn.

Like most good quests, dangers were lurking around most corners, and sometimes you were faced with having to combat a whole array of adversaries. From witches, and demons, to trolls, space zombies and even evil ghost warriors being thrown in for good measure.

You would then be required to roll the dice further to help with battle these creatures. In the story you would be given the creatures skill and stamina scores. First you would need to roll the dice, and whatever the score was, you would add this to the creature’s skill score. Having done this you would then roll the dice again, and add this to your skill score. Whoever had the higher total won that round, and you had to delete two points from the stamina score of the loser. The contest then continued until the loser’s stamina score reached zero which meant they were dead.

So long as you survive each duel, the story would continue, until your character either perishes after one too many skirmishes’ and is killed in combat, or hopefully being successful and completing the quest.

Each of the Gamebooks had numerous twists and turns embedded into the story, where the main character may live or die based on the decisions made, or the roll of the dice. With each book offering numerous storylines, each adventure would be different, So, if at first go you didn’t succeed, you could always try and try again.

One element I enjoyed with the stories, was being able to imagine landscapes, scenes and characters in my mind 9therefore the vivid creative imagination being required). Not wanting to do things by half, I tended to develop a rich and varied tapestry of sights and sounds with which to explore.

Alongside your imagination, the Gamebook also had various illustrations including full-page drawings, or smaller, repeated images scattered throughout the book which helped to shape some of my creations. Anything that wasn’t covered in these illustrations I tended to fill in as I went along.

Most of the titles followed a fantasy theme, although science fiction, post-apocalyptic, superhero, and contemporary horror were also published. From all the books which were available, my top 5 spanned most of the genres:

1 The Warlock of Firetop Mountain
2 The Forest of Doom
3 Starship Traveller
4 Deathtrap Dungeon
5 Sword of the Samurai

My personal favourite was Sword of the Samurai, which as the title suggests, took place in japan in the endo period (1850s), and involve ghosts, warriors, shogun and evil emperors I must read this one hundreds of time to the point of being dog eared, and lose leafed.

Right Back to the Future now… Looking back as we do over our life experiences, these moments from my childhood provide fond memories for me to reminisce. To this day I still have a few of these books in my library, which although have been gathering dust for a little while since my kids have outgrown them, I am sure one day, I will revisit them once more taking another jaunt to strange lands or galaxies far, far away, and who knows, reliving a quest or two I have undertaken before, or if I am lucky, a completely new adventure for the first time. Only the pages of the book, and a role of the dice will know which it is to be.

So to the poem, you may be aware of my fondness for Haiku’s, and seems my favourite book was set in Japan, and with Star Wars having a tenuous link to the Seven Samurai, it would be remiss of me not to offer a new Haiku to finish.

Will I live or die?

My fate is decided by

A roll of the dice…

Thanks for reading, 

Steve McCarthy-Grunwald

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Is This The End?

Here is a short story I first wrote for a competition in 2015. I've resurrected the main piece and altered it for the blog, along with an illustration to help set the scene. I hope you like it.

Confused and disorientated, Spencer surfaced, connecting once more with his conscious thoughts.

“How the hell did I get here?” And while he was on the subject, “Where exactly is here?”

Everything was dark, so much so the blackness appeared to be expanding in front of Spencer’s eyes, engulfing him and playfully teasing his claustrophobia until he realised he was not breathing. With difficulty he instructed himself to take some slow deep breath, clawing his way back from absolute panic to cloying anxiety which loitered with intent and remained static, looking unlikely to be going away anytime soon.

Digging his fingernails deep into his palms, as he had done so many times before, Spencer regained some feeling again, registering the pain signals traversing the nerve pathway up his arms from his hands. This also raised an awareness in him of a dull throbbing ache originating in the back of his head. He had a vague recollection of paying Gibson a visit, to try at least to identify some common ground for us to forge a truce.

I knew it was wrong to take a cut of the money, but you can't blame me for wanting more than what life had dealt me so far.

Orphaned at five, living rough between the three spires before winter got the better of me and I was forced to work in the mills to earn a meal.

Greed got the better of sensibility, and foolishly i thought Gibson would not find out, although if the rumours were true, he does have eyes and ears everywhere.

I vaguely recollect going to his workshop, and seeing the door ajar, with a candle flickering in the window I assumed he was in the back counting the spoils of the daily take. I went into the shack and headed for his lodgings before turning towards a noise from which emanated behind me...

That was the last I remember. “Where the hell am I?”

Back to his current predicament Spencer had started to notice more about his surroundings as his sensory perceptions began to kick in.

Illustration by SM-G

There was definitely an intense sweet smell of wood which reminded him of Christmas at the workhouse in Coventry, and just as cold. The scent was so intense, he could almost taste it. Unfortunately his Proprioception was still catching up, which prevented him from confirming if he was in a horizontal or vertical position.

Either way at least he noted to be resting on a soft cushioned surface which reminded him of resting in the haystacks of Cooper's farm on summer evenings, albeit the cover felt cool to the touch and as smooth as silk on his bare arms.

For a fleeting moment he considered that things couldn't be all bad, being somewhere that was so soft and gentle.

Spencer decided to try and move his head to see if this would clear the grogginess he felt, but to his dismay there was something solid directly in front of his face which restricted his movements and produced a dull thud that resonated within the enclosed space around him.

Fear gripped him firmly, like a child lost and alone. The breathlessness returned worse than before, as Spencer finally realised where he was. The ensuing panic drained what energy he had recovered over the last few minutes. With a final futile attempt to remain conscious Spencer’s thoughts spun like a top that was whipped.

He remained uncomfortably aware of a single phrase repeating itself over and over in his head, which began to slowly fade away into the distance.

“Is this the end?”

Steve McCarthy-Grunwald

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Box

Alongside great inventions in time, such as the wheel, the humble box has also stood the test of time, and is all too much taken for granted in today’s society. They come in all shapes, colours and sizes, they have a festive celebration dedicated to them (just after Christmas), and for many, it is something we use throughout our lives in various different situations, to the point that we may also end up put in one when we are dead.

To this end, writing a blog about all things ‘box’ appears rather a mammoth task, like summing up war and peace in a couple of sentences, so after careful consideration I have chosen to look at one particular box which is more famous with science fiction fans, rather than its real use. I have chosen therefore to look at a history of the little known but well-loved Police Box. Cue Music…

What a curious series of events unravels in front of my eyes when exploring the history of the police box. For instance, when comparing various websites dedicated to this topic from around the world, I immediately found that the facts were somewhat skewed, with three different sites claimed three different cities as the original birthplace of these TARDIS-style boxes. It almost confirms the possibility that time travel is possible with such sightings being identified, I will leave it to you to decide.

This was not the only anomaly. Waters were further muddied when looking for the name of the inventor who first designed the box.  Many different sites gave, different names and as such there still appears no unified theory of their development which we can reliably use for reference.

Having said that there are many facts which were agreed upon. For instance, the decision to use such boxes was to try and stay ahead of the criminal activities taking place around the early 1890s. The idea in Glasgow, was to exploit the emerging technologies of the telephone, creating a series of signal posts for Bobbies on the beat to keep in constant touch with each other.

The first boxes used were cast iron octagonal affairs, providing an intricate system of signalling lines, which when a trigger mechanism was activated, a red lamp lit up on the top to attract the attention of the local beat officers. Consequently the location of the box was crucial to ensure visibility. Officers therefore were encouraged to stay within line-of-sight of their Police Box for as much time as possible, although the top of the Police Box lamp in later versions contained a gong mechanism which also provided an audible means of attracting attention.

The more common square police boxes were introduced in the late 1920s firstly in the north east of the country. These were cumbersomely large, rather short and had a sloping roof. These shed-like structures proved very efficient in reducing crime in the area. This led to a decision to develop a standardised design, to which end Gilbert ‘MacKenzie’ Trench was recognised as producing the iconic box artwork (Mark 1) which would one day enter common parlance as a 'TARDIS', and first appearing on the streets of London in 1929.

author's own sketch

The original MacKenzie Trench blueprints indicated the material for the shell of the box as 'concrete'. Furthermore, the wood panelling required for door, was suggested to be made 'in teak'. In the absence of anything other than anecdotal evidence to the contrary, this casts doubt on the description of the TARDIS being a solely 'wooden box'. Although I’m not sure how aerodynamic cast concrete would be, so this may suggest why a change was required.

As progress always dictates, a change was required over time to modify the box design and use, therefore, in the mid-1930s, the Mark 2 design was released. (This version is more akin to the Tardis design we know from Dr Who). The main difference between Marks 1 and 2 was more focused around who could use the boxes. The Mark 2 boxes were made available to the general public, where no lock was fitted to enable access. The new loudspeaker-telephone system (what was referred to as a 'speakerphone'), required an explanatory notice due to its unfamiliarity with the general populous.  Despite this detailed guidance for use, the public remained cautious about using the police boxes (on average less than once per month was recorded).

To encourage a change, the metropolitan police held a series of special exhibits to educate the public and encourage them to use the boxes which had some effect in doubling the amount of callers using the boxes. By the 1940s, the Police Box held an important position in local communities, since most homes still had no telephone, so the boxes provided a means to report fires, or summon ambulances alongside their primary purpose of reducing crime. Some other differences between the Mark 1 and 2 involved aesthetic changes such as the explanatory plaque and the St John Ambulance logo being moved one panel higher, whilst the original roof sign which simply read 'POLICE', was changed to the more familiar 'POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX'.

There was also a suggestion that the Mark 2 had 'hammered' or 'frosted' glass in place of clear glass in the original design. Despite this guidance on design in reality this was not always observed. This is reflected in the design of the 1996 TARDIS prop by Richard Hudolin which had a mixture of all types of glass randomly placed. There was also a Mark 3 variation of the Met Police Box which was larger with no windows at the front and three at the side.

As time passed and technology developed these boxes fell out of fashion, and as such their primary use has fallen into the realms of history, but the design lived on thorough popular TV. The same will be said I’m sure of red telephone and pillar boxes in the future…

TARDIS Haiku

Silently watching
As time moves relentlessly
Onwards to the end

Box Limerick (Harry Potter Themed).

A wise old ‘house elf’ called fox.
Who lived most of his life in a box?
Was so surprised one day.
When he found as his pay.
A discarded pair of worn argyle socks.

SM-G 2019.

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Retronomy

“Vinyl is the real deal. I've always felt like, until you buy the vinyl record, you don't really own the album. And it's not just me or a little pet thing or some kind of retro romantic thing from the past. It is still alive”.
                                                                                                                                                                       Jack White (Singer, Songwriter)

Retronomy… although the word itself appears to be quite shy in ‘popular speak’, retronomy is generally used to signify newly developed concepts, that self-consciously refer to particular trends, music, modes, artefacts, products, fashions, or attitudes which are soaked in the essence of the recent past.

With reference to ‘all things retro’ the popularity of the phrase itself is relatively modern deriving from the 60s (but originally from the Latin prefix retro meaning backwards or in past times), which denoted new things which had strong characteristics of previous times.

This aspect of life has lead me to consider this question; ‘Why with all the advancements in modern life and technology do we still crave such archaic props or experiences to offer meaning to our lives?

The psychology of purchasing ‘vintage’ or ‘retro’ items is very much multi-layered. Often the impetus to buy retro is fuelled by the thrill of the chase, when searching for new items to swell an ever expanding collection. The internet has made it so much easier to obtain modern pieces online, which appears to be the new high street for shopping, but shopping for retro is very much an unparalleled treasure hunt. Therefore part of its allure is simply in the beauty of the process, where you will never know what you will find or learn when embarking on the journey.

Another reason for retro preference is a sense of participating in the history of the object itself. Modern items are ‘tabula rasas’ upon which we write a history, whereas more vintage pieces are already written on. The marks of age and time have already been branded and we want to add to it.

Further to this our recognition of the modern being a throwaway society compared with the old adage of "They don't make things the way they used to." Does imply that the quality, including materials, embellishments, and craftsmanship, in older pieces makes it purchase worthy.

Additionally, in a world of mass production, seeing yourself "coming and going" is an inevitability. We can easily disappear into the world of the ordinary whereas retro ensures originality. That ‘one-of-a-kindness’ that you cannot find anywhere else.

Finally and most simply, for the love of nostalgia and sentiment which prompts us to buy into the representation of it, with the retro piece becoming the embodiment of a bygone era.

So with this in mind… why do we have such a bittersweet relationship with nostalgia?

In life, change is very much the default setting, not the exception; so we are constantly surrounded in transformation, from physical growth to scientific discovery. Novelty, meanwhile, appears to offer the antidote to boredom and stagnation.

Nonetheless, individuals long for a sense of stability. Constant change has been seen to threaten our psychological well-being, especially when we are required to develop a new skillset to meet the demands of our acquired knowledge. Stress inevitably accompanies unexpected or extreme change, since our ability to control situations depends upon a reasonable degree of predictability.

Nostalgia therefore, offers an almost bittersweet window into the past. It’s sweet because it allows us to momentarily relive perceived ‘good times’; whereas it’s bitter because we recognize that those times can never return, and we will eventually return to our hectic dystopia.

Although nostalgia is a universal phenomenon, research has hinted that our nostalgic yearnings are more focused during periods of transition, like maturing into adulthood or aging into retirement. Relocation (such as work or home), or technological progress can also elicit these feelings.

In the face of instability, our mind will reach for our positive memories of the past, which tend to be more crystallized, than negative or neutral ones. We search for those moments where we felt safe, secure and contented. Previously, theorists tended to think of nostalgia as a bad thing – a retreat in the face of uncertainty, stress or unhappiness. Roderick Peters a renowned psychoanalytical theorist in 1985, described extreme nostalgia as debilitative, something “that persists and profoundly interferes with the individual’s attempts to cope with his present circumstances.” More contemporary opinions such as myself would contradict this somewhat maladaptive viewpoint.

Having worked in dementia care for so many years, and having seen the benefits (firsthand) with nostalgic reminiscence therapy, I can see how it offers a stabilizing force, especially when individuals with dementia are surrounded by confusion and disorientation to place and time. It can strengthen our sense of personal continuity, whilst reminding us that we possess a store of powerful memories that are deeply intertwined with our identity. Nostalgic memories that tend to focus on our relationships, can often comfort us during stressful or difficult times. Although individuals have become independent and mature (perhaps even a bit jaded), they often focused on their accumulated life roles from children, sibling, adult, parent etc. In developing a retrospective analysis of our lifelong experiences, we tend to find remembering that we have experienced unconditional positive regard, love, empathy, compassion, strength, belonging, etc. as we have aged, can offer a reassuring outlook for our present – especially during trying times. These memories offers the insight into our personal resilience, providing the courage to confront our fears, take reasonable risks and tackle challenges. Rather than creating a metaphorical prison, trapping us in the past, nostalgia can liberate us from adversity by promoting personal growth. Other recent studies have also identified that individuals with a greater propensity for nostalgia, cope better with adversity and are more likely to seek emotional support, advice and practical help from others. Interestingly, they are also more likely to avoid distractions which prevent them from confronting the issue and generating solutions. A word of caution: for all its benefits, nostalgia can also seduce us into retreating into a romanticized past (being tempted by the dark side)!

The desire to escape into the imagined, idealized world of a prior era – even one you weren’t alive for – represents a different, independent type of nostalgia is referred to as historical nostalgia.

Historical nostalgia often sits concurrently with a deep dissatisfaction with the present and a preference for the way things were long ago. Unlike personal nostalgia, someone who experiences historical nostalgia might have a more cynical or stigmatized perspective of the world, one coloured by pain, trauma, regret or adverse life experiences. The most recent need for identity has led to an unhealthy desire for all things WW2. This maligned longing for these misinterpreted and misunderstood ‘halcyon days’ of war and remembrance. It serves only to create a false memory of what it was like during such horrific times in our world’s history, whilst providing the participants a false escape from real life, which they hope not to return to, which in reality is only going to provide disappointment.

Ultimately, when we focus on our own life experiences – falling back on our store of happy memories – ‘nostalgia’, ‘vintageness’ and ‘retronomy’ are useful tool. It can be seen as a way to harness the past internally to endure change – and create hope for the future.

Gone Not forgotten
Gone not forgotten, time is for healing.
Memories of who we were in the crowd.
Using senses to enhance these feelings.
Sharing the stories and laughing out loud.

Remembering times spent together.
We wanted them to last forever.
Gone not forgotten, this is true.
All the things that remind me of you.

Thanks for reading, Steve McCarthy-Grunwald, December 2018

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Question The Answers

"There are two different types of people in the world, those who want to know, and those who want to believe."                                                                                                                                                           Friedrich Nietzsche

When it comes to finding answers, the human mind becomes restless especially around uncertainty and ambiguity. Consequently, when seeking clarity to troublesome questions, one response is to spontaneously generate plausible explanations. Once generated, we then tend to hold onto these invented explanations, in a way of making them become real. Once we have them, we really don’t like to let them go. Consequently we can eliminate the distress of the unknown and achieve ‘cognitive closure’ (Kruglanski, A. 1996).

In 1972, the psychologist Jerome Kagan, in (1972) suggested this ‘uncertainty resolution’ was one of the foremost determinants of human behaviour. Therefore, when we struggle to immediately gratify our desire to know the answer, we become highly motivated to find solutions to develop some kind of firm explanation. The ‘motivation principle’ in this hypothesis, remains central to many of our common motives: achievement, affiliation, recognition etc.

As unique individuals we tend to interpret the world around us, continuously. If we are not able to understand something, it scares us. Having answers to questions allows us to make sense of our surroundings, thereby giving us a sense of safety and security, a recognise core needs when we consider Maslow’s hierarchy. The human brain, more specifically the ‘amygdala’ becomes active in the face of ambiguity. Our drive to gather factual, biographical data in the hippocampus drives our conscious thoughts to find the right information, whereas the amygdala deals with the emotional responses to situations, therefore why we become restless in the face of uncertainty. 

In conclusion, when faced with heightened ambiguity and a lack of clarity of answers, our need to know—as quickly as possible becomes paramount.

 

 

Considering this concept of the need for answers, I wanted to share with you an abridged excerpt from one of the most bizarre but ultimately most creative authors in science fiction. Douglas Adams most famous piece of literary success has got to be the first novel in a five book trilogy (I said he was bizarre), The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Towards the end of the book there begins a monumental story of how a race of ‘hyperintelligent pandimentional beings’ decided to build a computer to find out if there was such an answer to the question of the meaning of life, the universe and everything. Without wanting to spoil the outcome I have included the important passages (in Douglas’s original words) to help explain a little more.

The Following Passages are taken from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams.
There are of course many problems connected with life, of which some of the most popular are, Why are people born? Why do they die? Why do they want to spend so much of the intervening time wearing digital watches? Many many millions of years ago a race of hyperintelligent pandimensional beings (whose physical manifestation in their own pan-dimensional universe is not dissimilar to our own) got so fed up with the constant bickering about the meaning of life which used to interrupt their favourite pastime of Brockian Ultra Cricket (a curious game which involved suddenly hitting people for no readily apparent reason and then running away) that they decided to sit down and solve their problems once and for all. And to this end they built themselves a stupendous super computer which was so amazingly intelligent that even before the data banks had been connected up it had started from I think therefore I am and got as far as the existence of rice pudding and income tax before anyone managed to turn it off.

On the day of the Great On-Turning two soberly dressed programmers with brief cases arrived and were shown discreetly into the office. They were aware that this day they would represent their entire race in its greatest moment, but they conducted themselves calmly and quietly as they seated themselves deferentially before the desk, opened their brief cases and took out their leather-bound notebooks. Their names were Lunkwill and Fook.

Fook composed himself. ”O Deep Thought Computer,” he said, ”the task we have designed you to perform is this. We want you to tell us ...” he paused, ”...the Answer!” ”The answer?” said Deep Thought. ”The answer to what?” ”Life!” urged Fook. ”The Universe!” said Lunkwill. ”Everything!” they said in chorus. Deep Thought paused for a moment’s reflection. ”Tricky,” he said finally. ”But can you do it?” Again, a significant pause. ”Yes,” said Deep Thought, ”I can do it.” ”There is an answer?” said Fook with breathless excitement.” ”A simple answer?” added Lunkwill. ”Yes,” said Deep Thought. ”Life, the Universe, and Everything. There is an answer. But,” he added, ”I’ll have to think about it.”

A sudden commotion destroyed the moment: the door flew open and two angry men wearing the coarse faded-blue robes and belts of the Cruxwan University burst into the room, thrusting aside the ineffectual flunkies who tried to bar their way. ”We demand admission!” shouted the younger of the two men elbowing a pretty young secretary in the throat. ”Come on,” shouted the older one, ”you can’t keep us out!” He pushed a junior programmer back through the door. ”We demand that you can’t keep us out!” bawled the younger one, though he was now firmly inside the room and no further attempts were being made to stop him. ”Who are you?” said Lunkwill, rising angrily from his seat. ”What do you want?” ”I am Majikthise!” announced the older one. ”And I demand that I am Vroomfondel!” shouted the younger one. Majikthise turned on Vroomfondel. ”It’s alright,” he explained angrily, ”you don’t need to demand that.” ”All right!” bawled Vroomfondel banging on an nearby desk. ”I am Vroomfondel, and that is not a demand, that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts!” ”No we don’t!” exclaimed Majikthise in irritation. ”That is precisely what we don’t demand!” Scarcely pausing for breath, Vroomfondel shouted, ”We don’t demand solid facts! What we demand is a total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel!” ”But who the devil are you?” exclaimed an outraged Fook. ”We,” said Majikthise, ”are Philosophers.” ”Though we may not be,” said Vroomfondel waving a warning finger at the programmers. ”Yes we are,” insisted Majikthise. ”We are quite definitely here as rep- resentatives of the Amalgamated Union of Philosophers, Sages, Luminaries and Other Thinking Persons, and we want this machine off, and we want it off now!” ”What’s the problem?” said Lunkwill. ”I’ll tell you what the problem is mate,” said Majikthise, ”demarcation, that’s the problem!” ”We demand,” yelled Vroomfondel, ”that demarcation may or may not be the problem!” ”You just let the machines get on with the adding up,” warned Majikthise, ”and we’ll take care of the eternal verities thank you very much. You want to check your legal position you do mate. Under law the Quest for Ultimate Truth is quite clearly the inalienable prerogative of your working thinkers. Any bloody machine goes and actually finds it and we’re straight out of a job aren’t we? I mean what’s the use of our sitting up half the night arguing that there may or may not be a God if this machine only goes and gives us his bleeding phone number the next morning?” ”That’s right!” shouted Vroomfondel, ”we demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty!” Suddenly a stentorian voice boomed across the room. ”Might I make an observation at this point?” inquired Deep Thought. ”We’ll go on strike!” yelled Vroomfondel. ”That’s right!” agreed Majikthise. ”You’ll have a national Philosopher’s strike on your hands!” The hum level in the room suddenly increased as several ancillary bass driver units, mounted in sedately carved and varnished cabinet speakers around the room, cut in to give Deep Thought’s voice a little more power. ”All I wanted to say,” bellowed the computer, ”is that my circuits are now irrevocably committed to calculating the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything –” he paused and satisfied himself that he now had everyone’s attention, before continuing more quietly, ”but the programme will take me a little while to run.” Fook glanced impatiently at his watch. ”How long?” he said. ”Seven and a half million years,” said Deep Thought. Lunkwill and Fook blinked at each other. ”Seven and a half million years ...!” they cried in chorus. ”Yes,” declaimed Deep Thought, ”I said I’d have to think about it, didn’t I? And it occurs to me that running a programme like this is bound to create an enormous amount of popular publicity for the whole area of philosophy in general. Everyone’s going to have their own theories about what answer I’m eventually to come up with, and who better to capitalize on that media market than you yourself? So long as you can keep disagreeing with each other violently enough and slagging each other off in the popular press, you can keep yourself on the gravy train for life. How does that sound?” The two philosophers gaped at him. ”Bloody hell,” said Majikthise, ”now that is what I call thinking. Here Vroomfondel, why do we never think of things like that?” ”Dunno,” said Vroomfondel in an awed whisper, ”think our brains must be too highly trained Majikthise.” So saying, they turned on their heels and walked out of the door and into a lifestyle beyond their wildest dreams.    

Seven and a half million years Later…

A man standing on a brightly dressed dais before the building which clearly dominated the square was addressing the crowd over a Tannoy. ”O people waiting in the Shadow of Deep Thought!” he cried out. ”Hon- oured Descendants of Vroomfondel and Majikthise, the Greatest and Most Truly Interesting Pundits the Universe has ever known ...The Time of Waiting is over!” Wild cheers broke out amongst the crowd. Flags, streamers and wolf whistles sailed through the air. The narrower streets looked rather like centipedes rolled over on their backs and frantically waving their legs in the air. ”Seven and a half million years our race has waited for this Great and Hopefully Enlightening Day!” cried the cheer leader. ”The Day of the Answer!” Hurrahs burst from the ecstatic crowd. ”Never again,” cried the man, ”never again will we wake up in the morning and think Who am I? What is my purpose in life? Does it really, cosmically speaking, matter if I don’t get up and go to work? For today we will finally learn once and for all the plain and simple answer to all these nagging little problems of Life, the Universe and Everything!”

”Seventy-five thousand generations ago, our ancestors set this program in motion,” the second man said, ”and in all that time we will be the first to hear the computer speak.” ”An awesome prospect, Phouchg,” agreed the first man, ”We are the ones who will hear,” said Phouchg, ”the answer to the great question of Life ...!” ”The Universe ...!” said Loonquawl. ”And Everything ...!” ”Shhh,” said Loonquawl with a slight gesture, ”I think Deep Thought is preparing to speak!” There was a moment’s expectant pause whilst panels slowly came to life on the front of the console. Lights flashed on and off experimentally and settled down into a businesslike pattern. A soft low hum came from the communication channel. ”Good morning,” said Deep Thought at last. ”Er ...Good morning, O Deep Thought,” said Loonquawl nervously, ”do you have ...er, that is ...” ”An answer for you?” interrupted Deep Thought majestically. ”Yes. I have.” The two men shivered with expectancy. Their waiting had not been in vain. ”There really is one?” breathed Phouchg. ”There really is one,” confirmed Deep Thought. ”To Everything? To the great Question of Life, the Universe and Everything?” ”Yes.” Both of the men had been trained for this moment, their lives had been a preparation for it, they had been selected at birth as those who would witness the answer, but even so they found themselves gasping and squirming like excited children. ”And you’re ready to give it to us?” urged Loonquawl. ”I am.” ”Now?” ”Now,” said Deep Thought. They both licked their dry lips. ”Though I don’t think,” added Deep Thought, ”that you’re going to like it.” ”Doesn’t matter!” said Phouchg. ”We must know it! Now!” ”Now?” inquired Deep Thought. ”Yes! Now ...” ”All right,” said the computer and settled into silence again. The two men fidgeted. The tension was unbearable. ”You’re really not going to like it,” observed Deep Thought. ”Tell us!” ”All right,” said Deep Thought. ”The Answer to the Great Question ...” ”Yes ...!” ”Of Life, the Universe and Everything ...” said Deep Thought. ”Yes ...!” ”Is ...” said Deep Thought, and paused. ”Yes ...!” ”Is ...” ”Yes ...!!!...?” ”Forty-two,” said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.

It was a long time before anyone spoke…

By way of concluding this guest blog on the topic of answers, I thought it would be only right to go back to our opening quote by Nietzsche and offer you my simple limerick that tries to capture the complexity of this subject in five lines. I hope you like it...

Answers
A young philosopher called Nietzsche
Aspired to be a wise teacher.
Exploring answers to the meaning of life
All he found was trouble and strife
So concluded 'we are unfathomable creatures'.

Thanks for reading, Steve McG,

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Uniquely Portable Magic

“I go back to the reading room, where I sink down into the sofa and into the world of the Arabian nights. Slowly, like a movie fadeout, the real world evaporates and I’m alone, inside the world of the story. My favourite feeling in the world”.    Haruki Murakami ('Kafka on the Shore')

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin.

For many, ‘books’ including the act of reading, becomes a lifelong passion (some may say obsession). From those bibliophiles who like to collect rare books, and leather bound 1st editions, to those so in love with reading, it consumes them. So what exactly is it which enables our fluency of the written word to influence our minds, bodies and spirits to the core, like a drug, which is hard to kick, resulting in it being recognised as still one of the top three most common hobbies of all time?

To look at offering some explanation to this phenomenon (from my own perspective of course), I thought I would take a brief retrospective review of some specific memories of my relationship with books and reading, identifying just a handful of the many texts I have had the pleasure to pick up and consume. My hope is for you to join me on this journey, and as you read the blog, start reminiscing on your particular much loved books, and why that might be the case. You can then building your own timeline in turn. Who knows? We will see at the end.

So… I suppose the most obvious place to commence is with my earliest memory of having a favourite book. Without being influenced by the stories of others (my parents and family) when I was growing up, my first true memory is ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’ by Roald Dahl. I must have read this book over and over many times so much so its dog eared appearance and loose leaf pages became covered in ‘sticky back plastic’ to keep it together. Yep I used to watch Blue Peter too at the time. Although the fine detail has since faded into the background, I still remember many aspects of the story in detail. The most vivid memory of this book is of a short limerick which children sang about the three villains in the story, and part-time farmers by all accounts. It went:

“Boggis, Bunce and Bean,
One fat, one short and one lean!
The horrible crooks,
So different in looks,
Are nonetheless equally mean."      Roald Dahl ('Fantastic Mr Fox').

 Without ending up doing a 500 word synoptic book review like we did at school, I do like to think it was this particular verse which peeked my interest in humour and all things poetry. Whilst subconsciously raising my awareness of the importance of animal welfare. Apart from its potential of enlightening me to the concept of ‘anthropomorphism’ where we attribute human traits, emotions or intentions to non-human entities, such as animals. This also probably explains why I insist on making up humorous stories about how my pets feel, think and act in certain ways. Well I think they are funny anyhow…

Some other memorable books which I hold dear from my childhood, include ‘Lord of the Flies’ by William Golding, ‘Z for Zachariah’ by Robert C. O'Brien and ‘Fahrenheit 451’ by Ray Bradbury. All three were key text for my English literature studies, and whilst having a storyline which drew me into the story (just like Haruki Murakami explained in the opening paragraph), they all offered this dystopian view of life, which had deeper meaning in my understanding of the world around me. As a result, these few texts among others around this time have left a lasting impression over the last 40 years or so.

Considering these experiences in my formative years, one thing became evident. For me, books have the influential power to help shape our personal values, attitudes and beliefs, which are the main building blocks to our personality. Consequently, this is one of the main reasons why I think books remain as popular with people throughout their lives. Their unique properties of influencing our minds.

OK; so what else is it about books which keep us amused? I’m sure we have all experienced first-hand, or ended up discussing on numerous occasions how books can stimulate our sensory experiences of reading outside of the more binary concept of looking at words. For instance the look and feel of books is something we seem to get pleasure out of. The aesthetic beauty of a book jacket, can help to sell a story. With some even going further to offer a tactile, almost three dimensional picture into the bargain. And although we are told we should ‘never judge a book by its cover’, I must admit it is a draw for me, just like the colourful spring flowers are to bees.

One particular series I fondly remember, which are the first four books in the works of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ by Douglas Adams, offered to me this particular appeal. Each book in itself was interesting in the sense that it was split into four quarters with each part having a portion of a picture showing. A glimpse of what became several larger complete pictures once you put them together (a bit like a book jigsaw puzzle). The four pictures were all related to the story, for instance, a babel fish, a towel, a self-portrait of the author, and a spaceship ‘The Heart of Gold’ shaped like a trainer. For years I possessed three out of the four books, and even though they changed the cover pictures over time, I still continued to trawl charity shops and car boots looking for the illusive edition. It took until I stopped looking to actually find one, which I thought was ironic, and somewhat akin to Douglas Adams sense of humour. So in retrospect rather apt too.

Although, this isn’t the only sensory stimulus books offer us. How about its olfactory influences. The smell of both new and old books is something special. Walking into second hand bookshops has its own particular aromatic enticements beyond that of water damaged stock picked up for a song. This also links to another favourite joke of mine. Where Ozzie, (our 5 year old dog) insists on sniffing books which come into the house. This ‘I kid’, is his way of reading, and as such he can tell which books he will need to read next, compared with those he has already read.

There is also something squeaky clean about new books which when opened has an inimitable sound for our auditory receptors. The turning of a crisp new page or ruffling of several pages in rapid sequence over your thumb whilst you search for your place in the book. This was something rather special, and sadly sorely missing when you pick up a Kindle (other electronic reading devices are also available). So just like vinyl records were thought to be on their way out, replaced by the MP3, books too, were struggling, but have now seen a resurgence, taking them off the endangered list, hopefully for many future generations to come. This current demand for all things ‘retro’ has a lot to answer for in my eyes, but it’s always good to think that some things are also a benefit for us as well.

This is best illustrated for me several years ago now, when Stephen King decided to release his most recent book, 'The Green Mile', in a series of 6 novelettes released one every month. Each book was purchased on its first day of sale, with baited breath as to what was happening next, based on the previous cliff hanger. Now this was a time where I was very much strapped for cash, and as such having a new book was seen as a luxury. So buying these books, and reading them almost whilst the ink was still drying, was a guilty pleasure.
 
Books therefore offer us a deeper level of physical contact with our bodies, and improving the connections with our knowledge acquisition. As Douglas Adams quite rightly put it;
                                        
“I’d take the awe of understanding,
over the awe of ignorance any day”.
         
Or as Yoda affirms;

“In a dark place we find ourselves,
and a little more knowledge lights our way”.

The final element of this trilogy of reasons why book are so important, involves the more complex affinity of engaging us at a spiritual level. Book offer us a way of engaging with our emotional brain, beyond the more simplistic binary biographical data transmission and storage. Many times I have become so engrossed in particular stories which offered both an escapism from reality, and emotional connection to its characters which by the end of the story I feel drained of energy, and feeling somewhat at a loss, like I’m missing a close friend (although back in reality they were never there to begin with).

Some books I still hold true to this depiction include the ‘Lord of the Rings’ by J.R.R. Tolkien, ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’ by C.S. Lewis and my favourite book of all time (so far that is), which is ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. For me this is just as much an emotional roller-coaster the first time I read it, to the most recent. This multigenerational story of Jose Arcadio Boendia and his extended family offers such a variety of emotions, suspense to humour, love to melancholy, Life and Death in equal measure, and all in just over 400 pages.

The rather famous and sometimes over quoted musings of Maya Angelou who said:

“People will forget what you said, People will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”.
  
This could just as well be associated with books, alongside her original intentions.
     
Here in these few passages I have offered my thoughts as to why ‘books’ are so important to us from a level of Mind, Body and Spirit, or a Bio-psycho-social perspective if you like. So just before I end this celebration of all things ‘books’, and offer you a final poem (in the form of a Haiku). There are a few more quotes for you to consider which I felt sum up for me there essence and meaning.

Ernest Hemingway’s notion that:  "There is no friend as loyal as a book."
or
“A true friend is the one who holds your hand and touches your heart." Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

And Stephen King who observed: “Books are a uniquely portable magic”…

Haiku on the theme of Books
Cover to cover,
delights await you inside,
immerse your mind’s eye.         


Thank you for taking the journey with me and happy reading, SMG.

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