Okay, I do have a dark side….doesn’t everybody? And I have written stuff that even scared me, relishing every small, blood-thirsty syllable. But….my default setting will always be comedy. Here’s a confession: I have never written a sex-scene. Had I done so, it would have rapidly descended into farce, pantomime, or parody, and I’m old enough to know my limitations. So anyone expecting multiple shades of anything, please stop reading now.
I’ve always thought humanity at its most hilarious in its ordinary, everyday doings. People are funny. Small children, teenagers, young adults, the middle-aged, the elderly, all have their little quirks. My own grandchildren are a wonderful source of comedy, from the mangled logic of toddlers to the self-obsession of teenagers. Granny Beamish, heroine of the ‘Seers’ books (Please go to ‘Books’ page) is an affectionate amalgam of my mother, grandmother, great-aunt and many other elderly non-conformists I have known.
I absolutely love observing everday situations, and I cannot help eavesdropping. Therefore, I’m not a great date (in fact, my husband usually takes a book.) To a writer, the most mundane stuff is a collection of gifts: unexpectedly wonderful items to store, savour and unwrap at leisure. I’m also forever taking photographs, of anything that makes me laugh, whilst displaying human ingenuity at its best. The pictures below were all taken in my locality. Every one a classic.
Great humorists have always understood the power of the ordinary: Victoria Wood knew it, as did Caroline Aherne, Alan Coren, Richmael Crompton, P.G. Wodehouse, Betty Macdonald, Erma Bombeck, Mark Twain, Sir Terry Pratchett, et al….still entertaining us from the Other Side. And that’s some legacy. Not that I’d presume to compare myself to any of these literary legends, but they’re the ones I always return to, because they never fail to make me laugh.
Of course life isn’t wall-to-wall laughter. It’s light and shadow, panto and pathos, and I hope my writing refects that. And yet….quirky things do keep ambushing me. Take the photograph below. There I am, strolling round the park, with dogs, when….this happens! A Jack-in-a-tree is not, you’ll agree, something you see every day. Nor perfectly healthy dogs in a pram….or a random man carrying an owl! (picture pending). I do seem to attract eccentrics.: wherever I am, the oddball will find me. For instance, that time I was cruising the Asda frozen foods aisle. I thought at first it was a child sitting in the trolley-seat, but…it’s not every day you come upon an old man wheeling a full-sized ventriloquist’s dummy round the supermarket.
How could I resist? Could you? Unsure of the etiquette, I thought it best to address the ventriloquist/carer first. The conversation went thus:
‘Afternoon. Isn’t it hot? Nice and cool in here though.’ I couldn’t help peeking in the trolley: bread, milk, frozen peas…no sign of Ronseal or Cuprinol. No dummy-treats today.
The man, track-suited and flat-capped, smiled broadly. ‘Aye, We do like our outings, don’t we lad? Always someone to talk to.’ The dummy, identically clad, said nothing.
‘I’m fancying some ice-cream.’ I wasn’t, but anything to keep the conversation going.
‘Might get him a choc ice.’ (Now that I would have liked to see!) The man’s face darkened, ‘Although them’s not cheap.’ He glared at the dummy. ‘Tight little bugger. Never once put his hand in his pocket since he stopped earning.’
‘Oh! Well, maybe just treat yourself then?’
‘I might just do that.’ He began rummaging through the own-brand tubs. ‘And he’s getting nowt.’
The dummy, staring glassily ahead, stayed silent, as it would forever, unless brought out of retirement to adopt its master’s voice. I almost felt sorry for it, Almost, but not quite.
Suffice it to say that I’m seldom bored. Everything has potential. Having, like most of us, sat through interminable meetings, formal dinners, concerts and presentation-evenings, I can always find something to amuse. The biggest bores are the funniest, the more pompous and opinionated the better. Snobs, Jobsworths and pedants all have a place in my heart. I don’t mind long, repetitive stories about people’s kids, operations, food-allergies or feuding neighbours. Bring ’em on! Trust me, there’s a literary corner for them somewhere. Not that I’d ever laugh openly at anyone. That would be crass. But should I really, really dislike someone….. I do have the power to put them in a book, and then kill them. SLOWLY.
