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Nowhere Boy

Sam Taylor Wood’s first full-length feature film tells the story of John Lennon’s teenage years. The events took place only a kilometre from my home at the time, so they hold a special fascination for me. But whether or not you were alive in the 1950’s, and regardless of where in the world you may be living now, Lennon’s childhood experiences have – indirectly – affected you.

The film ends as he is preparing to go to Hamburg, and The Beatles are not mentioned by name, but they were about to shake the world in ways which nobody at the time could have foreseen. The credits soundtrack is Lennon’s Mother, an anguished elegy for his mum Julia. Her virtual abandonment of him caused so much pain, undoubtedly shaped his personality and – crucially – influenced his writing and his music. Perhaps this was the grit in the oyster, helping to produce the pearls which are the songs of Lennon and McCartney.

Of course it’s impossible to imagine how the world would look now if it hadn’t been for the impact of The Beatles. But whether you listen to their music or not, they were prime movers in a post-war revolution which changed Western society and the way we think about ourselves.

The film contained one or two anachronisms. Too much cigarette smoking, even for the 1950’s. Modern beer glasses, the word ‘band’ instead of ‘group’, and I don’t think ‘gig’ was in common usage. Also, before the sexual revolution, girls didn’t fuck boys, boys fucked girls. Some characters are completely omitted from the story.

However, Nowhere Boy does not try to be a completely faithful historical account. The actors are not made up to be look-alikes, and the locations are sympathetic rather than accurate replicas. This is an intelligent approach which works well, and avoids over-detailing which is inevitably distracting.

There are so many pitfalls when making a biopic, but Nowhere Boy avoids all of them. It’s incredibly moving, with an accomplished performance by Aaron Johnson as Lennon, and Kristin Scott Thomas as his somewhat repressed aunt Mimi. Anne-Marie Duff’s portrayal of the histrionic Julia Lennon, and David Morrissey’s Bobby Dykins are note-perfect too. A little gem of a film.

A licence to print money

Did you know that your UK driving licence, which is valid until you are 70, must be renewed every ten years? Apparently it’s because the ravages of time have to be faithfully recorded on this little bit of plastic which you don’t even need to carry when you are driving.

So every decade you have to spend £4 on some more photos and send one in with £20 in the supplied envelope (which isn’t even pre-paid) to avoid a Dorian Gray-type mismatch between your actual face and the one on your licence in the drawer at home.

And beware of sending off the renewal application sooner than you need because the new licence expires ten years from the date of issue, not ten years from the expiry of the old one.

Chief Medical Officer’s confused thinking

Sir Liam Donaldson, the chief medical officer for England who is stepping down in May 2010, has issued a self-contradictory message on children and alcohol.

Parents who allow their children alcohol at home may be increasing the chances of future drinking problems, he claims. Sir Liam described the idea of a glass of watered-down wine for a child as a “middle-class obsession”, whilst also declaring as scientific fact the idea that “a lack of parental supervision, exposing children to drink-fuelled events and failing to engage with them as they grow up are the root causes from which our country’s serious alcohol problem has developed.”

Well, which is it?

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Automatic for the people

Somebody recently asked me why I drive an automatic car. It’s a strange question, to me. A bit like asking why I have a colour TV.

The roads would be safer if all vehicles were automatic, of course. No risk of stalling half way out of a junction. No need to take one hand off the steering wheel all the time. More attention available to deal with hazards and to control the speed and direction of the vehicle.

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Health and safety up in smoke

The family opposite had a Sky TV dish installed this morning. I watched as the engineer got ready to mount the satellite dish up on the wall. If he had been preparing to enter the core of a nuclear reactor he couldn’t have had more safety equipment.

With hard hat, goggles, mask, earplugs and gloves he drilled a hole in the wall and fitted a metal eye. This was just to lash the ladder. Then he donned a safety harness and clipped himself onto the ladder. Climbing all of two metres he drilled the wall and attached the dish.

After completing the installation he stood back, admired his work and smoked a cigarette.

Polanski behind bars

“The idea that we have known where he is and we could have gotten him anytime, that just isn’t the case.”

said Chief Inspector of the US Marshals Service Thomas Hession. Well, as Polanski’s agent Jeff Berg says,

“How hard would it be to find someone shooting a major film in a European country? He travels with transparency across Europe. It makes no sense.”

If it takes 30 years to capture Roman Polanski, then don’t expect them to get Osama Bin Laden any time soon.

Urbis purpose

It looks like Manchester’s Urbis gallery might become the home of a National Football Museum instead.

Good. Not that I have any appreciation of the game. I watch a football match on TV with the same level of comprehension as our cat. We can both see coloured shapes moving around on the screen but that’s about it. But Urbis has been a white elephant from the start.

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That was easy!

For a long time I have been meaning to cancel a Spanish telephone line. When my parents overwintered there, it made sense to have a phone. But now the place is used just for holidays and in any case we now have mobiles.

I have been putting it off because I had read horror stories about Telefonica customer services, and indeed had experienced their bureaucratic maze myself several years ago. That was when I tried to return the old rotary dial handset which was on rental, to replace it with a pushbutton handset I had bought.

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Health and safety gone mad

I was on the motorway today and passed a car which had stopped on the hard shoulder. Its elderly occupants had got out and were dutifully standing next to the vehicle in the drizzle waiting for assistance.

What kind of unthinking adherence to safety advice results in this absurd risky behaviour from four presumably rational people?

“Quick, get out!”
“Er, but it’s raining.”
“Get out! Get out! It’s not safe.”
“Hmm. I see what you mean. Another vehicle could leave the carriageway and plough into our car.”
“Exactly. So get out and stand next to it. Then you will be invincible.”

Tiny happy people

I saw this sign today in a Merseyrail station:

HELP POINTinside BT Telephone

Nice to know help is always at hand.

They are even more helpful at Levenshulme station in Manchester. The station name is actually shown in Sign Language.