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Golden Voices - 11 April 2008

Josie Loftus
10/ 4/2008

I'VE JUST had to abandon hours of thinking, planning and writing this week's Golden Voices because it was much too controversial, very opinionated (something of which I have always been accused of being) and not really worthy of being read by Golden Voices readers who now expect a certain high level of grammar and content.

I'll just wet your appetite and tell you it was about politics and politicians past, present and future from local to Westminster … and the not too good examples they have set and still are er, let's move on …

So, here I am, searching through reams of my stuff; writing's I did years ago dating back to times that I have long since forgotten about. At times like this, as I read through whatever catches my eye, my memory of whatever I found to write about becomes as clear as if it was still happening. Aah! Here's a piece that's a bit relevant to some article I read last week about the effect accents have on how other people see us (especially us from M/c)

Picture the scenario … it is nought plonk and my family of two wonderful sons and their fabulous wives; knowing how I love to write, have clubbed together for my birthday to send me on a five day residential course for aspiring writers. I couldn't wait for the big day when my lovely daughters in law would drive me to Yorkshire and leave me to enter into and absorb the atmospheric qualities of like minded thinkers who will surely be inspirational and above all interesting.

It was winter-time and there was a big log fire burning brightly in the massive fireplace of the great hall of the manor house where the very prestigious writing course was held. As I entered the large oak parlour where everyone on the course is gathered for introduction; I instantly become very aware of the accents of the people who were already settled around the great blazing, log fire. Most were from the south of the country and just a few who came from the north were from Cheshire. Their occupations ranged from a couple of doctors, a banker, a pilot, a very well known 60s model, a couple of psychiatrists and psychologists and a man who had already had some books published.

Everyone seemed to be glowing not only from the warmth of the coals but also from the fine, wine they drank from the crystal glasses. 'Oh eck!' I thought … posh accents, posh people, posh everything and please don't look at me or ask me to introduce myself … which they did. I told them I was from Manchester 'Oh! yes' they said 'we can tell' and with that I kept the rest of my introduction as short as possible telling them the minimum I could get away with. I think I helped them to grade me by telling them that I was educated by Irish catholic nuns in the poorest part of M/c. and they taught me everything I know. 'Oh, yeah, great', they said as I slid down into the massive armchair and took stock of what I was up against.

Suffice to say that for the next three days as we were set tasks to write about certain topics which we then read out for constructive criticism; I really struggled to be as enthusiastic about some of their work as they, themselves were about their own stuff. I was astounded by the way they kept on referring (out of context) about seeing their parents naked for the first time and the trauma they have continued to experience after seeing some particular part of their father/mother's body … Oh! p-l-e-a-s-e.

It wasn't long before I began to offer some very unwanted good old mancunian logic, criticism and advice about growing up and a few home-truths about the difference between the north, south divide. One of the GP's thought I was hilarious and in fact stopped presenting his writing because he very kindly said I was a hard act to follow. Anyway, there I was with my Mancunian accent trying to sound as intelligent as I possible could. Eventually we were given the final task of imagining which six books, we would choose to take with us if we were shipwrecked on a deserted island. Without hesitation I write my preferences down and finish well before the rest of the posh sounding intellectuals whose faces look up and beyond into space whilst they're thinking, with smiles on their faces like as if they're in a world of their own. We now have to read out our preferences and I am relieved that I'm second to the last.

Proust, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Machiavelli, Yeat's and just about every classic writer there is to mention is quoted chapter and verse and then its me; my turn and I can't turn back 'cos everyone is looking at me, waiting for me to quote something from Coronation St. … like The Landlady's guide to culinary hotpots or Rita and Norris's journey thro' platonic sex!!!. So, here I am with my list of six book's and I start to read:

1. The Bible. Not because it is the most favoured book within the Christian world but because it's got everything in it. Drama, humour, poetry, history, prophesy, law, crime and 2,000 year old proverbs that are still applicable today.

2. The Godfather because it is a great story, well written with great one liner's like ‘It’s not personal, it's business’.

3. Gone with the Wind, another great story with everything in it.

4. The 1952 London Telephone Directory that was given to me because I'm fascinated by old books. It has the 'phone numbers and addresses of the gentry of the day including all the Royal Family and the illustrated advert's of products and company's that are now just a memory.

5. The Roget's Thesaurus which is full of wonderful words that I never tire of just sifting through them.

6. My 1906, 1913, 1919, 1938, 1945 and 1963 etc. collection of Pears Encyclopaedias. These show how life was and what attitudes were like before and after world changing events.

As I finished I wanted the room to swallow me up because the silence was deafening. Both tutors seemed to be looking at me as if they'd never seen me before and from the adjoining room came a man who stood in the doorway looking at me. After what seemed a lifetime the man walked across the room to me, kissed my cheek and went out of the room. It turned out he was the director of the college.

I didn't stay for the last day and leaving party. I wanted to get home and back to normality. I said my goodbyes and everyone promised to stay in touch (we haven't) but I was very humbled when the GP who thought I was hilarious asked me to sign a brochure for him 'cos he said he knew one day he'd be proud to say he knew me. I think I'll send him the article about me being banned from the Conservative Club on Moston Lane East.

I AM amazed by all the good wishes I have received from Golden Voices readers who feel strongly about the situation on Hollinwood Avenue and indeed about every area that has its problems, of which there seems to be many. Do get involved by joining a Homewatch group. It’s where you can take your councillors to task and find out what's happening and what's not happening and then you can make it happen …eventually!