Never mind the ballads

Slowly, but surely, everything is getting more bland and sugary. It seems that almost every other song on telly or the radio is a boring ballad. Or else they take a once great song (by The Smiths or Blondie, for example) and water it down to make a 'pleasant' soundtrack to some tv ad. And don't even get me started on The X Factor.... To describe it as 'bland, boring, overblown, commercial crap' would be harsh on all other bland, boring, overblown, commercial crap.
I've written similar stuff before, but finding some old home-compilation cds in a box in the loft the other day, I came across such gems as Magazine's Shot by both sides, and The Slits Typical Girls, amongst others, and it really emphasised how much we need a similar injection of energy into music again. I will be eternally grateful if anyone can point me in the direction of any new music that is at least half as exciting.
Mini-rant over.
Last Thursday brought an end to a good run of driving test passes. I was as confident as it was possible to be that my pupil would pass. Recent lessons have been trying to take his driving to an advanced standard. So I was very surprised when he didn't pass. Whilst driving at 60mph towards Lossiemouth, he was asked to take the next left, but left his signal too late. He was possibly distracted by the car behind, which was too close, but this should have meant all the more reason for signalling early.
Previously, I had had 8 consecutive pupils passing. Last week Jonathan passed in Inverness. Jonathan is a music teacher at Gordonstoun school, but has recently accepted a position on the island of Montserrat, in the West Indies. He had already passed his driving test in an automatic, but the company car he is being offered in his new job is a manual. He had some lessons with J-Drive in Elgin, but, being unable to get a test before his flight, had no choice but to take his test in Inverness. Many thanks to Jason, from J-Drive, for recommending me to Jonathan (as Jason doesn't cover Inverness). So, a little bit of pressure because he wouldn't have had time for a second attempt before his flight, but he passed well with just three driver faults.
A few days earlier Liam became one of my youngest pupils to pass (also with 3 driver faults), just a few weeks after his 17th birthday. In May this year he had already become the youngest player to make his debut for Inverness Caledonian Thistle, so this capped a very good year for him.
 Saturday I took a whole day off and spent most of it experimenting in the kitchen, trying out different ideas for Christmas dinner. The peanut butter and cherry parfait wasn't too bad, but I have yet to try the potted confit duck and Earl Grey-soaked prunes. If they don't work out we may have to resort to Anna's choice - prawn cocktail.
A bit of a thaw is forecast, which is welcome. Yesterday, snow, ice and temperatures dropping to -8C did nothing to enhance my driving pleasure (although an Iggy Pop cd did). While I'm on the subject of weather, I would like to praise and thank my pupils for their attitude towards their lessons. I have had more test cancellations than lesson cancellations due to the weather. This attitude was typified by Sophie yesterday morning, who made a 3 hour round trip in the snow, from Kinlochbervie, for a one hour lesson.

Finally, I am beginning to wonder if I really exist. I have just spent an hour trying to arrange insurance renewal for Jane's Nissan Navara. Sorting out insurance is not the most exciting pastime - even less so when it is classed as a commercial vehicle. On Direct Line's website it asked for my occupation, then gave me a massive list to choose from (it wouldn't let me type in 'Driving Instructor'). Occupations on this list include Archpriest, Axeman, Bacon Curer, Busker, Embalmer, Foam converter, Lampshade maker, Pearl stringer, Whaler and (honestly) Spiderman! But NO DRIVING INSTRUCTOR!?!? I have seen the damage done to a bus when the bus driver drove into the back of me, so I know I exist, but apparently not where insurance companies are concerned.

I wonder where I apply for the job of Spiderman?

Aural torture

The other day I was driving home, listening to the radio, when I heard a fantastic track. I didn't catch the title, but it was by Etta James. I love her version of 'I would rather go blind' and am now kicking myself for not catching the song title - it has been ages since I have heard something that had such an impact on me.
Amazingly, the next night, another track also had a big impact on me. Unfortunately, not in a good way. We were watching BBC's Children in need and they introduced 'The Collective' performing the 2011 Children in need single, Teardrop. My jaw dropped as 'The Collective' proceeded to massacre Massive Attack's song. Ok, I may be a tad biased, as Elisabeth Fraser was the vocalist on the original, but Tulisa's vocal was unbelievably bad in comparison. The next morning I was waiting at a garage when the same track came on the radio. On the single Tulisa's voice was slightly improved by autotune, but I was almost hopping round in anguish, being forced to listen to it.
Saturday night was apparently 'movies night' on The X Factor. One of them sang a cover of Aretha Franklin's Think, from The Blues Brothers (and also, apparently, from Bridget Jones' diary). Tulisa, now in her role as 'singing judge' declared that it was "a bad song choice" because 'she had never heard that track' causing my jaw to drop for the second consecutive night. It was a bit like a film critic saying they had never heard of Jaws. 


Wednesday night saw the end of an era when Bob hosted his last ever quiz at The Argyll in Ullapool. He is moving to Edinburgh in the pursuit of true love and we wish him well. Apparently Noel will take over the mic, I wonder whether he will continue the actress/bishop 'jokes' and the abuse of teams with unimaginative names.

Monday afternoon I received a text enquiry from someone asking if I gave lessons in Gairloch. The short answer is 'no, I don't.' Gairloch is 92 miles (over 2 hours) from me and 56 miles (an hour and a quarter) from Ullapool. I have taken pupils for test there when they have been unable to get a test in Ullapool, but I have to charge them for every hour, so it's not a cheap option. The person then called me and said that he had seen on this blog that I have taken pupils for test in Gairloch. I explained the logistics and he said that he would be willing to pay for my time because 'his test was the next morning'! I politely declined and suggested he call Kenny, the only instructor I knew of that covered Gairloch.
A while later he called back and said that Kenny could not help. I did not have to be in Ullapool until 12pm, so, with his test being at 9.37am, it was just possible to get over to Gairloch, let him take his test, and get to Ullapool in time for my afternoon lessons, but it would mean setting off at 6am, so I calculated what it would cost him. But, before we agreed, I needed to know if he was ready for his test. So I quizzed him on his experience.
"I have had over 30 hours of lessons in London and I have taken one test, but I failed because I didn't cancel my indicator. And now I am in Gairloch."
Now, I have plenty of experience of driving in London and some experience of driving in Gairloch. I thought that, if he had been close to passing his test in London, he should be ok to take his test in Gairloch.
"Ok," I agreed, "I should be in Gairloch about 8.15 - 8.30, giving us a good hour to have a look at anything you're not sure about."
"I'm staying in Inverness tonight. Can you pick me up there?"
"That's fine," Inverness is on the way to Gairloch from where I stay, "I'll be there at 7am."
So, 7 o'clock Tuesday morning, I arrive at the address in Inverness, check his licence and tell him that he can drive, to give him a chance to get used to the car. We set off and..... something's not quite right.....
He can't drive...... Ok, an exaggeration. He can drive a bit, but not well. And certainly not well enough to pass his test. Do I refuse to take him and waste my entire morning? Or do I carry on, give him as much instruction as I can in the next two hours? It is too late now to question him further on his previous driving experience, I just have to teach him what I can.
"So what brought you to Gairloch from London?" I ask.
"To take my driving test."
"Yes, but why did you move to Gairloch?"
"No, I live in London. But I see that Gairloch has the highest test pass rate in the country, so I decide to take my test there."
I wanted to bang my head on a wall. He had come all the way to the Highlands to take his test (in an area he had never even seen before), purely because he had learned Gairloch had a high pass rate. He had not considered that it might be because Kenny might be a very good instructor. Kenny gets sick of other instructors bringing their pupils to Gairloch for a supposedly easier test, and I don't blame him. Yet, here I was, conned into doing the same.

Gairloch coos 

As we neared Gairloch, the hills became steeper and he couldn't cope with it. He couldn't hear the engine struggling in 5th gear and reacted far too slow to my instruction to change down. We came to a stalling stop - on a 60 mph road.
I'll cut the story short: We got to Gairloch. I had done my best, but his driving was still poor. I shouldn't present someone for test unless I am confident they are going to be safe and in control without me. It's a waste of everyone's time and not a pleasant situation for the examiner (even if my car does have dual controls - the examiner does not want to use them). I was kicking myself for agreeing to let him take his test without an assessment of his driving. I did the only thing I could do. I hid. I took my ADI licence out of the window and removed my signage. We drove to the narrow lane where the test starts from. I told him to go into the fire-station to meet the examiner and I would return at the end of the test. So, while the poor examiner was presumably subjected to 40 minutes of buttock-clenching discomfort, I sat in the cosy Mountain Coffee cafe, enjoying a fine coffee and a delicious (and substantial) ginger and date scone (I had hoped for one of their excellent marmalade scones, but they had sold out).
Eventually, I watched my car return and I trudged up the hill to see how he had got on. 'You never know', I thought, 'he may have pulled it all together'. I was deluded. Although he seemed quite happy that he had 'Only got 11 driving faults. That's less than last time', he had 3 serious faults (steering, gears and approach speed to junctions - poor examiner).
I told him where he could catch the bus back to Inverness but he asked if he could go with me to Ullapool. I had no immediate reason to refuse. Damn. Big mistake.
His initial acceptance of the test result soon changed to one of anger.
"I can't believe he failed me."
I try to be diplomatic, "Perhaps you didn't quite convince him that you will be fine on the roads?" I suggested, imagining white terror on the examiner's face.
"But how can he fail me in Gairloch? It has a 70% pass rate."
I tried to explain that that meant 30% of people fail, but I didn't add that most of those are probably much better drivers than him. But I am glad he failed. Coming all the way to Inverness and Gairloch (plus my fee) would not have been cheap. He obviously thought it would be a cheap way of obtaining his licence, which backfired badly. However, I admit that I was wrong to take him without assessing his driving first and I apologise to the examiner.
The drive from Gairloch to Ullapool is breathtaking. It was a beautiful clear day and the drive should have been a real pleasure. Unfortunately, he spent most of the journey ignoring the scenery and telling me how wrong the examiner was and how it didn't matter anyway because he had friends who could get him a dodgy Zimbabwean driving licence which would be valid in the UK. I am not au fait with Zimbabwe/UK licence matters so I didn't comment - I'm sure he would not have listened to any alternative I may have suggested, such as 'take more driving lessons and get your licence legally'.
Thankfully, he started to fall asleep after an hour, so I tried to drive ultra carefully so as to not wake him and listen to more rubbish. I had already heard enough rubbish this week, whether from deluded learner drivers or X Factor judges.

It never rains......

Loopallu has been and gone, more of my lessons include the use of headlights and X Factor and  Strictly... are beginning to dominate the television schedules. These are the modern indicators of Autumn; it would be impossible to tell from the weather because it is just as wet and windy as the Summer.
I feel sorry for the tourists this year - they have not seen the Highlands at its finest. In Ullapool this morning the weather was atrocious and tourists sat huddled in hotels and cafes wondering why they decided to come here in the first place. It is bin day in Ullapool and the empty wheelie-bins being blown over only added to the miserable scene. But never mind the tourists, I have my pupils to think about.
Unusually, I only have one pupil on test today (lots of pupils waiting for tests though). If you read my previous post, you may remember that I tempted fate by saying I was 99.9999% sure he would pass. As his test began the weather was worsening. It was bad enough in the relative shelter of Ullapool, but, as they drove out to Ardmair bay, the mass of rain in the wind made for awful driving conditions. So, extra credit to Alexander O'Neil (no, not that one - much to my wife's disappointment) for passing with 3 driving faults. And extra relief for me because I was beginning to regret my last post.
Not much else to report at the moment. I had a quick check on my stats for this blog and for my 'professional' website. I have bored you with this before, but it is sometimes puzzling what search terms people use to find my sites. After mentioning Jedward in a previous post I received dozens of hits from people searching for talentless twosome. Inshes roundabout always generates lots of views, it is obviously of concern to Inverness drivers (and not just learners). Someone had come to my blog after searching for 'L1pps on plenty of fish' ????? No, I have no idea what they were really after. Someone from Russia decided my blog was THE place to read about 'розовая машина' (I wish I knew). And, most bizarrely, yesterday someone clicked on this blog after Googling 'dogging grantown tonight'. I'm not sure whether I am relieved or disappointed that I was 29th in the list of results. But dogging in Grantown? Haven't they seen the weather out there?!

Unstoppable

Sarah Cracknell (of Saint Etienne) once sang ‘She said her life was like a motorway, dull, grey and long, until you came along’. At times it can feel that the run-up to Christmas is like a motorway, seemingly never-ending, sometimes stressful then, suddenly, you are off it and all is peaceful again.

Ever thoughtful, the great powers of BBC and ITV don’t want our Advent to be dull, grey and long, so, if you had checked your rear-view mirror a month ago, you cannot have failed to notice four monstrous juggernauts charging up behind you: I’m a celebrity, get me out of here (in its Leaf Green paintwork); The Apprentice (in Charcoal Grey livery with blue pinstripes); Strictly come dancing (in Canary Yellow with Rhinestone go-faster stripes); and The X Factor (in, as seen on the show, Antichrist Black with a big Red cross, the colour of teenage blood).

These four juggernauts have been roaring along for weeks, picking up momentum and obliterating everything else in their paths (except for the Coronation Street tram). You may have been momentarily distracted by catastrophic weather, student riots, royal engagements, FIFA farces and the steady dribble of WikiLeaks, but still these juggernauts retained the attention of the nation. In yesterday’ Sunday Times, for example, a quarter-page photo of Pamela Stephenson dominated page 4, for no real reason other than to say she was in Saturday night’s final (the results had obviously been too late to print). In the same newspaper, the wine columnist referred to The X Factor THREE times (there was a bit about wine towards the end).

It is car-crash tv. I liked to think I was above watching other people’s misfortune and humiliation, but, when it is there in front of you, it is hard to avert your eyes. In recent weeks BBC1 has had the excellent The Accused on Monday nights, but I am deeply ashamed to admit that I missed a couple when I’m a celebrity… was on.

Where the once unstoppable Big Brother slowly turned to rust and is now mercifully in the juggernaut scrap yard, I A C G M O O H has escaped reality fatigue mainly through the childishly watchable hosting of Ant and Dec, clever editing and some luck (who could have predicted that Shaun Ryder and Stacey Solomon would be such a winning combination?). The plight of Gillian McKeith was the epitome of ‘car-crash TV’ and although watching ‘celebrities’ reach as the struggle to swallow some squelchy morsel of antipodean fauna is getting a little old hat, genius ideas such as making some of them spies have kept it (relatively) fresh.

It is only during the last two series that I have been converted to The Apprentice, I think earlier glimpses of the rampant egos kept me away. However, this is part of the appeal. It is much more satisfying to watch someone with an inflated opinion of themselves crash and burn, rather than someone you liked. Even Stuart “I’m not a one-trick pony, I’m not a ten-trick pony, I’ve got a whole field of ponies” Baggs, who I had no time for initially, proved very entertaining - and you can’t really dislike someone who, on national television, described himself as ‘a bit of a cock’. After his departure I didn’t really care who won, but the way that both Stella and Chris came up with a new product, a good brand name and image under such pressure was very impressive.

I must be getting old. The idea of me enjoying a programme about ballroom dancing would have horrified my younger self. But, as people who voted for Ann Widdecombe and John Sergeant know, it is not about who is the best dancer. It is a combination of the celebrities, the dancers, the band, the staging, the slick hosting, the costumes, the lunacy of Claudia Winkleman and the pantomime judges. Chris and Ola proved last year that it is just as much a personality contest as a dance competition, which is why I think the slightly simpering Pamela Stephenson didn’t reach the final two.

But the biggest, most unstoppable juggernaut - overtaking Strictly’s ratings in the last couple of years - is The X Factor. I’ve moaned about it before…. But I still watch it. But I hope this will be the last year I get suckered into watching it. The auditions can be fun (again, ‘car-crash tv’), but once they get to the final 12 (or the final 16, or whatever number they decide) it quickly becomes boring. Yes, you can watch with incredulity that people actually pay money to vote for some of these acts (nearly fifteen and a half million votes were cast), and, like Jedward last year, there was some horrific fascination in watching Wagner’s progress. But there is only so much out-of-tune, out-of-time singing and ‘dancing’ I can stomach. There is nothing really offensive about Matt and Rebecca’s voices, but there is nothing stunning either - certainly no ‘x factor’, I thought Cher Lloyd was the only one who had anything remotely different about her. Another aspect which (I hope) will deter me from watching it again is the complete lack of content - Their performances take up such a small portion of the show’s running time. I’m not sad enough to have measured it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the adverts took up more time than the performances. And when you add up the constant re-showing of stuff you have already seen and the pointless dramatic pauses when the judges pretend to struggle with a decision, not to mention the endless repetition of clichés from the judges after they have waited for the audience to quieten down, it all adds up to very little indeed.

Unfortunately, whether I like it or not, there is very little I can do about it. While Simon, Cheryl, Louis and Danniiii escape from the X Factor juggernaut in a black helicopter as it crashes in a fireball finale, Matt Cardle, in his white van, races to No.1 in the Christmas charts despite valiant attempts from The Trashmen’s Surfin’ Bird and John Cage’s 4’33” to run him off the road. I enjoyed Radio 1’s dilemma when Reggie Yates was doing the run-down of the chart on Sunday night. When it came to John Cage’s new entry at No.21 would they play 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence? He announced that they would play 30 seconds of it, but they bottled it and only had about 10 seconds of absolute silence. What bemuses me, however, is who on earth pays to download four and a half minutes of silence? While I applaud the sentiment, I do not think it was the best conceived plan to de-rail the X Factor juggernaut. Surfin’ Bird was an inspired (a Family Guy inspired) choice for the anti-Matt Cardle song, but we need to think of something even more inspired for next year. Otherwise we risk X Factor getting even bigger and more pervasive.

Or, as the BBC suggested (in the 1970s, 80s and 90s),Why Don't You Just Switch Off Your Television Set and Go Out and Do Something Less Boring Instead?