November Blog

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting erm, slightly alarmed. Yes, it’ll
soon be upon us, dragging with it all the festive clichés and thousands of
deeply irritating TV adverts. It will also encourage the Clergy to ask what
the true meaning of Christmas is – a theme followed by lots of Christmas
card designers, and indeed Carol writers….”In the bleak midwinter long
ago, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone. Snow had fallen, snow
upon snow……..” Did it really ? In Israel ? Significant stuff –
especially for Christians. Enter the baby Jesus, who went on to be the
saviour of mankind – well, the Christian bits of mankind. So grateful were
they that they murdered him. Allegedly.

Now, I don’t know if I believe all that. I mean there are no videos
are there ? At best, it’s a mixed message, overly dominated by commerce
which urges us to buy stuff for each other.

Enough of that. A more pressing problem is my pond, which is leaking
and needs constant topping up. I don’t think the fishy types therein are
actually coming to any harm, but it certainly needs fixing. So to that end I
bought a new pond liner. My good friend Simon, who is very good at fixing
things is going to come and install said liner. This will mean netting the
fish and putting them into temporary accommodation. Probably a wheelie bin.

And I’ve bought a new telly. Its much cleverer than me, and can get
loads of channels, some of which are worth watching.
My pc’s just pinged to tell me a job’s come through. I know what it is, so
I’d better knuckle down and do some work.

October Blog

I thought I’d better do this before I get any more pleading emails and
letters – hundreds of them……. [well, two actually]. The truth is that
recently I’ve been beset with technical difficulties, especially with my
shiny new computer. My local computer fettler is calling again tomorrow to
find out why said machine is being targeted by malicious gits who keep
putting what I believe is called “malware” on it. Of course there are
companies out there which, for a mere 500 quid will cleanse your machine.
Maybe its them who put the malware on in the first place. My computer
fettler – let’s call him Denzil [not his real name] is far cheaper than
that.

I’m really not sure if the internet is a blessing or a curse. I like
Google. It tells me all manner of things I didn’t used to know. Really
useful stuff like John Wayne delaying a shoot during the making of “True
Grit” because he needed to pick his nose. And the BBC news is OK too –
especially the Local News – “Bradford woman says Boo to goose” whilst the
main news strives manfully to make Brexit interesting.

My other ongoing problem is to do with my pond. Its losing water. Now I’m
no expert, but I think its because there’s a hole in the liner. I don’t
think its harming the fish because it stops leaking when there’s about two
feet of water left. Besides, as the weather gets colder, pond fish go torpid
and stay very still on the bottom. So, my local pond-fettler is calling
later this week. Doubtless, a new pond liner will be needed. He’s been to do
this before – years ago – and all the fish – six of them – five fat goldfish
and one two foot long ghost koi [ they can live for 50 years]will have to
spend time in his temporary tank. 

Phoebe, my fat Orpington hen’s getting on. She’s about eight and looking
a bit scruffy. That’s partly because she’s moulting. Her egg laying days are
well behind her and eight’s a fair age for a hen.

Little Man, my aged cockatiel – he’s fifteen – is just as chirpy as he’s
ever been and spends quite a lot of time singing to Wilma, our new-ish dog.
After Maggie the Dog died last December, we really didn’t like a dogless
house, so we took ourselves off to Dog Rescue and came home with Wilma.
Wilma’s in her ninth year. She spent six of those years as a stray on the
streets of Dublin. Wilma’s very nervous and scared of everything, but she’s
bonded very well with us and she’s seldom more than ten feet away from
either of us. 

Off to see a neurologist soon. My back’s rubbish and walking’s painful.
If he/she recommends an operation, that’ll mean time in hospital which in
turn will mean sorting out visiting animal husbandry.

On the upside, my elderly Jaguar’s running very well and is still a joy
to drive – as is my workhorse Mazda, in its own way.
Cartooning’s still difficult shrinking market, but I count myself as lucky
inasmuch as I do have work coming in. Not bad at my age, I suppose.

There, that’s it. Oh, and John Wayne’s nose – I made that up.

September Blog

Computers drive me crazy. We’ve come to rely on them so completely. When
they’re on song – fine – but when they start iffing and butting, they’re
infuriating. Being a jobbing cartoonist, I depend on my PC. I scan and send
drawings hither and yon and dread it when something like “It has not been
possible….” pops up. Yesterday, I renewed all the printer’s ink
cartridges. All I get from the damned thing now is ” cartridges have not
been recognized” Aargh !

A very short Blog, this because I’ve got ‘flu, so now its time for another
Lemsip.

August Blog

I’ve always thought of the days of the week as having their own colours. Don’t know why, but I have. Monday’s black or white. Tuesday’s lime green. Wednesday’s a nice friendly, warm brown. But it wasn’t yesterday. [Today’s Thursday. Do try to keep up]

Yesterday I got a phone call from somebody who turned out to be a scammer ; somebody who’d managed to hack into my online banking facility. He told me that he’d “accidentally” deposited £8200 into my current account and that he’d like it back. I checked and found that there was in fact an unlooked-for  £8200 in my account. Very odd. I don’t use my online banking facility. I contacted my bank, told them what had apparently happened and cancelled said on line banking facility. Job done ? Oh dear me, No. I find now [7.00 am, Thursday – which is blue, by the way] that my telephone banking number won’t work and that I must contact bank security. Deep sigh. I’ll do this in an hour or so, and hope that I can speak to a Real Person rather than get sucked into the frustrating button pressing routine – you know……….”I f you’d like to speak to one of our helpful team, please hold…….”

So, be warned – somewhere out there is a plausible little rat who says he’s from BT and would like to arrange delivery of a new router as my present one is faulty. Of course, it isn’t. But because these days we are so reliant on being a tiny part of the world-wide web, its very difficult to establish exactly what’s going on with things like a router.

Anyway, this morning I’m moderately brassed off and would dearly like a couple of minutes alone with the Not Really from BT bloke.

But cartoon-wise, the show must go on. I’m in the final stages of the 2020 calendar cover. Covers are always complicated jobs because they have to feature loads of different “work” activities, all of which have to hang together as a readable whole.

Before that, though, I shall try to contact a Real Person at my bank. Wish me luck……………………..

July Blog

At the time of writing, June’s nearly over. In my book, that’s no bad thing. The month’s been dominated by the fact that my email facility gave up the ghost . My internet service provider is BT which, going off past experience, has to be the worst company in the known universe. I’ve spoken to quite a few BT folk recently. Some were off-hand, whilst others were concerned and gave me the impression that they wanted to help. The local chap who comes to give my computer a dressing down when it misbehaves can’t because he’s on holiday in Croatia. But the last BT person I spoke to PROMISED that somebody who can sort things out will be in touch on Monday. I’ll believe it when it happens.

My old, no money Mazda 6 estate is due an MoT. I think it’ll be OK. It’s a cracking car despite being presently covered in seagull pooh. That’s because last week we spent a week in Staithes, up on the north-east coast. The noisiest, poohiest herring gulls in the world live there. Some regard them as a pest, but I quite like them. Beautiful in flight and very funny when begging for food. They stamp their huge feet and go, “PAPPAPPAP !” Which is what they do to their parents, apparently.

Staithes was blisteringly hot. I have a very sunburnt hooter. The village is tiny, but it has an OK beach. Wilma the Dog thought that was v interesting. She was less sure about waves.
On day three, Sheila’s daughter Dr Jen arrived with her dog Kes, an utterly loopy, naughty two year old border collie. One evening, whilst Sheila, Jen, Wilma and I were relaxing NOT watching footy, Kes stole my glasses, hid behind the settee and ate them. So I drove back as an advert for Sellotape. Actually, peaceful, gentle Wilma has Kes’s measure. If he persists in annoying her, she growls and shows her not inconsiderable teeth. But having spent six of her eight years as a stray, that doesn’t surprise me. It surprises Kes. But not for long. But I think they quite like each other really, given the way they curled up together at night.

So then it was back to the ranch to finish my present series of cartoon calendars – a bit of a ploddy job, but end’s in sight now.

My studio fan’s still rattling away because its still way too hot – has been all day. The sooner it rains, the better.

Evening meal time now. Will I watch any footy ? Only if there’s nothing else on.
Meanwhile, two days later………Stop press ! My local computer fettler called yesterday and I’ve got my emails back. Excellent !

April Blog

I suppose that as someone who can’t stand cookery programmes, I should be
grateful for the preponderance of sport on telly at the moment. My viewing
is exclusively terrestrial. I don’t have Sky or any other set-ups like that
which allow you – for a fee- to view Mongolian basket weaving should you so
desire. So, I’m stuck with just a few channels, including, of course, Beeb
one and two. Presently, they’re utterly dominated by sport. Don’t get me
wrong – I like most sports – apart perhaps for golf. Golf’s very skilful of
course, but its also a tad boring. Maybe that’s because it doesn’t involve a
run-up.

Presently, thanks to the Commonwealth Games, there’s an overdose of
sport readily available. One thing I’ve noticed is the way winning is
celebrated. In a sport which involves teams – even if its only two strong –
team- mates shake hands or touch knuckles or – God forbid – do a high five
after every point – even if they lose it.

Soccer is probably the best example of over-done celebration. A goal is
scored and team delirium breaks out. The goal scorer inevitably slides
across the pitch on his/her knees, then struts about, soaking up the
idolatory.

Maybe, at the higher levels of the beautiful game, its understandable.
Perhaps the celebrants are subconsciously trying to justify their obscene
salaries. And, even though salaries are lower, cricket’s the same. I watched
some old videos recently, featuring bowlers like Statham, Trueman and
Lindwall. They were frighteningly fast. They took lots of wickets and whilst
their team-mates were obviously pleased when an opposing batsman got his
stumps wrecked, the bowler wasn’t mobbed. In fact, in one Trueman clip I
saw, Fred got two wickets in one over. Each time, having got the wicket, he
simply turned and walked back to his mark whist the fielders clapped
politely.

The most stupid thing I’ve seen in cricket recently was the ball –
tampering episode. Not so much the actual tampering – that’s always gone on
– but the way the Australian culprits failed to hide it. Stuffing a piece of
sandpaper down your trousers, on camera, is a sure sign that something is
amiss.

Time to get a bit of drawing done now. At least I won’t be tempted to go
downstairs and watch Ladies’ underwater pipe-bending.

March Blog

People do get themselves into awful pickles, don’t they ? I’m thinking of the Russian father and daughter who were poisoned by “persons unknown”. I bet those persons aren’t unknown – certainly by those in the UK who play the covert and obviously dangerous espionage game. Why is it played ? Well, we’re told its played to keep us safe from people like the paid assassins who poisoned the Russians in Salisbury. And on the whole it does keep us safe. Occasionally, a lone-wolf nut-job gets through the net and runs over pedestrians on a London bridge. But insane people do tend to do insane things without being terrorists. We rely on our security services knowing about secret stuff. And they know through listening, blackmail and treachery. That’s the way its always been – from the di Medicis pouring poison into enemy earholes – to whatever it is that goes on in every country’s intelligence service.

Am I bovvered ? Well yes, I am, without having a clue about how to change things. Do they need changing ? Yes they probably do. I’m old enough to be fascinated/horrified by World War Two; by Adolf Hitler’s insatiable need for power – not just in his own country, but over anybody who disagreed with him, or, worse still, just happened to be Jewish. Donald Trump got to be President through promising certain sections of the American population to “put America first”. Vladimir Putin [he of no shirt whilst sitting on a horse] boasts of inter-continental ballistic missiles which can hit anybody, anywhere. Trump [no horse, just silly hair] does the same, although I notice that the little fat North Korean guy – also with silly hair – has climbed off his nuclear threat high horse recently. These three really should take a look at something like “The World at War”. They should look at what humans can do to each other in the name of “nationalism”. I also think that there’s an element of nationalism in the thinking of those who voted to leave the European Union.

Meanwhile, back in Wilmaland, all is good. She’s a remarkable dog who has obviously been part of a family in the past. Show her the lead, and she immediately sits and puts her head on one side so you can clip the lead on. God knows what has happened to her between then and now. Interestingly, Sheila, whilst watching Crufts on ‘t’ telly, saw that Clumber spaniels have exactly the same ears as Wilma. Same shape, same unique pattern of spots. So there’s a dash of pedigree in there somewhere. But for now, she’s happy and contented and is my constant shadow. So in the face of Russian assassins and Donald’s hair, that’s a Good Thing.

February Blog

After the sad death of our long time companion, Maggie the Dog in December last year, the house just didn’t feel right. No sound of paws padding around, no soulful staring at mealtimes, no avid wildlife programme viewing on TV, no growling at the window cleaner – and all the other aspects of the canine/human bond dog owners will recognise.

So, after looking at lots of dog re-homing sites we came across Wilma. Why “Wilma”? No idea. All we know about her is that she’s around eight and had spent at least six years as a stray on the streets of Dublin. Doubtless, because of that, Wilma’s scared of everything. Its taking time and patience to gain her trust. But we’re getting there. She’s only been with us eight days but now she’ll hop up on to the settee and look for a stroke. She follows me everywhere and as I type, is curled up on my right foot. She is a delightful animal. Why she was an abused stray for so long is anybody’s guess. What IS certain is that there are people out there who are cruel to animals. Sometimes the cruelty is organised, like fox-hunting – which still goes on, despite the ban – and secret dog – fighting. Badger- baiting, organised and carried out by really damaged people still happens. Why ? Why do humans do these despicable things ? Psychiatry might give us all manner of reasons. Socialisation, upbringing ,inherited psychoses etc., etc. Whilst I do try to understand why humans do bad things to animals and each other, my gut reaction, if I caught someone playing football with a hedgehog [Oh yes – that does happen] would be to take the humans aside and give them a good seeing – to. Some would say that would make me no better than the hedgehog abusers. I’m not so sure. If human animal abusers got a good thump every time they abused an animal, they’d soon stop.

There’s a phrase – a cliché almost which says, “Its only a dog”. I pity people who think like that. Gaining an abused dog’s trust is very rewarding and demonstrates that mysterious bond between two different species. Dogs know a lot more about us than we do about them.

Meanwhile, back in Cartoonworld, its not getting any easier finding new work. All the old faithfuls still need work and soon it’ll be 2020 calendar time. Twelve full – colour spreads and an A3 cover ! That’ll keep me busy for ages.

January Blog

A dog cartoon as Gag of the Month this time because I think dogs can be
very funny. The bonds and understanding between humans and canines – two
entirely different species – is amazing.

Early in December 2017, Maggie the Dog, my constant companion for 13 years
died. She’d been ill with heart and breathing problems. She’s stopped eating
and whilst its a cliché, I think she’d lost the will to live. And after she
went to sleep for the last time, the visiting vet said as much. People say
kind things like “Well, she had a good innings.” And she did, but that’s not
the point. She’s left a huge hole in our lives. She was a kind, funny dog
with a taste for TV wildlife programmes; was scared of our two hens, but big
friends with our cockatiel. Should we get another dog ? Don’t know. We’ve
looked at lots of dog re-homing sites and the trouble with them is the
featured dogs all look SO needy. But that said, its very strange not hearing
a dog about the place, or having one come and visit me up here in the studio
– just for visiting’s sake.

But life goes on, and those arrogant Australians have won the Ashes. Huh.
Worse than that, Boringbrexit continues not to grip the nation’s
imagination, whilst the Prince Harry/Megan Markle thing does. Actually, he
seems like a good egg – undertaking all manner of good works. Can’t really
say much about Miss Markle except that she sounds a bit like a TV detective
and has strange hats.

Every year around this time, REALLY snowy places around the world laugh at
the UK where 4cms of the stuff make headlines. True, its no fun battering up
the M62 if its snowing, but compared to Canada or New York, we’re nowhere.

I don’t vote Tory, but I am worried about our present government. What
with Mrs May’s conference cough and slogans falling off the wall behind her,
to the sacking of a prominent minister for having naughty pictures on his
computer, quite apart from the continued backing of the horrendously
expensive HS2 and the drip-feed starvation of the NHS, we now have a
super-expensive aircraft-carrier which leaks. I think its time for a
change.

December Blog

Less than a month to go to Christmas. Hmm. I have to admit that Christmas doesn’t have me jumping up and down with excitement. If you’ve only got a small family – I have – and what few there are are spread far and wide, all those cosy candlelit television ads showing a dozen or so folk attacking huge Christmas dinners are a bit annoying. “Scrooge!”, I hear you cry. Not really. I quite like buying presents. And I like some Christmas music. A good choir giving “Hark the Herald Angels” the beans certainly lifts the spirits and reminds me of childhood.

But at this time of year, television ads are relentless – from laptops to foot spas –from hand-crafted crisps to incontinence knickers- they’re all at it, and so many of them are very shouty too. What the hell is a hand-crafted crisp ? I don’t think any of us actually like television ads. If they’re not banal, they’re shouty – with a few exceptions like Marks and Spencer. Yes, yes, I know that advertising revenue pays for programmes, but so many of the ads are badly made and deeply irritating.

I’m fed up with Brexit. Just think, if 3% had voted the other way, we wouldn’t be taking this huge step into the unknown. Three percent ! I bet the Leavers are horrified at the mess we’re in.

Cartooning’s taken a very welcome- if temporary- upswing. It always does at this time of year, with companies and individuals needing Christmas card cartoons. But cartoon publishing generally is still very poor. Looking back over a long career in cartooning, I think my generation’s had the best of it.

I’m coming to the end of my time as Chair of the Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation. I will have done four years. During that time, thanks to the excellent PCO Committee, PCO has made a difference. For example, on Nov 21st, I went to Westminster Reference Library in London for the Private View of a cartoon exhibition called “Gagged” – in support of cartoonists across the world who are persecuted by repressive governments. Getting a London exhibition at a decent venue is very difficult. But thanks again to the PCO Committee, we managed it.

London was a very long [17 hours] day so it was midnight when I finally got home to Maggie the Dog who isn’t very well. She has to take lots of pills for heart and breathing problems and is very clever at finding them buried in food – and spitting them out. But I persevere. Maggie’s elderly and on the last lap now. I can’t imagine life without her.

I heard bits of a debate recently about whether animals have feelings or not. What a stupid, ignorant question. Of course they have. And those who are cruel to animals should be shot. Whilst I know we can’t do that, lifetime bans and longer spells in jail should be the order of the day for those who are cruel to animals – including fox hunters.

End of rant.

And so – back to Christmas card cartoons – and I’m running out of red.