Tarka the Otter

Tarka the Otter is a 1979 'nature' film based on the Henry Williamson novel of the same name. And today it arrived on my doormat on DVD (and was harder to find than the proverbial hen's tooth.) It was 98 in poll by Channel 4 of the 100 greatest family films and if there was any real justice in the world (and not the rotten kind of justice served to Tarka) it would have been in the top ten.


Tarka's chum: Old Nob the Heron

I remember watching this in the early 80's when video became popular and it was seldom out of the VCR. I love everything about it from the breathtaking wildlife scenes to Peter Ustinov's cut glass tones as he narrates the story. This charming film, more than say Watershipdown and Wind In The Willows, instilled in my young self a love for mature and wildlife, a love that is with me still to this day. I also suspect it was Tarka the Otter which contributed to my dislike of dogs. (The hunting dogs and Tarka's nemesis, Deadlock)
I urge everyone to try and see this delightful film. Sure there are sad bits and also some grisly scenes but its only reflecting the occasional savagery that mother nature inflicts on its animals. Nature is cruel.
But there are wonderful moments in Tarka the Otter too. Particularly when Tarka (which incidentaly means 'Little River Wanderer') meets Whitetip a female otter.
Im glad the film seems to be back in circulation again because I couldn't find it for love nor money a few years ago. Treat yourself and spend over an hour with the otter and chums, you won't be sorry.

Things Wot I Knew

Have you ever seen something, or heard them, and instantly known they would be huge? Before they made it, doesn't count if the artist/musician is already successful. I remember hearing Guns n' Roses before Appetite For Destruction was released and thinking, 'f**k, these are going to be huge!' Ditto Nivana. I was slightly off note with a similar prediction about Skid Row, however they were successful for a brief time in the 1990s.


These lads were big you know

My Nostradamus~like forecasts were not restricted to musos either. Mickey Rourke was the first actor to appear on my 'success radar' when I saw him in No Prayer For The Dying and Johnny Handsome. 'Now there's a guy who is going places,' I said at the time. Sure enough the next time I saw Mr Rourke he had made his Hollywood breakthrough and was romping around with Kim Basinger in the super sexy 9 1/2 Weeks. Lucky git.
Christian Slater was the next boyo I chanced upon and blessed with my Welsh wand (ooer!) After seeing him in the wonderfully dark Heathers I knew he was going to join Mickey in Hollywood glory. Sure he gets his acting chops from Jack Nicholson but that ain't no bad thing, no siree!
The next BIG THING I discovered (before it was a 'big thing') was Skateboarding. When I felt the rumble of the board, heard the 'punkiness' of the soundtrack and popped my first ever ollie, I just knew good things awaited this cool sport/hobby. Have you ever seen Thrasher? The prophecy is all in that piece of film.
The last of my predictions did not fly as well, mainly due to the fickle nature of the British public. Hedgehog flavoured crisps. How on earth in a sane world did they ever die out? How? How in the name of Dimebag Darrell how? A brilliant idea, tragically lost in 1980's Britain.
So there. The things wot I knew before they were touched (and some would say tarnished) by the whiff of success.

Lovable Misfits

The cat (if cat is what it is) in the photo below is more than likely fake. Probably photoshopped or something, and there are those now shouting 'Of course its fake!' But I am of the open mind that bizarre creatures like this actually exist. I want them to exist! Without these animals, the plantet is less interesting, devoid of some of its colour.

Pretty kitty: I want one!

Isn't he/she simply ADORABLE? I would love to have one. Nay have two or three. That beautiful blue fur, the enquiring face, those amazing yellow eyes and little pom pom paws! Dear me, my heart fairly skipped a beat out of love for the ickle kitty. Makes for a much more interesting chum than say a goldfish or budgie.
And thats just it I find. Its the peculiar and the odd which this world spin, certainly not the bland and the predictable. (I guess this is why I am not a big fan of dogs. No animal is as predictable as a hound, no matter what their fans will say.) I love pure colour, not different shades of it.


Is it a bat? No, its love in your palm

Just look at that guy above. Who cares what the heck it is? Look at him! He would love you forever, its written all him. Or her. Depressingly, as ive said earlier, these loveables are more often than not fake. Usually made up from different bits of an assortment of animals and photo~stitched together by some bored teenager or wannabe Frankenstein.
Shame really. When I was a youngster I had newts, frogs, terrapins, (even took a few white mice into the cinema in my pockets) and these were all great but I always hankered after a bat or a heron. Dogs, cats and hamsters weren't unusual enough, afterall, everyone had one of those. I used to love catching anenomes and other strange things from rock pools, hoping to find something not of this world.
Im still on the look out. I adore my cat of course and she rules the house. But Id trade her in a flash for a Kowakian monkey~lizard. (Remember Salacious Crumb? The ferret thing by Jabba the Hutt in Return Of The Jedi? One of them.)

The Way Of The Nail

There will always be silk and always be hammers; and when both collide its rather like a moon~shaded scalpel being drawn across a peach. Rough and smooth seldom mix well, and just as on a beach where one sees the sand away from the rock pools, this is true of groups in society. Im stating the bloody obvious of course.

My vices, drinking, whatever....they always say its going to kill me. And it is said particularly by the newly sober where indulgance almost killed them and they envy me, but it wont kill me. Im just too f**king stubborn. Im not the type to just lay around dying. Even when I actually was dying in a hospital bed, I was trying to rip IVs out and punch people out.
I say this with talon firmly stapled on heart ~ poison has no effect on neither my body or soul.

The Nostradamus Titter

We all know 2011 is going to be a pretty miserable year, thanks to the saps in government (and im a true blue Conservative!) but in an effort to ward off the gloom I am going to read the tea leaves in my breakfast mug to see what the future holds in store.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you *drum roll* the News Headlines of 2011! Complete with commentary from Nostradamus! (Er, that would be Ifan Nostradamws from the Mumbles.)

'Pink Admits She Is A Man!'

Nostradamws says ~ The power of Glengetti believes there is a pretty tidy chance of this happening mun. She cant pass those pins off as female for much longer, or the fact that only transvestites from Cardiff would put make up on like that.


'David Cameron To Meet Lost Twin, Lord Snooty'

Nostradamws says ~ My loevspoons tell me no, on account of Lord Snooty being a comic character from The Beano. But if ever The Beano was to be made into a movie, Dai HAS to have the part.

'Britain Splits from EU'

Nostradamws says ~ The froth from a pint of Felinfoel spells out NO. And wait! Theres more look you, it sees a country in a shambles, the wise have left and remains is crime, yoghurt knitters and cheese.

'Cowell Discovers Actual Singer'

Nostradamws says ~ No.

'Hollywood Magic Returns'

Nostradamws says ~ The crumbs from my Welshcakes say this is a possibility but they must resist the urge to film remakes and mention Wales more, like that bit in Mars Attacks when they dropped Ponty in the script.

Love from Tombs and Ghosts

There was an article in The Watford Observer over Christmas that told of a ghost that was supposedly hanging around a theatre hall. (Haunting I guess you'd call it, I like to describe it more 'street'. The word 'haunting' is so Victorian.)
Here is an excerpt:

'the hall may possibly house a real spirit. Apparently, several people, including the caretaker have experienced some ghostly goings-on there. The voice of a young girl has been heard on several occasions over the years. The voice, which seems to be just in the next room, greets them with a simple ‘Hello’. Rest assured, all who have reported the presence have maintained it is not frightening.'
@The Watford Observer

And this clanged my eerie bells. (The ones covered in cobwebs and midnight oil.) We shouldn't be afraid of spirits, ghosts, incorporeal ones, whatever. Afterall aren't they just the ones of US who have slipped beyond the veil? What the gravewax have we got to be frightened of?

We come in peace

Yeah I get how wandering downstairs to fetch a snack at 2am and suddenly bumping into a ghostly apparition, perhaps cheekily checking out the freeview softporn on your 50" plasma, would startle anyone but after the initial shock what is there to fear? Its more than likely just the spook who owned your house one hundred years ago, and he/she is probably more suprised than you (if only at your hideous taste in decor and the quality of porn these days.)
I believe in ghosts, my mind isn't a stubborn, shrivelled, old peanut and therefore it is open to such beliefs. Good lord, certainly there is a spirit world. I KNOW it. (And im not talking television medium trickery jiggery.) If you don't believe in such things things, fine, stop reading this and go smoke a joint and watch some obscure comedian or listen to jazz. The sardines will keep you warm.
Anyway before I get totally sidetracked; I believe in spirits, and I also believe them to be harmless, peaceful souls who harbour no grudge nor malice toward us. So why in the (after)world would my legs turn to jelly and beard go white (I have no hair on my head) if a ghost decided to suddenly appear behind my computer? Perhaps the dead (or not-so-dead as the case would be) jumping back into this world would be a little disconcerting, and seeing great aunt Peg after thirty years in the grave might be 'uncomfortable' at first but ultimately our fears ought to be reigned in.
If I expired here at this spot of the internet right now and discovered a way to pop back from the Other World for a quick visit (and maybe a swift whisky) I would come in love and peace'd out like a stoned hippy, not as some snarling demon.
My late grandmother saw a ghost once, on the stairs as she was retiring for the evening. She never spoke of it often (which is partly why I believed her story, those who spout it from rooftops are rarely sincere) but she did tell me that the spirit she encountered 'told' her not to be afraid. He didn't speak like you or I, he just made it known to my grandmother that he meant no harm.
My grandmother was a very dear lady, who didn't drink, smoke or swear (I must have been somewhat of a disappointment to her in those ways as I was devoted fan of all three) and eventhough a sober and clean life is not a guarantee of honesty, it certainly was with my grandmother. She wasn't one for lies and this again is why I have faith in a spirit world.
They are out there all right, and if there were more people like my gran in this world and less charlatans like television 'psychics' then I am certain we would be visited upon more often and many more people would believe.

A Sad Start To 2011

Sad to bring the news of the death of actor Pete Postlethwaite OBE who passed away this weekend after a battle with cancer. I felt a surge of sincere sadness when I read the news on the Retro Gamer forum because not only was he a great actor but I sensed he was a great human being too.

A fine fine actor

Most will remember him by films like The Usual Suspects, Brassed Off and Jurassic Park: The Lost World but for me it was In The Name Of The Father. It was the first time I had seen one of his films and his performancs as Guisseppe Conlon was utterly brilliant and convincing. Sure he was 'supporting' Daniel Day Lewis' main character but Postlethwaite's presence made him equal.
Then of course there was Amistad and again he proved his acting was up there with the Burton's, O'Toole's and Harrises.
Director Steven Speilberg called Pete Postlethwaite 'the best actor in the world', and to that I raise my glass in agreement. Sleep well Mr Postlethwaite.