Jelly

On Mother’s Day, my siblings and I returned to Perthshire and gathered around our dear Mama’s feet, to watch Herbie Rides Again and the 2003 remake of Pollyanna.

This wasn’t the plan, per se. It just sort of happened. Mum wasn’t feeling well and there was nothing much on TV, so we all flaked out and watched the aforementioned programming gems.

I mentioned this in passing to Captain Tact who, rather than spending the weekend with his own mater dear, was engaged in selling books to idiots. That’s sort of his wont, these days. Anyway, his reaction to my news was something along the lines of “Polly what now?”

Naturally I was scandalised – surely Pollyanna is a fixed point in our culture? Apparently not. It’s not a very manly book, I suppose.

For anyone else similarly in the dark, Pollyanna is an oppressively cheerful child from literature. She was written by Eleanor H. Porter in 1913, and spends most of her time waging war on unhappiness. Evidence for the case against child labour laws, you might say.

The only thing that stops her terrifying campaign to ensure that everyone in the village is happy ALL the time is someone ‘accidentally’ mowing her down in a car, leaving her paralysed from the waist down. And even then she bounces back, it just takes her a little bit longer than other sad things that have happened to her (including the death of both her parents).

Pollyanna’s MO is centred around ‘the glad game,’ invented by her tirelessly optimistic father (who ironically died tragically young). The basic premise is that in a negative situation, you look for the good side.

Witness an example:



Yeah. She’s like that all the freaking time. If I was Pam Ferris I’d smack her in the mouth.

Her brand of inane happiness would probably get her beaten up if she bandied it about in this day and age. The closest modern equivalent, I suppose, is that person who tells you to, “Smile! It might never happen!” as though it’s socially acceptable to go about your everyday business with a big stupid grin etched onto your face. I must have missed that facebook update. The fact I’m not smiling all the time doesn’t indicate I’m having dark thoughts, I’m probably just thinking about something else.

Having said that, I was trying to think of themes to blog around, and it struck me that the glad game might be a fun one to do. Lots of things make me glad – broccoli soup, amusing graffiti, implausibly bad television...

But as aficionados of the game are no doubt clawing at the screen to point out, listing things that cheer me up is missing the point. You’re supposed to think of something sad, bad or other negative emotion, and then find the upside.

Much more of a challenge. I will see you tomorrow for day one.

Breakfast At Tiffany's

It's been a while since I posted a graffiti spot.

There are a lot of these spray painted around where I live at the moment. They're not all Audrey - there's a bird house, frinstance, and these bits and pieces.

I think they're quite nice.

Pew Pew

Some more images from the Sighthill underpass to finish off the month. I told you they had more than one colour of marker pen. The detective in me suspects these may have been stolen from some kind of school classroom with a whiteboard.




I know graffiti's a crime and everything, but I genuinely quite like this one. If it was available in postcard format I would buy it.









Feel a bit sorry for Jack though. I'm sure he's not really an ellyphint. Whatever that is...

(Whilst I appreciate the implication is that Jack is like an elephant, to me the picture is more of a cross between the michelin man and a mouse. Dyslexic bullies - must try harder.)

Effective Advertising

Young persons in Sighthill have been following council advice in a manner of speaking by abandoning the aerosol in favour of the much lazier marker pen. Well, I'm assuming they're young. They could be hoodlum pensioners for all I know.




Oddly specific text on a bus shelter - WE MUST PUT THE EXACT TIME we defaced this piece of property. 'Around 8' is just too general. People need to know this information.













Here on the underpass there are no sprayed tags to be found, yet marker pen appears in an array of colours. Here we see the classic willy graffiti, created for your viewing pleasure by a chap - or chapette - whose art may or may not be influenced by the movie Superbad.

Meadow Walk

Gummy facial hair.

This is truly gross.

But what else would you do when confronted by a big face, without a marker pen or tin of spray paint to call your own.

Fight!

Saw this on my way to a film screening for the Edinburgh Film Festival before work yesterday.

It's stenciled onto a piece of chip board on a Castle Street shop front, next to Duo.

These are the sorts of spottings that remind me how much I like being in Edinburgh.

I Heart Crayon's

I <3 Crayon's what though?

And who punctuates their graffiti? Wrongly?!

You Are Always On My Mind

This door is covered in a lot of very standard graffiti, which means that the main thing to jump out at you is the addition of 'Pet Shop Boys' in marker pen. I like to think this is the work of one properly anarchic mofo. They've even mixed up the cases. That is so punk.

Rodney In My Place

And I certainly didn't invite him.

But silly photos are not my only output today. There is an article on Bieber fever here, and one on graduate unemployment here. I'm on fire. Not literally.