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First published January 1, 2013




I have been told that publishers these days like a particular type of memoir. They like a little bit of misery. They like a ‘mis mem’. Well, I’m afraid I have had very little ‘mis’ in my life, and nowadays I have even less ‘mem’. So we can knock that one on the head.Her father drilled into their heads that they should never take themselves too seriously, although you are allowed to be serious, just never become pompous. It shows in her approach to her own life story as well as her work. Thus her life was uncomplicated, peaceful, full of animals. They were a close family, but never talked about it. (That's basically how I grew up as well).
I am at the age when mostly what I do is stretch and take glucosamine and complain about the noise my joints make as I walk upstairs. It's so loud I sometimes have to stop, because I think someone is following me.She appreciated the era in which life was more simple:
It was the eighties. We had our own shows, got married, had children, wore shoulder pads, hung out with Bananarama, and consequently got fairly drunk on occasion. We wore baggy shirts buttoned up to the neck and high-waisted jeans. We discovered the Groucho Club and could actually afford the drinks. We took part in the Secret Policeman’s Ball and hung out with the Pythons. This was in the days before celebrities had been invented: people just did their jobs and got cabs home. No hangers-on. No PRs.Also bear in mind that Brits have a different approach to humor than Americans. Ricky Gervais sums it up in an article (http://time.com/3720218/difference-be...) by saying:
Just look at Band Aid. Band Aid! You wouldn’t be able to do that now. Bob Geldof just rang up a bunch of his friends, asked them to sing a song for starving Ethiopians, they said yes, put on a leather jacket, jumped in their cars, went to the studio or Wembley, had a few drinks, danced around a bit in the sunshine, had a few more drinks, had a laugh and then drove themselves home. But now, can you imagine? It would take about 4 million people about 4 million years to plan, and there would be absurd amounts of entourages and dressing rooms and Tweeting. Not in the eighties. In the eighties, life was bloody great.
It’s often dangerous to generalize, but under threat, I would say that Americans are more “down the line.” They don’t hide their hopes and fears. They applaud ambition and openly reward success. Brits are more comfortable with life’s losers. We embrace the underdog until it’s no longer the underdog. We like to bring authority down a peg or two. Just for the hell of it. Americans say, “have a nice day” whether they mean it or not. Brits are terrified to say this. We tell ourselves it’s because we don’t want to sound insincere but I think it might be for the opposite reason. We don’t want to celebrate anything too soon. Failure and disappointment lurk around every corner. This is due to our upbringing. Americans are brought up to believe they can be the next president of the United States. Brits are told, “It won’t happen for you.”We once was a British colony, and we all got to love the British humor. It might explain my own infatuation with the underdogs of life. I'm always rooting for them. Oh, hurting someone's sensibilities is so off the table. You either can take it or you can't, get over yourself. That's the kind of humor I truly adore. British by design.
This can sometimes be perceived as nasty if the recipients aren’t used to it. It isn’t. It’s play fighting. It’s almost a sign of affection if we like you, and ego bursting if we don’t. You just have to know which one it is.
... As for cynicism, I don’t care for it much. I’m a romantic. From The Office, and Extras to The Invention Of Lying and Cemetery Junction, goodness and sweetness, honour and truth, love and friendship always triumph.
For me, humanity is king.
Oh and for the record I’d rather a waiter say, “Have a nice day” and not mean it, than ignore me and mean it.