John D Eccles

Its been a busy old week for retired grumpy old bloke, myself and lady Ann decided to have a gander at the new release that is Bohemian Rhapsody. (even though the critics have had a field day). 

What I see is what I judge, I honestly think it’s a great movie. It tells a story, I care not a jot that it may be factually correct but that I connected to it emotionally. 

Movies are by their nature are a work of fiction. A version of the facts that may be true or not. I think to judge a historical movie you have to had experienced what it was like then and not now. 

It is what life was like in the Seventies and Eighties which is quite different from what our understanding is now. It’s a fairly authentic representation of what it was like back in a far more innocent time.

So how can a thirty-odd-year-old judge what they are seeing if they did not experience what life was then?

So let’s look at the track record of these critics. “ Blade Runner “ one of the most iconic movies of all time”, that’s a no then!  “Apocalypse Now” do I need to go on because my list is endless!

Now I am not saying that this movie was without its faults, but it did what it said on the poster, it told a story of a man who was flawed, and who was troubled but told it with dignity. I agree it was a little forgiving but gave a credible back story that made Lady Ann cry, so it obviously touched a nerve somewhere. 

People who make films are a unique breed, they do it because they love telling stories. It does not sit easily with Directors or Producers to be judged by people who spend their lives behind a keyboard and criticise what they have achieved.

Making a film is not easy, even without the battles over funding and all the crap that comes with executive producers. Filmmakers are a unique bread, It is very simple they do it because they passionate about what they do and would probably work even if they didn’t get paid. 

Film critics on the other hand are a far more venomous proposition. They are judged on column inches  rather than creative input and could I suggest it is far simpler to critique rather than create something,

So in my world, I do not listen to the critics, I may learn from them if I think it is relevant but on the whole, the only people I listen to are the audience, because they vote with their feet.

So on a scale of one to ten Bohemian Rhapsody scores a massive nine mainly because it transported me back to the eighties which I look back at with some affection.

I can’t believe it’s two months since I last wrote anything on this blog so I apologise for my rather tardy behaviour. Since my last understated literary masterpiece things have been rather frantic.

Many of you will be aware that I have actively been trying to retire now for the past couple of years but my strategy of picking and choosing projects to work on that won’t interfere with me enjoying myself appears to be getting in the way of me being lazy and idling my days away.

Now my idea of retirement was to do lots of things that I wanted to do rather than the things I had to do to pay the mortgage and the other essentials that living in these days requires. 

There is a flaw in that strategy. What happens if what you enjoy doing is what you did as a career! Now there is nothing I love more than delivering a challenging project and without blowing my own trumpet it is something I am quite good at.

That’s when it all gets a little confusing, especially to Lady Ann who since my first attempt at retirement has had a list of chores for me to do a mile long and after two years it’s still half a mile long.

So why would a retired person wish to go back to work, and work as hard as they did when they were working? In my case, it’s all to do with maintaining your lifestyle without the risk of running out of money in your retirement and I also blame the latest in-car handsfree technology.

It seems that most jobs that come in are from people who I have worked with before and they always start with a phone call. Now if I’m in the car I am a good boy and I ignore it and return the call when I have a break on the journey, that is a sort of filtering system that means I can get in some “me” time. 

The issue is that if Lady Ann is in the car she answers the calls and volunteers me for all sorts of projects that which although are very interesting and keep my mind going they are also very time-consuming.

So I am currently sat here approaching midnight working on scripts, running orders and production schedules that will ensure that I can still play at being a producer and get paid for the privilege and that is great.

Now if you ask any producer what drives them, most of them will tell you it is not just the money, it’s the challenge of creating something that people will see and hopefully like. So for the next four weeks, I will be stomping around the house with my mobile pressed to my ear trying to negotiate with some fantastically talented people across Manchester so we can collectively produce something incredible.

Once that is complete I can get back to ignoring the dreaded list of chores and maybe Lady Ann and myself can get away for a quiet weekend somewhere before the juggernaut that is Christmas visits Eccles Towers and all the pandemonium that will ensue until the new year!

I sit here on the eve of one of the busiest weekends of the year here in Saddleworth, The Yanks are coming! 

When I say Yanks I mean an army of 1930s re-enactors along with Jeeps, tanks, guns, uniforms and all of the paraphernalia that goes along with them visiting. These are very dedicated people who love to celebrate the past and in Churchill’s words “our finest hour”. We even have a fly pass of spitfires and Lancaster’s!

It is all under the premise of celebrating the film Yanks that was made in the seventies using locations in and around Saddleworth.

Now I know it’s not fashionable to celebrate war on any level however if you look past the obvious I can see the appeal. For example, if you can imagine if you lived through those years. For some, it meant huge sacrifice but for some who came out of it on the other side, it was quite possibly the most exciting and dangerous time of your life. 

Veterans who I have spoken to who survived say that they lived in the moment and didn’t take anything for granted and did extraordinary things just to survive. 

Last week I read of an extraordinary woman, Mary Ellis who was 102 who had passed away. Nothing remarkable there I hear you say but what she did in the war years was astounding. She delivered Spitfires and all sorts of planes to airfields all over Europe. 

I just wish there were role models like her around today for our young people to look to for inspiration instead of the endless battalions of reality stars who are all about themselves rather than working for the greater good.

We seemed to have travelled backwards since that time. After the war, many of the women who worked as engineers and in all sorts of positions that were normally the preserve of men quietly returned to being the “little woman at home”.

What a wasted opportunity that was, all that talent wasted just so we could all get back to normal. 

So back to this weekend, There will be promenading, dancing, drinking and everyone having a fantastic time. But I think that we should share a thought for the generations of people who sacrificed so much for us to enjoy the lives we have today which I sometimes take for granted. 

So to everyone who lost a relative or a loved one, I thank you for your sacrifice and I hope that in years to come we will still remember them and try to ensure that the incalculable loss on all sides was not in vain and we do not travel down that path again anytime soon.

Saddleworth and Whit Friday will always be special to me. I first moved to Saddleworth when Sarah my daughter was two, and whilst walking today we collectively worked out we have walked on Whit Friday every year since.

We have lived in Saddleworth now for thirty-six years. We didn’t walk the first year because we didn’t know what it was. But I learned the hard way. Ann woke me up and said she had heard a shuffling sound in our front garden.

Now being a virile twenty-odd-year-old (wishful thinking) I sprung out of bed naked and I can assure you it was not a pretty sight. I threw the curtains back just in time for the conductor who was stood on my garden wall to strike up the band and the rest of the village in a hymn to welcome us to the village.

Now there are not many people who can say they have flashed the entire village where they live, but unfortunately, I can. I still go red when certain women in the village give you a certain look that makes you feel very inadequate.

I must confess Whit Friday has become a bit of an emotional roller coaster for me, it’s not the fact that our brood assembles at Eccles towers and hoover up most of the natural resources that our planet has to offer or the fact that the weather could be dreadful, (I experienced four seasons in one hour one year on the march down to Uppermill). Its the fact that I have got to an age where I remember what I have lost.

I don’t mean my mobile phone or my car keys, which I do on a regular basis, I mean all the people who I have known throughout my years here. The place where I call home. people who I have laughed and cried with, people who I would love to be here.

Many of these people from my past have gone but I can assure you that they are not forgotten. I always get a lump in my throat on the way into Uppermill, I find myself looking for them in the crowd. I remember where I saw them in years gone by and that hurts a little.

I don’t care that it may be raining, I don’t care that my shoes may give me sore feet on the way back from our communal service in Uppermill. I am still here and I celebrate that fact. Life is short and it is what you make it and I love the fact that I am still here.

So this year with another whit Friday under my belt I think I am very lucky.

So with that thought in mind, I wish everyone who takes part in “the greatest free show on earth” a healthy, safe and prosperous year and hopefully, we can do it all again next year.