I will endeavour to answer a few of your Questionnaire questions over the next few days. A few of you have asked whether Warming Up can be updated every day, rather than occasionally in clumps of three or four entries. I think it's worth remembering that I am doing this for nothing and that I have other stuff to do as well and also that I am not always conveniently by a computer to post anyway. So, no it can't. I've had over 500 responses so far and only about 30% of you would buy an on-line version of Hercules (though over half more would buy it if it were a book), so I think that makes that idea impractical. I will press on with finding a publisher. I know some of you are lurking and not completing, so please just click on the link if that's you. I can now add pictures. I am sure that I won't choose to very often, but I've added the ones relavent to recent entries.
I was writing the introduction to my Hercules book today and trying to think of incidents that demonstrate my previous (and let's face it not now extinct) cowardice, ineptitude and lack of adventurous spirit. There are many to choose from. I have wasted my life.
But I was reminded of an incident from school from when I was about 17. It was break-time and I was out on the school field with my group of friends (which as we were now past puberty was a mixed gang of girls and boys). It was summer and fairly warm. When suddenly out of nowhere (not literally, it came out of the sky, but what I'm saying is there was no warning - well why didn't you say that? Well I would if only there was some way to go back and edit this thing) it started to pour with rain. My natural instinct was to run back inside into the common room to avoid a drenching, and that's what I did, but the others stood their ground. They wanted to celebrate this unexpected event to revel in it. They began laughing and dancing and ironically praising some ancient god for his bountious generosity. The heavy rain drops soon had them soaked to the skin, but the rain was warm and soothing, not sharp and stinging. I stood in the doorway outwardly expressing the opinion that all my friends were insane idiots, but I think even then, in my heart, I envied them this primeval experience.
They were being subversive and celebratory at the same time and there was also something rawly sexual about this gaggle of half-drowned young people cavorting and hugging and splashing in the mud. Not in an obvious and cheap way, but in a slightly beautiful one where mysterious burgeoning forces were revealing themselves.
It was one of life's seminal experiences and I was standing in a doorway looking at it rather than taking part. It would have been cooler to just walk inside and have a coffee and wait for the fools to get bored and come in, but not only was I too uncool to drink coffee, I chose the dweebiest of options to stand as near to outside as I could without being outside and watch them. I was too proud or too stupid or too embarrassed to run back outside and join them. I had made my incorrect gesture and had to suffer the self-inflicted punishment of missing out on the madness.
I probably opined to no-one in particular (as none of my friends were with me) that they would catch their death, but of course in fact they were catching life. Something I have managed to fumble and drop fairly consistenly for the last twenty years.
Finally they ran inside, high on adrenalin, cheering and panting, looking for something to dry themselves off with. They had been so alive to the moment that they hadn't even considered the fact that it wasn't games today so they didn't have their towels with them. I had considered this -it was one of the initial reasons I'd left - which just made me all the worse as a person. Spontaneity is a much under-rated virtue, as is the ability to step outside of the dictates of society. I still can't do it. In twenty years time I will be regretting the fact that I didn't ask Alan Pacino my Shylock/Scarface question. In fact, I'm regretting it now.
Of course, with hindsight I wish I'd joined them, but it's too late, I can't go back. It was all about that moment and trying to create it artificially would not be the same. Now I'm 37 it wouldn't be the same to just rush out into the next rainstorm and dance about on my own, laughing and encouraging the Shepherd's Bush locals to join me. And if I hung around at my local school waiting for a downpour and then when it finally came I tried to persuade 17 year old boys and girls to cavort around with me and get soaked and then hug me, then it might lead to misunderstandings. The police may become involved.
But if you are under 18 (and my research suggests that 0.37% of you are) then don't walk out of the rainstorm. Stay and dance a while.
