Interview Practice - Week 5 homework

Well, I'm glad I've got that out of the way. Not easy. Lesson learnt - don't choose to interview someone with learning difficulties and a speech impediment. But we got there.

I started off doing a Craig Brown, as I felt the material was too thin to work seriously:

The Timothy Wilkes Interview
Celia Walden meets South Warwickshire’s Most Fashionable Topiarist.

Timothy Wilkes has come a long way.

Curling all 34 inches of overall-clad inside leg under my dining table, the shy farmer’s son with learning difficulties sips Nescafe (‘two sugars’) and reflects on the paths along which his arboreal passions have taken him.

At 8 years old, Wilkes was trimming hedges: by 10 he was already pruning trees. Time spent at Agricultural College confirmed and consolidated his natural gifts. The sap was rising – trees were in his blood.

...and so on for 300 words - all very enjoyable to write, but not really the point. And a bit cruel.

So I slept on it, and this morning had found a way to treat my subject with more respect. Bit short on the 5 Ws and an H, but I think it works....just over 500 words. I could never publish it of course - 'Timothy' and his family would probably be offended.

----------
Interview with Timothy Wilkes, Topiarist

Timothy Wilkes has built a successful one-man business through a combination of self-taught skills and homespun creativity. In the depths of recession, he is in constant demand and can pick and choose his customers. Impressive; particularly as Timothy has learning difficulties.

Timothy’s trade is gardening. His Unique Selling Point - topiary. Working with box, yew, holly and anything else that comes to hand, he patiently prunes and clips, year on year, coaxing growing trees into the shapes of his imagination.

How did he learn his trade? I'd assumed at horticultural college. In fact, he is completely self-taught.

Skiing in France a decade ago, Timothy saw his first ice sculptures.

‘It was for a competition’ he says haltingly (speech doesn’t come easily to him: trees make no conversational demands) ‘There were these big shapes all down the road, made out of snow.’

He gestures expressively, carving the air between us, and his eyes sparkle.

Already working as a domestic gardener, Timothy's tasks included tending the grounds of The Manor House, Bishops Tachbrook. Here, he had already noticed that some of the ancient trees had once been carved into topiary shapes.

‘There were twin plated yews’ he explains ‘and I could see where peacocks were.’

‘Plated yews’? Is this a technical term, or a sub-species?

It turns out to be a Timothy term – unable to read, so with no external reference points, he has created his own topiary vocabulary. A ‘plated’ shape is one made up of circular horizontal bands of foliage, stacked like plates.

Back from skiing, armed only with inspiration and a hedge-trimmer, Timothy set to work sculpting his first piece of topiary from a yew sapling. After five years, he had a passable egg-shape. Another five years, and the sapling is now a two metre high head, complete with eyebrows, ears and a rather startling 'mohican' hairstyle. Much to the bemusement of the Manor House’s owner.

Other shapes followed. The ‘plated yews’ were recued, and the peacocks. But there are also snails, an elephant and various geometrical constructions, including a long line of holly pyramids marking a boundary.

Neighours became interested. Just up the road, another mohican head rubs shoulders with a row of feeding chickens. Further on, three rabbits are in the offing. Word of mouth has spread.

‘There’s some in Whitnash too’ he explains ‘ And I’ve got a tree in Wellesbourne’

‘I’ve got a tree.’ This, for customers, is the downside. As far as Timothy is concerned, these are his trees, his gardens. Owners are not consulted; he operates to his own agenda. But, aware of the real value his work is adding to their properties, clients sensibly shut up and keep him on side.

Timothy's’s work is constantly evolving. ‘You’re never finished’ he explains ‘because the tree keeps growing’

He would like to work more on architectural shapes, Georgian perhaps. But he’s not really fired with ambition. He asks only to be allowed to continue as he is, grooming and tending his trees.

There are worse ways to earn a living.

Jerry Hall Interview - Homework

Homework this week is an analysis of a Telegraph interview with Jerry Hall http://tinyurl.com/ykty5hr (if I’ve learnt nothing else on this course, and I’ve learnt TONS, its how to make a tiny url), using the Rudyard Kipling/Sally Ballard mantra - 5 Puffs and a Piano:

Who
What
When
Where
Why
How

So here we go:

Who?
Jerry Hall.
Housewife (ex-Mrs Jagger in a cableknit cardie, clutching newlaid eggs)
Mother (4 children, names and ages listed)
Superstar (discovered in St Tropez aged 16 - The Rest Is History)
Ex-Jagger consort (see above – other partners also listed chronologically)
Model (56 inches of denim clad legs etc. Surgically enhanced? She says not)
Socialite (see partners above. Women friends, all themselves Consorts of the Famous, also listed)
Genius (Chemistry Scholarship, Emily Dickinson namecheck)
Actress (Funny, I’ve never actually seen a review of her acting performance. Perhaps, like Dr Johnson on Women and Performing Dogs, it’s enough that she can do it at all).
And suddenly now
Passionate Reader (see (b) below)

What?
Already things get interesting. There are, you see, at least three separate viewpoints sitting snugly together in this article.
What has Ms Hall done?
a) Telegraph viewpoint: Granted an interview. Hall sells papers, so if she wants to be interviewed, she gets interviewed. That simple
b) Hall viewpoint: Signed a very lucrative publicity deal with Sony Reader, which needs the exposure
c) Reader viewpoint: Continued to be an inspiration to/source of deep, bitter envy in the over-50s.

When?
(c ) is kind of ongoing, but is so compelling that Ms Hall can simply pop out of her box at any old time (see a and b) and with a couple of new gags like reading Proust, twice (in translation I bet – hah!) make the Womens Pages just like that.

More immediately, between shows of Calendar Girls (cue (i) Plug for Show, (ii) Amazing Versatility of Hall the West End Actress, (iii) Amazing Condescension of Hall playing a middle-aged WI member just as though she were One Of Us instead of an ageless leggy Texan Goddess.)

Where
At an outside café table in an alleyway behind the theatre– all very bohemian, girlie chic and beautifully done.

Why?
See ‘What?’ above:
(a) circulation.
(b) money.
(c ) because we are all basically masochists.

How?
How does Jerry Hall do it?

By being very tall, very intelligent, very shrewd and having absolutely shedloads on money.

By projecting a warm, down-to-earth, friendly personality, especially with women journalists.

By being a National Treasure in Waiting, despite her all-American background – a sort of Wallace Simpson to Joanna Lumley’s Queen Mum.

By living in England when she doesn’t have to, and appearing in very British plays about the WI alongside other National Treasures like Helen Mirren.

An excellent article, which sagged a bit in the middle when it got to the Sony Reader, but finished on a high note with lazy purr and a list of retail outlets.

Under 17 driving - useful links

Just been off to Asda to score some Tamiflu for my younger son who seems to have Swine Flu (according to the telephone diagnostic service) Very sweet woman and at least real, not multi-choice android, but can't help mssing the good old days when, if your child had a temperature of 102 and seemed scarily ill, you might be able to interest your GP.

Never mind, we now have the latest drugs which I guess won't do him any harm if it turns out to be something else entirely.

Feeling a bit rushed off feet at this point, but fortunately the 15+ driving experience takes a break now until Saturday, which I can Worry About When The Time Comes.

Meanwhile anyone interested in pursuing the idea of 15+ driving course/Under 17 driving club for their junior petrolheads, and I know we have at least one, should go to http://www.under17-carclub.co.uk/ and http://www.warwickshire.police.uk/currentIssues/roadsafety/Pathfinder

NB the Pathfinder course is for 15 and 16 year olds only. Under 17 Driving Club accepts new members from 12 to 14 years only.

This is all happening a bit fast....

Well aren't I the lucky one? I now have an arts group exhibition to review in December (requested by arts group, of course, rather than commissioned by publication) and an article about ground-breaking Driving Course for 15-16 year olds to write.

Doing the driving course now and as it has excellent feature potential, decided I needed photos. Can't take them as am in car with 15 year old son all the time. So asked Leaders of Course if they could take them. Following Sally's advice that if we'd ever published anything we were Writers, I started 'I'm a writer...' and their little faces lit up. Now committed to writing feature. No worries, they said, they have tons of press contacts to get it published, plus could use it to support submission to Commons Select Committee etc. Spent today being treated alternately as minor royalty to be sucked up to, or sinister spy to be addressed with enormous discretion. Not at all keen on either role and thoroughly unnerved. But they have been busy taking photos for me, which is something

Now got 4 good feature concepts:

• The Driving course
• The Arts Group Review
• Weekend in Granada (Spain) in November
• Visit to Portmouth Dockyards Xmas do (local press)

None of them commissioned or involving any immediate financial reward for me.

Meanwhile, I have to sign on at the Jobcentre tomorrow and explain why I have not yet got another job as a Marketing Communications Manager.

Feeling scared to death and totally out of depth. Must STOP marketing self as Writer before I'm actually ready to start delivering something!

Sally - help - this is all happening the wrong way round and I'm dead scared..

Assisted Suicide - A Dead Good Alternative

Dying peacefully at 89, assisted suicide campaigner Ludovic Kennedy never actually had to make the big decision.

But what about me?

From a very long-lived family, virtually asset-free, I look forward to probably decades of senile poverty once I can no longer pay my way.

So it would make sense for me to pop over to Switzerland in my late 60s, whilst I can still afford to die, and get myself sorted. There are many worse fates than a quick injection from a cheery Swiss medic as, clutching a final Toblerone, I head off painlessly into The Great Adventure.

There are things worth hanging on for, though. I would like to meet my grandchildren, and even my great-grandchildren. There are also a few graves I was quite looking forward to dancing on. But is it worth years of drooling incontinence and indigence just to catch a few highlights?

The answer, I think, is a change of tack. I’m talking, not euthanasia, but suspended animation. Not cryogenics, those sad anoraks who think they’re so bloody marvellous someone’s going to want to bring them back one day, cure their cancer and grow nice new bodies for their heads to live on. Mine is a more modest, NHS-type approach. You’d be out cold for decades, but revived just briefly every few years for important occasions you wouldn’t want to miss, like Barry Manilow Comeback Concerts, christenings, and, of course, other people’s funerals.

Think of the benefits. You could hibernate through a wedding, having requested in your Living Will to be temporarily revived only if the reception really hots up or the bride legs it. To be honest, most of my family doze through weddings anyway: they’re so old, you see. But they still need feeding, housing and keeping at an ambient temperature, all at great expense. I would be much cheaper, and more of a novelty at parties.

The best family event, of course, would be my own Seeing-Off bash. On my hundredth birthday, I would be woken, fussed over, toasted and presented with a pair of scissors. With these I would ceremoniously cut the flex on my hibernation system, launching myself neatly into The Next Life, and saving everyone a lot of trouble.

Of course, I may feel differently about the last bit once I hit ninety-nine….

1p Price Reductions - Recession Hits Supermarkets Hard

Shopping in supermarket this morning, noticed a whole range of wine reduced from £3.99 to £3.98 or, in one burst of generosity, £6.99 to £6.98. In spirit of journalistic enquiry, cornered nearby shop worker who turned out by happy chance to be Manager.

Had he seen the mistake on the wine price reductions, I asked him?

No mistake, apparently. Complicated explanation came down to the fact that the wine is already half price i.e. £3.99 wine was originally £7.99. However, 50% price cut was made at Regional level, which meants that wine could not be marked with yellow reduced-price stickers instore.

Cunning plan by store, therefore, to publicise reduction and add customer appeal by putting yellow stickers on bottles, only justifiable by additonal price reduction. Hence 1p reduction. Make sense?

I could see two major flaws in this logic:

Firstly, customers may not notice 50% unadvertised price reduction, but are likely to spot 1p reduction prominently displayed on bottle, and be unimpressed. Did not mention this to him as had a feeling he didn't rate customer IQ, including mine, very highly.

Secondly, as bottles had never actually been on sale in store at £3.99, 1p reduction technically incorrect and misleading, as well as daft. Did mention this to him.

After prolonged discussion, I watched it finally dawn on him that

a) I was right

and

b) he was probably going to have to kill me

Could sense that (b) would cause him very little regret at this point, so moved off sharply and bought bottle of Bucks Fizz.

No price reduction so wasted 1p , but ...what the Hell!

Lesson 3 - 2nd try

‘Apple Day’ at Hill Close Gardens, Warwick, has come a long way.

When the gardens started out, ‘Apple Day’ was a lady with a camping stove making apple pancakes in a Portacabin. ‘Apple Day 2009’ featured a craft show, folk singers and an exhibition pavilion.

Hill Close is worth a visit any old day, apples or not. Each pretty pocket-handkerchief of a garden originally belonged to one of the Warwick Townsfolk. Without a garden of their own, they used these adjacent plots not as allotments, or not only that, but as private pleasure grounds. Many, and this is their greatest charm, feature dear little brick or stone summer houses, complete with fireplaces for the colder months.

All this has been lovingly restored by a dedicated….

It’s no bloody use. I can’t do short and punchy, not for this sort of thing. I can do it for headers and teasers, or for mailshots:

Hill Close Gardens.
They’re on a hill.
They’re gardens.
And they’re close.
So what are you waiting for?

Didn’t YOU know about Hill Close Gardens?
Be there for Apple Day. Before someone else gets there first.

But not for colour-pieces. I keep sliding into sub-clauses and getting clogged up in adjectives. Hill Close Gardens is a gorgeous tangled warren of odd little gardens with quirky features. My writing is a rather less gorgeous warren of tangled sentences with quirky vocabulary.

Same problem, obviously, with the Ginny Davis piece. I think I could do short and punchy for something I dispised:

Hill Close Gardens is a cliche. Too cutesy. Too contrived. And ‘Apple Day’ was painfully National-Trustified – middle-class, tweedy and twee. Even the piglets were scrubbed up and dandified. Half the craft stalls sold candles shaped like fruit. The other half were gift card franchises. Traditional Victorian refreshments were a baguette full of rocket or a burger in a bun.

But none of the above is really true, and I’d burst with spleen anyway before I hit 300 words.

Keep thinking about Sally finding she wasn’t a natural at creative writing. Maybe I can’t do factual stuff. Unless its so terminally boring, like Local Area Networks and Anvil Suspension Systems, that I can’t do too much harm.

I do so want this class to work for me. I do hope I’m not just too old a dog to learn anything new.