What would a hippy do? A guide to personal relaxation and aid in combatting depression

In order to help one of one of my friends, who was in need of some serious de-stressing and pointers on how to break an incredibly self-flagellating mind-set, I found myself constantly reminding her that so long as she is eating, sleeping and breathing everything else is optional. She admired my ability to maintain a laissez-faire attitude towards life, but finding it hard to break the habits of a lifetime when it came to giving herself a break, I realised that she needed specific direction to help her to let go of the feeling that she always had to be doing something.

To try and create a formula which would help her to make decisions on how to identify areas where a more relaxed approach might help bring a little tranquillity to her life, I came up with the 'What Would a Hippy Do?' method of tackling stress. It is remarkably simple - in any stress-inducing situation all you need to do is think about how our ancestor hippies would have approached things and follow that course of action yourself. Instead of worrying about work, stressing yourself out with concerns about the daily pressures of life or beating yourself up about spending a day in bed, consider instead the options afforded to you by adopting traditional hippy passtimes. These include:

1. Having a nap

2. Playing with a dog, cat or suitably happy small child

3. Having a snack

4. Dancing in a field (music optional)

5. Going to a gig (don't forget to look for those magic tickets)

6. Following a band on tour

7. Tie-dyeing something

8. Leaving things be

9. Putting four mattresses on the floor and inviting twelve people round to stay indefinitely

10. Assessing every 'necessary' activity according to the 'binary mortality index' e.g 'Will anyone die if I don't send in a gas meter reading?'

It's also important to remember that if you avoid putting things away for long enough, you will probably use them again, thus rendering the process of 'tidying' completely pointless. By following these simple tenets of hippy life, it's possible to regard almost any activity as an unprecedented achievement, making simple tasks like getting out of bed before it gets dark immensely satisfying, but also rendering failure almost impossible. If it worked for a whole generation of flare-wearing, long-haired tree-hugging happy folk then why not recognise its contribution to our society and encourage more peace-loving relaxation?

2010 is here

After overeating, over drinking and generally making the most of the festive season, we are now entering a new period of frugality in an attempt to marshall as much money as we can for our escape plans. Fortunately, due to an apparent genetic weakness, storing food in case of an emergency, national disaster or drunken inability to get to the shops is something I am good at, so we are currently embarking on an entertaining game called 'Freezer Surprise' which occasionally yields a treat (forgotten Thai Curry, some chilli we thought had gone AWOL) and sometimes provides an entirely incongruous meal (macaroni cheese and puff pastry). However, the knowledge that all this is contributing to our ultimate escape makes it surprisingly easy to cope with, and there is something weirdly satisfying about seeing all the clear space in the freezer...

The Boy Wonder as a Boy

Yesterday we spent the whole evening drinking Lynchburg Lemonades and going through the Boy Wonder's school books from his formative years, a process which left us both on the verge of seizures at various points of the night. For some reason, it appears that the Boy Wonder has barely changed in the last 20+ years meaning his project on 'A Treasure Hunt' featured a banjo, there was a very informative little side-bar about Leo Fender in completely unrelated story and pictures of guitars adorn the pages of most of his work books. The main difference between the young Boy Wonder and that of the present day is the fact that, as a callow youth, the Boy Wonder was convinced he could skateboard. From what I can gather from all concerned, there was no evidence to support this belief but still his stories are peppered with tales of derring do undertaken by skateboarding protagonists (who are called Keith with inexplicable frequency) and almost every character has cause to do an ollie at some point. Tragically, there was even one story about a talking roll of Flypaper Grip Tape trying to wake up a Ray Barbee Deck for a chat, which made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to swallow my tongue. As entertaining as the products of the Boy Wonder's imagination are, there is something intrinsically engaging about his writing style. He points out that he finds it hard to write about things he has seen as 'I haven't a very good memory' and describes his artistic shortcomings when it comes to pastille work as 'substantially over the top with blending colours'. His way with words was charmingly old fashioned at that age, making his reflections on his own abilities seem exceptionally insightful. Coupled with the fact that his handwriting was considerably better between the ages of 7 and 10 than it is now, we have uncovered quite the treasure trove of entertainment.

Pros and cons of digital vs old school photography

After a frustrating day of ordering prints from an online photo company I was pondering the oft bemoaned cliche and wondering whether people do actually look more at pictures they had printed and put into albums than they do digital images. I would guess that they don't actually, as the advent of Facebook, online photo sharing websites etc people do go online (and by people I'm also including friends of friends) and look at other people's photos which they probably wouldn't have seen otherwise. I particularly like the fact that the makers of digital cameras seem to have universally agreed that the noise of a traditional camera is vital to the photographer's enjoyment of the process meaning that even the crappy phone on my camera ruins every attempt at a surreptitious snap with a little clicking noise. The main (or possibly only) downside I can see to digital photography is relinquishing the excitement of getting back an envelope of photos hoping it'll be crammed with great pictures. This comes with the converse benefit of knowing beforehand that you're not about to become the proud owner of 24 shots that look like they were taken from the inside of a pocket.

Susan Boyle

I've been completely astonished by the way the media have handled Susan Boyle. The Boy Wonder and I saw her original audition on X Factor, and at the time we wondered why everyone assumed that because she wasn't physically attractive she would also be unable to sing. Despite the success of thousands of plain, odd-looking and downright unattractive people in all areas of expertise, it seems that there is now an assumption that we are all complicit in a mind-set that cannot contemplate the idea of someone who doesn't conform to the media's narrow idea of 'beauty' as being anything other than worthless, talentless and worth only pity, scorn and derision. I particularly don't like the way everyone who mentions her in the media includes the rest of us in their prejudice, acting as though a person who didn't assume the woman couldn't sing couldn't exist, and anyone who said they didn't is obviously lying. I resent being lumped in with a bunch of witless idiots who have apparently never realised that the correlation between physical attractiveness and talent has been entirely fabricated by Hollywood and advertising executives.

Songs from the musical Mr Punch

When I was about 7 or 8 I was involved in a performance of a musical based on the life of Mr Punch. I have no idea why - it wasn't through school, but seemed to be something to do with local theatre as rehearsals (and presumably the performance which I can't remember) took place in the theatre of the local public school where I ended up going in the sixth form. There are a few things which I remember in vivid detail - a girl called Claudia was the character of Scaramouche (or whoever it was that played the fiddle) and one of my roles as an extra was to pretend to sell something. I picked embroidery thread as my grandmother had a lot of it, and I was very pleased to be able to take a beautifully coloured array of silks with me every day to play with when I wasn't needed. I have been completely unable to locate any information about the musical or any of the songs, but this is another topic on which I will be grilling my mother for any further snippets of insight she might be able to provide. All I remember are solitary verses of a couple of the songs: The Arm of the Law The arm of the law is very very very very long The arm of the law is very very very very strong The arm of the law Is never never wrong And quite infallible I play on my Fiddle (Scaramouche?) I play on my fiddle La la la, la la la, la la la la la la, la la My song is a riddle La la la, la la la, la la la la la la, la la I do not play high I do not play low I don't need a string And I don't need a bow I play on my fiddle La la la, la la la, la la la la la la la, la la I asked the Mother about this and she has a very vague recollection of the whole thing, which (once I had finished remonstrating with her over the cruel way in which she has cast what would have been a fine performance from me out of her memory) I took to be an encouraging sign - no doubt she will now share this feat of memory with all the other village people and hopefully someone will come up with something a little more tangible to go on than my half remembered lyrics and brightly coloured embroidery silk.

Songs I thought everyone knew

There are quite a lot of songs that I thought everyone knew, and have only been disabused of the notion by the consistently blank look on the Boy Wonder's face whenever I sing them. A lot of them have specific religious overtones which I put down to the fact that they were taught to me by my Mum, the primary school music teacher, but I still like them, mostly because they include such odd concepts. These include: The Rain Song On Monday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t go to school today,” he said “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” Chorus: Antonio! Antonio! it’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Tuesday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t play football today,” he said. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Wednesday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t go shopping today,” he said, “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Thursday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t go swimming today,” he said, “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Friday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t paint the house today,” he said, “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Saturday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t sweep the floor today,” he said, “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” On Sunday morning he got up. “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” “I can’t cook the dinner today,” he said, “It’s raining, it’s raining again!” (by John Parry apparently) Any Time You Need a Calypso Any time you need a calypso here is what you must to do first of all you need a rhythm so shake a little, shake a little, shake a little shaker and you bang a drum and you sing and strum and then there's a calypso for you The inexplicable voting song Vote, vote, vote for Bloggle In comes Boy Wonder at the door Boy Wonder is the one that we all like best So we don't need Bloggle any more, shut the door. What Will You Do Today What will you do today to keep the classroom tidy Come along surprise me - what'll you do today I'll sweep up the pencil sharpenings and I'll put them in the bin And I'll put it very tidily away Have You Seen the Pussycat? Have you seen the pussycat sitting on the wall? Have you heard his beautiful purr? (Prrrr) Have you seen the lion walking through the xxx? Have you heard his terrible roar? (ROAR!) One so big, one so small Our heavenly father cares for them all One so big, one so small Our heavenly father cares Have you seen the children coming home from school? Have you heard them shout 'Hooray'? (Hooray!) Have you see the grown-ups coming home from work? Saying 'What a horrible day' (What a horrible day) The Butterfly Song If I was a butterfly I'd thank you Lord for giving me wings If I was a Robin in a tree, I'd thank you Lord that I could sing If I was a fish in the sea, I'd wiggle my tail and I'd giggle with glee, But I just thank you Father for making me me. Chorus: Well you gave me a heart And you gave me a smile You gave me Jesus and made me your child So I just thank you Father for making me me. If I was an elephant, I'd thank you Lord by raising my trunk If I was a kangaroo, You know I'd hop right up to you If I was an octopus, I'd thank you Father for my good looks But I just thank you Father for making me me If I was a fuzzy wuzzy bear, I'd thank you Lord for my fuzzy wuzzy hair. If I was a wiggly worm, I'd thank you Lord that I could squirm If I was a crocodile, I'd thank you Lord for my big smile But I just thank you Father for making me me I Cannot Come (this one has so many opportunities for hilarity, I'm surprised anyone ever actually put it into a book of songs for schools) A certain man held a feast On his fine estate in town He laid a festive table He wore a wedding gown He sent invitations To his neighbours far and wide But when the meal was ready, Each of them replied: I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, Don't trouble me now I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow, I have fields and commitments That cost a pretty sum Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come! The master rose up in anger, Called his servants by name Said: "Go into the town, Fetch the blind and the lame Fetch the peasant and pauper For this I have willed My banquet must be crowded And my table must be filled." I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, Don't trouble me now I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow, I have fields and commitments That cost a pretty sum Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come! When all the poor had assembled, There were still rooms to spare So the master demanded: "Go search everywhere To the highways and the byways And force them to come in My table must be filled before The banquet can begin!" I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, Don't trouble me now I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow, I have fields and commitments That cost a pretty sum Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come! Now God has written a lesson For the rest of mankind: If we are slow in responding He may leave us behind. He is preparing a banquet For that great and glorious day, When the Lord and Master calls Us be careful not to say: I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, Don't trouble me now I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow, I have fields and commitments That cost a pretty sum Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come! The Good Samaritan (from memory - this one had an incongruously jaunty tune and made use of some pretty tired rhymes. I will try and find more lyrics when I go back to the rentals for Christmas) Once a man set out to go Down the road to Jericho On the way he was attacked By some thieves who hurt his back Something something something i Left him lying there to die Everybody's Building All over the world, Everywhere, where the sun shines And where the white snow gleams In the green green forests and by the streams Hands are busy, plans are made And slowly, slowly, somewhere somebody's house is made Everybody's building, everybody's building, everybody's building day by day Everybody's building everybody's building, everybody's building in a diiiiiiiiifferent way It's the Springs up in the Mountains (from Come and Praise?) It's the springs up in the mountains That make rivers for the plains That do xxxxx in the cities till they reach the sea again And the rivers make the oceans and the oceans make the rain And we all have to live in one world Now the Green Blade Riseth Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain, Wheat that in the dark earth many days has lain; Love lives again, that with the dead has been: Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green. In the grave they laid him, love whom men had slain, Thinking that never he would wake again. Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen: Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green, Forth he came at Easter, like the risen grain, He that for three days in the grave had lain. Quick from the dead my risen Lord is seen: Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green. When our hearts are wintry, grieving, or in pain, Thy touch can call us back to life again; Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been: Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green This is just a snippet which me and my brother used to sing in a manner which was probably a lot less holy and respectful than was intended (or maybe not!) Bright dawned the morning on Gethsemane's cave? Mary Magdalene came to weep at the grave What did she find when she came full of care The stone rolled away and her saviour not there! Mary, Mary weeping at the tomb Along came Jesus and he took away her gloom ETA - After a brief grilling from me last night, my Mum has promised to try and find sources for some of these songs, so hopefully I will be reunited with the correct words soon!