The Rolling Bones

Some time ago, I watched The Apprentice, Lord Alan Sugar’s TV romp. I have to admit, I was amazed at what some of those youngsters got away with. That week, the task was to create a free magazine to sell advertising to a niche market. One team decided on an upmarket lad’s mag; the other wanted to cash in on the 60′s plus age group. 60 is the new 30! That kind of thing.

The little band of wanna-be-Alan-Sugars named their over 60’s mag, ‘Hip Replacement’ and set out to do their market research. They interviewed some rather smart, fit and obviously intelligent over sixties at their golf or bowls club, (wherever, can’t remember, must be my age!)  When the unsuspecting, potentially future customers were told the name of the magazine, they were polite, good mannered and dignified but definitely not impressed.

One of the young things suggested the magazine run great events such as a series of articles that might slowly teach “old people” how to use the phone.  All I can say, dear readers, is that myself and my husband practically spat our single malt all over the floor, as we gasped in disbelief at what appeared to be astonishing, patronising ignorance of my age group.

We had a bit of a laugh at how those particular youngsters took themselves and their ‘great ideas’ so seriously. I can’t blame them for that. We also took ourselves seriously in those far distant days when we reveled in our youth, intensity and arrogance.

We came up with an alternative brand-name for the magazine deciding to call it: ‘The Rolling Bones!’

Why not? Our favourite bands back in those distant days were, the Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin to name but a few. All are still going strong having hugely influenced the music of today. We read Sartre, Nietzsche, Gurdjieff and Germaine Greer! We invented the mini skirt, wore Zandra Rhodes and Mary Quant, We burned the bra and challenged stereotypes. We might not have gone to war as the previous generation had, but we waged war of another kind, a war of ideologies promoting the idea of passive resistance (famously initiated by Gandhi).  We  challenged the status quo and class structure.  We started Civil Rights movements. We marched to Ban the Bomb. We became aware of what we were doing to the planet and campaigned, pleaded and staged sit-ins to warn world governments to pay heed.

We imported eastern religions and challenged Christian and Catholic religious politics. We learned to think for ourselves.

So I decided on the Rolling Bones. Personally, I have been forced to learn more than how to use a phone. Still living every precious moment of life to the full is a challenge; being open to learning new things; remaining humble; valuing each other; treating our fellow inhabitants of planet earth with respect is a challenge, and by that, I mean the animal and vegetable kingdoms also; not to mention being grandparents to the new, effervescent baby souls come to play among us to remind us of the joy of curiosity and of how beautiful the world is. But where would we be without challenge?

We roll on, my husband and I, metaphorically occasionally donning our Che Guevara hats, enjoying moderation in all things and glad that we are not yet in need of a hip replacement!

Oh Well! Back to the Rolling Stones, single malt, good wine and in my case, being a lover of writing little words!

About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamhchildrensbooks.com

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