This, sadly, is a true story which I share with you on this hallowed day - the day when it's your last chance to post first class letters if you want them to get there before Christmas.
My boyfriend went into a shop to buy some stamps for our Christmas cards. At the counter he asked: "May I have a dozen first class stamps, please?"
The cashier replied: "Sorry, they only come in packs of twelve."
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
Bizarre Christmas Nostalgia
I don't really like Christmas but you can't escape it at the moment. Idly flicking around radio stations this morning I came across a station that was playing Chris de Burgh's festive offering of many years past "A Spaceman Came Travelling". I assure you that it is as nauseating as any of the other songs in the de Burgh canon and I really cannot stand such music, but I can't get around the fact that it played a fundamental part in my formative years.
I must have been about six years old when a teacher at my primary school, evidently years ahead of her time, decided to base our nativity play around the song. The basic narrative concerned the appearance of a bright light in the vicinity of Bethlehem that was not in fact a star but a spaceship. Issuing forth from said spaceship came - you've guessed it - a spaceman, who went on to locate the heavenly babe in a stable and make an impassioned plea for peace on earth. A recording of the de Burgh music was interspersed with traditional carols and readings.
The performance was traditional in many respects. We had a Mary and a Joseph, complete with scary plastic baby Jesus and throngs of blonde angels looking suitably angelic with tinsel on their heads (being boringly brunette and with a fetching pudding basin haircut I was passed over for angelic duties - I was the narrator). The demands of the story, however, meant that we also had a silver fibreglass spaceship whose design was heavily influenced by the recent smash hit movie E.T. We also had a tall, very blonde boy called Sean dressed in silver lurex, playing a traveller from outer space. The crowning glory of the whole production, though, was a table situated to the left of the stage around which sat several children playing the parts of world leaders of the time. This means that some poor girl had to play Margaret Thatcher, but I can't remember who it was. I do recall that a boy called Stuart got to play Helmut Kohl by virtue of his being born in Germany as his dad was in the army. At a crucial point in the plot all of these world leaders had to erupt into an argument, shouting "No" in various languages. I believe they were saying "No" to nuclear disarmament, these being the days of American missile bases in the U.K., Greenham Common, fear of nuclear attack from the U.S.S.R. and so on. Through drama, our teacher was attempting to get a group of five and six year olds to show just how far we were from peace at that point in time and how ineffectually daft the leading politicians were.
I can't help but wonder what our parents made of it all. I grew up in a fairly deprived area where political awareness was not high. To some, I suspect, the play was controversial. To most it was probably unfathomable. Looking back now, of course, it seems comical almost in the extreme, but you've got to wonder if there are teachers out there today who would put so much effort into taking such a risk with one of the primary school's most long-held traditions - the nativity. In the days of school league tables, relentless testing and rampant political correctness I somehow doubt it. As a small child I got to do something pretty cool. I appeared in an off-the-wall political statement of a nativity the like of which will probably never be seen again. It probably explains why I studied Politics at university all those years later.
I must have been about six years old when a teacher at my primary school, evidently years ahead of her time, decided to base our nativity play around the song. The basic narrative concerned the appearance of a bright light in the vicinity of Bethlehem that was not in fact a star but a spaceship. Issuing forth from said spaceship came - you've guessed it - a spaceman, who went on to locate the heavenly babe in a stable and make an impassioned plea for peace on earth. A recording of the de Burgh music was interspersed with traditional carols and readings.
The performance was traditional in many respects. We had a Mary and a Joseph, complete with scary plastic baby Jesus and throngs of blonde angels looking suitably angelic with tinsel on their heads (being boringly brunette and with a fetching pudding basin haircut I was passed over for angelic duties - I was the narrator). The demands of the story, however, meant that we also had a silver fibreglass spaceship whose design was heavily influenced by the recent smash hit movie E.T. We also had a tall, very blonde boy called Sean dressed in silver lurex, playing a traveller from outer space. The crowning glory of the whole production, though, was a table situated to the left of the stage around which sat several children playing the parts of world leaders of the time. This means that some poor girl had to play Margaret Thatcher, but I can't remember who it was. I do recall that a boy called Stuart got to play Helmut Kohl by virtue of his being born in Germany as his dad was in the army. At a crucial point in the plot all of these world leaders had to erupt into an argument, shouting "No" in various languages. I believe they were saying "No" to nuclear disarmament, these being the days of American missile bases in the U.K., Greenham Common, fear of nuclear attack from the U.S.S.R. and so on. Through drama, our teacher was attempting to get a group of five and six year olds to show just how far we were from peace at that point in time and how ineffectually daft the leading politicians were.
I can't help but wonder what our parents made of it all. I grew up in a fairly deprived area where political awareness was not high. To some, I suspect, the play was controversial. To most it was probably unfathomable. Looking back now, of course, it seems comical almost in the extreme, but you've got to wonder if there are teachers out there today who would put so much effort into taking such a risk with one of the primary school's most long-held traditions - the nativity. In the days of school league tables, relentless testing and rampant political correctness I somehow doubt it. As a small child I got to do something pretty cool. I appeared in an off-the-wall political statement of a nativity the like of which will probably never be seen again. It probably explains why I studied Politics at university all those years later.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
25 years since John Lennon was shot
So it's twenty five years to the day that John Lennon was shot and there are little acts of remembrance going on all over the place. There were Lennon tributes all over the radio this morning, from the Today programme to Virgin and no doubt beyond. There's been a lot of debate about the personality of the man as well as discussions about his songs and all that. As a whole it's triggered a rather personal memory for me.
Surprisingly enough I remember when Lennon died. I was only two, but I have a vivid recollection of seeing the event on the television news. I was watching with my mum and I think a family friend, Mary, was there. She lived in the house that backed on to our garden and she'd just popped around to give me a knitted soft toy that she'd made. I'm pretty sure it was a piglet (as in Winnie the Pooh's buddy). The bizarre thing about this is that Mary also played a pivotal role in my mum's recollection of when John F. Kennedy was shot. Mum was climbing over the back fence to collect her Avon cosmetics order from Mary. Aside from making me wonder at my mother's youthful athleticism, this clearly provides much evidence for a conspiracy theory. Think the FBI conspired to shoot Kennedy and Lennon? Maybe communists? The mafia perhaps? No, it was bored housewives in suburban England.
I think I remember the shooting because mum found it quite upsetting. She'd seen the Beatles play live in her youth. The came to what is now a faded seaside theatre along the coast from mum's home town. Presumably back then it was a local hub of youth culture. Mum was working in the Co-op and went with her colleagues. She used to talk frequently about this when I was growing up but I think I never quite believed that she would have actually done something as... well, cool, as that. It just so happened that when I went to university the end of term ball one year was held in this old theatre, and as I walked down the stairs there was a poster advertising the Beatles concert that had been held there. There was an odd sort of pride in being able to think "my mum was there".
The passing of time always imparts great significance to events, whether they seemed significant when they occurred or not.
Surprisingly enough I remember when Lennon died. I was only two, but I have a vivid recollection of seeing the event on the television news. I was watching with my mum and I think a family friend, Mary, was there. She lived in the house that backed on to our garden and she'd just popped around to give me a knitted soft toy that she'd made. I'm pretty sure it was a piglet (as in Winnie the Pooh's buddy). The bizarre thing about this is that Mary also played a pivotal role in my mum's recollection of when John F. Kennedy was shot. Mum was climbing over the back fence to collect her Avon cosmetics order from Mary. Aside from making me wonder at my mother's youthful athleticism, this clearly provides much evidence for a conspiracy theory. Think the FBI conspired to shoot Kennedy and Lennon? Maybe communists? The mafia perhaps? No, it was bored housewives in suburban England.
I think I remember the shooting because mum found it quite upsetting. She'd seen the Beatles play live in her youth. The came to what is now a faded seaside theatre along the coast from mum's home town. Presumably back then it was a local hub of youth culture. Mum was working in the Co-op and went with her colleagues. She used to talk frequently about this when I was growing up but I think I never quite believed that she would have actually done something as... well, cool, as that. It just so happened that when I went to university the end of term ball one year was held in this old theatre, and as I walked down the stairs there was a poster advertising the Beatles concert that had been held there. There was an odd sort of pride in being able to think "my mum was there".
The passing of time always imparts great significance to events, whether they seemed significant when they occurred or not.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Kurt Elling and Ian Shaw, November 18th 2005
I walked along the South Bank from Tate Modern to the Queen Elizabeth hall. I'd never done it before and it was a really wonderful thing to do, especially on a frosty evening when you've just had a hot spiced cider from Borough market. There were fairy lights in the trees, St. Pauls across the river was lit up, the heaving throng of people rushing home along the riverside path was reasonably good natured, it being a Friday evening. It was good. At the end of it there was jazz, which was even better.
The British jazz singer Ian Shaw proved to be a pleasant surprise. When I looked at his website I thought he was a bit of a crooner (nothing wrong with that, but they're ten-a-penny these days) but he turned out to be refreshingly original. He played the piano briefly before he was joined by his young backing band, who attacked the songs with great enthusiasm. He seemed to have a bit of a penchant for picking unusual songs to sing as well as indulging in a few bits of improvisation, vocal gymnastics and relaxed, witty banter, which turned out to be the perfect way to get us all in the mood for Kurt Elling.
I saw Kurt perform with his regular accompaniment the Laurence Hobgood trio a couple of years ago and he was outstanding then. This time he was even better. I think I would happily mortgage my soul just to hit one of the notes that he managed to hit with deadly perfection. His voice sounded warmer and more polished than I remembered it, with all of the effortless scat and vocalese just tripping out. He has often talked in interviews about playing his voice as an instrument and there was such a strong sense of that last Friday. You also get a feeling of honesty in his performances. Like Mark Murphy, when he sings a lyric you believe in what he's saying. It's probably just a performance skill, but you want to believe that it's not, that it's from the heart. He sung a version of "In the wee small hours of the morning" with some self-penned lyrics about missing his new baby daughter and for me it just created such an intense emotional atmosphere in the hall that it almost felt rude to applaud and break the spell that had just been woven. Of course, I did applaud, as did others. If someone bares raw emotion on stage like that they deserve some appreciation for it, but in the little chapel of my brain I was contemplating the beauty of it all :-) Joking aside, it was very moving.
Kurt Elling seems to be in the form of his life. Laurence Hobgood excelled as he always does on the piano (I am promising myself that I will try and get hold of his solo CD) and new drummer Kobie Watkins was very impressive. One of the bonuses of Watkins being so new to the group was that they played a lot of their older repertoire, presumably to allow him to familiarise himself with it. So we got to hear one of my personal favourites "Easy Livin'" as well as "More than you know" and "My Love, Effendi" alongside "Man in the Air" and "In the Winelight" from Kurt's latest studio album. I thought bassist Rob Amster was on particularly good form. His playing seems to have found some kind of new purpose in the two years since I saw him perform last. I mean, he was good before and he comes across well on Kurt's recordings but I just thought he had a new, very cool edge last Friday. From the way he ducked down behind his bass during "In the wee small hours..." I reckon he was moved by it as much as I was... but I'm probably mistaken.
Thus my first trip to the London Jazz Festival was a resounding success. There was poetry, there was lyricism, there was emotion, there was... erm... singing. I would definitely recommend Ian Shaw to others - he has a new album out shortly. My appreciation of Kurt Elling, though, goes far beyond simple recommendation. Listen to his albums. If he plays live near you, you must go. He'll make you fall in love with the love of your life all over again (my darling J, who accompanied me to the gig, can confirm this). He'll make you laugh and he'll make you cry. He'll inspire you to read Kerouac and listen to more jazz. He'll encourage you to sing bad scat in the shower. The guy is quite simply a legend.
The British jazz singer Ian Shaw proved to be a pleasant surprise. When I looked at his website I thought he was a bit of a crooner (nothing wrong with that, but they're ten-a-penny these days) but he turned out to be refreshingly original. He played the piano briefly before he was joined by his young backing band, who attacked the songs with great enthusiasm. He seemed to have a bit of a penchant for picking unusual songs to sing as well as indulging in a few bits of improvisation, vocal gymnastics and relaxed, witty banter, which turned out to be the perfect way to get us all in the mood for Kurt Elling.
I saw Kurt perform with his regular accompaniment the Laurence Hobgood trio a couple of years ago and he was outstanding then. This time he was even better. I think I would happily mortgage my soul just to hit one of the notes that he managed to hit with deadly perfection. His voice sounded warmer and more polished than I remembered it, with all of the effortless scat and vocalese just tripping out. He has often talked in interviews about playing his voice as an instrument and there was such a strong sense of that last Friday. You also get a feeling of honesty in his performances. Like Mark Murphy, when he sings a lyric you believe in what he's saying. It's probably just a performance skill, but you want to believe that it's not, that it's from the heart. He sung a version of "In the wee small hours of the morning" with some self-penned lyrics about missing his new baby daughter and for me it just created such an intense emotional atmosphere in the hall that it almost felt rude to applaud and break the spell that had just been woven. Of course, I did applaud, as did others. If someone bares raw emotion on stage like that they deserve some appreciation for it, but in the little chapel of my brain I was contemplating the beauty of it all :-) Joking aside, it was very moving.
Kurt Elling seems to be in the form of his life. Laurence Hobgood excelled as he always does on the piano (I am promising myself that I will try and get hold of his solo CD) and new drummer Kobie Watkins was very impressive. One of the bonuses of Watkins being so new to the group was that they played a lot of their older repertoire, presumably to allow him to familiarise himself with it. So we got to hear one of my personal favourites "Easy Livin'" as well as "More than you know" and "My Love, Effendi" alongside "Man in the Air" and "In the Winelight" from Kurt's latest studio album. I thought bassist Rob Amster was on particularly good form. His playing seems to have found some kind of new purpose in the two years since I saw him perform last. I mean, he was good before and he comes across well on Kurt's recordings but I just thought he had a new, very cool edge last Friday. From the way he ducked down behind his bass during "In the wee small hours..." I reckon he was moved by it as much as I was... but I'm probably mistaken.
Thus my first trip to the London Jazz Festival was a resounding success. There was poetry, there was lyricism, there was emotion, there was... erm... singing. I would definitely recommend Ian Shaw to others - he has a new album out shortly. My appreciation of Kurt Elling, though, goes far beyond simple recommendation. Listen to his albums. If he plays live near you, you must go. He'll make you fall in love with the love of your life all over again (my darling J, who accompanied me to the gig, can confirm this). He'll make you laugh and he'll make you cry. He'll inspire you to read Kerouac and listen to more jazz. He'll encourage you to sing bad scat in the shower. The guy is quite simply a legend.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Deliverance
A thin, eerie mist drifts across the warm, festering swamp and the sound of duelling banjos can be heard in the distance. I'm standing still, trying not to move, afraid but strangely fascinated by the scene unfolding before me...
Well, actually it's a cold November day in a Kentish village and I can hear the builders working in our bathroom on the floor below me whistling the theme tune from "The Third Man". I'm sitting at my computer waiting for a parcel to arrive. I waited yesterday, too. Three parcels arrived yesterday, but not here. They arrived when I was talking to our landlord about the building work and I didn't hear the delivery guy knock, so he left a card saying that the parcels had been delivered to "Number 3". That's all well and good, but there are at least three number threes in the immediate vicinity, plus several more besides around the village green by which our house is situated. So, somebody had signed for a delivery of expensive computer equipment belonging to my boyfriend and I had no idea who they were. Major stress ensued. Luckily, before I resorted to touring the village in search of the stuff, the lady from two doors down came and knocked to tell me that she had taken in the delivery, so I went round to collect it. She was so nice, bless her. She even asked if I minded her accepting the parcels, which of course I didn't. It was so good to be on the receiving end of her neighbourly kindness - as I told her, there should be more people like her about.
Anyway, having recovered from one delivery crisis, I now find myself waiting for the second consignment of the new PC system that my boyfriend has ordered. The online delivery tracker said it was loaded onto a van for delivery yesterday. It didn't come yesterday. The online delivery tracker now says that it has been loaded onto a van for delivery today. As yet it hasn't arrived. I have to say I'm not holding out much hope for it. In the past we have tried to pick up parcels from this particular delivery company's depot, which is situated in windswept badlands surrounding Ashford, and have had to resort to flagging down one of their vans to ask for directions to the god forsaken place. Every time I hear a van outside I jump up to the front window, fearful that the packages will end up somewhere else other than here. I'm existing in a permanent state of cat-like readiness, poised and ready to leap up through the slightly trippy fug of bathroom sealant that is wafting through the house and answer the door as soon as the delivery arrives. If it ever gets here at all.
Well, actually it's a cold November day in a Kentish village and I can hear the builders working in our bathroom on the floor below me whistling the theme tune from "The Third Man". I'm sitting at my computer waiting for a parcel to arrive. I waited yesterday, too. Three parcels arrived yesterday, but not here. They arrived when I was talking to our landlord about the building work and I didn't hear the delivery guy knock, so he left a card saying that the parcels had been delivered to "Number 3". That's all well and good, but there are at least three number threes in the immediate vicinity, plus several more besides around the village green by which our house is situated. So, somebody had signed for a delivery of expensive computer equipment belonging to my boyfriend and I had no idea who they were. Major stress ensued. Luckily, before I resorted to touring the village in search of the stuff, the lady from two doors down came and knocked to tell me that she had taken in the delivery, so I went round to collect it. She was so nice, bless her. She even asked if I minded her accepting the parcels, which of course I didn't. It was so good to be on the receiving end of her neighbourly kindness - as I told her, there should be more people like her about.
Anyway, having recovered from one delivery crisis, I now find myself waiting for the second consignment of the new PC system that my boyfriend has ordered. The online delivery tracker said it was loaded onto a van for delivery yesterday. It didn't come yesterday. The online delivery tracker now says that it has been loaded onto a van for delivery today. As yet it hasn't arrived. I have to say I'm not holding out much hope for it. In the past we have tried to pick up parcels from this particular delivery company's depot, which is situated in windswept badlands surrounding Ashford, and have had to resort to flagging down one of their vans to ask for directions to the god forsaken place. Every time I hear a van outside I jump up to the front window, fearful that the packages will end up somewhere else other than here. I'm existing in a permanent state of cat-like readiness, poised and ready to leap up through the slightly trippy fug of bathroom sealant that is wafting through the house and answer the door as soon as the delivery arrives. If it ever gets here at all.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Mark Murphy
I was delighted to find a copy of Mark Murphy's new CD "Once to Every Heart" nestling amongst the oh-so-very-exciting computer programming books in my boyfriend's latest delivery from Amazon. It's a recording of rare, subtle charm that is a pleasure to listen to.
I wouldn't call myself a huge fan of Murphy's by any means. The man's back catalogue is so extensive that it's going to take me a fair while to investigate all of it and come to an informed opinion of his work as a whole, but I like what I've heard so far. I happened to tune in to him giving a radio interview when he was in the UK over the summer and I listened because I really like Kurt Elling's music. From what I understand, Murphy and Elling are quite closely linked musically, with the former being a big influence on the career of the latter, so I was keen to find out what Murphy's music was all about. It was a great interview and it convinced me to seek out "Once to Every Heart" . Murphy is every inch the "hipster's hipster" that he is so often described as being in the jazz press and he came across as being musically adept but also funny and engaging.
His personality is reflected in his latest CD, which contains some of the most heartfelt vocal performances I've ever heard. He has a way with lyrics that squeezes out every inch of emotion from the words but is never overly dramatic. He never goes too far with his performance, but you listen to him and you believe every word that he sings. His arrangements, too, are models of quiet virtuosity, lacking the obviousness of so much that is churned out by the army of young crooners currently crowding the jazz music scene. Those singers might bring welcome fresh blood, but they could learn a lot from a master with such a long career as Mark Murphy.
My enjoyment of "Once to Every Heart" is being enhanced by the anticipation of seeing Kurt Elling perform with the British singer Ian Shaw at the London Jazz Festival on Friday night. Having seen him live once before, I reckon it's going to be great and I'm really looking forward to going to the Queen Elizabeth Hall to see him again.
I wouldn't call myself a huge fan of Murphy's by any means. The man's back catalogue is so extensive that it's going to take me a fair while to investigate all of it and come to an informed opinion of his work as a whole, but I like what I've heard so far. I happened to tune in to him giving a radio interview when he was in the UK over the summer and I listened because I really like Kurt Elling's music. From what I understand, Murphy and Elling are quite closely linked musically, with the former being a big influence on the career of the latter, so I was keen to find out what Murphy's music was all about. It was a great interview and it convinced me to seek out "Once to Every Heart" . Murphy is every inch the "hipster's hipster" that he is so often described as being in the jazz press and he came across as being musically adept but also funny and engaging.
His personality is reflected in his latest CD, which contains some of the most heartfelt vocal performances I've ever heard. He has a way with lyrics that squeezes out every inch of emotion from the words but is never overly dramatic. He never goes too far with his performance, but you listen to him and you believe every word that he sings. His arrangements, too, are models of quiet virtuosity, lacking the obviousness of so much that is churned out by the army of young crooners currently crowding the jazz music scene. Those singers might bring welcome fresh blood, but they could learn a lot from a master with such a long career as Mark Murphy.
My enjoyment of "Once to Every Heart" is being enhanced by the anticipation of seeing Kurt Elling perform with the British singer Ian Shaw at the London Jazz Festival on Friday night. Having seen him live once before, I reckon it's going to be great and I'm really looking forward to going to the Queen Elizabeth Hall to see him again.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Super size tea
I am not usually given to impulse buying, but I must admit that on Sunday I succumbed to temptation. I purchased one of those extra large cups that are often used in France for drinking hot chocolate at breakfast time. It's fantastic.
Within hours of purchasing the cup and the saucer upon which it sits I was curled up in my favourite armchair, sipping green tea with lemon from it and reading the Sunday paper. It only holds slightly more tea than the average mug, but that is just enough to make drinking from it seem very decadent. It turns tea drinking into a treat, something to be savoured and lingered over with care. The curvy friendliness of the cup, coupled with the warmth of the tea within, is supremely comforting. The saucer completes the sublime picture by holding biscuits in perfect readiness for delicious dunking.
All in all, it is proving to be a perfect autumn purchase. The nights may be drawing in and the weather may be blustery and wet, but I have my new cup and saucer to keep me warm and cheer me up.
Within hours of purchasing the cup and the saucer upon which it sits I was curled up in my favourite armchair, sipping green tea with lemon from it and reading the Sunday paper. It only holds slightly more tea than the average mug, but that is just enough to make drinking from it seem very decadent. It turns tea drinking into a treat, something to be savoured and lingered over with care. The curvy friendliness of the cup, coupled with the warmth of the tea within, is supremely comforting. The saucer completes the sublime picture by holding biscuits in perfect readiness for delicious dunking.
All in all, it is proving to be a perfect autumn purchase. The nights may be drawing in and the weather may be blustery and wet, but I have my new cup and saucer to keep me warm and cheer me up.
Friday, November 04, 2005
I am very fond of bananas
The title of this post is a line from a poem/song, just in case you think I'm some sort of strange fruit fetishist.
My boyfriend decided he wanted to send a letter to Fyffes, the banana company, asking them how many times better their bananas are than the average banana (the answer being "Fyffe" - it's their witty advertising slogan: "Fyffe times better than the average banana," how hilarious). So, in order to be helpful, I went and had a look at their website to see if they had an e-mail address or something. Well, they do, but they have so very much more.
The site has games. Banana themed games. What's more, there's a rap that you can download as an mp3, plus a "banana storybook". It's somebody's job to think up games to advertise bananas. It's somebody's job to create little animated banana characters called "The Fun Bunch".
Fyffes have clearly spent a fair bit on advertising themselves and creating a site that people want to spend time at. They're also ensuring that they have a whole new generation of banana eaters in the future by marketing themselves at kids. Brilliant isn't it? The thing that puzzles me is that people don't really shop for bananas by brand, do they? A banana is a banana is a banana. You don't walk into the supermarket or greengrocer and say "Give me a banana and make sure it's a Fyffes," do you? You just get whatever bananas they have. So why would a banana company feel the need to advertise and create brand awareness?
Well, I've given them a bit of a helping hand with their advertising crusade whatever their reasoning behind it. It's a fun site and I recommend it for a little bit of banana related amusement.
http://www.fyffes.com/
My boyfriend decided he wanted to send a letter to Fyffes, the banana company, asking them how many times better their bananas are than the average banana (the answer being "Fyffe" - it's their witty advertising slogan: "Fyffe times better than the average banana," how hilarious). So, in order to be helpful, I went and had a look at their website to see if they had an e-mail address or something. Well, they do, but they have so very much more.
The site has games. Banana themed games. What's more, there's a rap that you can download as an mp3, plus a "banana storybook". It's somebody's job to think up games to advertise bananas. It's somebody's job to create little animated banana characters called "The Fun Bunch".
Fyffes have clearly spent a fair bit on advertising themselves and creating a site that people want to spend time at. They're also ensuring that they have a whole new generation of banana eaters in the future by marketing themselves at kids. Brilliant isn't it? The thing that puzzles me is that people don't really shop for bananas by brand, do they? A banana is a banana is a banana. You don't walk into the supermarket or greengrocer and say "Give me a banana and make sure it's a Fyffes," do you? You just get whatever bananas they have. So why would a banana company feel the need to advertise and create brand awareness?
Well, I've given them a bit of a helping hand with their advertising crusade whatever their reasoning behind it. It's a fun site and I recommend it for a little bit of banana related amusement.
http://www.fyffes.com/
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