Richard Branson

Back in March I traveled to Los Angeles. And like, so, like, I met someone...

I was there to have some meetings for a romantic comedy I had written and ended up experiencing the real thing first hand. If you knew the subject and goings on in the script, I think you'd join me in chuckling at the prophetic life imitating art thing.

I returned to England and knew my sights had been changed. I'm currently trying to get my head around VISA stuff - not an easy business. But, I'm hoping Mr Richard Branson can help me... Upon my return to the homeland, I swiftly found a job in an attempt to save as much money as possible, but, I thought it wouldn't hinder proceedings if I wrote to Virgin Atlantic asking them for a free one!

Below is a link to the letter I sent. The leading lady of this story flew over to the UK a month or so after I returned and has been here for the past 6 weeks. She flew back to the States yesterday. Cue emotional Facebook statuses and teary eyes brought on by not much at all. Yesterday's favourites include 'Viva Forever' by the Spice Girls and 'Cheaper By The Dozen 2'.

Virgin Atlantic replied about 2 weeks after I sent it saying that they couldn't help. But, I'm not stopping there. Next destination = straight to Mr Branson's secretary. Will let you know the outcome. If you know anyone who can help in this regard, please email me on tom_powell@hotmail.com

You can read the letter here: https://www.dropbox.com/s/74aiyvjiz3e5w0l/Virgin%20Atlantic%20Letter.pdf?dl=0 

Raspberries.

I started this blog 3 years ago when I traveled to the USA and Canada.

The Canadian part of my trip was based in Langley, British Columbia, where I stayed with my sister, my brother-in-law and their 2-year-old daughter.

One night we had a couple over for dinner. I forget their names, but I remember it was one of those affairs where conversation was hard work. Really hard work. This couple were very prim and proper and I had to be on my best behaviour. These environments are torture for me. The collection of stock anecdotes that I save for such occasions had run out. I had nothing in the tank.

It was at this moment when the lady asked me if I enjoyed being an uncle.

Now, when I was a child, my siblings and I all called raspberries a different name. I don't mean the fruit, raspberry. I mean the blowing harmlessly on the tummy of a young person, raspberry. You know what I mean. Just before bed time and all that. And for some reason, we called raspberries...

Blowies.

Yeah. And so, when this couple asked me how I got on with my niece, I replied...

"Oh, I love Gracie. I'm a big kid at heart. I love giving her blowies."

Silence. Stunned confusion on the face of the couple.

"You know... giving someone a blowy?"

Their confusion turns to uncomfortability.

"You know, remember, when you were a kid, and your Dad would chase you around the bedroom and give you a blowy?"

Their uncomfortability turns to horror. I realise why. But, nonetheless, to finish...

"...I love giving blowies."

Sweden

This morning I remembered something that I had tried my best to forget. It happened about three-and-a-half years ago, and today was my first recollection of it, so I had been quite successful.

It was the summer of 2008 and I was part of a 5-person team that went on a speaking trip to Sweden. There was a big Christian conference happening and I had to give a seminar on 'Movies & Storytelling'.

As we were the visiting speakers, the Swedish team wanted us to take part in a 'chat show' on the Friday night. Every Swedish person we spoke to were very excited about this idea. Apparently the chat show was something that happened every year and the guy who hosted it was 'absolutely hilarious'. So we agreed.

We went to the big hall where it was taking place and there were literally hundreds of people crammed in to watch. The host was already sitting down in his seat on the stage and, although not being able to follow most of what he was saying due my Swedish being weak, it was clear that he was a hit. The crowd were laughing hysterically.

Then it came for myself and two other members of the team to go up on stage and be interviewed. We got up and, thankfully, the host spoke to us in English. As the interview went on both the team and the crowd got into it more and more. I remember the host saying something about how, typically, the English are quite reserved. He mentioned that we didn't show our love very much. I asked the crowd if that were true (yes, I engaged the crowd directly), and they all yelled back in the affirmative.

Now I have seen my fair share of 'Friday Nights with Jonathan Ross' to know how to get the crowd involved, so, I thought I'd try and prove them wrong… by jumping on the interviewer's lap and giving him a hug.

Yes, this did happen.

As I did this with quite a lot of comic force, I heard an audible intake of breath from the crowd. 'They're not used to someone being so maverick', I thought to myself. I then addressed the interviewer and crowd, by saying, 'How about that? Is that showing enough love for you? My goodness, you're not a very comfortable seat - you need to work up your leg muscles a bit'.

There were a couple of laughs, but not as many as I expected. I returned to my seat and, soon after, the interview ended and I walked back to my seat. 'That went VERY well", I thought.

The next day as I was walking through the conference hall I saw the interviewer again… pushing himself along in his wheelchair with a very apparent condition of cerebral palsy in his legs.