Vive la Coupe du Monde!

It's that time again, that glorious once-every-four-years occasion, when the football family comes together from all corners of the globe, to put on a carnival of colour, talent, and goals.  It's always an exciting time, to take an hour out to delve into the magazine guide, to look up different and exotic venues, and to find the perfect place to stick up the wall chart.  Nope, there's absolutely nothing better than a World Cup.

And yet, this time around, something tastes terribly sour.  The clouds have covered the sun, the vultures are circling, and there's a whiff of sewerage in the air.

It breaks my heart, but I can't bring myself to watch this World Cup.  To do so would, for me, be to justify - to vindicate - a Russian state whose behaviour on the world stage appals me, and a Russian leader whose Cold War-era outlook and aggressive stance I believe has no place in the 21st century.  To throw down one's objections, and to head into the tournament waving flags, cheering, and buying the products of corporate sponsors, brings with it a level of acceptance that I am not prepared to grant.

You can couple this with the other group of people who I deem worthy of a boycott - FIFA - for if ever the stench of corruption hung so thick around a place, it's at their Zurich headquarters.  FIFA will claim that it's bringing football into new territories in order to open the game up to new audiences, but flick this cleverly-positioned veil away, and you'll find a deeper, more remunerative, reason.  Just how did Russia - in amongst high-calibre joint bids from Spain and Portugal, the Netherlands and Belgium, not to mention England - come out on top in the bidding process?  And how could FIFA have arrived at a decision to host their flagship tournament in a country where corruption in sport is rife; where racism is alive-and-well; and where, far from being discouraged, hooliganism is praised by members of Russian football's governing body.  It stinks, the decision to award Russia this World Cup stinks, and FIFA stinks.  But don't listen to me - let The Ugly Game tell you all you need to know.

So, what will I do instead?  I'm not prepared to go without my dose of football during a World Cup summer, so I've decided to go back in time instead, to re-live the best competition in my memory - France 98.  I've got the highlights DVD, the official guidebook, and other bits of memorabilia, so with a bit of creative thinking, and using this blog as a platform, I can still enjoy a month of brilliant football in the company of old favourites - Davor Suker, Alan Shearer, Carlos Valderrama, Dennis Bergkamp, and the real Ronaldo.  So join me, if you too have chosen to step away from the 2018 tournament, for a trip down memory lane - to the back streets of Paris, the waterfront of Marseilles, historic Lyon and everywhere in between.  The pre-tournament build-up begins on 6 June.  Vive la Coupe du Monde!

Painting by Parisian artist, Michel Delacroix

Parisian weekend part II

Tour Montparnasse stands some 210 metres above the Parisian streets, shattering the otherwise low-rise landscape of the city centre.  Controversial since construction began in 1969, the tower obviously enjoys a love-hate relationship with city dwellers, and two years after its completion, a blanket ban was imposed on all buildings more than seven stories high in the city centre.  In effect, this has only highlighted the tower even more so, standing out as it does in apparent jet-black, visible from all over town.  In 2008 it was voted the second-ugliest building in the world (they've obviously never seen Newton Abbot's multi-storey) and locals quip that the view from the top of the tower is the most beautiful in Paris - if only for the fact that it is the only place from which the tower cannot be seen.

We ascend the top of Montparnasse Tower is super-quick time, and are soon admiring a view that, on as clear and sunny a morning as you could wish, stretches out infinitely over the city.  From here, you begin to understand the size of greater Paris, 95% of which we will never visit.  The best view, of course, is of the Eiffel Tower itself, with a clear line of sight straight down the Champ du Mars, whilst in other directions is Parc des Princes, home of the famous Paris St Germain Football Club, Montmartre, and La Defence, the business district with its own cubed arch.  Directly below the tower lies Montparnasse cemetery, one of the largest cemeteries in Paris, amongst whose tiny tombs lie the graves of Parisians Charles Baudelaire and Jean-Paul Sartre.  The importance of the Jardin du Luxembourg as a green space is also apparent from up high, cutting a crater of trees and space in a sea of concrete and tarmac.  The view is fantastic, but besides it, there isn't much to do on the 59th floor of the building (the souvenir shop is pretty unremarkable, save for a couple of lovely books) and so we descend once again, satisfied that the views over Paris will live long in the memory.

Metro line 6 links Montpartnasse to Bir-Hakeim station, near both the riverside and Eiffel Tower, and is one of the best stretches of line on the network.  Rising from below the ground to above the roads and pavements, the passenger is offered a lovely view of the streets of the Grenelle district in the 15th arrondissement, with street scenes and buildings that I would describe as typically Parisian.  The line actually continues over the river, affording the best possible views of the Eiffel Tower en route to Etoile, but we alight at Bir-Hakeim for a spot of lunch and a riverside walk, which ultimately takes us to Pont de l'Alma, and the famous Bateaux-Mouches, which ply the Seine with their fabulous cruises.  Yes, it's packed with tourists, but there really is no better way to see the city than from the river, wind racing through our hair, scarves tucked firmly inside our coats.  Even our travel mascot, Diefenbacker, got in on the action!

Returning from our exhilarating ride, we spend the remainder of the afternoon at Musee Quai Branly, an ethnographic museum with a fine collection of artefacts from Oceania, Africa, Asia, and the Americas.  It's a well-presented little museum, in which the gardens command their own fee during the summer months, the perfect antidote to an otherwise very busy day.  In particular, we enjoyed the Polynesian masks and Mayan artefacts, but the whole collection is a reminder of the role that Paris and France have played in world history.  A new museum for both of us, it's right up my street, and well worth an hour or two.

A final evening, one final stroll up to Montmartre (with the added benefit, given our tired legs, of taking the Montmartre funicular,) where the Saturday night crowds are slowly filling the restaurants and bars, and there's a smattering of artists in the Place du Tertre.  The souvenir shops are fun for a quick browse, but beyond a few postcards, there isn't much we're looking for, and so we retire to a good looking (and great smelling) creperie for a classic cheese and tomato crepe, which is a total mess to eat, but is a very tasty farewell after a wonderful, packed-out, beautiful long weekend in the French Capital.  As always at this point, it's farewell Paris - and see you again soon.

Parisian weekend part I

"There are only two places in the world where we can live happy: at home, and in Paris."  So said the famous American writer, Ernest Hemingway.  I, too, fell in love with Paris, a decade ago, when I was young and idealistic, playing in a world that was half-life, half-dream, as much imaginary now as it was real then.  Today it seems like a thousand years ago, but with the passing of time, there remains an inextinguishable torch that, from time-to-time, calls me back to the City of Light.

A beaming, involuntary grin stretches across my face as Lizzie and I climb, hand-in-hand, up the final steps that link Rue Muller below, with Rue Lamarck atop the Butte de Montmartre.  Eight seconds later, the Sacre Coeur ghosts into view, surreal and spiritual, a guardian angel watching lovingly over the city.  From the front of the church, every landmark in the city can be seen - Les Invalides, the Pompidou Centre, Notre Dame de Paris, Tour Montparnasse, and everything in between.  It's a great space to be introduced to Paris, but it's even better if you already know what you're looking at, pointing out the landmarks sprinkled all over the city centre.  For us, in a dim and breezy evening, it's a stroll down Rue des Abbesses, and dinner in a quintessentially Parisian restaurant, Villa des Abbesses - baked camembert with honey and figs, roasted half chicken with pomme frites, the best profiteroles I've ever tasted, and tarte au pomme, simply delightful.

Next morning, in a crisp, blue-skied world that shows Paris off to its winter best, we hop aboard the metro, destination Ile de la Cite and Ile Saint-Louis, the oldest part of the modern city.  The only two natural islands still remaining in the Seine in Paris, and the location where the medieval city was re-founded (let us not forget, of course, that Paris was first a Roman settlement - Lutetia,) there's very much a natural air of history and intrigue to the islands.  Dominated by the vast and stunning Notre Dame de Paris, which in a certain light appears to be made of nothing more than ice cream wafers, it's a gothic masterpiece of breath-taking proportions, and an easy rival to any of the world's great churches.  Our visit, on a quiet and restful Friday morning, sees the place at its best, with the calm waters of the Seine lapping gently against the island, the peace broken only by the flapping of pigeons, tweeting of sparrows, and the clip-clop of the mounted police patrolling the roads.  Ile Saint-Louis, with its upmarket shops, is a perfect place to stop, buy a pastry, and take in the view up the Seine.

Crossing the river for the Left Bank and the Latin Quarter with its student ambiance, we wander up the iconic Boulevard Saint-Michel (instantly recalling the Peter Starstedt hit - You live in a fancy apartment, off the Boulevard Saint-Michel; where you keep your Rolling Stones records, and a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do) where the bookshops are slowly and sadly being replaced with designer stores.  We're deep into Hemingway territory at this point - to the left lies Rue Mouffetard, where the author once owned an apartment, whilst to the right sits one of his favourite spots (and, if rumour is to be believed, where killed and ate pigeons during his poorest days,) the Jardin du Luxembourg.  It's one of my favourite spots too, for the park, in the city's 6th arrondissement, really is the people's park.  A wonderful escape from the bustle of the streets, its 23 hectares covers tree-lined promenades, flowerbeds, a splendid boating pool and, in the centre of it all, the Luxembourg Palace, once a royal residence for Louis XIII's mother, and more lately a legislative building and seat of the French Senate.  A stroll around the park in the winter sunshine is an absolute delight, and one that city dwellers obviously appreciate, for this is indeed a busy park - runners on the soft sandy paths create a rhythmic backdrop against which children sail boats, old men play boules, energetic sorts scamper around tennis courts, and the more lethargic sit peacefully watching the world go by.  The good nature of the park is quite infectious - it's impossible not to like, and admire, Parisians' mass use of the space as the city's biggest and freest leisure complex.  And at the end of the day, could there be a more fitting embodiment of the Revolution?

Aside from the general atmosphere and lovely gardens, the Jardin du Luxembourg is also home to a variety of sculptures, including the original model of the Statue of Liberty.  This is Frederic Auguste Bartholdi's first model of the world-famous lady, standing in peaceful solitude surrounded all around by trees.  Rumour is, in fact, that even this model is only a replica, the real original having been moved to the Musee d'Orsay in 2014.  Nonetheless, it feels like a nice touch of history, and for us, a precursor of things to come later in the year.

Our evening begins in classy style at Charles de Gaulle Etoile, where the enormous Arc De Triomphe bathes in golden light, and is the one monument above all others in Paris that never fails to impress.  Radiating out from its centre (which also includes the nationally sacred tomb of the unknown soldier) are twelve avenues, which includes the world famous Avenue des Champs-Elysees.  It's a funny old road, a mixture of restaurants, souvenir shops, ultra-expensive boutiques and (somewhat bizarrely) myriad car salesrooms.  It may be something of a let-down for the serious shopper, but there's something about an hour's evening stroll through the crowds that has just a hint of magic.  Indeed, it's worth the metro ride here just to watch the traffic make its way around the Arc, surely the world's most neurotic roundabout, where drivers on all manner of vehicles fight and jostle for position, often with terrifying consequences.  For us, the main draws are the Swatch Shop and the Disney Store, before we make for Avenue Montaigne (couture lovers take note, for this is where the highest fashion houses - Louis Vuitton, Dior, Ralph Lauren et al - gather) and across the Pont de l'Alma, for one quick glimpse of an illuminated Eiffel Tower.  Tomorrow brings promises of Paris's alternative tower and a river cruise, before we head back to the most atmospheric of all the city's neighbourhoods, the 18th arrondissement, Montmartre.

Peace for Paris

This blog stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the people of Paris today, and with lovers of peace and freedom everywhere.  

The Prayer of St Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console,

To be understood as to understand,

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Mommy, are the characters real?

We've seen the shows, been thrilled on the rides, been enticed in the shops, and eaten our own body weight in all the wrong kinds of food.  What's left at Disneyland for a childless couple to possibly enjoy?  Umm, that'll be the parades then.

Disney's most famous characters are all here, waving, blowing kisses, beaming out those ubiquitos Disney smiles that are obviously part of the job description.  Alan Whicker, in his exploration of Disney World in 1971, was told about pixie dust, that sprinkle of magic in which every employee of the Disney Corporation is expected to immerse themselves, during every second of their work.  It comes out everywhere - the shop assistants, the grounds keepers, the waitresses and the ride attendants - but nowhere is it more pronounced, more obvious, more explicit, than during the iconic Disney Parade.

The spectators gather all the way down Main Street, ushered into neat rows by stewards who seem to part the crowds like Moses at the Red Sea.  The pitter-patter of the rain, and the wind blowing up the cobbles, betray the warmth of feeling running through the crowds.  From the distance comes the sweet sound of jovial music, and over heads can be seen a mob of colour, slowly making its way along the road, a stark contrast to the dismal grey drizzle.  We pick a spot behind two of the smallest children, a tactic that ensures an excellent view, and as the first float approaches, a little girl turns to her mother and asks, enchanted: "Mommy, are the characters real?"

There follows a cacophony of sight and sound, as all those heroes and heroines - plus a few villains thrown in for good measure - file past.  They're playful, involved, interactive, and choreographed to perfection.  The kids love it, the adults admire it, and despite the cheesiest soundtrack that ever was written, it goes down a storm.  New faces to the Disney repertoire mingle with old favourites like King Louie, Merlin the Wizard and Mary Poppins, and it's pretty hard not to get swept along in the fun and good nature of the afternoon.

After sunset, Disneyland takes on an altogether different character.  The shops and eateries, lit up like Christmas trees, become all-the-more inviting, whilst Sleeping Beauty's castle seems bigger, and much more sinister.  Disneyland after dark, where the rides shut down one-by-one, and where spaces filled with laughter only hours before, become the dim home of shadows and echoes.  By 8pm, everyone has made their way to the foot of the castle, where they wait in hushed anticipation.  If the afternoon's Disney parade is good, then what happens later in the evening is world-class.  A mind-blowing display of waterworks, fireworks, and animation is played out for twenty minutes, to ooos, aaaahs, cheers, claps, gasps and the odd sing-along.  It's a new high, the very pinnacle of all the entertainment on offer, and leaves a lasting impression on the audience that makes you realise, these guys really know what they're doing.

It's a fine way to leave Disneyland, basking in its own fantastic display of lights and lasers, and there is a certain awestruck feeling in the air as the spectators stream for the exit.  For us, it's a magnificent farewell to Walt, and tomorrow a train back home, where life will once again pick up its rhythm and routine.  We know Disneyland isn't the most authentic location for a holiday, and it doesn't exactly score highly for a cultural experience.  But dig a little deeper under the surface, as I've tried to do with this series of blogs, and you'll find a world of history, literature, and music, all of which are bound deep within the Disney story.  It's not so much the park itself that sticks in the mind, but the homage to heritage that it represents, and that has been so proudly and brilliantly presented at almost every turn, by people who really know how to put on a show worthy of the world's greatest animator. 

A day in the studios

Following the release of his first few cartoons, which left audiences around America delighted, Disney began to explore other ways of animating that would push the boundaries of his craft into a whole new dimension.  In 1937, this inevitably led him to the multiplane camera, which was first used in a Silly Symphony called The Old Mill. The multiplane camera essentially allowed layered scenes to give a three-dimensional effect.  Parts of the artwork of one layer are left blank, to allow other layers to be seen behind them.  These layers could then be moved independent of each other, and in varying distance from the camera, creating the illusion of motion and depth.  It was a break-through moment in animation, famously used in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and employed subsequently for the next fifty years in Disney classics, all the way up until the 1989 film, The Little Mermaid, after which time computer systems began to take over.  Nowadays, only three Disney multiplane cameras survive – one of these is housed at Walt Disney Studios, at Disneyland, Paris.  It’s a great artefact to start a day in Walt Disney Studio park, and a real piece of history so pertinent to all of this, for without it there really would have been no Toy Story, no Monsters Inc, and no Frozen. 

The Disney multiplane camera (Source: WaltDisney.org)

Walt Disney studios is a celebration of modern Disney, and all the techniques that have brought its bulging back-catalogue into the 21^st century.  The computer may have superseded the pencil, but there’s still a decent nod to the past around this place – a statue of Walt sharing a joke with Mickey Mouse stands centre stage, whilst family favourites such as Jiminy Cricket are scattered around the site, intermingled with the modern-day heroes like Buzz Lightyear.  The whole mixup sort of works; where else would 1928's Steamboat Willy so easily and seamlessly encounter 2014's Frozen heroine, Elsa?

So what is Walt Disney Studio Parks all about?  There are studios devoted to Disney animation history, stage shows, stomach-churning rides, and special effects left, right and centre.  My favourite spot on our chilly visit is inside Studio One, packed full of Americana, where the restaurants and cafes sit on a fake boulevard, a vintage car is serviced at a redundant gas station, all under the watchful eye of a slowly setting Beverly Hills sun.  The gaping doors of the studio open to reveal the bright lights of Hollywood, sky scrapers giving way to that famous hilltop sign.  It's fake, but at the same time it feels like an utterly romanticised reality - which is, I suppose, the genius of film-makers.

Studio One

Hollywood at Walt Disney Studios, Paris

Once we've sat through the obligatory Art of Disney Animation presentation, the Animagique spectacular stage show (in which Donald Duck steals Mickey Mouse's key to the animation vault and unleashes the fun onto everyone in an all-singing, all-dancing, mad, magical adventure - yes, it's exactly as it sounds) and the flying carpets of Agrabah (talk about disappointing - our carpet never got off the ground) you can still take a tour around earthquake-stricken London, be first on the scene at a mining disaster, and take a turn around a hidden Parisian square.  And if that's not enough to float your boat, you can join virtually every other visitor in watching one of the park's famous stunt shows, which plays out live-action car acrobatics, guns, explosions, and people being set on fire.  It does offer something of a wow factor, and the slick one-minute film produced at the end of the show - using actual footage from the performance - makes for gripping viewing.

Quake-stricken London

A gripping stunt show

Our day at the studios complete, we head for the exit and make for the Disney Village, a complex of shops and restaurants sitting outside the park bounds, and open late into the night.  Its the usual energetic mix of bright lights and good times, as hotel residents and day trippers unwind from their hectic days with a burger, beer or cocktail.  For us, it's some light browsing at the World of Disney flagship store, followed by dinner at Billy Bob's Wild West Tex Mex, and then a gentle stroll through the village, out past the lake, slowly meandering home amongst exhausted parents, and children with big Minnie Mouse balloons.  The skyline of the Disney Village itself appears like a film set from across the water and the peace, after such a loud and bustling day, is a as magnificent as any movie score.

Evening scenes in the Disney Village

An American in Paris - Walt's magical world

Disneyland Paris sits in the new town of Marne-la-Vallée, about 20 miles to the east of the French capital.  Not that you'd know it, for in many ways, it's worlds away from the boulevard cafes and artistic backstreets.  This is a small piece of America, which just happens to sit in France, and you'd be totally forgiven for thinking you're spending dollars, and not euros.  For the short-haul visitor, it's a unique kind of culture shock; should I try speaking French to the shop assistant?  Is it a betrayal if I order a burger and fries?  Lizzie tries a bit with the French, but gets a decidedly English response, and so the matter is settled.

Disneyland was invented on July 17 1955 when Walt himself, having personally supervised its construction, opened Disneyland Resort in Anaheim, California.  On that morning, Disney spoke to the crowds, saying: "To all who come to this happy place: Welcome.  Disneyland is your land.  Here age relives fond memories of the past, and here youth may savour the challenge and promise of the future.  Disneyland is dedicated to the ideals, the dreams, and the hard facts that have created America, with the hope that it will be a source of joy and inspiration to all the world."  Over the next 60 years, that inspiration has seen parks spring up in Florida, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Shanghai, and of course Paris.  There's a four-ship strong Disney cruise line, a points-based Disney vacation club, and a Disney resort and spa in Hawaii.  Disneyland Paris arrived in 1992, to a mixed response from the locals, many of whom worried that the park would introduce American consumerism to France.  I can't imagine why.

Walt presents his dream (source: Remembering Disney)

A wander down Main Street USA, as discussed previously, is an assault on the senses, and by the time you make it to the end of the street, you've been transported to a whole other world.  The centrepiece of the park, known the world over, is of course the Disneyland Castle.  Wannabe princes and princesses run around with boundless energy, enchanted at the prospect of seeing Sleeping Beauty awake from her timeless sleep.  For me, there's something even better to discover here - the sword in the stone, from one of my favourite films.  Unlike Arthur in the depths of Dark Age London, I'm unable to pull it from its anvil, but it does make for a good photo op, and is surely one to tick off the childhood dreams list. 

 "Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England..."

The iconic Disney castle

Disney, rightly so, is unashamed of its identity, and through the park it pays homage to the many famous moments and characters brought to life by animation.  The cats from the Aristocats; the Mad Hatter's tea party; Aladdin's magic carpet ride; round every corner is another reminder, a further celebration.  With this in mind, the major attractions sort of play second-fiddle to the act of simply being in Disneyland, and our favourite rides are not the fast or the furious ones.  A cute little buggy takes you through the story of Pinocchio; a hanging pirate ship flies you over the rooftops of London with Peter Pan; a spiralled hedge maze brings you face-to-face with the Cheshire Cat.  This is what Disneyland means to us - it's the reconnection of the famous old stories from childhood, and in that respect it renders many of the scary rides somewhat out-of-place.

The Aristocats in making merry music

This way or that?  Lost in a hedge maze

The landscaping around the Disneyland park is superb.  One moment we're in the deepest Wild West, the next we're in the thick of an Arabian street market.  The good people in the props department really do a number on Disneyland, leaving no patch of ground vacant in their attempt to give you the real deal.  There are four 'lands' within the park, with piratical Adventure Land conjuring up a Peter Pan world, landscaped to perfection, and our favourite place to linger.  Adventure Land is also the home of the ride, Pirates of the Caribbean, the famous inspiration behind the international film series starring Johnny Depp.  Total fantasy and good old romantic imagery ensue, as our little water boat is bumped along a dusky island coast, past an 18th century Spanish fortress, and into the lives of rum-drinking, sword-wielding pirates, all to the memorable tune of yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me.  

Adventureland, home of pirates

If there's one thing besides rides and attractions that every single person seems to do in Disneyland, it's shop.  There are shops everywhere, hawking every conceivable thing that will fit a mouse motif.  Cuddly toys, crockery, clothes, porcelain figures, badges, baseball caps, sweets, biscuits...  the list, truly, is endless.  My impression of the shopping in Disneyland is that they simply saturate you until you buy something, for most of the emporiums sell identical wares.  However, this doesn't stop each and every premises from maintaining presentable, inviting properties, in keeping with the usual Disney image.  In an evening where the night closed in, the wind blew up and the rain poured, flitting from shop-to-shop became our lifeline against the elements, and we enjoyed each-and-every carefully-designed window display.  Created with care, delivered to perfection - the Disney way.

Shop windows along Main Street USA

The Disney imagination

"On a site bigger than Manchester, a spread of swamp and woodland eighty times the size of Hyde Park, they’re building a fantasy for £125 million.  This is the house the Mouse built.  The two million pound centerpiece of the Walt Disney World, the biggest thing to hit Florida since Sunshine. Cinderella’s castle, a fiberglass inspiration that looks real from any distance, should this be your idea of reality.  On October 1 Mickey Mouse, aged 43, opens his billion dollar business here, an improbable dream of Disney imagineers, to cater for 10,000 visitors an hour, fifty thousand a day, ten million a year, and so solve many Americans’ worries about expanding leisure time, and surplus cash."
Alan Whicker, Pixie Dust on Goody-Goody Land, 1971

It’s amazing, the impact that that three little circles can make on the world.  From one humble little sketch of a mouse, Walt Disney and his legacy have charmed and delighted people for eight decades.  Surely some of the twentieth century's most enduring creations, Walt's animated heroes have seen him go down in history as the man who brought magic, wonder and laughter to so many children.  I was one of the millions who was brought up with Disney, and remember fondly the hours of joy given to me by those famous cartoons.  Now at 30-years-old, the innocence may have faded, but a definite place still remains for the myriad characters of all shapes and sizes that comprise the Disney repertoire.  Recently, a long-held childhood dream was realised as, 20 years late, we finally took a trip to Disneyland.  The Paris version, obviously.

Walt Disney and his creations on the cover of Life Magazine

Mickey Mouse (The Mouse) was born in 1928, Walt Disney’s replacement for Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, a character Disney lost in a 1927 dispute with film producer and distributor Charles Mintz.  Legend goes that, whilst drawing up new character ideas that included a cow, a horse, and even a frog, Walt Disney observed a tame mouse at his desk.  What followed was Mortimer Mouse, soon re-Christened Mickey Mouse.  Mickey was first piloted in the test screening of Plane Crazy on 15 May 1928; this was followed by The Gallopin’ Gaucho, but neither film was released due to low interest and a lack of a distributor.  Disney remained persistent and, on 18 November 1928, a third film was released - Steamboat Willie.  Disney’s use of sound in animation was a new technique, stealing a lead on other animators, to the delight of audiences.  Plane Crazy and The Gallopin’ Gaucho were both re-released in sound, and by the end of the 1920s, Mickey had become a household name.

Mickey Mouse in Steamboat Willie

The Mouse continued in his refinement into the 1930s, becoming a role model for children.  This Cinderella status made it difficult to write material for Mickey, as the jokes and situations he could be involved in were limited.  Thus, in 1933, an angry little duck entered the fray.  A tempestuous powder-keg, Donald Duck blew open the confines of Mickey’s idyllic little world.  It has been said that Walt Disney based the character on all the people he didn’t like, and Donald definitely offers a truer representation of humanity than his mouse companion.  Disney would get mileage out of Donald’s wild mood swings; a classic storyline would see Donald start off in a jovial mood, before something – anything – would spoil his day.  The weather.  Some chipmunks.  A dripping tap.  To Donald, Disney dealt the blows of life that somehow always passed over the head of ever-optimistic Mickey.  You find yourself naturally sympathising with Donald – you share in his plight, you understand his frustrations, and you admire his often-spiteful actions.  He is a genius creation by a genius animator.

Donald Duck

There’s obviously a lot more to the Disney franchise than Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck, but were it not for these two characters, there would almost certainly be no Disneyland to speak of today.  Off the back of the Mouse and Duck combo, and having won an exclusive contract with Technicolor to produce cartoons in colour, Walt Disney Productions Limited broke even more new ground, with a feature film, three-years-in-the-making, called Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937).  By 1939 it was the highest-grossing film of all time, and the profits generated paid for a new 51-acre studio complex in Burbank, California.  Countless classics followed through the decades – Pinocchio (1940,) Cinderella (1950,) Peter Pan (1953,) Sleeping Beauty (1959,) The Sword in the Stone (1963,) The Jungle Book (1967,) Robin Hood (1973,) The Little Mermaid (1989,) Beauty and the Beast (1992,) to name but a few of the many feature films produced in the next 76 years.  Not a bad legacy for a paper boy son of a farmer, and not a bad return for drawing those three little circles.

Most of Disney's films put a new spin on classic works of literature, such as Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book

All of which brings us to the outskirts of Paris in 2015, where a wander down Main Street USA infects you with the charm and innocence of that earlier age.  Main Street is billed in the visitor leaflet as a typical American street at the turn of the 20th century. I don't think anybody actually believes that, but nonetheless it has been brilliantly done, with well-maintained topiary, pastel-washed shop fronts, and a charming, old-fashioned, wholesome, idealised façade that is just Disney through-and-through.  The clean-cut image is superbly preserved here - everything is in the appropriate place, and there's not a hint of litter in sight.  Then there's the music, vintage family favourites wafting through the air from well-disguised speakers.  It's an experience that fills the visitor with a sense of childlike joy, for if you can genuinely believe that this artificial construct, built in 1994, is for real, then you'll get a lot more out of your visit.  And why not indulge yourself in this little piece of imagination?  Guests of all nationalities, and all ages, lap it up, and judging by the number of Minnie Mouse ears being worn by folk in their 30s, it certainly seems like an appropriate place to submerse yourself in fantasy.  

Main Street USA, Disneyland Paris

"A typical American street at the turn of the 20th century"

The reason for all of this is clear; Walt Disney, through his cartoons and feature films, strikes a chord with people across the globe.  As a child you are lassoed into his world, and what is fostered is a fondness that, for many people, continues into adulthood.  It may be the world's best marketing strategy, but cynicism doesn't seem to count within the bounds of Disneyland, and why should it?  Where else in this day-and-age can you really forget the world and all its problems?  To me, this is key to Disney's success, be it in a park or on the screen - it is escapism at its best, and that's appealing whether you're aged five or one hundred and five.  As the great animator himself penned: "Laughter is timeless, imagination has no age, and dreams are forever."

Treasures of Life

I've spent the day cleaning and sorting out my pad!  For me, this is always a refreshing activity as it give me the opportunity to clear out the rubbish that inevitably collects during the course of my everyday life - the pile of magazines that I read months ago, the clothes with holes in that I've been keeping out of sentiment.

It's also a great activity for reassessing the things that you really do want to keep.  My room is crammed full of objects that have great personal value, and although they're mostly of little monetary worth, to me they each have a story, a link to my life and the things I have done.  They're all around me as I type, so here are ten of the best...

1. 1958 Penguin Books copy of The Great Gatsby

This is one of my most recent acquisitions and was passed on to me by Lizzie's mum, who was having her own clear-out.  I have been trying to get my hands on the older Penguin editions of my favourite books (to no great success), so this is a real gem to me, and now sits proudly on my bookshelf with my other Fitzgerald novels.  One of my favourite books, from my favourite author.

2.  Childhood teddy bears

These two guys have been around my whole life, making them my oldest friends!  The panda was given me by my grandma when I was very young, whilst the tartan bear was given to me as a replacement for another bear that I dropped from my pushchair one careless day in town.  If they were alive, they'd know me better than anyone, and if they could talk...

3.  German smoker man

I call this guy Herman.  He comes from a wonderful Munich shop called Max Krug, purveyors of traditional German and Black Forest souvenirs.  I bought him when I was inter-railing in 2008, being one of the few things in the shop I could afford.  What really attracted me to him was his sales tray, beer and gingerbread men.  I was so happy with my purchase that the I almost forgot I had paid with a 50 euro note... The lady behind the tills had to chase me down the street to give me my change!

4.  Beethoven

Another find whilst I was inter-railing, Beethoven entered my life when I was in Barcelona.  I was staying in a hostel just off La Rambla, home of the Liceu opera house.  Their shop window display was interesting, and when I stopped to look in it, this little guy was staring back at me.  The best thing about Beethoven (except his cuffs, tails and cravat) is the key on his back - wind it up, and he plays a lovely rendition of Moonlight Sonata.

5.  The Savoy Cocktail Book

The greatest book ever written on the subject of cocktails was Harry Craddock's 1930 masterpiece.  Craddock, the chief barman of the Savoy Hotel, created cocktails for every occasion.  "But where, Oh, where is the book that gives the earnest student all?  Every beautiful and perfect Wine, each with its own special and perfect occasion, and every cocktail known?" asks Craddock.  "We searched, and found it not, so thought it as well to sit down and get it put together."

Of course, the 1930s original would be impossible to find nowadays, but I was given this (rare enough!) facsimile by my friend Tristan, on my 25th birthday.  It's the only cocktail book I'll ever need.

 6.  Lakota-Sioux Bison

In the summer of 2004, I was part of a university group which travelled to South Dakota for an archaeological dig.  We were examining a Native American village that had been abandoned about 1,000 years ago.  The dig was open to the public and had an accompanying museum and shop, in which all the products had been handcrafted by Native American people.  Since I had been digging up ancient bison bones for nearly a month, I bought this little wooden bison to hang in my room.  Nine years later, it is still here.

7.  Treasure Island

Aside from the remarkable tale of piracy, this book is one of my biggest treasures because it was awarded to my grandma by Wolborough Senior School, Newton Abbot, at Christmas 1937 for an essay she wrote on Temperance.  She donated it to my book collection a few years ago, and I love nothing more than flicking through its pages, smelling its musty book smell, and enjoying its lovely illustrations.

8.  Buffalo Sabres pennants

In a country where ice hockey memorabilia is scarce, these two pennants of my favourite hockey team seem all-the-more special.  I bought the smaller of the two in a wonderful sports shop in Banff, Canada, last year.  The longer one was given to me on my last birthday by Lizzie.  How she went about finding it, I still don't know, but it was a wonderful surprise when I ripped off the wrapping paper!

 9.  Rue de Saintonge street sign

I spotted this genuine Parisian street sign on eBay four years ago and immediately loved the idea of having piece of the historic city in my room.  It fell into its previous owner's hands after it was replaced by a newer sign, and now sits happily (if not entirely well-fitting) on the end of my shelves.

A year after I bought it, I made my second visit to Paris and went off in search of Rue de Saintonge.  As it turns out, it's a tiny little street in the Les Halles district, home to apartments and one or two shops.  Hardly a memorable road, it nonetheless has acquired meaning to me.

 10.  Nutcracker

Anybody who knows me will know I'm a collector of nutcrackers.  Most of the nutcrackers in my collection are only about a foot tall, and only come out at Christmas.  This guy, who I call Wilhelm, stands at about four foot, and has acquired a year-round presence in the corner of my room.  My dad gave me Wilhelm as a birthday present a couple of years ago, after buying him from a shop in Lincoln.  Wilhelm was not actually for sale at the time, but was being used as a Christmas display!

So there you have it - ten treasures of my life, from my room.  They're certainly not the only things I could have included here, but they perhaps best represent the myriad objects I have acquired over the years.  Everything has a story to tell - it could be the place it was made or bought, the weird and wonderful way it was acquired, or simply the fact that it has become an intrinsic part of your life.  So why not cast your eye around your own room and see what stories you can find...