Longtime Ago people

Tag: movies

  • One Kung Fu Night and a Life in Practice

    When I sat down with Simon, he told me that everything really began with a single kung fu programme on 1970s television. What looked like harmless entertainment to most people became, for him, a blueprint for life. At 12 years old he felt instantly hooked — not just by the movement, but by the philosophy behind it: spirituality, discipline, and a quieter kind of power. That spark sent him searching for real training, buying martial arts books and magazines, and eventually joining an after‑school karate club. Listening to him, you’re reminded that motivation often starts with curiosity, then grows through consistent practice and the right mentor.

    Mentorship runs right through Simon’s story. He credits his first sensei, Mike Lambert, with shaping not just his technique but his approach to living: be bold, keep learning, and don’t let shyness hold you back. Years of training eventually led to a one‑way ticket to Asia and a long stretch of travel through Japan, Hong Kong, China, Thailand, Malaysia and beyond. What struck me was that he never collected styles like souvenirs — he treated each place as a lesson in agency and self‑direction. His message is simple but powerful: you can choose your path, accept the cost, and still build a stable life later.

    What makes Simon’s perspective distinctive is the shift from fighting to internal training. He talks about martial arts as “don’t fight”, pointing to the idea that real skill is shown through avoidance, awareness and presence. That comes into focus through San Shan Gong, his moving meditation built around the “three battles”: mind, body, spirit. He describes the aim as harmonising these parts into something strong and unbreakable, with practices ranging from under a minute to longer forms. For anyone interested in mindfulness, moving meditation, kung fu breathing, or martial arts philosophy, this is genuinely practical: posture, breath, structure, and calm repetition that carries into ordinary life.

    And that everyday carryover is where our conversation becomes relatable even if you’ve never stepped into a dojo. We talk about standing on trains, keeping balance without grabbing handholds, and treating planes, buses and daily routines as training. We also compare martial arts reality with film choreography, and why Hollywood often misses the softness, listening and structure at the heart of real practice. From there, things turn more serious: moments of perceived danger, the responsibility that comes with genuine self‑defence capability, and why Simon now chooses a reclusive “temple” life in the Philippines. It leaves you with a question that lingers long after the episode ends: if the goal is peace, what kind of training best supports it?

  • A Life in Motion: Diving Deep, Travelling Far, Playing Loud

    Southwick sets the tone for this conversation — a small Sussex village with a stubborn sense of itself, a green at its centre, and a quiet confidence that mirrors the man I’m sitting down with. That grounding matters, because Lee Pryor’s memories are rooted in real streets, real work, and the everyday texture of post‑war Britain. From there, we head back to 1950s Great Yarmouth, a seasonal seaside town full of returning families, guest houses, theatres, piers, and long car journeys before motorways existed. Lee tells me about cleaning rooms on changeover day, earning pocket money from holidaymakers, and learning to harmonise while working — the early signs of how music, community, and graft can grow together inside a family.

    A thread runs right through his life: performance begins early and never really leaves. His dad worked as a beachfront photographer, using a clever trick to spot willing customers before spending film, then posting prints once they were home. Around that, Lee absorbed theatre culture through his mum and nan, even remembering seeing George Formby live. And then comes the pivot: a childhood singing competition on the seafront. He sings a cappella. He wins. A tiny moment with lifelong consequences. Boarding school follows — a shock that becomes a lesson in independence, freedom, and self‑reliance, with bikes, fishing, farms, and open space shaping his confidence.

    From teenage Brighton we get the Mod era in lived detail: scooters, Dyke Road meet‑ups, Kemptown coffee bars, jukebox staples like The Who and Small Faces, and the beach as a social hub. A family argument then becomes the unlikely trigger for joining the Royal Navy, where he trains as an aircraft engineer and later qualifies as a ship’s diver. The dive course sounds brutal: freezing water, leaking dry suits, no gloves, near‑zero visibility, and pressure designed to break you before it builds you. That skill leads to early dives on the Mary Rose site, when only a few timbers showed above the mud and slack tide windows were narrow and unforgiving.

    After the Navy, the story shifts into a travel documentary hiding inside a life story. Lee chases adventure that feels less packaged than naval port calls — London jobs, casino life as a croupier during an era of big money, and then signing up as crew for overland travel across Africa. With almost no notice, he’s handed a Bedford truck, paperwork, visas, and cash, and drives it out of Bond Street despite never having driven one before. Crossing into North Africa, he describes the realities of borders, currencies, and the informal economy of getting through checkpoints. Later, Switzerland brings a different kind of intensity: full‑time DJ work in Montreux, vinyl only, long nights, jazz culture, and famous faces walking through the door — including David Bowie and musicians tied to the town’s recording history.

    The later chapters show a pattern of reinvention as survival and instinct. Financial hardship and poor mortgage advice push Lee into financial services so he can understand money and help others avoid the same mistakes. He rebuilds with the support and organisation of Fran. Then comes a second creative life: auditioning for a Led Zeppelin tribute band, selling his business, and touring the UK as a Robert Plant frontman — a dream that only works with real partnership at home. And in the end, we circle back to character: a maverick streak, a need for individuality, and gratitude for a mother who encouraged him to travel, try, and keep moving.

    For listeners who love personal history, Royal Navy diving, the Mary Rose story, overland Africa travel, Montreux music lore, and the reality of starting again, this episode is a reminder that a life can have many chapters without ever losing its core drive.