In Which Books Are Bought, Borrowed And Discarded And How Labour Is Further Destroying Bridgend Town

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I wish I could say we as a family went out on Tuesday but due to various reasons, mainly due to daughter's sudden and deep attachment to the land of nod we didn't. Ironically the only person who went out today was me. Though that was because I'd things to do.

First port of call was Porthcawl to bring back and borrow books from the library. Before that though went into the Porthcawl Animal Welfare Shop (PAWS) to see whether I could get any vintage Penguin Paperbacks.

I was lucky. There were two.

1682 - Laurie Lee - Cider With Rosie

This is the classic book about the author's childhood in a Cotswold village. Would recommend it. Did enjoy it. Though not I suspect as much as others did.

Obviously you can guess by now that I've read it. The other Penguin paperback is on the bookshelf as I'm writing this. But that one is not a pre ISBN vintage Penguin paperback. That one has to go.

I'll make sure that it goes to a good home that I promise, Next time I'm in Porthcawl I'll let the PAWS people get their paws onto it. They're good with books and as the orange spined Penguin is in good condition they won't put it down.

2787 - John Galsworthy - Over The River

I have read two John Galsworthy books. In Chancery and The Silver Spoon. Both, in particular The Silver Spoon, were so awful they should have come into the so bad it's riveting category. So you see don't hold much hope when I get round to reading it.

Later in Porthcawl it was time for the library. The football book was not an easy choice. Nothing seemed to grab my attention. Was going to plum for Sven Goran Erricsson's autobiography when all of a sudden another book caught my eye and there became no contest.

Trevor Brooking - My Life In Football

For me Trevor Brooking was when I was growing up the West Ham player of his generation. A polite, measured man he was one of the few footballers where you could use the word cultured to describe his play without appearing poncey. He was always modestly brilliant. If I had the talent he was the player I wish I could become. And he married a blonde Scandinavian. For a teenage boy what better role model could there be?

That though was not the only book I borrowed.

Nye - Nicklaus Thomas-Symonds

Aneurin Bevan was the sort of politician that believed in social justice for everybody and not just the few. It was people like him that still give the Labour party in Wales a residual loyalty amongst the Welsh voter that their current bloated,incompetent smug selves no longer deserve.If he was alive today I believe Nye Bevan would have voted Plaid Cymru.

I'm looking forward to reading both library books. But let's continue with the current state of the Labour party in Wales and in particular an onward theme of this blog the decaying state of Bridgend town thanks to sleep apnoea way they've been running it. On Monday the local BBC Wales news had a report that the Labour council had decided, subject to a consultation and a considerable cost, depedestrianise those parts of the town centre that was pedestrianised around the millennium, The idea being that it would help the local retail businesses.

A round of applause you might think, at least for the fact that the Labour council had made a decision whilst fully awake. However that should be tempered by the fact that it was the Labour council,at considerable cost and despite protests from traders, that made the decision to pedestrianise those very same streets in the first place.

Personally I doubt that depeedstrianism will stop the town's decline. A start might be car parking. If you lower the prices that might help persuade people to stay around, go to restaurants etc. instead of just going into the free ASDA car park (for I think a two/three hour limit -  and closed late evening) to do a few essentials and then straight out again.

I look at Pontypridd which is a fair comparison and don't see a decline. Perhaps the councillors should raise themselves and travel up the Valleys to have a look. Bet they'd move swiftly if I'd suggested the Caribbean instead.

And now the latest potential Bridgend Town victim.

The ground floor of the building to the right is the main Post Office. But not for much longer it appears. The proposal, subject to consultation, is to move it to the nearby branch of W H Smith early next year.

The confirmation

Now I'm not sure but I suspect that the Post Office would take over the basement floor of the current W H Smith building, given that this was the scene when I went there at around three pm yesterday.

Empty at three pm!

If I'm right then let me tell you that it's less space than the main Post Office uses now.

Again I blame the Labour council for this situation. You might ask why. You may say that Post Offices throughout the country are closing down or merging with W H Smiths and this would be true. Would have to also point that the only time I'd been using it recently is to pay our car tax bills.

However the Labour council has allowed Bridgend council to decline. When a town declines fewer people want to go there as often as they did in the past. Consequently more businesses close even fewer people come and so a vicious circle begins.

As a consequence the Post Office can if not close then severely maim their presence citing financial pressures without expecting a great deal of protest. Thus a major town hub is weakened and another building (the offices above are for let) becomes completely derelict.

Well done Labour. Falling asleep on your laurels again.

Let's end with another book I bought at a charity shop in Bridgend Town...and it's not a Penguin.

Helene Hanff - Letter From New York

Helene Hanff, author of 84 Charing Cross Road, wrote a series of essays on living in New York in the late seventies and early eighties for BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour. This is the book of those talks. As 84 Charing Cross Road will always be a favourite of mine I just could not resist buying it.

Until the next time.

How I Try To Be Emotionally Brilliant Whilst Cutting The Grass

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Twitter is a great thing most of the time. If only because it links you to the world. Occasionally though it gets silly. Particular when people tweet with attached articles explaining how you can publish a book in twelve seconds, improve on your self publishing sales or become self publisher of the year.

On Monday I was a tweeted a link from "The Entrepreneur" website with a headline as follows:
"How Emotionally Brilliant Leaders Turn Envy Into Something More Beneficial".

You could instantly tell from that it was written by a certain type of American. As no other nation is capable of producing such  twaddle from the title alone and expect to be taken seriously.To be precise the writer was Sean Kelly. Described as SnackNation.com CEO (whose website speaks of "Office Snack Delivery - Delicious healthy Snacks for awesome offices") and professional high fiver (as opposed to I assume the unimportant amateur variety).

Essentially what it was saying that you should not be envious of other people's success but to be inspired in a gradual way to improve. Then envy would fade away and "an abundance mindset" would take over.

Purely on the grounds that I had nothing better to do on this Monday I decided to apply it to a "real life situation". That situation would be cutting the grass on an unusually hot day for a Bank Holiday.

My neighbour has placed time,care and money onto producing a garden which could not be said of me. I'm not envious about this situation normally, which I assume would have me deserving of a high five from someone as professional as Mr Kelly were it not for the fact that it has reached jungle height where some suburban wildlife is capable of scurrying across the grass unnoticed. There is a slight envy here of a sort in that my neighbour cares whereas I tidiness aside do not. Wish I could care but cannot be bothered (no high fives from Mr Kelly there).Even on that small comparison of tidiness though our garden was currently failing.

To be fair to myself there were excuses (work, weather and having to go to Epping and back twice in a week). But I was not at work on Monday and the weather was fine. There were no excuses anymore.

And so the garden was cut. Despite the handles coming off the mower (a screw came loose - no idea where that went) it was back to my preferred dull but tidy set up. Suburbia would not award it a prize, that would go to my neighbour. But I'd be marked satisfactory which is fine by me.

Released from my slight petunia envy did I feel "an abundance mindset"?  No. Once the job was done I felt the need to to increase the abundance in my stomach (fuelled by the sort of snacks Mr Kelly would not approve of) with dinner and after a reasonable break to go and relax in a bath.

Am I an emotionally brilliant leader? Well not to American salesmen and their female counterparts.Tomorrow though starts the question of where as a family will we go for a daytrip and that will really take some emotional brilliance.

Until the next time.

The Serie A Couch-Potato-A-Thon

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

In the laws of marriage the one, indeed the only moral excuse to spend a lot of the day where your backside is securely placed on a couch is if you've been busy for the other part.

On Sunday I had spent three and a half hours driving my daughter back from Epping to Bridgend. She had enjoyed her break with my mother wandering through London tourist spots but it was time to go home. The journey itself was thankfully dull apart that is from the three times where we were driving through torrential rain that was so bad I had the headlights on even though it was before midday and it was difficult working out where the lanes precisely were.

Still eventually we reached home. I had finished my main task du jour. After lunch I could relax without remarks. Time to watch football.

There were, as it happens a number of Serie A matches to watch. Two from last week two from this one, The first was A C Milan vs Torino. Though my Serie A team is Fiorentina I must admit to a sneaking sympathy with Torino. If only because they have to live with the success of the local rival Juventus, who seems to treat them with the disdain of an older brother.

As for A C Milan, well what's not to like about  a club once owned by shrinking soccer fan violet Silvio Berlusconi? Now taken over/or about to be by a "Chinese Consortium" including it appears state backed enterprises. The sort I would suspect that cost many European jobs through subsidies such as steel and/or low pay and/or poor working conditions all under a undemorcratic regime. Again what's not to like about a club bankrolled by that?

But to be fair it was the Milanese side that put on the style in the first half. Scoring two goals that were basically crosses that were put away in fiery style by the Columbian striker Bacca. Come the second half he scored a third through a penalty.

Bacca was, by any measure,smokin.

He was substituted, clearly to his disapproval, towards the end of the match. He received a well deserved applause upon leaving. Presumably this also enclosed the Torino players given that during the remaining few minutes of the second half they scored twice.

But then, at the last minute of extra time Torino was awarded a dubouis penalty. Sort of six of one and half a dozen of the other if you ask me. Anyway it was saved by the A C Milan goalkeeper Donnarumma. A seventeen year old yet so tall he could easily walk into a store and illegaly buy alcohol .

3-2 then to the Milanese and to be fair they deserved it. Just like the afternoon nap I took afterwards. Upon awakening I remembered. West Ham were playing Manchester City. Checked on the score. Hammers down 2-0. Not being a masochist I went onto the next game. Pescara - Napoli.

Pescara newly promoted. Napoli almost champions. On paper this should have been obvious. However when I write on paper things get inevitably crossed off. The football version of that was when Pescara scored two goals in the first half. First match I know but those goals were such free flowing team quality that I'm not sure I'll see similar this season.

Unfortunately for us underdog romantics Napoli made it level in the second half. Still if I was a Pescarian I would first not eat meat but continue to munch at fish and then would feel happy at what the season would hold given that performance.

Next up was Lazio - Juventus which was on paper the most exciting of the four but (you catch the drift now) turned out to be the most dull. Juventus won by a goal. The only thing that sent me to a state of frenzied apathy.

Then a break, as wife/daughter wanted to watch the new drama series on Queen Victoria. Not my cup of tea but it'll be a success judging how much the females in the house liked it.

I noticed Rufus Sewell was in the cast. That reminded me that he starred in the shortlived BBC TV series Zen based on the Michael Dibdin novels. Though set in Italy the British actors spoke in a British accent rather than talka likea this which was fair enough. Only to have the love interest played by an Italian actress with a genuine accent which rather spoilt the effect.

Anyway, that finished and to the final game. Inter Milan - Palermo.Inter another Milanese club owned by the Chinese and Palermo which is for sale. I'm assuming the Sicilian team will be sold to whoever makes the current owners an offer they couldn't refuse.

Inter dominated. They had chance after chance after chance in the first half yet they could not score. I can only recall one Palermo opportunity in this period. But, as football is always more capable of than any other sport I can think of, early in the second half Palermo scored.

It was a lucky goal. A shot that hit the heel of an Inter player and deflected to the net. Still a goal's a goal.

Inter eventually equalised and the score finished 1-1. But they are not a team at ease with itself. If Inter was a person I'd have arranged counselling long ago.

And so the Serie A Couch Potato-A-Thon was finished for day. Monday Ligue 1...in between cutting grass weather permitting.

Until the next time.

How Alan Stubbs Surprised Me And Olivia Manning Didn't

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

One of the advantages of working an afternoon/evening shift is that you don't have to sit and watch your team being knocked out of European football competition. I had recorded West Ham's defeat to Astra Giurgiu but on turning the television noticed the result in that ticker thing they have on the news channels. This has happened before but for the first time I was grateful.

No doubt tomorrow whilst travelling along the M4 to pick up my daughter I'll be treated mokked at by Astras (I've not spelt it wrongly by the way as that's in Vauxhallian).

Anyway let's chat about football by beginning with a book of jazz critism written by a poet. I know that sounds odd because it is, but bare with me.

Many years ago I bought a book of jazz articles by Philip Larkin that was originally in the Daily Telegraph. Don't remember what attracted me as I'm not really interested in poetry or jazz but suspect it was bought out of cheapness.

Well having read the book I can say that it made not a blind bit of difference to my view of either subject. But something he said about Louis Armstrong, one of the few exeptions in a good way to my jazz indifference I can recall even now.

Larkin wrote that Armstrong was not an experimenter or an innovator. He did what most jazz musicans did at that time, just a thousand times better. Alan Stubbs' 2013 autobiography How Football Saved My Life (written with Tom Bromley) is in many ways no different to most other football autobiographies except that it's the best one I've ever read.

What you realise when you read this book as it details his career and of course his battles with cancer is that Alan Stubbs has,when compared with other footballers, a quietly remarkable life. It's one of the few autobiographies I have ever read where I adnired the subject more once I'd finished it. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

Which is more than I can say for The Rain Forest by Olivia Manning. A bickering couple arrive at a outpost of the British Empire in its twilight years. I feel I've read,watched or listened to this sort of thing all my life. Readable but not remarkable.

Unlike my next football book, which I won't be able to get until at least Tuesday. The next Penguin book I'll read is.

Fatima Meer - Nelson Mandela

This authorised autobiography was written, it should be remembered before he was released from jail. So it should be interesting.

Until the next time.

Why The Halifax Bank Should Be Worried About Its Mortgage Policy And The Royal Navy About Mutinies

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

There are currently two ads that are bothering me on British television at the moment. The first involves much loved cartoon character Top Cat, as he applies for and gets a mortgage from the Halifax Bank.

Now please paws before you accuse me of being catty. I'm not bothered that a talking feline is able to get a mortgage. Nor that an American talking feline is able to obtain a mortgage from a British bank to build a new abode from scratch back in the USA (though I'm curious how he was able to do that).

No what bothers me is that we have a talking American cat able to obtain a mortgage from a British bank to build a new abode from scratch in the USA even though (as I recall the cartoons as a child) he had no fixed income.

A cat, with no fixed income, unable to pass any credit checks and even in the olden days when I watched it was subject to constant checks from the American security services in the form of Officer Dibble was able to go through all those obstacles and still receive a mortgage. Are the Halifax Bank's mortgage checks lax? Are we going back to to the bad old days of the property bubble before the last financial crisis?

Halifax bank. We as a nation and indeed a globe need to know how Top Cat got his mortgage and need to be calmed that you're not giving out high risk financial products to every Tom Cat,Dick or Harry. I think we should be told.

Let's come now to the Royal Navy.

They are running a series of ads which basically show someone with low prospects, living in a dreary place and little hope of progressing in life until they join the navy. The tagline is "Born in.....Made in the Royal Navy".

Now of course these adverts would have normally no interest for me. Given that I'm short of size,long of age and short of the ability to swim. Still I was disturbed by it.

Now the first place to receive that treatment was Carlisle. Now I've never been there. But leaving aside it's recent issues with heavy flooding it seems a perfectly decent place to live in. It has the Lake District, immortalised by the books of Wainwright and is the birthplace to one of my favourite writers Hunter Davies.

But it was the second ad that jolted me. For the area concerned here was Bridgend.

Now those regular readers of this blog will know how I've bemoaned the state of Bridgend Town. Brought to a state of decay I would argue mainly by the Labour council's policy of sleep apnoea (I would talk to the leader about this but Rip Van Winkle was otherwise engaged). However there are other parts of Bridgend that are perfectly fine places to live in spite of I would argue,rather than because of the council.

And pity poor Stockport also now locked into this "dreary place" category and without even the TV production values to support it instead it's only on radio.

Anyway the point being that the ad suggests should you stay in Bridgend/Carlisle/Stockport etc you will become a fat drunken lump of skin and you will only be "made" if you join the Navy. A recruitment ploy of subliminally trashing a potential recruit's home area that is novel to say the least.

Of course these areas are picked because of the young working class that they want to recruit. But then many members of the Royal Family have been in the seaforce that bares it's job description. Still you don't hear an ad that goes "Born in Kensington and Chelsea but made in the Royal Navy" now do you?

These ads could, you've read it hear first, also endanger the security of Britain. For if I was a high ranking official in (insert foreign power here) I would try to first find out which ship has the highest proportion of Bridgendians,Carlisians and Stockpordians in it. Once that's discovered I would send an agent provocateur into the ship and slowly agitate against Britain.

"Look how they think of our towns " the agent would say. "I'm sure (insert foreign power here) would treat them with respect".

And eventually such gradual but constant propaganda would have an effect. So that when (insert foreign power here) does invade this group would disable the ship making it venerable to (insert foreign power here) attack and takeover.

So Royal Navy. Stop bringing out ads doing down areas of the four nations you should be defending and do what you do best. Protecting our nations from (insert foreign power here).

Until the next time.

Bridgend To Epping And Back By Car,Radio Roulette and Amnesia

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

When I was about nine or ten although I listened to programmes from other channels my favourite radio station was the BBC World Service. At the time, certainly when listening in Britain anyway, it was a mixture of all other national BBC channels at that time plus some programmes it made itself. So you could listen to drama, comedy,sport, various types of music and of course news all on one channel.

It was that mixture I liked. Unfortunately it has now become a glorified news channel and I rarely listen to it.

Nowadays although generally go for particular type of stations (Classical music) or particular programmes (comedy/sport) can't say there's a consistent first amongst equals with regard to what I listen to.

I'm going on about all of this so you can understand my listening taste. Now I'm going to explain the game I play when travelling from South Wales to where my mother lives near Epping in Essex to relieve any signs of boredom.

There are moments through the year where I travel to Essex to see my mother. A journey which, on a good day, takes about three and a half hours (an hour of which, to be all South East Commutery about it, is on the M25). So it's a long journey and no matter who's travelling with you can get rather dull.

So exactly when I stumbled on this idea I can't remember but it occurred to me that I might liven the journey up by pressing search on the FM search dial on the car every time a junction on the motorway (M4,M25 and M11) is passed. Some I'll like some I'll hate hence radio roulette.

So my daughter is spending a week with my mother wandering around the sights of London. Monday I drove her there. Firing up my Kia Picanto we left at eleven that morning.

It started with that comfy sofa of daytime radio Radio 2, Ken Bruce to be precise. Soon it drifted to Radios 3 and 4 before getting to Heart FM.

I used to have to listen to Heart FM when I was at work. It was, too bright,too happy, too much of the same songs over and over again, too many commercials and too many DJs where you wondered if they had a mental age of just having left junior school (Jason Harrold and Margherita Taylor excepted). Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now is not a song that you would expect on a Heart FM playlist but an adequate description of my emotions when I hear that station.

It's closest commercial competitor is Absolute Radio which is what I listen to at work now. Whilst some of its music is too young for me it's far better than Heart because you feel it's presented by adults.

Heart basically has national programmes intermixed with local programmes, with news and commercials. One of these commercials was for Trade Centre Wales advertising for "Vehicle Technicians". Isn't that otherwise known as "Mechanics"? Now nothing against mechanics, indeed it's an ability I wish I possessed, but I've an old man's irritation when reasonable words are changed at the whim of a branding consultant (Logistics for deliveries and so on). Indeed on the way back there was a new example to annoy me. A lorry proudly displayed the words "Horseshoe Distribution". Why don't you say that you deliver horseshoes?

And to finish off the grumpy old man segment of this post. The back part of a Eddie Stobart lorry in Essex had an ad for London Southend airport which advertises a "new faster terminal". Really? A building that can challenge Mr Bolt for the next olympics? Or perhaps they should have said "new faster check-in?

The radio moves to BBC Radio Cymru. A man is singing. This arouses the attention of my daughter.

"Is that the Go Compare guy?"

I don't know and as we pass through the next junction I still don't. However a few junctions along we get to BBC Radio Wales. The "Go Compare" guy is talking about tourist guides. My daughter cannot believe it. I tell her to go compare the song and the guy speaking now. She's not impressed in that teenage "Dad don't be stupid "manner.

BBC Radio Bristol follows just headlines, BBC Radio Somerset with a temporary presenter who tells us that she might be there and she might be not and BBC Radio Wiltshire with a presenter who advises that there's a series on badges.

A guy like me who collects bookmarks,football shirts and Penguin paperbacks is not going mock collectors of badges. It did occur to me though that I can't recall someone wearing a badge that had nothing to do with their work or a milestone age for a long time now.

Wish I could say that there was any other memorable things going but alas no, So we move to Tuesday. and my journey home.

It begins at around 9:40am with BBC Radio 3 the classical music station, There's a quiz as to guess a particular city, There are three clues. One of which is Inspector Morse deals with his cases there. Who says the BBC is dumbing down? I laugh mockingly as I go to the petrol station and fill up on the journey.

Down the M11 listening to BBC Radio 4 discussing the life of a woman under Chinese rule. As I turn to the M25 that changes to a rap song which has the line which roughly sounded like "In the living room I see you there, standing in your underwear".

That's Capital FM which to be fair like Kiss 100 or BBC Radio 1 has an audience which does not have me in mind and if I play a little game and listen to music far too young for me that's my problem.

And speaking of problems as I begin to crawl along the M25 when it reverts to cliche. For a moment nothing is moving. Perfect time then for someone to knock on my window.

"Your petrol cap is out" the man kindly informs me, For about an hour then the petrol cap has been swaying along with a lead attached to a car and didn't drop out. A tribute to South Korean engineering and my stupidity. The good samiritan putsthe petrol cap back in.To that man this idiot thanks you.

Mind you it didn't affect the traffic at that moment. There were times such as then where the speed limit was 40 Mph and I would have been grateful to have reached that. Noticed a sign to encourage a new Heathrow extension as I was approaching the M4. Does strike me that if you can't sort out the traffic then it really doesn't seem like a good idea.

One final mention of BBC Radio 4. There came a moment where I was listening to a discussion on the Spanish film director Pedro Almodovar and the accusations that he is a misogynist. A woman responded by saying that his female characters were "cooks" and "creative". Went on by arguing that as a particular character in the film develops she "feels herself". The film buff in me would've nodded appreciatively. However the film buff in me does not exist, though the teenage boy in me was laughing his head off.

Early along the M4 I caught BBC Radio Berkshire. The male host, whose name I didn't catch was interviewing a guy who is or perhaps was an army medic. He actually asked his guest whether he's experienced dealing with situations whilst at war. Changed channels at this point. Later the same man asked a different guest whether lifebelts along canal paths were ever used (spoiler alert:yes) and advised as if delivering new information that the Home guard was a serious organisation, Good to know.

IAnd there was Heart FM again. On one occasion the DJ, Toby Stephens said that after the break it would be Toploader. Now even I who is not a music buff as well as lacking in the film buffery department knows Toploader's only hit. Passed through a junction. Thought I'd missed it as was listening to BBC Radio Wiltshire talking about getting a job. However should be so lucky and soon another junction was passed and I was dancing in the moonlight.

By the time the junction to Chippenham was reached I could catch BBC Radio Wales. I like this station and it's Welsh language equivalent BBC Radio Cymru if only because it's programming mixture makes them the closest to what the BBC World Service used to be like. It also meant, much as I will always try to defend London and Essex, that I was near home.

Until the next time.

In Which I Discover A Fellow Reader

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Friday then. I was off. My wife was off and of course as it was the summer holidays my daughter was off. Unfortunately the weather was off as well.

10:45am Friday

Quarter to eleven on a Friday morning in August and it's so dark cars are travelling with headlights on. Nowhere really to go out today. Might as well go and get my hair cut (note the word cut you understand. I'm too old to have my hair styled).

Though a five minute walk away the weather meant that I had to take the car to the van. Yes I said van, albeit a converted one, capable of two people being attended to at once with a waiting area of available periodicals and a newspaper. Of course when I say newspaper it's The Sun, so that's a debate.Decided therefore to bring one of the books I'm reading with me. Was ready to claim to be the first man (not person should stress) to read an Olivia Manning novel in a barbers whilst waiting to dealt with.

This claim to fame would however pass me by. Walked in just in time to take a free space. Placed the Manning tome on the ledge in front of me with my specs and explained in full technical detail what I wanted. Which was, essentially a trim.

The person cutting my hair is a pleasant slim lady of I guess mid twenties. The few facts I know about her is that she's never been to Maesteg (a half hour's drive away) and that her partner is an ideal man for many women given that he is a chef that doesn't like sport.

She notices the Manning and we start chatting about reading.Figured my hair was not being cut by a mushy romantic or chick lit type, Still didn't expect the response when I asked what her current book was.

Because it was a biography of East End early sixties gangsters Ronnie and Reggie Kray.

Did not must admit ask why she had picked that book to read stunned as I was by that choice. Being from the East End though not when they were at their most notorious knew of their reputation as it had been embedded in the culture.

She continued to explain that the Krays had lowered in her estimation because they had tried to escape from going on national service. Being murderous gangsters was nothing it seemed to not fighting for your country.

And another book was been read by my hairdresser. A novel about saving children from the Nazis in the second World War.Reading more than one book than at the same time. A lady after my own heart.

But let's go back to The Krays. I said that barbers/hairdressers/hair stylists call them what you will could make good assassins. After all they cut parts off a person's body without care or emotion and of course they are used to handling sharp instruments.

I also thought afterwards. That you could form a squad of hairdressing hit people if needed,flying all around the country to deal with assignments. You could name this squad after the most famous barberian and call it The Sweeney.

What I did mention to her is that as an assassin she could work undercover until called upon to deal with a problem in say Newport. The response suggested that she was impressed with the place. I don't know Newport that well. The last time I went was for a Newport County game so there wasn't a lot of the town I knew of.

Still the area I saw was in decline. Indeed she agreed with me that if some of the buildings could cry they would be in floods of tears by now because you see there were better times in the past. This is a picture I took then as an example.

A Crying Shame

But of course any conversation where I live about declining areas would lead us to Bridgend Town. She told me a couple I did not know. Firstly an Italian restaurant had closed down. Secondly there is apparently a book about not to regenerate a town and Bridgend is used as the example. Whether a Penguin or not that's a book I'd like to read.

I left feeling happy. That's what meeting a fellow reader does to you.

Until the next time.

A Nothing Day. Involving A Belated Sausage and Chips, A Harry Potter Mystery And My Women's Football Dilemma

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's Tuesday evening I have a plan for yesterday. Wasn't going to be at work so suggested waking my daughter up early and we'd go out and visit somewhere.

"No" says my daughter. Who as a teenager craves the late nights and uninterrupted sleep that the summer holidays provides. And as a teenager no longer follows the rulings of Dad as sacred pronouncements on high but as the start of a debate.

"No" says my wife. For reasons I don't understand.

So I'm outvoted. Also I'm out of ideas as what to what to do when she does decide to wake up. The record so far for this summer holiday has been 11:30.

Come the early morning I wait. Nothing I can do. So watch a bit of TV. Can't do any housework as don't want to disturb her. That's my excuse anyway.

The morning moves to 10am. It's late enough. Going to have a bath. The podcast listened to whilst having a soak is The Football Ramble which I've only just discovered. Tend to go through a podcast from the very beginning. So if I tell you that Roy Hodgson is Fulham manager as they embark on a Europa League campaign and one of the presenters suggests he should be England manager tells you how old it is and how things have changed now.

It's 10:30. Daughter has at last emerged from slumber and asks what's for breakfast. Respond by saying that when I'm out of the bath will call an ambulance as obviously she's unable to walk downstairs and pour milk onto cereal. A teenage laugh, as if to say dad's trying to be funny. But the hint is taken and she goes downstairs.

The phone rings. Daughter answers it. I can tell from the conversation that it's my wife.

"Dad" She asks "What's for lunch?"

Lunch? She's only just started having breakfast and she's talking about lunch?

However I've an answer.

"Sausage and chips".

Last week I'd refused to get her sausage and chips from the chippy because I'd understood that she couldn't have chips because of her newly installed braces. Apparently though this was just for the first few weeks. I'd misunderstood. This was to make things up.

This is met with approval. Still got it.

As the day goes on it appears that she has planned this day by finishing off watching the Harry Potter movies. This disappointed her mother who wanted to watch it with her but I was happy enough she was doing it. After all I wasn't interested. However a mini disaster occurred. One of the discs turned out not to be Harry Potter but the Tom Hanks animated film The Polar Express. A movie seen before when she was younger and I had to feign interest. For the record, though obviously I'm not it's target audience, it was dull.

So where was this missing film? The DVDs hadn't been moved until fairly recently when this Potter viewathon started. It wasn't clear what had happened. I suggested it had disappeared into thin air....like magic. That didn't go down well.

Daughter just ignored the existence of the missing movie and proceeded to watch the rest. So every time I came into the living room during the afternoon I saw hairy wizards.big and hairy wizards,bald wizards,normal looking wizards, child wizards, female wizards, matriarch wizards and Harry Potter and the other two (told you I wasn't interested) turning bigger and older. Was happy enough. That's six less DVDs to fall asleep in front of the TV to.

No idea what to do today (Thursday) but had an idea for Friday evening.Wales women's B team have a friendly against the Republic of Ireland at Rodney Parade in Newport. Had fancied the idea of going with daughter. She however is not interested ("It's Wales.It's women playing" Neither worked.) as she's hoping to arrange something with her friends.

I quite fancy going myself (I'm working Saturday) but the thing that's putting me off is that if people see me, lone man watching a female  football game, they will put two and two together and make x rated. Daughter would have shielded me from that. I know I could tell them the truth and say I'm just like watching football including the women's game. But suspect no one will believe me.

Of course female fans have had this problem as well with regard to male games and for longer. But with the rise of the women's football I reckon I'm not the only man bothered by this. Real equality you might think.

Until the next time

In Which Wales Might Have To Deal With An Emigration Problem And Only Plaid Cymru Can Deal With It

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I begin properly. What needs to be said first is that everything I'm going to chat about is purely based on anecdotal evidence and nothing more. There are no statistics or charts. Nothing. But then again referendums have been won on a lot less.

No the reason why I'm chatting about this today is that in a space of about four hours yesterday two separate things happened which made wonder whether this might become an issue.

As I've said before my job is not glamorous or on fat cat pay (and one day I'll say what it is...but not today). But I do get to see many people in the course of the working day. People who, whilst getting to know them better you get chat about life,the universe and everything. There'll be no cards exchanged at Christmas or invites to homes but everything's friendly and good natured.

So I was chatting to this guy yesterday and he was saying how difficult things had been at work for him that morning when suddenly said words to the effect that it didn't really matter because he was quitting his job. Something apparently at time of writing his employer doesn't know yet.

I asked what he was going to do next. I expected the response to be moving to another job. However his answer ..........was Australia. Everything had been sorted and he'd be gone by early to mid December.

Later on that day I'd met a woman who just returned from holiday. She had fallen in love with the country she'd visited and as our conversation developed it became clear that she was tempted to move there permanently.

Now of course and I'm happy to stress this, there may be other factors that I don't know of  in play. The man's wife is for example Australian. But it did make me wonder whether there was a possibility that is was the first in what could be a trend in more people leaving Wales post Brexit.

Should the Welsh economy decline people would instinctively and understandably seek a better life for themselves and their families. If they have "skills" they would be able to travel to nations where it would be valued and welcomed. In the UK "skills" are as important as the free market feels they need to be. You might have the qualifications to work in the steel industry. But if that industry is closed down because of overseas subsidised competition then your skills become as redundant as you are. Emigration then becomes an attractive option.

So people would leave Wales to live abroad. Some of whom I suspect Leave voters in the EU Referendum

The Conservative party believes in the power of the free market above all else The Labour Party in Wales (aside from the current civil war it's fighting) the sole purpose is the Rip Van Winkle of UK politics. For the majority governing party in the National Assembly it's stock answer to any economic crisis affecting Wales is to say that they're organising a taskforce. I'm considering applying for a job in the Assembly of shutting the stable doors whilst those horses have galloped off.

Just compare Labour in Wales and the SNP in Scotland. Which party is fighting harder for the people in living in those areas? The SNP takes control of events in Scotland. Labour tries to catch up to events in Wales.

The only other time Labour in Wales seem to be awake is in election times. Where they seem to have a smug attitude of "We're Labour. Isn't that enough?" as an election slogan. But evoking their past only highlights how far they've drifted away from their core values.

UKIP, who at time of writing are at civil war within Wales themselves anyway, will I suspect decline now that their reason for their existence has been won.

And that leaves Plaid Cymru.

Plaid Cymru would be the only party capable of creating a truly Welsh economic plan for those people wherever they have come from originally that have chosen it as home. If you look at Ireland only the economic crash caused by greedy bankers created a fresh emigration issue for the country. Before that, not instantly I'd admit but still, you did not look at Ireland was no longer looked upon as a country where emigration was an issue because  they built an Irish economy post independence and not one dependent on the edicts of London. Such a plan for Wales would not be quick in its effect but imporant for its long term good.

For what I fear is that if the UK economy does decline post Brexit. It's effect on Wales would be catastrophic and a catalyst for people and their families to leave. I feel that the next few months are going to be crucial in seeing how things are going to turn out.

Until the next time.

In Which I Discover A Book Jeremy Hunt And Nigel Farage Will Like

Hello here. Hope you're feeling well today.

At long last I've A Little Bit Of What You Fancy by H E Bates,the final of the Larkin family novels by H E Bates written in 1970. Didn't have high hopes. If you remember I mentioned when starting that my view of the original Darling Buds of May was that the TV series was better and after the first season I'd lost interest in that as well.

Well what surprised me was not that I didn't like it. It was how much I hated it.

A consistent theme of both books is that real enemy is "the state". The lauded Larkin lifestyle is to pay no tax,be entrepremrial and with the money earned to be extravagant in how your life is lived. It is "the state" that tries to hold you back.In The Darling Buds Of May "the state" was represented by the tax office.Tax, terrible thing, what provides everyone with such things as education, roads,libraries and of course health. Tax: The thing the Larkins avoid. They are tax avoiders and are being lauded for it.

In the beginning of A Little Bit Of What You Fancy the state, though not named, is represented by the NHS. Pop Larkin has a mild heart attack and so he is confined to his bedroom. The state's treeatment of him is represented as being too harsh. If you want more symbolism, the original female nurse has a moustache.

Contrast that with the private sector. Not only is the treatment more relaxed and appears to be working but the nurse here is a beautiful and friendly Australian woman.

Of course let's forget the fact that the reason Pop Larkin is in that position is his lassiez faire lifestyle in the first place.

So that's Conservative Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt sorted. Now let's deal with the ex leader of UKIP Nigel Farage. Think I mentioned in the past that I thought that his favourite book was Dracula, given that it was about an illegal Romanian immigrant that creates havoc in Britain. This however comes close.For what suddenly galvanises Pop Larkin into action is the discovery that not only that the Channel Tunnel could be built but that it would go through their area.

England,their England is being threatened. I stress England here because nowhere is Britain mentioned when the book turns all UKIP. There is a moment where with a few alterations you couldn't tell the difference between the book and a Brexit campaigner.

(I know what you'll say. There's another novel in the series when the Larkins go to France. Makes no difference. There are notceable Leave people who have villas in EU countries.)

I understood then why the TV series was better. For it envoked a sense of nostalgia without overdoing it.

What the novel seemed to suggest was that with the channel tunnel England would lose its national identity. It would be unable to hold onto its traditions, No longer could you have even the possibility of fun and frolics Larkin style. Of course the great irony is that in real life the tunnel was built under the time of by the Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher but that on the UK side it was financed solely by private sector money.

This is pernicious propaganda. Envoking a sense of time and a lifestyle that probably didn't really exist and is reprehensible anyway.

Not the worst book I've read this year but the one I've hated the most.

So a new Penguin paperback is needed. The next one from the great unread is:

Olivia Manning - The Rain Forest

I've never read a book by this writer before so it should be interesting.

Until the next time.

In Which Reality Bites Fantasy And The Premiership etc Have To Wait For A Match At Ton Pentre FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well let's set the scene. I'm in the bath. I've explained before how I'm a fan of a good soak and won't bore you with it again. Listening to a season preview of the Guardian Football weekly podcast. Of the three football podcasts I listen to this is my favourite. In my comfortable relaxed state am jolted by a sentence from the show.

"Defoe is injured".

Defoe? Jermain Defoe? The Jermain Defoe that's on my fantasy football team? Clearly have to change the starting eleven.

So I get out of the bath,dry and go onto the Daily Telegraph fantasy football website.....but for some reason my team wasn't there. Was confused but was in a rush so I decided to create the team again. Exactly the same as before except that Berahino of West Bromwich replaces Defoe. So the team is set up and ready to go when.....the Telegraph Fantasy League website crashes.

I try,try again but it's down. Too late to do anything before the first match begins my fantasy team dies in this initial week.

Whose fault was it? Well I suspect did something wrong initially but then it was compounded by the website crashing. And of course the biggest irony is that not only did Defoe actually play against Manchester City he scored as well.

I had to go to Bridgend Town today. Was in a bit of a rush but went into the other Polish deli there for a look around. Because of my lack of time really couldn't make a considered decision so got these.

I shopped Polish

These barring the packaging are probably about as Polish as I am but that's not the point. The point is that in these post Brexit dark ages we should support the Polish shop against those racists happy to denigrate those Poles who have moved and have set up lives/businesses here. Next time I'm going to Bridgend Town I'll ask on Twitter to recommend some Polish food (meats,cheeses etc) to give them a try.

And one more thing on Bridgend Town. Noticed this building.

Does Have A Certain Style

Twitter tells me it's a church. It does seem worth investigating in the future though I'm not sure when.

Wife/daughter had no real plans for Saturday. As they hadn't I had.Penybont FC were playing at Ton Pentre at the first match of the new season for this, the second tier of Welsh League football. I was going to spend the afternoon in the Valleys. You remember I had a day out in there in May to wallow in the views. Yesterday though it was going to be mainly football.

One quick digression though. As was going out I noticed this.

That bird is big

Had thought that I knew where the Ton Pentre ground was but I'd overshot and what turned out to be an empty ground was in the nearby village of Pentre. To digress for a moment Pentre I was told later was once a longer name than that. It makes sense to me. Pentre in Welsh means village so essentially this is a village called village.

So got back to Ton Pentre to ask where the football ground was. It turned out that I was not that far away.

View number 1

So followed the instructions to the most well hidden ground I know. Essentially park in a nearby street.

View number 2

Across another street.

View Number 3

Cross a bridge.

Bridge

View from the bridge.

With added finger

Turn right by the industrial estate.

Industrial Estate Action

And here you are. Still doesn't give you any idea of what's inside.

Ton Pentre FC

It cost £5 to get in. This included a programme which though more cheaply produced (hence the price) is far more readable than anything else I've seen in this league. It included an application to be a part owner of the club for an annual fee of £10. Must admit it's tempting and will think about this,but I won't decide for a while yet. Working next Saturday and the following week will be driving to Essex (which I'll explain then).

So then I've properly entered the ground. This is the view that awaits.

Quietly stunning

Thing about a Welsh League football game is this. If the match has it's dull moments you can always wallow in the views. This is from the other side of the pitch.

Yes I know

Before I forget let me claim now to be the first man to read an H E Bates novel during the interval at a Ton Pentre FC game. Already I've made history in this club.

The proof

The sole seated stand is in the centre - To the left is the clubhouse

You know football is often described as a game of two halves. Well this was a game of two quarters and a half. The first quarter belonged to Ton Pentre. They started the match attacking the Penybont FC half and were rewarded with a goal in just 8 mins, a perfectly placed header by the number 10.

Relatively soon after the number 9 despite falling down during his run into the box scored another. Two-nil then and it looked bad for Penybont FC

Ton Pentre have a manager and his assistant. I'm assuming that the guy wearing the baseball cap Pulis style is the manager. But it was his sidekick who did most of the shouting in the first half.

The assistant's calls did occasionally go to the bizarre. This was a conversation to the number 8 of his team.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Well done".

The number 8 had a look of a man who did not understand what was been said to him, He was not the only one.

The Dynamic Duo

In the second quarter things seemed to change. Rather like the friendly against the Newport AFC youth team Penybont seemed to get their act together when things seemed to be at their darkest. They scored in the twenty ninth minute (can't tell you who) though how the Penybont player was able receive a cross that went through various defenders and score despite a flapping oncoming keeper is a mystery. From a Ton Pentre view the goal was described by those around me as sloppy. That seemed the best description.

Nothing though sloppy about the second Penybont goal. A cross from the right and a straight volley by the Penybont number 8. It was pure skill.

Two all then and that is how it stayed until half time.

The second half was mainly Ton Pentre. They had chance after chance but were seemingly unable to score. They weren't helped by the match officials. Being young they seemed unable to count the correct distance of a wall in a free kick situation, the offside law or that a throw in is not taken at a spot preferred by the thrower. I blame the education system.

Must admit though have an older man's dislike for officials who are not only younger than you but also have the confidence to wear fashionable hairstyles. Though in this case the assistant referee's hair seems to have been cut using a garden implement.

Shawn by shears

With every wrong decision the Ton Pentre management were by degrees angrier. I heard from the manager what seemed like "forty grams of shocking"after one decision. Not sure you understand but it sounded good.

The next photo shows where I was watching the game from. The men coloured in motorway maintenance are the Penybont FC managerial team.

The brightly coloured dynamic duo

A draw was where this match seemed to be going until in the thirty fifth minute the Ton Pentre number 11 was able to out run a number of Penybont defenders and score. Three-Two to Ton Pentre which turned out to be the final score and. given their second dominance, deserved.

After the match was finished went to see some friends in the nearby village of Llwynypia. As I arrived they were about to take some garden rubbish to the local tip. They suggested that I relaxed in the bench they have in front of the house whilst they disposed of their stuff. This I did. A pleasant few moments reading the H E Bates book in front of this view.

Imagine seeing that in front of your house every day. Even if the building below is an ASDA

It was certainly pleasant. Would've been even more so if I liked the book. That though is for when I've finished it.

Had pleasant chat with tea and biscuits when they returned. Soon though it was time to go. Six pm. Time flies when you've had a good time

Thankyou Ton Pentre FC, Penybont FC and the Rhondda Valley.

It was fun

Until the next time.

Why A Sports bag Was Germain To My Support Of PSG

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday work turned out to be surprisingly good. Let's take that into perspective. Good in this context means that things turned out better than expected. Miracles are for the young and the young at heart. I definitely don't fall into either category.

Still was in a pleasant "it's Friday and I'm not working this weekend" mood on returning home. My bonhomie was extended into the night as unusually for my non work life, the evening was planned out as well. Was going to watch the French Ligue 1 team I follow, Paris St Germain, play in the first match of the season away to Bastia.

As I've explained before, whilst West Ham United will always remain first for me, I'm of the belief that foreign leagues are only interesting if you pick a team to follow. The only link (with the exception of Fiorentina, chosen because they were the closest Serie A team to where my Italian relatives lived) to the teams I've followed is that the selection was distinctly random. With Paris St Germain it came down to a sports bag.

It was during our honeymoon in Paris that my wife and I found ourselves in some of the main shopping streets in the centre. It was I think near the Champs De l'Elysee. We had discovered a few things about Paris shopping habits that day. That Mcdonalds sold alcohol (something that would never happen in Britain) and that French bread was both softer and tastier than the dental danger it was marketed as in Britain. Most of all though it did seem that the centre of Paris was more similar to the centre of London than we had anticipated.

For reasons that have now escaped me there was a need to buy a new travel bag as the one I had was broken. Remember that we went into a large store and amongst the stuff on sale there was a PSG sports bag. It was not too big, not too small.In the immortal words of Goldilocks it was "just right".

So I bought it.......and still have it today.

The bag that started my support

It seemed only reasonable that PSG became the Ligue 1 side that I followed. All because of a sports bag....yes I know.

To those who would shout glory seeker at me (and being a West Ham fan this is something I'm constantly used to) this is the right moment to point out that this happened in 1998. Well before rich new owners and Zlatan. The biggest clubs in French football at that time were Monaco and the Olympics Lyonnais and Marseille. For me PSG's recent success/domination is the closest I will ever get to feeling like a Manchester City fan.

Of course this season is an important one for PSG given the change in manager and the departure to the Premiership of Mr Ibrahimovic. Genuinely hope he does well for Manchester United (apart from when he's playing West Ham) if only because he's in my fantasy team. I should point out though that I purchased Zlatan before Mourinho did.

Here's the proof:

As a PSG player I should add

So then, yesterday. Had my PSG shirt ready.

Not a football shirt I know. But OK as,they say, for leisurewear

Wife/daughter had decided to go and see a friend that evening. Leaving me all alone..........which meant I could see the game in peace and quiet.

PSG's opponents Bastia were tenth last season which meant they had the mid table respectability that they could not be underestimated, Indeed they had the best chance of the first half. Whatever respectably some of their fans had was lost the moment they started throwing objects (relatively big things as well) to some PSG players taking corner kicks presumably because of the colour of their skin. It was terrible to see. 

It was 0-0 at half time and as the second half progressed I felt as if it was going to be one of those games despite the Parisians being dominant for most of the time. Thankfully I was wrong with Kurzawa scoring late in the second half. That was the way it stayed. 

They were happy. I was happy. Although you could see a fit Cavani is needed. Three points is still three points. Especially as Monaco could only draw.

At the end of the game went to do the most British thing about me and made a cup of tea.

We shall see what the season brings.

Until the next time.

When Van Der Valk Almost Made Me Watch The Olympics

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I must admit that despite being a sports fan the Olympics is  just passing me by. This started in 2012. Sometimes I have an instinctive aversion to following the herd. Not every time and it seems to come onto me in fits and starts but it does occur.

2012 remember was held in London. The nation was encouraged "to get involved" by people who probably considered them normally as lower orders and/or marketing fodder. I reacted against. When Olympic flame was passing through Bridgend on its way to London. Wife and daughter went out to see it. Me? I watched TV. Can't remember what I watched...didn't care.

During the tournament made it a point of scrupulously ignoring it on TV.radio,online. Didn't work all the time of course. There were moments when smiley faced announcers were cheerleaders for sports that few people would bother to watch if they paid them to do so because "Team GB" was on. Just reached for my nearest book and ignored it. That Saturday evening when Britain won three gold medals in the athletics? I was busy reading.

What made me act in this way was not a lack of respect for the participants but an aversion to the hype that surrounded this event. Four years later nothing has changed. It's being held in Brazil, a country with political,economic and health problems and yet we're being meant to forget about it for the duration of the games.

I switch on the TV in the morning. Thankful that most of the action occurred when asleep and find presenters with those same smiley faces telling me that a bunch of divers won a bronze medal. Let's pause with that for a moment. Wales only recently came joint third playing in one of the biggest tournaments of the biggest sport in the world and as I recall not once did it make the top story on the UK TV news. Yet two men in a sport that few people would notice normally get into exactly the same position and it's the headline.

And again I should stress here that I'm not belittling the achievements of the people participating. What I'm belittling is the media hype that surrounded them.

So I pay little attention to the Olympics. But if we go back to 2012, there was one moment that I wobbled.

We were at a friend's house. The Olympics of course was on. Specifically the gymnastics. Wife/daughter/friend were astonished that I'd brought a book along with me. They watched the television. I was reading.

That book was Because Of The Cats by Nicolas Freeling. I'd been looking forward to reading this thriller, part of the group of novels about Dutch detective Van Der Valk, because as a child I was a fan of the subsequent seventies TV series.

When we arrived though I knew a difficult afternoon awaited me. A quarter of the way through this story and I didn't like it. It was dull and predictable. What was probably the worst thing though was that after the first few chapters it didn't strike me as being all that Dutch either. Full disclosure here. I've never been to the Netherlands but when I started reading George Simenon's Maigret novels I'd never been to France either but you know exactly where you are in those books.

It did not improve that afternoon. I was bored. There was a clear temptation to just put the thing down and watch the sport. I persevered. Wish I could say that there was a reward as a reader in persevering but no. Not the worst book I read in 2012 (take a bow The Silver Spoon by John Galsworthy) but far and away the most disappointing.

Ah well you can't have everything. Be it an Olympic bronze or knowing every book you'll read will be good.

Until the next time.

Of Books Borrowed And Bought

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As night yesterday (Monday) fell my wife suddenly noticed the pile of books on the coffee table (which in this house should be called a tea table but I digress).

"What are they?" she asked.

Clearly darkness and impending sleep had clouded the obvious in her brain. I was happy to help.

"They're books I've bought today".

"Well there's no shelf room left"

She is actually wrong. There is shelf room. And when the shelves are full then I will create more room. That is what collectors do.

As it happened for other reasons I had not actively sought out books for a while. The last Penguin paperback I bought was the collection of J B Priestley plays, and that was only because the nearby village was holding a fete. The last non Penguin/Pelican I'd bought was The American by Martin Booth which as I've explained in an earlier post is worth the read. It was time to buy more.

Things seemed to coalesce themselves into buying books on Monday. I needed to go to Porthcawl library anyway. My daughter in her "I'm a teenager and it's a summer holiday so don't wake me up" mode didn't actually get out of bed until 10:45am (so a trip to Neath/Ebbw Vale etc was pointless). Porthcawl it was then. Lunch,shopping buying books and then the library. Such is the glamorous life this family leads I was surprised that we were not tailed by paparazzi.

The weather in Porthcawl amounted to acceptable this summer. That is to say cool and cloudy but dry. We had lunch on the seafront. I gazed at the relatively calm sea. My daughter just ate her sausage rolls. Bored you could tell. Suspect that true appreciation of what at first glance seems like a nothing view happens when you're older.

Anyway after lunch we went to the best charity shop in Porthcawl for books (Porthcawl Animal Welfare Society - PAWS) which has a whole floor devoted to them. I was in my element. Unfortunately I was with a daughter who wasn't in hers. Quickly she suggested every Penguin paperback she could see. It appeared to be helpful but in fact was to get me out of the place as quickly as possible. There would be no time to make a considered decision. I'm the adult.Knew it was a bit selfish of me to be here in this shop whilst she stood around watching Dad indulge his hobby as she just hung around so decided to choose promptly.

So five books were quickly picked. They were as follows:

1717 - Jamaica Inn - Daphne Du Maurier

This is the only pre ISBN numbered book amongst the five. I've only ever read one other book of hers before (not a famous one) but it had such an effect on me can't even remember it's title.

Jill Tweedie - Eating Children

This orange spined Penguin is on the face of it the most intriguing of all the books I bought. Written by the late Guardian writer this is an autobiography about her troubled childhood. 

Now in the spirit (as explained in an earlier post) of my position as the slight hypocrite comes the next book.

Penguin Plays - Four English Comedies

This is as shown a collection of English Comedic plays by Ben Johnson,William Congreve,Oliver Goldsmith and Richard Sheridan. 

Albert Camus - The Plague

You know all true readers will say that there are certain writers that they have not got round to reading purely because life interferes and/or there is already a pile of the great unread to go through. For me Albert Camus is one of those writers. I'm happy I got this book.

And finally.

Dirk Bogarde - Great Meadow 

Towards the end of his life Dirk Bogarde became just as known for his writing as he was for his acting. This is part of his autobiographical series of books.

Five books for just £2. As they would say in Cardiff. Barrgain,

Before we went home we went to the library so that I can pick a football book. This was the one I chose.

Alan Stubbs - How Football Changed My Life

Alan Stubbs, ex manager of Hibernian and now manager of Rotherham was also a useful player in his own right. This is his autobiography (written before his managerial career) which also includes his battles with cancer. Suspect it'll be worth a read.

I enjoyed getting these books. Both as a reader and a collector.

Until the next time.

The Joy Of Pre Work Routine

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

A couple of days back I was in the bath when the phone rang. Now this bothered me, Firstly because I was in the bath and as I think I've made clear before I like baths.

There I was then relaxing in it's (manly blue) bubble warmth. Listening to a Ramblings BBC Radio 4 podcast that I'm slowly going through. This is the one about walking up some ex MOD land to get a view of Belfast and when the weather is really good some part of Scotland. It sounds better on radio trust me.

But when the phone rings I knew I had to move and all vestiges of comfort dissolved as my lumpen wet frame raced to the bedroom to answer the call. And thereby lies the second reason, for unusually for a Saturday morning my wife and daughter were already up and out of the house for the day as with a friend they were on the way for a day trip to Hereford (which apparently is not an interesting place to do any shopping in - I'm merely noting what was told to me afterwards you understand). So was worried that something had happened to them.

I needn't have been so concerned...it was work.

"Is it possible...." I was asked "you can work a few hours earlier tomorrow?"

Replied probably yes. Given that I was working on Sunday anyway it didn't particularly bother me. Just needed to clarify with wife and daughter that there wasn't any issues that might stop that and as it happened there wasn't. So ten hours was spent at work that day. Money is,after all, money.

I need to make two separate digressions here. Firstly I'm not making any statement about how hard I work or otherwise. Indeed learnt recently about a man who was working a seventeen hour shift at KFC (though I'm not sure whether this was exceptional or the norm). Working in intense heat and smelling fried chicken flesh, perhaps if it exists then whatever their shift it's KFC workers who can most vividly imagine what hell is really like.

Secondly since I've gone onto the subject of KFC. If you are a young gentleman wishing to invite a young lady who works there to a date then offer them a beef dinner. Reeking of chicken at the end of their working day puts them off the stuff so anything else that is as far away from the hen as possible would be welcomed. That is I assure you, the only piece of dating advice I'll ever give in this blog.

Anyway,back to Sunday. If there was one thing that bothered me about working from an earlier than expected start time it was that I'd have to change my routine. There is you see a certain comfort in having a routine before you go to work. If we take the afternoon/evening shift as an example I would wake up, have some breakfast whilst watching something on TV and then have my second cup of tea and if I'm feeling particularly reckless another cup of tea. If this was school time my only normal duty would be to make sure that my daughter got to her bus on time having of course being fed.

After another cup of tea that would then be bath time with a precursor of shaving and cutting any unsightly hairs from my person. Bath time:Normally half an hour occasionally ten minutes of the aforesaid bubble primed inaction.

Once out of the bath and dressed I'd wander round the house tidying things up and vacuuming where needed. Occasionally going round to the local shops for any provisions (this mainly meaning milk for tea,bread for sandwiches and chicken - not fried but slices - for what I'd normally have for the sandwich filling for lunch).

Come lunchtime I'd have a chicken sandwich whilst watching some more TV have two more cups of tea. Go to the toilet, get some mineral water and I'm ready for work.

Sunday was different. Woke up and after a quick breakfast and just one cup of tea went to have that bath. Just ten minutes this time though. Listened to A Point Of View also on Radio 4. Going through the podcasts of that programme if I have to take a quick bath. It seemed I've used up all the Clive James talks so instead listened to Dame Joan Bakewell explaining why diaries are a valuable resource and are threatened by the modern age. As if blogs did not exist.

And so to lunch. In the mid morning you understand. Needed to have something more filling than a sandwich so went for a microwave meal. It was perfectly fine, though nowhere near as alluring as the packaging would suggest. Is there any microwave meal I ask you that looks as good as the photo on the box?

Everything else I had to do was in the knowledge that the countdown clock was moving faster than normal. I would of course do it again given the same circumstances but still, the description to the normal pre work routine took a bit of getting used to.

Sad isn't it. But that's the point. Predictability is the greatest strength of the routine. I've been unemployed and I can tell you that having long periods of time to yourself is not as simple as would be made out by the politically right. You become depressed,listless,unmotivated and feel as if you are living in a parallel universe to those that are in work. And to you George Osborne I've have seen a full episode of Jeremy Kyle once in my life and I hated it (pre watershed MMA).

The greatest trick that the political right has ever been able to pull off is that there is a vast army of people scrounging off benefits at the expense of those who work. Of course those people exist and need to be dealt with, but the trick, and it is a trick, is to suggest that these people represent the majority. Whereas the majority are decent people where life has taken a sharp downturn. People who would revel in the dullness and predictability of a pre work routine if it came their way.

Until the next time.

Football:In Secret and In Fantasy

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Finished the book Tales From The Secret Footballer by The Secret Footballer. The first thing that needs to be said is that I've not read the original  I Am The Secret Footballer  by the secret soccerista. However what this sequel seems to be is some sort of mixture between gossipy autobiography, more personal accounts and his opinions on various aspects of the game that his experiences have led him to.

Given that this is it's selling point the worst parts were the gossip. There was no tale that surprised me. Secrets but no revelations. Of course the secret that could change all of this is the one our author keeps to himself. Names. Players,clubs,managers and of course him, one detail is studiously avoided I presume at the insistence of lawyers. It makes this aspect, for the reader, unsatisfactory

But the Secret Footballer is an intelligent man. His opinions are far more deeper than you would normally expect from a sportsman and the chapter on depression is worth a read by itself. If I was to give it a mark out of ten it's that chapter that pushes it to a seven.

So the library books are now read and the earliest I can possibly change them is Monday. Which means I need to get a new book from the great unread which turns out to be......

Breaking Vegas - Ben Mezrich

This is one of those books where a geek takes on the gambling house at Vegas. This time though the game isn't poker but the less sexy blackjack. Bought this book many years ago attracted as I was by it's cheapness being ex library. Didn't know about the rules of blackjack then and I still don't now. But that doesn't matter. I've found that not knowing the rules of say, poker, doesn't harm your enjoyment of  the game if the writer can tell a good story. Victoria Coren being an example of this.

When I was looking through the great unread to get the next book to read I noticed a few fantasy football books (the football here being of the American variety). Realising that the Premiership season was just a week away I suddenly thought I'd give it a go. Have tried it before. Rarely with success though. Only once,in the nineties, did it go surprisingly well thanks to Alan Shearer,a few Manchester United defenders and Dennis Wise (very quickly here I'd noticed - not analysed - that every other goal Chelsea scored at that time was either by, or assisted by the minuscule saged one).

Anyway I've made no pretence of winning for this team picked from the Daily Telegraph's Fantasy Football. Wanted to go as random as possible. Originally I'd thought of going all Dice man but that didn't work out because too many players were not assured to be in the first eleven. So instead I've deliberately picked a team that consists one player from the top eleven teams from last season with two exceptions. One is West Ham because I've a superstition that picking any man from the team I follow turns their form to mush (it's happened - trust me). So in this case I've deliberately picked a player from the team that came twelfth - Swansea City. The other is that just for fun I've picked one player outside that first eleven/twelve so another higher placed team was dropped completely.

The team called of course Sopra La Luna (which means over the moon in Italian) is:

Butland - Stoke City

Bellerin - Arsenal

Lovren - Liverpool

Stones - Everton

Morgan - Leicester City

Toure - Manchester City

Sigurdsson - Swansea City

Willian - Chelsea

Tadic - Southampton

Defoe - Sunderland

Ibrahimovic - Manchester United

The missing team here is Tottenham

No player is going to be changed whatever happens unless they are for whatever reason out of the team. In these circumstances he will be replaced by a player from that same club.

As I said before this team won't win. I will however have the comfort of knowing that it will beat at least one person who picked a team through logarithms and computer programs

We shall see how well it does. I'll probably be looking at it properly every Tuesday.

Until the next time