In Which French Women, Mark Harmon And Sherlock Help Me With My Wardrobe And Other New Year Resolutions

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

First housekeeping. I've finished How To Build A Girl by Caitlin Moran. The book that kept me company at work on Christmas, I loved it then and nothing changed on completion. And given that I'm a fifty two (nearly fifty three year) old man to have enjoyed this novel shows exactly how good it was.

Now, coming soon to a place near you. a new year. And with it.......resolutions. Normally I've never really gone for resolutions but this time I'm going for them in a big way.

These come in two main categories: The first being to up my game on things I've started this year.

Learning languages: As much as I can possibly do I shall be listening to French, Italian, Polish and Welsh depending on the day. If I can practice speaking it to people, whether online or face to face, so much the better.

Within reason be more continental in habit: Particularly in front of those right wing fascist people who have emerged from the slime and think that a hard Brexit is beating up Polish immigrants.

(Already I'm toying with buying those pod coffee machines that get advertised on the TV. The only thing holding me back there is that I didn't realise that the choice is like VHS/Betamax. A family necessity or a throw it away on the tip blunder. Wife's not enthusiastic. Mind you she wants one of those George grill things).

Work For Plaid Cymru: Particularly around April/May. Imagine a man that just spends most of his time sleeping so neglecting his duties and when he does wake up bosses people around but acts incompetently . That is Bridgend Labour Council. Local elections are in May. They have to go .

Go through the Elizabeth David Cookbook: You thought I forgot didn't you? But no. Just opportunity didn't knock. Will work through it.

Similarly:

Fill up the Panini Euro 2016 sticker album: As above.

Then there is the second category of resolutions. Those new for 2017.

Do voluntary work in a foodbank: Says everything you need to know about present day Britain that I can contemplate doing this. Not sure exactly when though. Daughter's knee problem means that for the moment during my days off I'll be the bus taking her the half hour journey to/from school (allowing her to stretch her leg) so there won't be a lot of spare time.

Sort out my wardrobe: Yesterday I was working in the evening but wife, mother and daughter went out to see brother-in-law and his family. On their return they showed me the Christmas present for me.....a £30 voucher for a clothes store (I wasn't offended. We got him exactly the same thing from exactly the same clothes store).

Been contemplating a new look for a while now when I realised that the tenplate  I should follow was the Mark Harmon character from NCIS. It was a look that said, "I'm in my fifties. I've dressed casually, but I'm not pretending to be thirty years younger or about to go to the golf course".

Not completely that look though. I've seen the large coat Benedict Cumberbatch wears in the Sherlock TV series....and I want it.

And as for French women? I read somewhere that they have a small wardrobe but of good quality rather than my strategic clothes manoeuvre of buy them cheap and pile them high, For 2017 I'm going to follow that pattern and see where that leads me.

We'll see how well I do.

Until the next time.

.

Call Of The Wild by Jack London aka Black Beauty Part 2

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

There is always for the reader too many books too little time. And so you try and avoid as much film/TV series/any illustrations of a book as possible. But of course you're never going to completely successful. Snippets will come to your view.

If you take the Lord Of The Rings / Hobbits books for example. I know there is a search for rings, the hero has funny ears and there are old men with authority and white beards. Nothing though that would be any degree of spoiler to when I actually read the series.

So we come to Call Of The Wild. by Jack London, the latest ebook I've been reading. The snippets I knew beforehand were as follows. It involved a dog,it was set in somewhere icy and there was a sympathetic male character. I knew the final fact because though I've not seen it "the film of the book" starred Charlton Heston and if he's in a film you know he's not playing the bad guy be it in ice or the Planet of the apes.

What was unexpected, and I'm sure I'm not the first person to mention this, was that this turned out to be Black Beauty Part two. A different animal, I know. Tougher, I know. But still Black Beauty Part Two.

Essentially this is about an animal taken from a more comfortable environment and what it has to experience with different owners. It is tougher. It has literally, more bite,  but in concept it's no different from Anna Sewell's novel.

Is it better than Black Beauty? Given I read the latter as a child not sure whether my view would be swayed by the passage of time. What I will say is that the whilst Call of the Wild is readable I'm not sure whether it deserves classic status especially as now I've realised it's basic concept is not new.

Perhaps indeed there should be a greater appreciation, as I've also explained in earlier posts, of what Anna Sewell actually did.

The next one on the great ebook unread is Twilight in Italy by D H Lawrence. Regular readers of this blog will know that I'm not a fan, but let's see if this changes anything.

Until the next time.

I Said I Wanted Swansea City Beaten.......Not Slaughtered

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Boxing Day was a typical Boxing Day. I wasn't working so it's starts as an anti-climax from the day before and progresses into just giving your ever widening stomach a rest.

But there was one exception to that general top walrus inaction. In that day's football fixtures Swansea City were playing West Ham. I had hoped to go, but my daughter has had a recurrence of an old knee injury and finds it difficult to walk on her right leg at the moment. In truth I didn't have the heart to say "Well you're in pain at the moment but I'm off to have some fun." That would just be breaking the Dad code.

So late in the afternoon I discovered the result. It's a West Ham win (hurrah) . We've moved into mid table respectability (double hurrah). We won by scoring four goals (West Ham scored four goals in a match this season? It's a Christmas miracle).

But when watching the highlights of the match later my feelings slightly changed. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy West Ham won. It's just that as I've explained before Swansea City are one of those teams that for me are like being very friendly with a woman but not having an affair as you're faithful to your wife. So watching them not so much being beaten as being beaten up in an alleyway and being left for dead was so sad.

The first Hammers goal was scored by Andre Ayew. His first West Ham goal since moving from.......Swansea City. It's that sort of fact that slaps you in the face when you're in a relegation battle. It was though the next two West Ham goals that illustrated how Swansea has declined. Winston Reid was clearly a ghost to the two Swans defenders that should seen him and only noticed his presence after he scored a header. Antonio looked offside when he kicked the third until you noticed further along the pitch the presence of Nathan Dyer that put him onside (and a quick word on Dyer - when you were there at Swansea's peak just imagine the pain he must be feeling now. Almost as bad as the fans). Swansea did score a goal only for Andy Carroll to quickly put back the three goal difference.

The freeflowing Swansea style was gone. Instead they had a look of a team on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

If only this result was exceptional. Under the reign of manager Bob Bradley defeats by four/five goals were the norm . I cannot remember any big name manager whose team were regularly defeated by this margin. It was not surprising they sacked him the day after.

Bridgend is inbetween Cardiff and Swansea. At what that means is that you can get supporters of both teams there. I was working the day after and from those people who know I'm a West Ham came different reactions. The Cardiff City fans congratulated me as if I'd scored those four goals. The Swans supporters were more depressed than anything else. To them, I was almost apologetic.

The story of Swansea City seems to be like a fairy tale where there are new chapters revealing that the wicked witch did not die and was now wreaking revenge. There is still time for a happy ending...but that time is running out.

Until the next time.

Christmas Day At Work With Caitlin Moran

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I spent Christmas day morning and early afternoon at work. Don't feel sorry for me. I think I've made it clear in the past few months that as I've grown older I tend to greet Christmas with a grudging handshake more than a warm embrace. Still to any observer in the kitchen yesterday at four thirty am I must seemingly have looked a pitiful sight taking my croissant breakfast alone whilst listening listening to a recording of Book of the Week on Radio 4.

A quick digression. As I was listening to the Book of the Week, Love Of Country by Madeleine Bunting, an account of her journey around the Scottish islands, I made the decision that should I outlive my wife, I'd move to the Welsh Tuscany that is the Rhondda. For the moment Treorchy would be the specific target,though that might change. Funny how big decisions in your life can be made in unexpectedly quiet moments.

Working on Christmas Day morning does also have other advantages. You are not nagged at for not being involved in the Xmas dinner. Neither are you condemned for nodding off in the evening.

But anyway so to work. It's 6:00 am and I'm prepared. A bottle of mineral water,a pack of chewing gum and a book, How To Build A Girl by Caitlin Moran.

For the first hour there's hardly any work to do, so there was a lot of reading. By seven o'clock I've read eighty pages.By the end of the second hour there was more work so  the page count moved to 120.

So to hour three. Less work this time. At 8:45 I get a call from the wife. Daughter is still asleep and she finds herself bored in front of the TV. Daughter is fourteen. Proof that the allure of Christmas does lessen when you know it's secret. By the end of that hour the page count moves to 200.

Work then really hits in. By the end of hour four the page count moves to.....err 208. And that's where it stayed until it was time to leave.

And the point is this. How To Build A Girl is a great book. A pure pleasure to read. The sort of novel that you start to deliberately slow for fear of finishing it. Last year Alan Coren made me forget working in the holiday period and it seems Caitlin Moran is doing it for me this time around......and she's just as good.

So for being with me on Christmas Day morning at work thankyou Caitlin Moran.

Until the next time.

A Toilet Seat, My Hatred For Howard Webb And Other LastMinuteThingsBeforeChristmasNotDotCom

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

On the list of unexpected things that happen before Christmas Day which have to be dealt with, a broken toilet seat is not one of them. Normally it's the kitchen light bulb that requires, no demands your attention. But yesterday the toilet seat broke, the strain of the rear end of life was too much for it to bear and so that was one of the list of things to do.

My main thought was to buy my mother a couple of books to finish off her Christmas presents as a stocking filler. Wife said go to Home Bargains (on the way to the DIY place) they sell books. So I did. And they do.....just children's books. So after this Toilet Seat Secret mission a quick trip to Porthcawl was needed.

First though was to collect a parcel from the Post Office depot. Tick. Get soaked in the rain doing so. Tick.

Interestingly what I learnt about toilet seats from the DIY seats is that the prices from £4.99 to £32.99 and it was those on the mid range that were empty. There were those in various colours and, for those insane amongst us, designs. Just bought a normal white one at £9.99. Tick.

Getting to the bottom of things

The "Last Minute Things Before Christmas" View

Then in the spirit of Christmas or perhaps to avoid been nagged at for not going went to the local Starbucks to buy a gingerbread latte for the wife and a hot chocolate for the daughter, she having defected from the rival Costa.

After going home, dumping the stuff I bought  and taking a quick cup of tea . Off I went to Porthcawl, and as I was going to Porthcawl I could go to the library.

Was almost going to pick the autobiography of Howard Webb the referee, now TV personality. Now I hate Howard Webb, not because he was a referee but because he's younger than me. You know when you're old when the match officials are younger than you.

But as it happens another football book caught my eye.

Andrea Pirlo - I Think Therefore I Play

No British footballer could get away with a title like that.

The other book I borrowed, spotted in passing was:

Caitlin Moran - How To Build A Girl

Amazing isn't it. Look for months for her months and two come in a short space of time. She must be the London Buses of literature.

So that was done. Tick. Books bought for my mother. Tick. No Penguin books today which seems appropriate after my last post. Also bought these.

And in the spirit of Christmas  let me stress......THEY ARE MINE

And before we leave Porthcawl. Here it is at sunset yesterday.

Remember this is the South of Wales not France

Once home worked a journey from London to Bridgend for my mother at her request which involved mainly driving along the M4 but avoiding the Severn Bridge if it's closed because of high winds on Christmas day. Did I know what I was doing? Absolutely not. She should follow any road signs at the time. Still it's my mother....and like wives and daughters they can be insistent. Tick.

Toilet seat installed. Tick. Finally wrapping of wife's/mother's presents from me/daughter. In another of the series "Things I hate about Christmas" I hate wrapping. Christmas is problematic enough without being expected to be able to put gaudy paper around oddly shaped presents. If I wanted to be an expert in folding paper I'd have taken up origami.

Still eventually......

that's a wrap.....badly.....tick

Until the next time.

So It Appears Penguins and Pelicans Really Died In 2013

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today. I am, I must admit in a bit of a rush, so please forgive any tardiness in this post

There was I yesterday, scrolling down Twitter, when I discovered an article which explained that Random House, which now owns Penguin Books, no longer recognise and negotiate with any union in the Penguin Books division.

Now I won't bother to discuss the nature of the particular dispute, unions and employers will never agree on everything ever. That's the nature of things, unions are for the workers, employers are for themselves and their interests. What is disturbing is that it has happened to Penguin Books. A company that I have loved and respected since childhood under their Puffin brand.

And it's upsetting.

Penguin Books represents many things. It gave you a vast array of books on many subjects from many countries with differing views of life and yet it was also essentially a firm that also had at its heart a sense of decency. This action has ripped any final sense that it was special. It has become just another arm of a multinational company and it's not bothering to hide it in a glorious past anymore.

If you can be in a union you should be. If it is the will of the employees of Penguin Books that they should be represented by a Trade Union so that the power of the group and face the power of the company then why not? It's democracy. But no. For you know that in doing this Random House know the power of the brand but not in what made the brand tick, the people. Not just the writers but the designers, proof readers, printers, editors etc. What they don't realise, or perhaps don't care, is by doing something that is against everything you believed Penguins to be, that in one action, though it will happen slowly, the brand has been destroyed.

So what will I do with my collection? Well I had thought of just stopping it. Something that would have the approval of my wife as a shelf space argument is soon going to come. But instead I've decided to continue with the paperback collection but stop at 2013,when I understand Random House took over.

Now you might say that I only buy pre owned Penguins/Pelicans nowadays anyway so what does it matter? The answer is I do buy "new" Penguins but as ebooks (the George Orwell and Jay Rayner books I discussed recently as an example) . I'm just not going to buy anymore Penguin publications to instantly download. Finished.

Of course as I've said on other things this is but a gesture, but sometimes gestures are all you have.

Quickly mentioning other books I've finished the Joey Barton autobiography . It was interesting, though I'm still not sure whether my view of him remains unchanged. Unsure whether I'll be able to go to a library before Christmas so the next book (which you may remember I bought in Maesteg indoor market in April) is Hemingway's chair by Michael Palin. Must be honest I'm not as excited in reading this than I felt when bought due to the disappointment that was the diaries. Speaking of disappointment the Beatrice Webb diaries (volume  two) were dull. They were more detailed than they were emotional and that to me was surprising. Buying it after remembering reading Volume 1 as a teenager was a mistake. I won't bother with volume three.

Still at least she believed in trade unions.

Until the next time

Pobol Y Cwm A-Thon

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So then what do you do when you've spent Sunday morning on the early shift at work? Well clearly after you've come home, had a nap and then had to watch a Christmas TV film at the wife's insistence (as awful as you can imagine - clichés a go go) you watch old episodes of the Welsh language soap opera Pobol Y Cwm (People of the valley).

I had started to watch the soap opera in the late nineties when I was starting the long distance courting with my now wife. Every other week either I would travel to Cardiff or she London for the weekend and either as broadcast on. We would  the Welsh language channel S4C or on VHS (for those too young google it) we would watch the Sunday evening omnibus edition (now sadly axed).

This was perfect Sunday evening programming. We would follow the lives, loves, trials and tribulations of the people of the Welsh village of Cwmderi. It's great advantage was that unlike other soap operas we would be able to avoid any knowledge beforehand of what was going to happen. I don't understand why this is done with other soap operas. It's like watching a recording of a football game whilst already knowing the result.

And we continued to watch it for years. But then certain things happened. And for me that main thing was redundancy. Long term unemployment affects many people in many ways. But for me there was a gradual but paralysing depression.Things that I had a passion slowly went. Learning Welsh had been one of them. When I stopped learning the language then by and large watching programmes in Welsh stopped with it. Not watching Pobol Y Cwm was one of the consequences.

But now that I'm working my old self seems to have returned. And earlier this year I to learn Welsh again and with that programmes on the Welsh language channel S4C such as Pobol.

As an aside although my verb use has been criticised by my currently Welsh language school educated daughter (eleven o'clock last night when I insisted she went to bed...so I didn't care) being from the East End of London though make the point that it's not the quality or breath of my vocabulary that counts but it's the fact that I can speak it to a credible level. If I judge my Welsh on other parents in the school there are the fluent speakers, the vast majority who are non speakers and (as far as I can work out) me. My Welsh being currently in a very annoying twilight zone stage that whilst I wouldn't call myself fluent I'm far better than "the cat sat on the mat".

Pobol Y Cwm is broadcast twice every weekday. Once without English subtitles and once with. I record both so that the parts I haven't understood are explained. Now for various reasons I tend to watch about four in total a week. These reasons tend to be family, work, life the universe and everything with special mention for reading and TV sports. What this means, as my wife/daughter did not hesitate to remind me, was that the DVR had ninety two episodes in the hard drive. To explain that in mid December in Pobol Y Cwm time I'm on early October. So yesterday I ploughed through eight episodes.

When you return to a soap opera after a long break you're conscious of what's changed for reasons that you don't know . The local pub, the Deri Arms has had a major revamp. The previous landlady lives in the village but the previous landlord is not there. There is also an openly gay couple about to get married with a reception in the main village street.

First thing you do on returning is to cling to people you remember when you originally watched the programme. Personally I have a soft spot for the characters of Britt Monk and Sheryl Hughes. This is for the sentimental reason that (based on the Sunday omnibus episode then) the day when my wife first thought she was pregnant Britt gave birth to Chester (who in my current Pobol Y Cwm time has just been sent to jail for four months!) and when our daughter was born Sheryl gave birth to a son (who isn't there for reasons I don't think I want to look into).

Sheryl now lives with Hywel Llywelyn who seems besotted with her. This is interesting given that he used to be the Cwmderi Casanova. The list of ladies he wooed including the wife of the then vicar (who I think was a murderer unsure of that), who is now a teacher (being falsely accused of sexual harassment by Chester) / secretary of the local rugby club and lives with a mechanic who works in a garage owned by Garry Monk, Britt's brother,.....as you do.

Well I'm back to being a Pobol fan. A slow one (I'll see how they spend Christmas in February) I'd admit but still a fan. Should find out what fans call themselves ....Pobolites perhaps?

Until the next time.

Perhaps The Welsh Need To Be Less Nice

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's been a rather odd day. Three things have happened. Separately. But all involving Wales and the treatment of the Welsh.

The first concerned an article in the Staffordshire Sentinel about the occurrence of bilingual road signs in English and Welsh in the English town of Eccleshall. On reading it you'll find that it went beyond the irritation of someone having the courtesy putting bilingual signage on a town close to the Welsh border and moved into something that was just plain unpleasant.

Well Welsh part of Twitter was not happy. I know that a complaint has been sent to the Press complaints authority and I suggested that the Staffordshire Sentinel asked Mark Hughes and Joe Allen , manager/player and Welsh in the local football team (Stoke City) what they felt about the article. Doubt it would happen though.

As I've explained before the best description I've ever heard of Wales is as Italy with rain. But the people are similar as well. Pleasant, easy going and slow to anger outside of the sporting arena. It explains why a dim local journalist in a place that evokes as much passion as cycle in a washing machine felt it ok to "have a go" at them.

My blood is part Italian. I remember that the one time a politician aroused me to fury was when an MP in a nearby area to Bridgend described Italians as "greasy wops". That man was Alun Cairns. Now Secretary of State for Wales. If he had insulted Afro-Caribbeans , Asians or people of the Jewish faith you would never have heard of him again. But because he insulted Italians then we were supposed to turn the other cheek and forgive him.

Well whilst I would never physically attack the "man" (a term used advisedly) should he decide to walk down the street where I live then that would be fair game for me to throw eggs at him. Though admittedly having never pitched for baseball I'd be afraid my aim would be poultry....I'll get my coat soon ...promise.

Anyway the reason I'm mentioning this whiny little boil on the backside of humanity (can you tell I'm still angry?) is that the Welsh Office have unveiled a new logo. Now I don't know let me stress but I'm sure that this was done (and the money was pocketed ) by an English firm. After all how else can you explain a Welsh organisation with a logo without any hint of the Welsh language or a dragon in it? Cairns, the idiot agreed to it. Every nation has it's symbols and for it to be taken away is nothing short of vandalism.

And so we get to the final issue. A tweet I saw from a Libdem supporter which showed a chart of all parties and the strong gains of the Libdems in local byelections in the past year. Plaid Cymru was just up by three. However on closer look this chart refers to all of Britain so it was hardly representative of Plaid's true performance in Wales. When I mentioned it the response I got was "Nothing stopping them" . An answer best described as Trumpesque in it's crassness.

So the point I thought was this. Perhaps the Welsh need to less polite, bang on the table and demand more which is exactly what Scotland does. Whatever the UK government, or the media think about the SNP Scotland under them is a nation which it has to deal with and not expect to follow. Wales is a proud and hopefully independent nation one day. It should not be known as "and Wales" as in the afterthought to "England....... and Wales".

Until the next time.

Julian Barnes, Novelist, Distinguished Man of Letters.......No Idea About Football

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Picture the scene then. I'm in the bath. For those who don't know me I'm a young Adonis. For those who do know me look away now.

It's three forty five am on Sunday morning. I'm on the early shift at work and have gotten up early so that I can have time to have a bath. I will never change my mind with regards to baths over showers. You will understand that last remark as we go on.

Now what I tend to do in the bath is to listen to a radio programme I've downloaded from the BBC iplayer radio app as a sort of countdown clock, when it finishes I'm out. If I have time it could be a half hour programme, but yesterday was not that day. So instead listened a a thirteen minute programme in the series "The Essay"  from Radio 3, the BBC classical/cultural station.

For the past week Julian Barnes, the distinguished novelist was discussing how you change your mind through your life. I'd not listened in chronological order so the one I'd listened to before was on books. He explained how he changed his mind on E M Forster from dislike to like and mentioned in passing that he might be going the same way on D H Lawrence. That bit made me chuckle as I had changed my mind on Lawrence too. Based on the books I'd read my view as a young adult was that he was a writer of saucy stuff with a literary sheen but now as a fifty two year old man he was just a conveyor of pretentious twaddle. How you change your mind indeed.

The episode in the bath was the first of the series, where in the beginning Barnes was setting out the basis for the rest of the week. And in this preamble he said this:

"that we all expect some change through the years........we change our minds about many things.........to adherence to social groups, the football team or political party we support.

It was a throwaway remark but that really woke me up. It was radio as espresso (thanks for that anyway Julian). But whilst it's perfectly true that I've changed my mind about many things through the years. sport and specifically here football is different.

So who would be the freak who likes football, reads books and downloads talks from BBC Radio 3 to listen at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning? Two thumbs pointed at this guy.

Now regular readers of this blog will know that I support a number of football teams on the grounds that I've always believed that it makes watching a foreign league more exciting (one per country you understand). But these teams will always fall by the wayside if they ever face the first team I followed as a child. So not to muddy the waters lets talk solely about the English leagues, and the first and longest love of my life West Ham United.

I picked the Hammers simply because they were the closest team to where I was born in the East End of London. That was it. Loyalty to your area. My family generally have gone to the dark side and support Arsenal. Of course I don't like the fact that the Daleks are more successful but in terms of who you support though it does not matter. Once you have made your decision that is it. You have committed yourself forever...through victory,defeat or a draw....for that's the nature of sport and supporting your team. You,the fan, care.

I'm sure there are a few people who changed their minds as to which football team they are such a minority that they're not worth talking about unless to shun them in the street.

You follow the team whatever their fortunes and wherever you are. I'm trying to see if I can get a ticket to watch them play Swansea City on Boxing Day. As I've said before Swansea are one of those teams that I consider to be like being very friendly with a woman whilst still being faithful to your wife. On Boxing day Christmas is over. I want them beaten.

Let's give another example. In South Wales the majority support the three teams in the English League, Cardiff, Swansea and Newport County. There will be others though who follow the likes of Manchester United or Liverpool. I knew people in the late nineties who supported Aston Villa because it was the closest Premiership team from South Wales (how times change). But once they made their minds up there was no change in the team they supported.

So Julian Barnes Football is not like literature,or politics,or music. You can be passionate about all these things (as I am) but your lifelong loyalty will always be for your team.

Come On You Irons!

Until the next time

Porthcawl Library: Where You Can Borrow Books Full Of Christmas Spirit And Muse On The Future Of Donald Trump and The Planet

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

On Friday I went to Porthcawl library. It was probably going to be last time before the new year. Because of this I felt that the football book I was going to pick needed to be full of the spirit of the season. Piece on Earth goodwill to all men (plus the ladies of course) and all of that.

I picked this:

Joey Barton - No Nonsense

For those who don't know Joey Barton is the sort of person who looks controversy straight in the eye and headbutts it. Whatever else I'm expecting from the book, boredom is not going to be one of them.

So I approach the counter to take the book out. In front of me is an elderly lady who is chatting with the librarian behind the desk. They're already in conversation .
"You know what?" says the librarian "I reckon he's a megalomaniac".

It wasn't too long before I knew who they talking about.

"He's already annoyed the Chinese" the old lady responded "They'll probably be a nuclear war soon and" she added "there's more of them than there is of us".

Having digested the thoughts of old lady cum military strategist the librarian then came back with "I think he's going to be impeached within a year". Thus showing a surprising knowledge of the American political system.

My contribution to all of this was to wish them a happy new year.

Of course the point is that if I had heard this conversation this time last year I would have openly laughed at their faces. After what has happened in the past twelve months though who knows?

I was able to buy a couple of Penguin paperbacks as well. There was a general Christmas sale in a church nearby. There was only Penguin in the book stall which I bought for 30p.

Daniel Defoe - Moll Flanders

One of those books that you always aim to read but life interferes. More chance now I've got a copy though.

The other one, bought at the Tenovus charity shop for 50p was:

Spike Milligan - Adolf  Hitler My Part In His Downfall

I must admit to being pleased to having bought this. Have wanted to read it for quite a while.

The Penguin Book budget until Monday is now 57p.

Until the next time.

The First Book Genre That Will Suffer Because Of Brexit

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I've finished L'Amour Actually by Melanie Jones,the book I borrowed from Pyle Library about a woman moving to France. As I was reading it the thought struck me that, due to Brexit, this genre is under threat.

Because, to speak generally, it belongs to that type of book where someone/a family from Britain moves abroad because of the daily pressure of life there to somewhere Mediterranean, suffers bad weather and other hardships whilst still gently mocking at local customs, finds themselves growing something impossible in Britain (eg olives) or raising animals before adapting to their new country where the weather turns bright as they expected and finding at the end a combination of love/satisfaction/self fulfilment/happiness.

Now of course this is the basic tenplate and there are variations to the model. At it's best it can be inspiring at its (often) worst smug ("Look at me I'm growing Lemons!") but in the post Brexit world the ability of Britons to do this unless they're rich or have some exceptional talent will be severely, if not totally cut.Indeed there is a slight, but nonetheless real possibility that British people living in other EU countries already will have to move back to the UK depending on the outcome of negotiations.

I have sympathy for these people (aside from those who write smug books) though I don't like the term "ex pats". You should call them what they are: immigrants. Let me stress here I've no problem with immigration subject to certain safeguards (particularly about security) but I won't bore you by going into detail here. What I don't like is the use of a word to imply that if you're British living abroad you are somehow different than if you were, say, Polish.

The point here though is that there would be very few people who would want to read these books if Brexit, particularly hard Brexit occurs? Why inflict literary pain on yourself  if you were longed for this by reading this sort of book knowing that the chances of reaching your ambitions had been cut drastically? Those of us who voted Remain but have no wish to move from Britain would have no interest by looking wistfully at books written before the current age of anger. As for those who voted Leave? Well for some of them their only interest would probably be to want to try the authors in absentia for being unpatriotic.

To be specific now L'Amour Actually is, according to the internet, a mixture of fact and fiction. Something I didn't know when I borrowed it out of the library and which the cover doesn't make clear. I think I can work out what the fiction bits are though. The cover is very Chick Lit and so I'd argue are the fiction parts which is of no interest to a fifty two year old man like me.

It does however explain the problems of moving into another country well. Also though gently mocking the French she equally mocks the British ex pat community and to her credit herself/the narrator (depending on which stage it's fact or fiction).

So if you're a male don't read it. Unless that is your wife is French so you'll be able to get into France that way if you fancied living there.

Until the next time.

During Breaks At Work There's Always Alex Salmond

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well being as I am an Englishman living in Wales who's a member of Plaid Cymru really couldn't resist " Alex Salmond The Dream That Will Never Die" when I saw it in the library. It's his account in diary form of the Scottish Independence Referendum two years ago. During breaks at work it was finished and was worth it.

Now to quickly recap why I became a member of Plaid Cymru as I would not vote Conservative if there was a gun pointed to my head I became disillusioned with Labour partly because of its sleep apnoea approach to the closure announcement in May re Tata Steel (happily about to be withdrawn according to the news) as well as the negligence and incompetence it has run Bridgend in both the assembly and the council. As I've explained in previous posts if a town could cry in despair like a widow in a funeral it would be Bridgend. Also I came to the view that Wales could live without England, it wouldn't be easy and mistakes would be made but it could be done.

I won't bore you (at least not today) with why Plaid Cymru has fallen behind in the race for independence from the SNP (though I'd say a large portion of the blame could fall on its previous leader Ieuan Wyn Jones) it has brought itself back from its lows thanks in no small regard by its current head Leanne Wood.

So we look with admiration and, let's face it envy at what the SNP have achieved.

Alex Salmond has many skills as a leader. Personable,witty, clever but not condescending. Able to adapt himself to an audience but not being patronising to it. But largely of course he is a man of principle, that of independence.

These qualities show themselves in the book. As well as the forces of "the establishment" targeted against them headed it would appear by the Labour Party in an action which has turned out to be the political suicide note for them in Scotland.

This book was published last year just before the May general election where the SNP won almost all of the Scottish seats so that they became the third biggest party in the UK. What the book also shows with hindsight was how unlucky Alex Salmond was given that one of the arguments used against independence was that Scotland would no longer be in the EU (bet there are many EU officials who regret that now).

History will look kindly on Alex Salmond (the loser) and not on those who won the referendum. Perhaps he can take a little comfort from that.

Until the next time.

In Which We Become American For The Morning, A Bont Too Far For Airbus And A Dalek Win

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

On Friday I did the early shift. Meaning that I had to deice the car windows at five thirty in the morning on the most frosty opening day this year. Running the car as I did so, much to the widespread applause of the neighbours I'm sure. Worked an eight hour day,had a quick lunch of a packet of crisps and a bottle of mineral water after which I drove to near Maesteg and back to pick up daughter from school. Later I did some vaccuming and cleaning as there was a viewing of the house at nine thirty Saturday morning.

Despite all of this your sympathy will automatically switch to my wife when I tell you that on Thursday she discovered she had a chest infection. She came home from work sounding like wounded bagpipes and it resulted in her having tons of medication from the doctor as well as needing an inhaler and would probably explain what happened last Sunday when she didn't feel up to going Christmas shopping in Cardiff.

Thankfully on Friday she felt better. This resulted in an argument when she wanted the viewing to continue and I wanted to cancel given her condition. Eventually however we reached a compromise. The viewing would continue, but rather than go to the big out of town Starbucks about five to ten minutes drive that she wanted we'd have breakfast in one of the cafes a few blocks away so that if the wife didn't feel well and we needed to get back to the house it would be relatively quick.

Next stop: The United Nations.

Which was why wife. daughter and I were on a Saturday morning in a local café about to have a Saturday breakfast. The irony of going to a local café for the first time in order to try and leave the locale was not lost on me.

I wish could say that having a weekend breakfast like fashionable Americans was something that we should continue as a family but alas not. Firstly there were clear signs that they hadn't completely dealt with the night before. The floor wasn't completely clean, the flowers on the table were dead and the mens toilet door was open.

We ordered what is normally described as an "English breakfast" (Eggs,bacon etc) before which we were given jars of brown and red sauce. All seemed fine until you looked at the bottles. One wasn't labelled, the other said "Orange Juice". Needless to say no one took the sauce.

The food itself was edible but nothing special. Daughter was of the same view though the wife did like it I must stress. Nobody liked the coffee though. When we got home the first thing I wanted was a cup of tea.

Wish I could say that it was all worthwhile but no. Nothing from the estate agent, who let's face it would have contacted us immediately after the viewing.

Now the plan for Saturday was going to Cardiff and do Christmas shopping. But that was dropped due to wife's illness. I had intended to go to Ton Pentre today and watch their match with Bangor but although she was better really couldn't go a journey of roughly forty five minutes away until she was fully fit.

Saturday however as there was the option of going to Penybont FC (which is Bridgend in Welsh, Bont after mutation meaning Bridge, here endeth the language lesson) who were playing Airbus UK Broughton in the third round of the Welsh FA cup. As wife was ok to look after herself, a friend came to visit to see how she was and the ground was a ten minute walk away from our house I decided to go.

Now the thing to remember here is that Airbus UK Broughton (which from now on I'll call Airbus) are in the Welsh Premier League, albeit bottom of that league currently. So what that meant for a club like Penybont FC is that, (I suspect this discripyion being used for the first time in their history) Airbus were glamourous.

Now what this meant was that there were things in this match I've never seen in Penybont games in the past. Such as being greeted in the car park with men in high vis jackets and a tressel table wanting money for watching the game. Once you paid your dues they would, uniquely, actually give you a ticket!!

That ticket is surely a Penybont FC collectors item

There was a bouncy castle for the children and a TV gantry was ready to show highlights of the game on the Welsh language channel S4C.

Most of the front seats in the small stand were reserved. Including that for the lady mayoress (who left at half time)

The players had mascots as they came out and had to also go through a guard of honour of further kids some who were going to act as ball boys (I think they were all boys).

For Penybont FC this was big.

Of course I should mention here that I claim to be the first man to read a C S Forrester novel during the breaks of a Welsh F A cup game.

Proof to any doubters out there

But before the match started there was a minute's for the tragedy of the air crash in Columbia that included the Brazilian team of Chapcoense. It was observed impeccably aside from a few young kids who didn't know any better and a deliberately fashionably dressed dark haired woman with a chiffon like scarf and her young coiffured teenage son who did. Rather than stand still for a minute this cow and her brat were going to get a seat in the stand and were not nothing respectful was going to stop them getting it clanking them as they did so.

The mark of respect

So the match began. And it wasn't long before something really interesting happened. About the twelfth minute Penybont scored. I think it was number 6 who was generously given a pass from someone who could've gone himself. The pass made the chances of a goal easier for Penybont and it was taken.1-0 then.

A few minutes later it was two nil A shot from the number 10 easily superior to the efforts of the goalkeeper.

And then something truly incredible happened......the sun came out. It had been missing for the past couple of days but decided to make an appearance around the half hour mark. It seemed to energise the Airbus players as if they were solar powered for soon after they scored. A curling on from the ground by the number 33. It was the best goal of the game and the only time in the first half where the away side even suggested that they were the ones playing in the superior league.

That's sunlight in case you were curious

I should use this moment incidentally to congratulate the Football Association of Wales in encouraging minorities to participate as match officials. In this game it was Skinheads.

Multiculturalism if not multi hair

There were a couple of women around me. One of them remarked that she was going to shoot her son for putting his coat on and then proceeding to roll on the grass. The other queried the brain cells of some Penybont players for a wayward pass, So you see the ladies can criticise on football as much as the men, they just go for a more sniper approach.

But at half time it was 2-1 to the home team and people around me were happy aside from me who discovered there was no bacon and had to make do with a sausage sandwich instead. As I returned to the stand the Airbus players came out early. Presumably they didn't get the hair dryer treatment from the manager more the entire salon.

And their number 33 had a good effort early on again. Another curl that beat the goalkeeper and just missed the goal. Unfortunately for them soon after Penybont (number 6) scored a third. A cross from the left,a header, a goal. The easiest goal of the match.

To be honest Airbus gave the impression of having given up from then on. The one true effort came from their number 32, who after learning that a throw in was not going his way threw the ball on the floor and pushed a Penybont player (he was booked).

As the game entered it's final minutes Penybont added a fourth, A shot around the edge of the box by the number seven. That's how it finished. 4-1. The result was not a surprise. The comprehensive score was.

Even their team coach seemed to be mocking Airbus. "A Premier Way To Travel" was the company's slogan. They are not however a Premier way to play. Airbus are in big trouble.

As are West Ham.

I've mentioned previously that as a West Ham fan I'm probably unusual in that Arsenal and not Millwall are team I hate and that for me watching Arsenal is like viewing Doctor Who and rooting for the Daleks. However being real life the Daleks more often than not win.

They played each other in the evening game which I saw and Arsenal won by five goals to one. Although West Ham have been rocked by injuries the thing I really don't understand is that the get up and at them spirit which personified last season seems to have disappeared.

Living relatively near Swansea I'm lucky that the jibes in my direction are muted. Swansea City having also let five goals in against Tottenham. So their fans and me just wallow in our current misery together.

Until the next time.

Last Chance To See Bridgend Town's Main Post Office Plus Other Town/Book News

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday then I did something probably for the last time. I went to Bridgend Town's Main Post Office to get the car tax sorted before it's closed down and moved to the basement floor of the nearby W H Smith in February next year.

I've mentioned before that although the closure of standalone main Post Offices is a UK policy I believe that the Labour party, whether in the assembly or the council, have made the job easier because of their negligence/incompetence in the running the town which essentially has run it down thus not attracting people to it with a consequent loss of business.

To put insult to injury I also mentioned that a MERRY CHRISTMAS sign was put up outside the building by the council as part of the general town centre decorations. The Labour people here can be so crass.

Before I continue to chat about the Post Office and as I did refer to the town centre decorations this is apparently the Christmas tree nearby.

Is that all there is?

Hope there are more decorations to come. It looks like was just plonked in the first available space and then had the lights thrown at it.

And there's another vacant lot I've noticed since my last visit.

A Children's/Ladies Clothes Store 

But at least the Labour council aren't scrimping on Christmas decorations....priorities you see.

Back to the Post Office. Went inside and paid off the car tax. I remarked the move to the guy behind the counter and he confirmed that they would be going to the basement floor of the local W H Smith (which I'll chat about later). When I stated that would mean less space he agreed.

In the future this will be a historical picture of how things used to be

Paid the car tax and walked out. Probably for the last time.

In the local Welsh Ambulance charity shop I was pleased to able to buy two pre ISBN Penguins costing 99p each (remaining budget now until Monday 17p). The bad news was that it was both by John Galsworthy, a writer I don't like on the purely technical grounds that he's rubbish.

831 - John Galsworthy - The Man of Property

2653 - John Galsworthy - To Let

Before leaving the town I went to the local W H Smith to have a look at the Post Office's new home. Here is the basement :

Not exactly welcoming

And of course not only will the Post Office lose space but so will W H Smith. The basement stuff here that won't be flogged off at discounted rates will be moved to the ground floor so that they'll be less space for (for example) books. To be honest though my love for W H Smith has weakened through the years. It's branch in Ilford Essex played a big part in my reading education as a child in the seventies. But now it seems to be some sort of bazaar flogging off anything it can. Yesterday I even noticed e cigs behind the counter!

Have finished the ebook My Dining Hell by Jay Rayner. A collection of restaurant reviews he's done through the years. It was admittedly a book only bought to finish off an Amazon voucher. But I enjoyed it.

Can't say I'm a great restaurant visitor. In recent years money, or the lack of it when I was unemployed,was a factor. Nowadays it's just a matter of, dare I say it, taste.

The restaurant critic I would argue has an advantage on other critics in that for the normal reader a bad review would confirm his/her prejudices about restaurants. And when I'm talking restaurants I mean the sort where the food is placed artistically on the plate and where the menu is apparently written by a Booker prize winner.

For the most part this is the sort of pretentious place that is attacked here and entertainingly so. I'm sure Jay Rayner written forests (and now electronic forests) of reviews where praising restaurants to the hilt but let's face it, for the average reader My Dining Heaven wouldn't be as interesting and he knows it.

He gives McDonalds a bad review. I'm slightly more enthusiastic about it than him. It reminds me of the sort of bestseller book you enjoyed at the time but forget soon after (Dick Francis comes to mind) and I prefer McDonalds to Burger King where you have a race to finish the burger before the bap dissolves in your hands.

I wondered also what he felt of Nandos. My personal view being that it was ponced up KFC. Got to google and find that out.

Anyway I do recommend it. The next book on the great ebook unread is The Call Of The Wild by Jack London. The sort  of classic you've been meaning to read for years but life interfered. Now's my chance.

Until the next time.