The Farewell Tour Begins

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with a quick word about what I'm reading. I've finished Mark Cowan's Far From The Massive Crowds about a season as a fan watching Northern League side Guisborough Town FC and I'm happy to say that my views haven't changed now it's been read. A hugely enjoyable book and I'd recommend it to any football fan.

The next book on the pile of e unread turns out to be The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield. She's a writer some of whose stories I have listened to and liked but this is the first time that I've really properly approached her work. I'm looking forward to this.

Anyway as I mentioned yesterday subject to some completely unforeseen disaster the house move is going to take place sometime in the middle of May. So six, seven weeks in the future. It was my intention only to mention it passing until then. But something happened that I felt needed to be posted now.

Since the Sold sign appeared in front of the house I can't really say I've spoken to the neighbours. It was just a case of our paths not crossing more than anything else. And yet yesterday in the afternoon having returned from doing some shopping I saw one of them. For me. Being a solitary sort conversations with the neighbours are mainly polite friendly and short. Mainly just an acknowledgement of each other's presence before we both go our separate routes. This though was different.

"When are you moving?" she asked.

When I responded that it would sometime in the middle of May she said that the family would be missed.

Needless to say I was stunned. I'm rarely good with an instant response when something unexpected comes my way. Thank you was really the best I could muster.

Then later that evening we had a knock on the door. It was children from the house opposite. They had some boxes we could use for the move. The wife went to collect them.......she stayed an hour.

After she came back to what is still our house so that myself and our daughter could still confirm he existence the wife went to the other neighbour to give her the precise news. Again she was told by the lady of that house that we'd be missed.

Now I'm under no illusions here. Whilst I would like to think I'm liked the person who really would be missed is my wife. She has that lucky gift of being liked by most people instantly. I'm just the man lucky enough to have married her.

She is however also very honest. As I've explained previously in this blog she is the driving force of this move and was not hesitant to tell people why she didn't want to stay.

And yet, the way things have turned out it would appear to be like saying you want to move from Manchester United to City but getting a standing ovation at Old Trafford in your last game.

Life is sometimes very confusing.

Until the next time.

A Moving Tale: Prologue. Bereft Of Things

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I will only be mentioning the house move in passing from time to time in this blog as to not to jinx anything. I'll chat about things more fully once we have actually moved even if just to rented accommodation.

That said the weekend has been a hectic one as we (and I include my mother in this who came down for Mother's Day weekend from Essex) had to contend with the unexpected possibility that we might actually be moving this Friday. However now it would appear that the date will be around the middle of May, which is fair enough.

However before we knew that. There was a whirlwind weekend round of packing, bubble wrapping and boxing of the cardboard kind. The only break was a Mother's day dinner and for me regular trips to the local tip.

Wife. mother and a good friend concentrated on the kitchen, utility and dining rooms. I, by myself went through the study.

The thing is. Now we are in this temporary calm I'm conscious that already there is an emptiness to the house. In some rooms boxes and plastic crates have replaced furniture. One bed is going to the tip and it will be joined by at least a chest freezer that seemed to freeze quicker than the Arctic and so needed defrosting often.

All my paper books that I haven't given to the charity shop have now been packed. Including all of my Penguin/Pelican paperbacks (which were for the record a lot more than on the page of this blog - laziness I know) are now in boxes/crates and I've no idea when I'll see them again.

Wife suggested watching a particular DVD yesterday. You can guess the rest. Especially as I packed the machine as well.

Because of what we had assumed was the urgency all my Welsh language papers are crated up. It means in reality that I won't be able to return to them for at least six weeks and possibly more. Things as simple as mugs have been reduced. Wife/mother/friend have only left me with two mugs. My Fiorentina one and an olive green one from IKEA, which is my personal favourite (I've tried to get another one but they don't do it now. The handle on the latest version is too small. Only suitable for children and the president of the United States).

Kitchen cupboards/freezer that were brimming with food are now gradually being slimmed of everything but essentials. I'd be curious as to what concoctions will be produced to ultimately clear us of what was in there.

My wife actually said goodbye to the attic when we cleared it out. I laughed at her given that she and my daughter wanted this move in the first place.

Still, rooms have become sadder, perhaps because all of a sudden they've either lost their purpose or have become just places for storage. Already it's becoming difficult to remember rooms as they once were but a week ago. Odd that.

Until the next time.

D H Lawrence,Oscar Wilde and Guisborough Town FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Chatting and reminiscing about a couple of towns in my last few posts does mean that I need to go through the books I have and am reading during the past days. Given that the next few posts will revert to the house moving situation which all of a sudden has moved a lot quicker it's better that I deal with it today.

Have finally finished The Rainbow by D H Lawrence. Nothing has changed from my earlier post on the subject. Lawrence is still the literary super villain of this blog and I doubt it will ever change.

When that was finished the next amongst the pile of ebook unread turned out to be Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and Other Stories by Oscar Wilde.

The best way to describe these stories is this. Imagine you've gone to a fancy restaurant. Having had the main course that you didn't enjoy you're then presented with something relatively light as a dessert. After eating it, you realise that just going home and having some chocolate ice cream would have been more substantial, tastier and cheaper.

That's my view of this book. Though not awful these semi comic stories (so don't expect a laugh a minute) are OK in themselves (though the last one, The Portrait of Mr W H needed some editing) but ultimately too light to be remembered warmly.

So the next ebook, and the one I'm currently halfway through is Far From The Massive Crowds by Mark Cowan. This is a fan's diary of the 2010/11 season of the team he supports, Guisborough Town of the Northern League.

It came with many advantages immediatwely, it's a football book (tick) it's a football book about a team and a league I've little knowledge about but appreciate given the attitude of fans of bigger clubs to the League of Wales (tick), it's a football diary where few people outside the North East will have any idea of what's going to happen next (triple tick and an explanation mark for the excitement of it all).

What it also has now I'm reading it is a genuine sense of humour, a writer who is honest when his team doesn't play well and also has the capacity to like other teams whilst always being faithful to his first love. That I would argue is the sign of a true football fan.

If this was a man you'd be having friendly banter with him down the pub. It's so far the most enjoyable book I've read this year.

D H Lawrence, Oscar Wilde. And yet it's a book by Mark Cowan about Guisborough Town FC that's the best of the three. Who'd have thought it?

Until the next time.

Remembrance Of Things Past......In Ilford

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I'm not going to write about the attack in Westminster. Not because I don't feel any sympathy for the family and friends of those who lost their lives or to those who died (bar one) but simply because I have nothing original to say and won't bore you rehashing what many other people have said already and will say in the future.

What I do want to chat about is a shooting that took place a few days ago. I won't go into the details about it because that would make me seem to be a vulture on grief. All I'll say about that is that the victim was (according to the London Evening Standard's website) ambushed by a gang.

The thing about this particular death, and it was what made me jolt up and take notice, was that it was a shooting in Ilford (which I'll say is in Essex although it could also be categorised as East London). My first instinctive reaction was "a shooting in Ilford?"

I am not someone who generally likes to reminisce. For the most part reminiscing causes a bittersweet quality at best and regret at worst. The last time I actively sort out the past was in September last year when I made the trip to London for the twenty fifth anniversary of my father's death and also said a belated goodbye to Upton Park.

Sometimes though the past catches up on you unawares and this was the case here. Up until I moved to South Wales in 1997 I regularly went to the town. But I've not been for about sixteen years.

When I was a child in the Seventies and living in Forest Gate East London. My mother and I used to take the bus (the numbers 25 or 86) for trips some Saturdays to Ilford. And much as I liked Forest Gate and would always defend it there was an excitement about these trips because Ilford was different.

For a boy between six and nine the town had a sort of glamour to it. The shops had a sort of style. There was Maison Riche. Your actual French no less. Of course in my more cynical teenage years I realised that it was really "Rich House".

It also had a TV where I could spend the time whilst my mother was clothes shopping appearing on TV for the first time. Of course that was on the security monitors they'd put up there but who cares? I was on TV.

It had a department store on a slope (Bodgers) and a massive BHS. If that building could tell the future it would have been in perpetual despair.

Most of all though it had W H Smith. More than any other shop the Ilford branch of W H Smith fuelled my love of reading. Part of the reason why I dislike the shop now is that I remember what it was like then.

And even as a more knowing teenager. When reality began to enter my vision. I still liked Ilford. Essex County Cricket club would play at least one Sunday league game in the local Valintines Park and I'd go to see them play.

Ilford on reflection began to change when further east, and definitely in Essex there was the creation of the Lakeside shopping centre. And the town was replaced as the place you would go to for "event shopping". They did build a shopping centre in Ilford, presumably to compete, but it wasn't the same.

Since moving to South Wales in 1997 I've only ever been back there twice. The last being about sixteen years ago so this week's event came as a complete shock to me. Shooting, a gang...has it changed that much?

The past they say is a different country and speaking from a different country it appears very much so.

Until the next time

Bridgend Town: Destroyed By Labour

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I've been promising this for a while now. This is probably the last opportunity I would have (assuming no last minute hiccups) to the house move so wanted to write a final piece on the way Bridgend Town has declined because of Labour council/Assembly mismanagement.

I started monitoring the state of the town almost a year ago and it's been an intention of mine to write an overall post taking in everything I've written for a while now. So I make no apologies that a lot of what I'm going to write will be repeating what I've written about before. Nor will I apologise that most of the pictures have already been shown in earlier posts. If nothing has changed why take a new picture?

Also whatever the excuses Labour has and will make about the state of Bridgend Town it is important to remember that this decline has been going on for years...and it's getting worse. And if anyone mentions austerity or the internet, then all I need to say that if you compare Bridgend with similar towns like Caerphilly or Pontypridd then it is quite obviously failing, and failing miserably at that.I'm painting an overall picture of the town, and overall that's Labour's responsibility.

Finally as regular readers of this blog will know. I'm a supporter of Plaid Cymru. I make no apologies for that either. After all the pictures will help tell the story.

Let us start with what is admittedly the most extreme example.

This was taken today

This building used to be an old McDonald's. It does not matter why it closed down. The key thing here is that it closed down seventeen years ago.It has been closed longer than my daughter has been alive on the planet Earth and yet nothing has been done. It's a building that literally been allowed to mold along.

Incidentally it appears that I've been mistaken in a new building development that I thought was a shopping centre is in fact an apartment block for "young professionals". The poster I saw nearby suggested a place where "young professionals" could sit and have coffee whilst being young and professional.

Trouble is...only across the road is...

Not mentioned in the poster

Damningly mentioned in the poster I saw was Macarthur Glen as a place where you could do some shopping....which is about a five to ten minute drive away!

This is typical Bridgend council. Either approve or instigate grandiose projects whilst ignoring the reality of decay around it and that includes the building blocks of a town.

A tragedy for readers

This building is now a cultural centre. And I genuinely wish it well. But look at the wording on the top of this picture. It used to be the Town Centre library until Bridgend Labour Council (with E U money!) moved it away from the town centre! It's about a ten minute walk away. New,high tech and abysmal it's the only library I've ever been in that my view could be best described as psychotic.

A town centre needs a library. Bridgend Labour council took it away from the town centre.

And though slightly different from when this picture was taken (there's a vape shop now to the left) this is basically what you will see if you look across.

What a view

Bridgend Town has a shopping centre. It's called The Rhiw. This is what you will see as you approach it.

Used to be a card shop

Judging on space and very much a guesstimate. I'd say about a quarter of this small shopping centre (excluding the indoor market - which I'll talk about later) is empty.

The Shop on the right was a charity shop

Bridgend town has an indoor market attached to the shopping centre. This too is in decline because of higher rents. Stalls that have been there for years have found they can't cope anymore. At a guesstimate I'd say a quarter of the market is empty. A market is like a library. Another building block of a town and yet Labour seems to be happy to see it wither and die.

Note the Heart Logo - Really Mocking

Heartbreaking

There also is  The Nolton Arcade. It had various small businesses such as a knitting shop, a toy shop and a café. No more. Aside from the two that back along the street every single shop is empty. I went there today having last visited in December. The only difference is that the Christmas decorations (!) have been taken down.

This was taken today

Do you remember the Phones4U mobile phone shop? People in Bridgend Town do given they see this every day.

As if it was yesterday

This is but the tip of the iceberg. You walk around the town and you'll see shop after shop closed down. It would appear from a cursory look that the only boom in retail appears to be vape shops.

Here are a few more shops that have closed:

An Italian Restaurant

A Clothes Shop

The latest shop to have closed down is this.

The Polish Shop On The Left

Now let me be fair here. I don't know whether the closure of this Polish deli is as a result of the state of Bridgend Town or Brexit. It's disturbing either way and as regular readers of this blog will know since the EU Referendum I was a regular shopper.

The Labour party in Wales. Either in the assembly or as the council has shown an arrogance in running Bridgend which needs a party that cares and would not aim for the big gesture but would look into trying to deal with what was already there. That party I would argue is Plaid Cymru.

Under Labour the town has according to a woman I heard in the market today "gone to the dogs". It could get a lot worse. For despite what Brexiteers told the people in the referendum Britain has not taken back control. In Bridgend control has moved to Detroit. For if Ford does reduce the manufacturing capacity of its engine plant there then the knock on effect for the town will be even worse. It needs a party that would prepare for that possible situation now and not call a committee afterwards

Bridgend Needs Plaid - This Was Taken Around Twelve Noon Today

Until the next time.

One,Two,Three and Eight.....My New Wardrobe Numbers

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

You may remember that one of my new year resolutions was to sort out my wardrobe and adapt the French style of buying clothes (ie cull what I have, buy less but of greater quality). Whilst most of what I've promised to do has been put on hold pending moving house this one actually had an impetus because of it.

So yesterday began the cull and quickly realising that for the most part I'd too many clothes for what I needed to wear and, particularly on non work days would have been focusing on particular favourites anyway.

Now when I say, favourites, let me be clear. Although through this blog I've stated that politically I've moved seemingly unusually from the right to the left. When it comes to clothes I have always been Conservative. My clothing mantra is simple: Better dull than stupid.

The person who has always fought against this is my wife who has tried to lead me away from being "safe" and to try on new things. In this she's failed miserably.

The number of clothes needed depended on the item. I worked out that the key numbers were one,two,three and eight.

One was simple. One Suit for weddings and funerals. 1 Jumper and/or T-shirt specifically for the garden. Done.

Two was simple as well. Ties. Again all I needed was one tie for weddings and another for funerals. Nothing more was needed. Wife tried to make the case for more ties but it wasn't going to happen. Why keep something I'm not going to use again?

Three: This is for clothes that I'll use for more that one day in the week. Jumpers for example. I've reduced the total of jumpers to six. Three for Winter. Three for Autumn/Spring.

This what really started the wife off. I'd decided to cull a white fleece that my brother-in-law bought for Christmas a few years back. I never liked it,never wore it. Made me look like a grubby Polar bear (and made me feel like a Grizzly one).

Wife was unimpressed. "My brother always buys you quality". She said.

Actually I should have probably pointed out that my brother-in-law's partner buys quality. I should have also said that two other jumpers they bought for me had survived the cull. But when you're in the heat of a sudden argument these subtleties are forgotten. All I could say was.

"I don't like it. You can have it if you want"

Well you can imagine this went down well.

Not that my judgement is foolproof. I feel I need three leisure jackets. But at this moment there's only the one. What was a suit jacket bought from the Marks and Spencer outlet store at £3. But there was also another jacket in the wardrobe, bought from Next that I thought was perfect but turned out in the light of day...literally...to be too shiny and too tight. That was ditched.

And speaking of too tight we come to the number eight. Those clothes that I would only wear once a day so covering the week plus any emergencies. Things like boxers, socks and casual shirts. There are in fact sixteen shirts, eight long sleeved and eight short. So I'm (yes I'm going to say it) covered.

The decision as to which shirts to keep was quite easy. A lot of them were chucked simply because I'd grown wider.

I really need to diet...then again if I was successful I'd need a whole new wardrobe....and then the arguments with the wife would start again.

Until the next time.

Alone At Work With D H Lawrence

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I was working yesterday (Saturday) in the afternoon/evening shift and had known beforehand that it was going to be one of those days where not much was going to be done because of things outside my control. In this case mainly involving the oddly shaped ball that Wales was going to be using playing France in the last match of the Six nations series.

That, with the probability that many Welsh fans were going to becoming Irish for their subsequent game against England and the generally miserable weather outside the window meant that there was going to be plenty of time for me to continue reading The Rainbow by D H Lawrence.

Trouble was that unlike the previous times this opportunity came my way it was going to be with that Lawrence guy. The one that drives me up the wall and down again with either his pretentious twaddle or mind numbing boredom.

So there I was, alone with D H Lawrence, the literary equivalent of being stuck in a lift with someone you don't like but trying to be polite.

And if you ask why don't I just try another book. Well I've always believed that the reader should follow the principles of a Mastermind quiz master in that "I've started so I'll finish".

It began interestingly, an East Midlands farmer marries a Polish woman in the 1840's. Now that did cause me to suspend my belief from a very high level. After all the chances of a British farmer marrying a Pole are about as remote as they will be in a few years time when Brexit takes hold. Still despite some really outlandish prose he got my attention.

But then everything for me went typically Lawrence. First you get a thousand words being written when twenty could do. The man in the lift had suddenly produced a bottle of whisky in his pocket. This was literature as alcoholism

And just like a non violent drunk it suddenly gets all maudlin and dull. Page upon page of utter boredom. I was reading and thought to myself "What is the point of all this?"

He'd fooled me before. The last D H Lawrence fiction I'd read was his final novel Kangaroo. Where I began interested and finished solely grateful that I could put the book back on the shelf.

And do you know what the worst thing about reading on the Kindle is? It's that it tells you how long you've got left before the agony is over. One hour twenty one minutes (yes it's that precise). It would really have to do something for Lawrence to stop being one of the regular villains of this blog.

Until the next time.

Hooked On Classics Part One: Lorna Doone

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As I'm in this twilight zone state of preparing to move house but not actually moving yet my reading has for the moment been reduced to my Kindle. A factor that adds another extra profit to those people residing in the Amazon e jungle.

As I've explained before my Kindle can be spilt easily into three categories. Those books bought at full price (the smallest of the three), those bought as an Amazon "deal" and those, mainly classics which were free.

Can't deny that in many ways having a lot of classics on the Kindle is not just financially a bargain (which it is) but also helps me go through all of those books that have obtained "classic" status but hadn't got round to reading because of life, the universe and everything.

That doesn't mean to say it's necessarily a rewarding experience. In previous posts I've discussed how Call Of The Wild  by Jack London essentially lifted the plot from Black Beauty. Or how the dullness of D H Lawrence's Twilight In Italy bored me into submission (the only remarkable fact of this book being that it made Italians seem dull) before I could go to town on it's racism.

And so we come to the latest e book that I've just finished reading Lorna Doone by R D Blackmore. Definitely a novel where more often or not you will hear the word "classic" nearby like some sort of literary stalker.

The thing about Lorna Doone is this. If you take the plot line at it's most basic (Historical - for us - Romance set in a "wild" part of Britain) it is I think the closest classic book to Wuthering Heights written by a man.

My view of Lorna Doone is that if this was a football match it would have been a draw. Where this novel scores is in the description of its setting. You do feel that you're in the wild west (well South West .....Devon) in the late seventeenth century. Also the writing does drive you on. R D Blackmore does know how to tell a tale and I did want to continue turning (or in fact swiping) the page.

I said that it was the closest classic book to Wuthering Heights written by a man. It isn't however better. For a start Emily Bronte's novel is far more subtle and nuanced. There are shades of grey (not as in fifty) absent in Lorna Doone. It's the Wild South West where heroes and villains are (with one slight exception) clearly marked.

Also the male narrator's (John Ridd) opinion of most women is laughable in this day and age. He seems to treat them as tolerated pets that need to be controlled. The one exception is the eponymous Ms Doone herself. She is basically woman placed on a pedestal. Beautiful, graceful, devoted you have to ask if she is quite the catch how was it that she fell in love with a narrator who by his own admission is not handsome (remember that if you see a big/small screen adaptation).

So then a draw. Happy to have read it. Won't ever read it again.

I found myself afterwards on a slight artistic interlude when the next book on the great e unread turned out to Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries by the artist Albrecht Durer bought for my appreciation of the artistic value of having to pay nothing.

For a short book (read in half an hour) it really was a waste of time. This was less a travel journal and more of a ledger as he detailed what he bought and sold. As a writer Durer makes a great artist.

The next book to read is ....The Rainbow by D H Lawrence. Regular readers will know that along with Bridgend Labour Council and Arsenal football club D H Lawrence has become quite the villain in this blog. Still as Michael Palin has shown I'm quite capable of disliking one book by a writer and liking the next. So we live in hope.

Until the next time.

Gone Back To The Eighties....... and Possibly The Thirties

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

House moving continues at a snail's pace at the moment. It looks as if we're going to be renting at the moment. Doesn't really bother me. As I've explained before moving is the wish of my wife and daughter.As  I owe my wife more than she will ever know when I was immersed in a paralysing depression because of unemployment I'm not standing in her way. Still I won't deny that on trying to actually buy a house she seems to be acting in the same way as choosing clothes to buy. A decision one moment, indecision the next. Now that is irritating.

In terms of selling the Bridgend house the solicitors have come back with questions. Most seem simple. They mentioned that the area was susceptible to flooding. Whilst it has happened a few miles away it's never happened here and it hasn't affected our insurance premiums, which was the reason why they asked.

What was more disturbing though was when they mentioned that, for the same reason, the area was venerable to "ground instability" to which my response was ...."what?!"

Anyway as I was going through the, for want of a better word, stuff, whilst slowly trying to downsize everything,stumbled on this.

The Power of The Six Holes

Well looked at it and thought that despite the age of the tablet it might be a good idea to resuscitate it. In it's day people tried to put six holes in everything. I seem to remember novels were made so that you could slot them into the organiser. I think it was called Filofiction.

Mind you I'm just going to use it as a Diary, To Do List, Address and Notebook and that's it.So will no longer need to worry about viruses or just simply charging the tablet up. As for the tablet, that will be used for everything else. For example...... this.

But whilst the eighties seem to have returned so possibly have the thirties.. Yesterday I went for a quick trip to Bridgend Town. Unfortunately my mobile phone was out of charge so not able to illustrate this  but I was shocked to see that one of the Polish delicatessens was closed. Now for all I know it just might have been for that day. Still it's a worry. After all if it has closed down then was it because of the Jackboot politics that Brexit has unleashed? It doesn't matter whether as it almost always is done by a minority This is the sort of gradual ratcheting up of things which leads to people sieg heiling themselves in the street as a greeting.

Of course there is the second option if it has closed down. Perhaps it's just the latest victim of the way Labour party rule seems to have gradually destroyed the town.When I do my long promised much delayed Bridgend update I'll see if I can find out.

Until the next time.

I'm back

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Just a quick note to say I've not been feeling well which is why I've not been blogging for a while. Tomorrow I'll be back properly.......not saying things are going to be of the highest writing quality though. That'll be for you to judge.

Until the next time.

The Latest Family Film Guide (The Family Being A Man,A Woman And A Teenage Daughter)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

This has rarely been a blog about films. As no one in the family, least of all me, can claim to be a film buff. But there are days, and yesterday (Sunday) was certainly one of them, where there is nothing to do (not even looking for a house which incidentally now has one, after wife/daughter saw it on Saturday, the Victorian terrace I mentioned before, on as a maybe. Wife however wants to see if there is a "better" house first. Particularly when it comes to parking).

The weather outside was awful. One of the great facts of weather forecasting is that they're rarely wrong when they say it's going to be bad.

So we're in that classic Sunday afternoon what to do is there anything we can watch as a family moments? It's nowadays not easy. There was a time when something we could watch "as a family" meant a ninety minute cartoon film where me and the wife sagely looked on as the daughter lapped it up. But that was then and this is now. Daughter is more likely to go on about the series Pretty Little Liars. She often talks to me about it, in the mistaken belief that I know or indeed care. She would have us watch that but feet are put down in disagreement.

But of course the biggest person that is an obstacle to family viewing is me. After all wife/daughter seem to object to watching ninety minutes of twenty two people plus officials chasing a round ball. Or indeed my idea of entertainment is not watching chairs swivelling round at the sound of a voice.

My wife however had a plan. Remembering how we watched in a film The Perfect Catch together in a similar situation last year she had a movie recorded from the TV which seemed to be able to do the same job......and it did.

The movie (made in 2007) was No Reservations starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart. It's about a chef who because of an accident becomes the guardian of her niece as well as a relationship she has with another chef in that restaurant.

And it made me think whether there is a formula for the sort of film that Mum, Dad and teenage daughter should watch if this ever happened again. So, taking The Perfect Catch and No Reservations as the benchmark this appears to be the criterion.

Rule Number One: It's a rainy afternoon,you have nothing better to do and you're bored. Consequently you're not going to want to watch a film that will give you a deep insight into the human condition. It doesn't even have to be a great film. As long as the time is passed pleasantly enough that's all that matters. It's like a cinematic version of Mcdonalds. You enjoyed it at that moment but it won't be listed amongst your top ten films of all time

Rule Number Two: It has to be romantic. Women like romance. It can't however be the sort of heart and flowers sort with added high orchestral music and chocolates if you want a man to watch it willingly. If that happens I for one will hold my fifty three year old prerogative and have an afternoon nap.

Rule Number Three: It doesn't have to make to you laugh. Making you smile is sufficient. After all who's heard of a slapstick romance?

Rule Number Four: No one of either gender can look as if they've just come off the catwalk. Aaron Eckhart comes close to breaking that rule but he's just this side of quirky to be acceptable.

Rule Number Five: The route can be different but if the destination has changed people will feel unhappy. No one watches a film on a rainy afternoon with nothing better to do to be surprised.

(Of course rule number five is difficult to work out completely. But more often than not with these sort of movies you just know)

So if another film comes under this category before my daughter decides to leave home (I won't cry...I'm from the East End ...I won't cry...really) I'll let you know. In the meantime feel free to add other movies you've found passed the multigenerational family film test.

Until the next time.

How I Have A Garden Better Than My Neighbour's...Without Doing Anything

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

On leaving the house to start the afternoon/evening shift at work I noticed a group of muddied black bags along the neighbour's hedge. They start militarily enough in a row until ending piled up in a heap. At a rough, quick count I'm guestimating thirty to forty of them.

The muddied stains on the outside of the bags gives a clue as to the inside. They contain topsoil. And it reminds me of the problem my neighbour is having to deal with about his garden.

I should of course make a few things clear before we go on. Despite a few half hearted attempts to the contrary I'm not a gardener. Other than the zen like qualities of mowing the grass there really is nothing that attracts me to gardening or, if I'm being really honest, even sitting outside looking at one.
What this all means is that essentially I don't so much garden as tidy.There is grass, there are a few pots with plants the wife bought. But essentially that's it.

My neighbour however is the complete opposite. He loves gardening. He is the sort of man who understands the meaning of the words "south facing". His garden is a labour of love, tenderness and caring. His pristine/tireless work and my just the basics alternative has caused the wife to nag at me often through the years. That is though, the way it is.

But apparently what to anybody else seems like a perfect garden was not perfect for him. Apparently the topsoil was too much prone to waterlogging (who knew? not me) and so new soil was required to make the plants bloom even more and make his lawn (as he had a perfect right to call it unlike me) more lawny.

Last Saturday the process began. The plan as the neighbour understood it was that the company tasked with providing this soil would come and take dig up and take away the topsoil. They would then install the new improved stuff and life would horticulturally continue.

The reality proved to be different. They arrived in a massive truck (which also covered half our drive) and indeed dug up the lawn. However they advised the neighbour that they would come to finish the job sometime in March (remember last Saturday was February). At time of writing they haven't returned. From how it was described to me some language of the more fruity aisle of the supermarket was used by the neighbour in response.

What this means is that currently the neighbour's garden looks like a World War One battlefield with planks laid out so he can walk to and from the house to his shed. The heavy rain in the last week just further added to that appearance.

And as I've explained earlier not all the dug up soil has been taken (hence the bags).

Now of course I don't know the company's side of the story. I should also make it clear that I'm genuinely not laughing at my neighbour. He's a good man who loves his garden and doesn't deserve the problems facing him now. I'm sure that in time and with his ability he'll turn it into something even more impressive than before.

But I wouldn't be human if I didn't find it amusing that the one and only time my garden is better than my neighbour's I'm preparing to move house.

Until the next time.

On House Hunting In South Wales And Ebook Hunting In The Amazon

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday then. Earmarked for initial house viewings. Saving time. The idea explained before is that as I'm working afternoon/evening shift for the next five days (this excludes Sunday) I would look at three houses and should I like them then they move on to face the more stricter test of wife/daughter on Saturday.

Four houses were earmarked. As it turned out however it would only be three that I would see. The fourth, when I was trying to arrange an appointment, went something like this.

"Well you see there have been two offers " said the estate agent "but we have been unable to reach the owners. I don't know what's happened".

All very well (actually all very not well) but the question remained why was this house still on the website? Of course didn't actually ask. I might need his help again in the future.

What this meant was that for Penarth and surrounding areas I had three viewings. One for nine thirty in the morning, the remainder for twelve and twelve thirty..........yes I know.

House number one was a relatively (I'm guessing thirty years) bedroomed modern house. It was OK. It certainly needed a bit of love in the decoration department but it was certainly livable. The downside, even allowing for our downsizing intention, was the kitchen part of the kitchen diner. It was just too small in the area of cupboard space (something like a wardrobe the wife never has enough of) and there was no obvious place for a tumble dryer. Still, it had enough going for it to be considered a maybe.

I then had about two hours to spare wandering around the streets of Penarth. Part of which was spent in a couple of estate agents I'd missed when first doing a trawl of them in January. One gave me a group of pamphlets with houses that were in our price range. The other was a combined lettings/estate agent firm. The estate agent was not there when I'd arrived so gave someone from the lettings side my email address assuming that a list of available houses was going to come my way. At time of writing no such list has come my way.

Otherwise had an early lunch of two sausage rolls washed down with Lucozade. Gastonome that I am.

Arrived early for house number two. A four bedroom semi detached just a few streets away from house number one. I spent the time whilst waiting staring to read Lorna Doone by R D Blackmore. The sort of classic book you feel you should read before you die.

(The observant amongst you would realise that I've finished the Christina Rossetti poetry collection. To be honest it was the sort of thing that my opinion of is best described as a shrug).

What I hadn't understood from looking at the website was why the prices of house number one and two were so similar given that this one had an extra bedroom. The answers revealed themselves as you walked in. Not only did the house need decoration it also seemed to need cleaning from top to bottom as well some bits of plastering......and carpeting. Work had been done but whatever had been planned for this house it was unfinished.

The estate agent revealed why. Apparently the current owners had decided to divorce and just stopped the improvements in the house there and then. Obviously it's not for me to discuss their affairs (and let me stress I've no idea nor should I know) but I would've understood if it was following emotional recriminations of adultery but not because they had enough of each other. It seemed to have made more sense to have sorted the house out before going their separate ways.

But none of the above issues were the reason I rejected it. Neither was the lack of wardrobe space in the main bedroom.

No it was the mould.

And in a very unusual place too. Either side of the bed by the floor in that main bedroom. The estate agent said that she hadn't noticed it before. She suggested getting an expert to look at it but really that was clutching at straws. Rejected.

House number three was an end three bedroomed terraced Victorian house and I loved it. The bathroom was the first time in this whole process that I went wow. The place had character, charm and adequate space for our needs.

But there was an elephant in the room, or rather out of the room, and out of the house...parking.

The photo in the website suggested that it was on a street corner. There wasn't a corner. There's some sort of building and then a corner  There was a parking permit on a first come first served basis but as we have two cars the best place for the other is a quiet street around the corner which obviously would involve a walk. A maybe.

Later when I was at home and the wife came in I showed her the two houses I considered maybes. She threw even more doubts on house number three, disliking the kitchen colours for the cupboard (what?) and the bathroom (how dare she!) and laughing mockingly when I mentioned the parking problem. I suspect that the parking will be the thing that will kill house number three off. She will be seeing it on Saturday however.

Wife has also surprised me by being interested in a house amongst the leaflets one of the estate agents gave me when I had time to fill in Penarth. Surprised because this house is further from Penarth than I'd expected her to consider. So on Saturday afternoon she and daughter will be visiting three houses.....lucky them.

As until I've moved/settled all of my reading is going to be Kindle based I decided to temporarily change my book buying whilst waiting for that day. So instead of a £1 a week looking for a vintage Penguin/Pelican paperback I've decided on the first of every month to spend up to £5 on ebooks.

For the most part my Kindle is filled by classic books that are free (hence Lorna Doone) or by by cheap "daily deals" Amazon do. I'd read and enjoyed Victoria Coren's autobiography of her experiences playing poker,For Richer For Poorer, for just 99p (as I've mentioned before I loved it though I still couldn't tell you the rules of the game....or is it a sport?).

I also bought the Life of Pi by Yann Martel for 20p. Which, having read it, is nineteen pence too much.

So I started on the Amazon "Daily Deal". Nothing of any interest to me. Which is a shame as out of curiosity I looked at the deal the day before and it included books by Carrie Fisher which I would have bought.

Moved on to the "Monthly Deal". Most either were, or seemingly written in the style of a bestseller. None of them seemed to appeal to me as much they used to as a teenager.

(A quick aside here. I'm not against bestselling books - which I'm classing here as books specifically written to make money - it's just I suspect an age thing in terms of what I'm interested in now as a man in my fifties. Mind you. I did out of curiosity look for Arthur Hailey, one of my favourite "bestselling" writers and was shocked to find that they were on sale, as an ebook , for over six pounds!)

There was "We Need To Talk About Kevin" by Lionel Shriver but as a parent I was avoiding that really out of fear.

Only then did I notice Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith for just 99p. I remember the book when it came out in 1981. It was one of those that you mean to read but somehow life interferes. Well opportunity knocked (don't have a doorbell) and it was bought.

Looked at the "Readers Who Bought This Also Bought". Most were subsequent books in the Renko series which were of course more expensive for this exercise. Also though noticed March Violets by Philip Kerr. This is the first book in the Bernie Gunther series of private eye novels set in Nazi Germany. It was both interesting and also at 99p cheap. Bought.

Having gone through the list looked at what Amazon were "recommending" for me. One of them turned out to be Das Kapital by Karl Marx. I've remarked before how I seem to be unusual in having drifted leftwards politically the older I've got. It would be interesting on reading this seminal work how left wing I've actually become. It was also 99p. Bought. Karl Marx as a bargain. Wonder when that was last said?

There were a number of cheap omnibus books by various (now dead) writers but the problem was that in one form or another I'd already got at least some of these. But casting my eye on the Amazon recommendations I noticed Oblomov the classic Russian novel by Ivan Goncharov. It was 99p,it was cheap, it was bought.

Having gone through the "Readers Who Bought Oblomov also bought" bit, I found A Hero Of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov. Never heard of this book before but apparently it's a Russian classic and the plot seemed intriguing. It was also 76p.Bought

And so it finished. Three books with a Russian connection, two with a German one. Or, Two thrillers, two classic novels and a work of political theory. Whatever that says about me I don't know. Probably Amazon do though.

Until the next time.

What If The Worse Case Scenario Regarding Bridgend Ford Happens?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let me explain how significant the news with regard to Bridgend Ford was. That a leaked report suggested that by 2021 there would be a cut of 1160 jobs in the Ford plant just outside of the town leaving just six hundred workers there.

I was returning from Penarth, for reasons that I'll explain in my next post but are unimportant here and had just turned the radio on. The item about Bridgend Ford was on the news.....and it was the first time ever that I've heard Bridgend being a news item on BBC Radio 3 (which if you're reading this outside the UK is a mainly classical music radio station).

The statement by Ford in response was just a masterpiece of waffle. Coming second was the response of the Prime Minister with First Minister Carwyn Jones third when he described the report as a "worse case scenario".

It's his response I want to focus on here as it's not the sort of answer that the workers of Bridgend expect from the most important elected official in the nation (or indeed the Assembly member for that region). After all would you like to be told by your doctor that you have a brain tumour and that the worse case scenario was death? No. You would expect them to be at your head before you could say antibiotic as they made every effort to resolve the situation.

What we have now is a situation where people working at Ford feel that there is a clock ticking with regard to their jobs in this major employer. But what a lot of them might not know is whether that clock applies to them. The worst of all possible worlds.

And of course there would be a knock on effect for many companies/people in the area both large and small would be equally devastating . People with less money to spend will cut back on buying goods/services. Ford is a big employer. I'll predict one thing now. Should the worse case scenario happen everyone in the Bridgend area will be effected.

Let me give a few examples. When the age of austerity began in 2008, two types of people began to notice it's effects immediately. The first were cobblers as man had the heels of their shoes redone rather than buy new ones. The other were nursery school assistants. My wife told me at the time that when she was chatting to someone who worked at are local nursery after my daughter had left there that person mentioned that she had to cut back on the number of assistants she employed because unemployed parents who couldn't afford the fees (and they are expensive) took their children out of the nursery to look after them at home.

(And from experience I'll tell you now that had my daughter been of that age when I was unemployed one of those parents would've been me)

In this blog (see labels) I have regularly detailed the decline of Bridgend Town mainly due I would argue to Labour party incompetence either at council or Senedd level. I've mentioned before that I'm going to do an update next week. But let me predict something else now. If the worse case scenario regarding Ford happens then a town in decline will be tipped into disaster.

So you might think if Labour cannot help what about the Tories or UKIP? Well do you think that Ford are going to look favourably on a plant in or out of the EU if it involves shipping cars into the European Union? What the good people of Bridgend who voted Leave was not told it appears is that in voting to "take back control" it has in fact moved to Detroit.

Which leaves Plaid Cymru. They may succeed they may fail but they would start from the clean slate of being untainted by Labour party incompetence or the red white and blue hard Brexit of the scoundrel that appears to be the Tory/UKIP position. And they would care. If I wasn't moving out of the area I'd put my name down as a candidate in the forthcoming local elections. Even though I'd have to put up with the first comment "you're English!".

Skilled people unemployed, a declining town possibly tipped over the edge, knock on effects that will damage the area for possibly a generation. The first minster should not wait for the possibility of the worse case scenario. He needs to act now.

Until the next time.