A Further Thought On Ford in Bridgend And Caitlin Moran To The Rescue With Old Technology

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday was Saturday and just after lunch had to drive from where I live now to the outskirts of Bridgend town to begin the afternoon/evening shift of work. Normally my choice of  radio station of this journey is BBC Radio 4 ( the station coming back varies, but that's unimportant here) solely because I can catch up with the news at one the next time world events and me meet on these shifts will be when I've finished at ten in the evening.

The programmes before and after the news normally just wash over me. And so it should have been this time. Being a Saturday afternoon that was Any Questions where a panel answer audience questions on the issues of the day. Normally it's too predictable to be of any interest to me and occasionally annoying when a particular guest I don't like turns up. Here it was Julia Hartley-Brewer, a talk show host who can be best described as a toilet trained Katie Hopkins.

Now one of those questions was of the government's plan (and the fact that this government has a plan over anything is astonishing in itself) that no petrol or diesel cars would be sold by 2040. It appears that similar moves are being made across Europe (taking back control...ha!). The point though is whatever the timescale and how it's implemented it does appear that the future is electric. Cars will be humming to a different beat.

It was when they had finished discussing this issue that I passed the turnoff to the Ford Bridgend plant. Only then did my brain join the dots. Something I already knew but didn't register properly before.

It's an engine plant.

I have written before of my belief that the UK and Welsh governments need to move now to secure the future of Ford Bridgend. If motoring is to be electric then investment needs to be made now to make sure that the factory and the jobs are safe. The plant will need to be updated to cater for electric cars in order for it to be relevant in this new age. Ford will want incentives to do this and too be honest money should be thrown at them to be tempted to do this and fend off the consequences of Brexit. Because if the technology goes to a country in the EU, then whatever the enviornmental benefits of electric cars are the environmental costs to Bridgend will be disastrous.

Both the near closure of the Tata Steel works in Port Talbot and the closing down next year of the Tesco Call centre in Cardiff revealed governments (particularly that of the Labour run Welsh administration) that were seemingly caught out by events. Here they have time to seriously make an effort to secure the future of Ford Bridgend.

But the clock is ticking.

And to lighter matters.

Have finished Dostoevsky's The Idiot. Don't really need to say any more than I did yesterday. You know I liked it.

The next ebook on the Kindle pile is Our Italy by Charles Dudley Warner. first published in 1892. Only in this case "Italy" turns out to be California. If I understood the logic correctly. California is like Italy because of it's varied climate and landscapes. Thing is. In Chapter One there is mention of the Mojave Desert. No Geographer me but at this moment at least, before global warming changes things beyond recognition I don't recall Italy having a desert. There is also at least one moment where Europwe is compared unfavourably with the sunshine/drought/flooding/forest fire state. When you read it my first thought is "Then why the title Charlie?"

But let's be fair here. The target audience for this book now are probably Californian Geography teachers with an interest in local history. My lack of any real interest is probably because I'm so far away from the core demographic I'm in a different continent...which literally I am....specifically in fact the Italy with rain that is Wales.

Anyway I have 29 minutes according to my Kindle to go. I know this because that was the moment when a sign came up saying that it needed charging during a break at work. But unexpectedly there was a backup. Moranthology by a hardback book I'd bought yesterday in windy Porthcawl and had left in my work bag. Yet again in Ms Moran has come to my reading rescue. Not just because there was something to read but also that it's so damned good.

Until the next time.

Dostoevsky At The Dentist,By The Porthcawl Coast And With An All Day Breakfast For Lunch

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know what you're going to think. He's left the Bridgend area for over two months now but he's still coming back? Leaving aside the fact he works there?

Well yes. But things still need servicing. Last Friday it was the car. Yesterday it was the turn of my teeth. Dentists are like hairdressers. Once you've put your faith in one that's it until necessity puts you into an agonised search for a replacement.

I remember once a dentist in Cardiff. It would have been about twenty years ago. Young,blonde pretty she was also the roughest I ever dealt with. She manoeuvred my mouth as if it was plasticine which, considering the lasting effects of my Bells Palsey is that I can't smile straight was bothersome to say the least. Mentioning it to my wife later she said "Yes she's rough with me too".

Which was why at nine thirty am I was the man waiting at reception to be called. I was the one reading a book on my Kindle. Ignoring the temptations of the TV channel they had on (really daytime TV taken as a whole is really where your brain goes to die). I was reading The Idiot by Doestoevsky, which I should say now is an entertainment but still better than what was on screen. After all will future generations eulogise about Homes Under The Hammer? I don't think so.

Anyway after my name was called and about half an hour later where things were put into my mouth and there is a sudden urge to cough at all the wrong moments I walked out of the premises. My teeth were ready to fight another day.

Like last week was working the afternoon/evening shift that day so it was pointless to return to the apartment. Like last week the weather was bad. Rain and heavy winds. Had though less time to wander aimlessly through the streets than previously What should I do? Make a return trip to Bridgend Town? What idiot would think that on a windy day like this a trip to the Porthcawl coastline would be a good idea?

So that's where I went.

Now in terms of a coastline must be honest and say that as long as it doesn't get into flooding mode I prefer watching the waves crash into an area. Porthcawl yesterday, heavy winds, cold, dark clouds  November in July, didn't disappoint.

Drama Without The Commercial Breaks

It really was as bleak as this

I did have the idea of stopping and reading a bit more Dostoevsky here. But, well I'm not that mad.

Must admit I like this

Opposite the coastline there is a Bed and Breakfast called The Foams Edge. Not quite today.....

....but close

And if you want the juxtaposition of the angry sea and the town?

Not sure this would be in the postcards

Decided that I did want to read a bit more Dostoevsky by the coast. There was in this weather a perfect place for it. A small enclosed place directly along the sea called The Piccolo Bar. So having bought a cappuccino I took my seat.

This was my view

It was it has to be said the first time I've ever felt seasickness whilst on dry land.

Two more pictures of crashing seas before I go on. Firstly from the Ministry of Obvious Signs Porthcawl Division.



And then this, the end of the harbour wall in Porthcawl. I could have gone further, but not being a lunatic or the French Lieutenant's Woman felt discretion was the better part of valour.



Like last week in Bridgend Town I felt for old times sake I should buy a book. Went to my favourite the Porthcawl Animal Welfare Shop (PAWS) and on entering saw a guy pay for a group of books....including vintage Penguins!!

Nonetheless went upstairs and there was a number of Penguin paperbacks to chose from. But as it happened a different,non Penguin caught my eye. Moranthology by Caitlin Moran which is an anthology of You may remember I wrote about how she helped pass the time for me on Christmas Day at work when I was reading How To Build A Girl and how I was impressed by it. So partly being excited, part out of state of gratefulness and mainly out of it being a hardback selling for just 60p I bought it.

Time then for lunch. Went to a café called The Esplanade.Decided on a all day breakfast with a cup of tea.

As a quick aside I should mention that the European British Open Senior Golf Tournamnet was being played nearby. In the café there was a woman with that sort of bright pink golf top and visor that you see being worn by the wives of male golfers or female golfers. The look and her tan suggested that she was American. I looked at her and thought. "You've never been to Porthcawl before have you"

Who Says Civilised Living Is Dead?

Despite the Moran book being on the table it was Fyodor's book I continued reading. And I've almost finished it. As said it's an entertainment. The closest way I can describe it (and it's not quite correct) is as a comedy of manners. But I enjoyed the novel and it shows a range in what he could write about that I hadn't realised before.

So when it comes to classic Russian writers I'm still wit team Fyodor.

Until the next time.

In Which I Strayed With Cheryl And Chat About A Few Russians (Only Books I'm Afraid)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Now that I'm a member of the local library I decided to go back to the ebook I electronically put to one side for a while Wild by Cheryl Strayed. In it she tells the story of how she undertook the Pacific Crest Trail (which starts in a desert) as a sort redemptive process after having gone off the rails emotionally following her mother's death.

Well it was finished and well it was a good read. Not a great read you understand. This notion of redemption is very American and the mere thought of walking a long way involving a desert is not my idea of fun (after all hot weather in South Wales makes me go into hives).

There is apparently a film of Wild starring Reese Witherspoon. This surprised me given that it's a rather slim tome. Perhaps it's a marketing ploy for those of us who've read the book to be tempted to watch it ready to mock should the movie be different in anyway. Well it's worked for me.....when it's on TV.....or Netflix anyway.

Next book randomly selected was The Seven Who Were Hanged by Leonid Andreyev. It's about people facing the death penalty and how they react I'd never heard of him before. But apparently he was a contemporary of Tolstoy and could be compared with Dostoevsky. Having read this book (the first of his I've ever read)....possibly.

This is not a whodunnit. All of those condemned to hang committed the crime. What the novel shows is their various and changeable reactions to their impending fate. It was compelling reading.

One of the points Andreyev does show is that you might not think you're Napoleon but being just this side of sanity doesn't mean that you should be hanged if you commit a murder (as opposed to life imprisonment you understand). Really this is an equally slim time as Wild but affected me much more.

So now the next book on the eBook pile turns out to be The Idiot by Dostoevsky. Again the kindle is revealing a sense of humour. And for the moment so far so good.

Until the next time.

When You're Late For The Party And More Books Read

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

You might have noticed that despite it being staged in Cardiff this weekend I haven't mentioned anything about the Champions League final. Well the reason was simple. I was at work.

Now would admit that could easily have taken the day off, but to be honest wanted to save my time for the moment when we do, eventually, move house permanently. So it all passed me by.

Sunday however had the day off. And I decided to go to the Champions League Festival being held in Cardiff Bay. Wasn't sure whether it was a good idea at the time but ultimately thought that as it was going to be the closest time I'd be anywhere near a Champions League final again it was best I should go.

Trouble is of course that the match was on the Saturday. What this meant was that all the glamorous people had long since gone. All that was left was, well people like me.

"The Champions!"

However there were things to do. You could kick a ball in the goal with virtual Gareth Bale. Play on a PlayStation 4, pretend you're a commentator. All very good.....if you're ten. Being Fifty three however I went to the exhibition of the Uefa Champions League at the Millennium Centre.

Where you could see photos....

Photos

Or Shirts...

Football Shirts

Which regular readers know I like collecting but in all honesty in an exhibition setting was dull. And there wasn't all that space either.

So went outside and saw the floating pitch. A match was playing. Wasn't to be honest close enough to recognise any of the, shall we say, older players. Or as they're branded now "Legends".

Floating

Noticed that Juventus had their own stall in the festival. Would have been interested to have gone in. Unfortunately it wasn't open on the Sunday, which was rather unsporting of them, even if they were defeated.

Apparently #ITSTIME doesn't apply to the day after the final

They had a concert stand where bands gamely performed to small crowds as if it was the Millennium / Principality Stadium. When I was there Captain Accident was singing his heart out. Never heard of him. That though is an old man (ie me) issue.

The day was bright it has to be said

And to  top it all on a particularly depressing day I give you this picture.

The Picture

The statue to the right of this picture is of the songwriter Ivor Novello. I have this theory that before the Champions League weekend it was facing the sea. However in a Night in the Museum style the statue turned towards the Champions League shop to the left in disbelief as to the prices it charged. £10 for a less than thumb sized replica of the trophy,£15 for a baseball hat, £25 for a T-Shirt and to
top it all £65 for a football shirt!!!

Needless to say I bought something.

A Mug...Impressed Eh?

It cost me £10. I have the slight comfort that I know I'll use it. Still it probably showed that the biggest mug was me.

One thing I know is that until I make the move this blog will continue but the posts will be more sporadic. Since my last post I've read SEVEN books. So here's a quick review of all seven.

The House Of The Dead : Fyodor Doestoevsky: As previously posted I am a fan of Team Fyodor. The book ended as brilliantly as it begun. Highly recommended.

By The Ionian. Sea Notes of a Ramble in Southern Italy: George Gissing: This book,published in 1905 really was rubbish. He seemed to like Italy and its history but not Italians unless they were "cultured". Snobbish pretentious racism.

Earthwork Out Of Tuscany Being Impressions and Translations Of Maurice Hewlett: Maurice Hewlett: Though not racist this book about Tuscan art was equally snobbish and pretentious.

Adventures Among Books: Andrew Lang: The most disappointing book of the seven. What started as a man telling a story of his love of books turned into a series of rather dull essays.

And speaking of essays....

Selected Essays: Karl Marx: Am I a Marxist after reading this? No. Whilst some of it was interesting most required a knowledge of German history / figures of that time which I don't possess. Hence it's not Marx's problem but mine. I'll give him a pass.

The Third Reich A Chronicle : Richard Overy: As I remember it I bought this to clear an Amazon giftcard. It had nothing really new to say.

Paris Under The Occupation: Jean Paul Sartre: Other than the Doestoevsky this was the most interesting book of the seven. This essay explains that life under Nazi occupation was for the most part not how TV/films now portray it. The only real criticism is his denigration of those people in the resistance who lost their lives fighting for a free France. Otherwise it is certainly worth a read.

So the book I'm currently reading is Wild by Cheryl Strayed. Will see how I do with that soon.

Until the next time.

More Chopin, Arguing With Len And I'm With Team Fyodor

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So it appears that yet again I begin this blog the day after a terrorist atrocity. Yet again the world turns digitally medieval. Yet again for what it's worth my sympathies goes out to the injured and dead in these London attacks (bar three). But yet again I say this. No one should change their lives for fear. For fear would mean that the terrorists will win. I intend to go out to Cardiff Bay today. Am not going to alter my plans. Not at all.

So I will continue in this blog to chat on the books I've read yesterday. Terrorists remember don't like people who read avidly. They don't like books outside of their own sphere. And when we're talking about Islamic terrorists they wouldn't like Kate Chopin. She is first a woman, then a woman with a voice of her own and a woman who would not have believed that her place is in the home serving a man.

The Awakenings and other stories have now been finished. As I explained yesterday this has come as an unexpected surprise. The stories were a fascinating read. They were all best described as a slow burn. You wonder what's going on in the beginning and then you find yourself being drawn into the tale she's telling. Will look forward to reading her again.

Kindle do a series called Kindle Singles. Short fiction/non fiction on various subjects. When I first bought it one of these ebooks I bought was James Bond : My Long And Eventful Search For His Father. Essentially this was focusing on the battle which eventually involved in the (for want of a better word) "rebel" James Bond film Never Say Never Again.

Before this book I've read three Len Deighton novels. The Ipcress File, SS-GB and XPD. In all cases I had the same view. If Len and Deighton were an ice dance couple then they would score largely on the technical but not as well on artistic impression. His characters leave me cold. As I remember reading James Bond as a teenager Ian Fleming was much better in engaging your emotions. And of course nobody does the crime novel better than John Le Carre.

This book doesn't change my view of him one iota. It was rubbish. It's biggest problem was that it was just too short. It needed a lot more detail. Also his conclusion at the very end is just useless. I won't tell you what it is but let's just say that it doesn't matter what TV/Film does to change an iconic character (eg Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Inspector Morse) it's parent is the author who created it in the first place.

The novel I'm currently reading is House Of The Dead by Fyodor Dostoevsky published in 1860. It reminded me of why I'm with Team Fyodor and not Team Chekov. You find yourself interested in the people and their lives in the Siberian prison camp they're living in. With Dostoevsky I find myself wanting to go on rather than swiping the page at a sense of reader duty.

Until the next time.