Why Do I Continue To Read D H Lawrence When I Hate Him?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well Sea and Sardinia is finished and well to a D H Lawrence hater like me nothing, and I mean nothing has changed.

The only real pleasure it gave me was it's shortness. Otherwise it really should have given the reader a truer sense of the fate that was going to befall him/her by retitling the book Twilight In Italy2 aka you thought no one could make Italy/Italians even more boring than I did the first time.

Lawrence is a man incapable on cutting down on paragraphs. As if using so many words hides the fact that for the most part he's writing pure unadulterated twaddle. That, and his racism ( he the inglese observing these unsophisticated people living their lives as if he's in some type of experiment sets me on edge) made it for me an awful book to read.

It was one of those books that gave you a palpable sense of relief when you finished.

(A quick aside. The next book I'm reading is Can Anyone Hear Me? by Peter Baxter. It's essentially anecdotes about doing the Test Match Special BBC radio cricket broadcasts abroad. In all the housemoving stuff I'd completely forgotten that the cricket season had started and that the quiet pleasure of listening to the sport on the radio has returned. I will listen to that tomorrow, whilst continuing to box or crate our lives away. It'll be either that or cutting the grass for what I intend to be the last time before we leave......all depends on the weather)

So then a writer that in this blog has a status of regular villain. And yet I still read him and will probably continue to do so in the future. The question came into my head. "Why"?

(A question that could also be asked of my attitude towards writers that I don't hate but am neutral towards such as F Scott Fitzgerald or Jane Austen)

So then is it peer pressure? Yes and no. If you are the person who is in the minority with regard to an author then you do as a reader want to plough on and think is this next book going to be different? Well remember in all the times I've criticised Lawrence I've always stressed that it's based on the books that I've read. It's not impossible that you can dislike a work by a writer but love the next book you read from him/her. In the course of this blog I've had that experience with Michael Palin and, probably more pertinently, outside of this blog Kingsley Amis.

But that I'm willing to read further books by someone with a reputation does not mean that I will necessary change my mind. It's just that as a reader I'm willing to change my opinion to some extent if the right book comes along. Call it literary blind date. In the case of D H Lawrence though the right book hasn't come thus far so to me he just should be grateful for Lady Chatterley's Lover or else he'd be forgotten aside from people using his books as a cheaper form of Valium.

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.

Goodbye To Porthcawl Library

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know this is premature. I know that the move might fall through. But today (Monday) I went to Porthcawl library for what is probably the last time.

Why? Well three reasons. Firstly once the process of moving house goes into full swing giving back library books would be put in the back burner, and then forgotten.

Secondly, and conversely, dealing with the library is simple. Return the books. That's it.

Thirdly though, and most importantly, unlike some things I was going to do but will put off until the move is complete (going through an Elizabeth David book and volunteering for a food bank will have to wait) this was to be the first thing I was stopping that I was doing. It was also the first thing that would affect me. As the libraries in Bridgend (bar one) I consider a friend.

Porthcawl library is not the best library in the Bridgend area (in my opinion that's Pyle) as it is slightly small. In all other respects I have always enjoyed and looked forward to my visits there. It has a staff that knows what they're doing and, as I've explained previously, tolerate my bad jokes (On having to pay a fine "I thought you were going to throw the book at me").

As in all good bookshops what made this library (like the others in Bridgend..bar one) good was it's ability to surprise you by borrowing a book that you had not expected to want. I'm not saying that they would all be good (ie a biography of Aneurin Bevan) but you'd be prepared to give it a go.

I walked in. Gave the books and walked out. What I was not going to do was linger.

Goodbye

To Marion Keyes and Mark Chapman my apologies. Once the situation is sorted will make a beeline for your books. I promise.

Purchasing Penguin paperbacks though hasn't stopped. As I was in Porthcawl I went to the PAWS charity shop where for £2 I got this.

H E Bates - Country and Other Matters

This is a collection of five of his books, Fair Stood the Wind for France,The Wild Cherry Tree,Dulcima,The Four Beauties and Seven by Five (there were actually six but The Triple Echo is missing).

Regular readers of this blog will know that I'm not currently an H E Bates fan. My view of A Little Bit Of What You Fancy, the last of the Larkin books was that it was a UKIP wet dream of an England (not you would note Britain) that probably never really existed.

However as I hope Michael Palin showed my views on one book does not necessarily mean that they will be my views on another so we live in hope.

So goodbye Porthcawl,Pyle,Aberkenfig, Maesteg and the old Bridgend Town Centre library. It was fun.

As for the new Bridgend Town Centre not in the town centre abomination library which the Labour Council got EU money to action. I hope you (but not the books inside) rot.

Until the next time.

Pondering Pirlo,Coronating Coren and The Novel That Might Make Post Office Employees Cry

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well have finished three books today clearly my reading habits are following the bus principle of finishing more than one on the same day after a wait.

Let's start with I Think Therefore I Play, the autobiography of Italian footballing legend Andrea Pirlo. I say "autobiography" because that's how it seemed to have started.

However a few chapters in I get confused. The timeline makes no sense to me whatsoever. Only as I go into this book deeper does it suddenly make sense. It's a collection of essays with biographical anecdotes and opinions put on them. So for example he could chat about referees, racism or playing for Italy.

Once you understand that the book is readable. Although a rough knowledge of his career would help the unwary.

Alan Coren's Toujours Cricklewood was a welcome reminder of the amiable man who would always be your friend even though you never knew him. Every piece was a comic gem that left a smile on my face.

For the moment I'm going to fire up the Kindle and use that when waiting fore people in the car.....until the copy of the third book in the trilogy, The Cricklewood Tapestry arrives.

Michael Palin has done something rare in my experience. Not since Kingsley Amis has my opinion of a writer changed radically from one book to the next. From the disappointment of volume  two of these diaries to my admiration for Hemingway's Chair, his 1995 "comic" novel.

It's the story of Martin Sproale. assistant postmaster in a small town and Hemingway addict, when he faces "progress" in the form of the new postmaster of the Post Office. Written when the Post Office and the Royal Mail was one organisation (though he does predict the privatised spilt) Palin cleverly shows the slow but insidious effects on an organisation when it's taken over by people know the price of everything and the value of nothing. The sort of people who are obsessed by efficiency savings , branding and gloss but at the same time ignoring what made the organisation respected in the first place and not caring about its effects

(Now of course there is a lot more to the plot than that but I try my best not to spoil things for the new reader)

The thing is if you work/worked in the Post Office and remember how things were you will get bittersweet reading this. You might even shed a tear at memories of things past.

It's the sort of book that I've always admired. Something to say about Britain today (even though it was written over twenty years ago) but done in a way that could appeal to everyone who read it whatever their background. Reminded me of Sue Townsend in that regard.

There are a few similarities between what happens to the Post Office in the novel and the one in Bridgend Town (though not to spoil things I'm not going to list them - just understand that you cannot assume that when I'm talking about some similarities I'm implying everything). I was tempted to send my copy to them but then saw sense. It would have been an action at best pointless and at worse patronising and condescending. Still it made the book even more topical to me than it was already.

It has an all too human hero, it has villains and it has Hemingway (though don't let that put you off. You can enjoy this even if you've never heard/read of him before).

If you can get your hands on this do so. You won't regret it.

The next book on the pile of the great unread is this:

Dave Edmonds & John Eidinow - Bobby Fischer Goes To War

This is the account of the chess world championship series between Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky. The only chess match ever that could justifiably be described as legendary. Should be interesting.

Until the next time.

Morning In Maesteg With Michael Palin

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well, although decorations are still up for a few more days, this is the moment when the world returns from the Christmas/New Year stuff and faces reality in the face. For my daughter that meant the return to school.

As I mentioned in an earlier post a problem with strained ligaments in her knee and amongst other things what that meant was that for the first few weeks of this year I, as part of the Dad service, becomes her school bus driver. That's in the sense that I'll drive her as much as possible to and from school in the Kia so that she could put the seat backwards and extend her leg.

Her school is a half an hour drive away from where we live, and it's not that far away from Maesteg. This was important because, as it turned out, there was a viewing on the house at the (to me) odd time of 10:30am. So what I decided was to drop her off and then spend my time around the town before returning home.

Surely winner of the Best View From A Town Centre Car Park In Britain Competition?

And Again

It was an icy morning. So much so that the I couldn't get into my Kia on the drivers side the lock had been frozen up! But once the mighty Picanto  got going the journey was fine. Once at Maesteg the first stop was to the 135 year old Indoor market that has been cruelly threatened with closure by the Labour, and yes I'm going to repeat that,Labour, council (if you're interested I have written a post about that late last year - click on Maesteg in the labels).

The original By laws - Hung proudly in the market

You may remember that when in the market I buy books from the stall there. But what you may not know is that you can buy the books from the market café if the stallholder is not present (as she wasn't when I was there eight thirty in the morning). This was convenient in more ways than one because I'd decided to while away some of the time by having breakfast there.

So with a budget for Penguin books of £4.57 two books were bought from the stall. The first one was:

Jane Austen - Emma

Now I must admit to have never read a Jane Austen book before. When I was (much) younger I just saw her as a writer "for girls", an upmarket Mills and Boon. Nowadays it's simply that her books have not been next to read amongst the great unread (they are all on my Kindle).

This was the other one:

D H Lawrence - Women In Love

Now those regular readers of my blog know that, based on the books of his that I've read. I'm not a Lawrence fan. Let's see whether this can change my mind. It's not impossible for me to change my general view of a writer, as I will explain later.

Those two books cost me £1. Good value. And something that would be lost if the Labour council had their way and closed the market.

So I paid for them at the café whilst also ordering a big breakfast. I chatted to the lady about the threat by the council. She told me that the council had underestimated the reaction against the proposal to close the market and turn it into a library (that doesn't surprise me). She also said that the decision as to whether they would get the EU money (yes I know) for this renovation of the town hall would not be made until November. One other thing that didn't occur to me in my stupidity but she pointed out. The council want to use EU money to create a big town centre library in Maesteg when they used EU money to take the library out of the town centre in Bridgend.

This is typical Welsh labour, ignore the basics, try and force the big idea not thought through instead.

Anyway time for breakfast

Not Continental Today - Mind you the drink was a Cappuchino

It was delicious. Note that Bridgend Council. Something yet again that would be missed.

You may notice the book on top of the pile. The Michael Palin novel Hemingway's Chair. I took it with me to read whilst I was waiting for the breakfast. I won't chat about it properly until I've finished but let's just say that I'm loving this as much as his diaries were a disappointment. So you see, I can revise my views on a writer.

I went to a few other charity shops in Bridgend and bought one more Penguin book. It was this for a pound (so budget now £2.57).

Philadelphia - Christopher Davis

What's interesting about this book is that it's a novel based on the screenplay for the film. Presumably after VHS and DVDs this was one of the last to be made.

On my way home (having done a little grocery shopping) I stopped from time to time to take in some of the views.

Just outside Maesteg Town Centre

And I think my favourite view of the day. From the nearby village of Cwmfelin.

Stunning

As for the viewing? Don't think it went well. Came home at Eleven and whoever came were gone.

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

In Which Palin Is At Last Finished And England/Scotland Is Halted For My Daughter

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well at last it's finished. Volume two of Michael Palin's diaries. Bought in the summer fete at Laleston where I came from the tip smelling of grass and wearing ripped jeans (sorry about that people of Laleston again)

It was, you may remember, my "car" book that I read when waiting for daughter from school etc. Because I'd started it in the summer as well it's length (609 pages) the volume has taken me a long time to complete.

So after climbing this literary mountain I wish I could say it was worth the effort but to be honest it's like reaching the top of a montain, looking round at the view and then saying "Is that all there is?"

It's not an awful book, just unsatisfying. No real humour in it. A lot of Python and/or broadcasting politics and a bit of family life. It was worth the one pound I paid for it but it's gone straight into a carrier bag for when I donate it to a charity shop so that someone else will spend the same amount for a good cause next time.

Of course this means I'll need a new "car" book which is:

Alan Coren - Toujours Cricklewood?

This was the sequal to A Year In Cricklewood which I couldn't praise highly enough so I'm looking forward to this.

When I was a child in the seventies England/Scotland was a bittersweet affair. They would play each other every year as part of the "Home International" tornament along with Wales and Northern Ireland. On the one hand these matches would be shown live on television, rare at the time. On the other it was at the end of the season, which meant if there were no Euros/World Cup to look forward then for me football was about to close down for the summer.

But the Home International tournament is no more and the England/Scotland matches are now few and far between. The rivalry is however just as strong which brings me to the imporant World Cup Qualifying game between the two. Live on free to air television on a Friday night.

But....

My daughter's piano lesson was postponed from Wednesday to Friday. It was only a few blocks away from where we live but it was night and the wife was out I had to walk with her to the tutor. The lesson started at seven thirty for half an hour. The match started at seven forty five. She is old enough now to understand,if not agree, as to why Dad was rushing her to the lesson.

So daughter with tutor I raced back to watch the start of the game. Was just in time to see the national anthems being played with the Scottish, then English tunes being booed at by opposing fans with a venom I'd never heard before, even for a game like this. I'll say now that Scottish independence seems a question of when rather than if and that moment,not Brexit,was the point of no return.

The other point to note before the match started as that Scotland were playing in pink. Now apart from Palermo I can't think of any other team that plays in pink, or perhaps how it was sold to them Salmon, Personally unless it's for breast cancer awareness it doesn't work.And besides there was no reason why they couldn't just wear the traditional dark blue strip.

And so the match began, and to be honest for the first twenty minutes or so it was rather dull. England in particular seemed to be playing as if they were frightened of losing. Then suddenly the match was paused...whilst I went out to pick my daughter from piano lessons. She tells me that she's learning to play jingle bells, I tell her in full Ebenezer Scrooge mode that I don't want to hear it until Decmber

On our return I continued to watch the game and it contined to be dull until Daniel Sturridge scored with an impressive header. One nil England with the only interesting bit of the entire half. The second half started well for Scotland where they missed a couple of clear cut chances but then England scored a second where Adam Lallana had so much space to place his header he could have started a farm.

Gary Cahill a few minutes later scored a third with another header which made it jackpot for England and Scotland losing all their chips. It all just petered out from that moment, I've never watched a football match ever where even the TV commentators sounded bored and willing the final whistle to be blown. In truth, both teams were not very good but England could finish better and that is of course the point (or rather the three points) of it all.

Until the next time.

The Hunt For A Christmas Day Restaurant (Part 1).....Or So I Thought

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's been an interesting day to wake up and discover that the USA has voted for a president where apparently the only immigrants that will be welcomed will be bricklayers. We in Britain who didn't vote Brexit commiserate with those of you in America who didn't vote Trump as you join us in the dark age.

But that is for January, the immediate problem is Christmas.

Yes I know what I said about Christmas in November but the wife has said that she doesn't want to cook the dinner on December 25th, which is fair enough. She normally takes this burden on (and produces a truly outstanding result) and so couldn't argue with her on this.

The trouble is, before any of you say why I don't man up and do the dinner myself, is that even if I was [insert TV cook here] which I am most certainly not......I'm going to be working on Christmas day morning.

Now I know that my wife would eventually do the meal if I just left the situation as it stands at present. But I don't want that, which is why today I started the hunt for a restaurant open on Christmas day.

So the first stop was the nearby village of Laleston. If you're a regular to this blog you may remember the last time this place was mentioned was in the summer when I visited the summer fete after a trip to the rubbish tip dirty with ripped jeans and bought a copy of J B Priestley plays and a volume of Michael Palin diaries......as you do. This time I was more decently dressed.

A nice place this

With A Proper Looking Church

It's not immune to austerity though below is a picture of a pub/restaurant that was apparently run by a winner of Masterchef. It has been closed for over a year.

Sad This

I was there to have a look at the local pub/restaurant The Mackworth Arms whose food was recommended to me. It was two thirty in the afternoon....and it was closed. How on earth does a pub close in the afternoon? I looked at the window. There was a Christmas menu but not a Christmas Day menu. I don't think they're open on Christmas Day. Same thing for the Spanish restaurant next door. 

I went to the hotel nearby. They are closed on Christmas Day. A hotel closed? How is that possible?

So I planned to go to Cowbridge tomorrow and have a look at some places nearby, I say I planned because when the wife came home after seeing a friend she's told me that some friends on their own this Christmas will be coming round...and she'll be cooking !!!

Husbands really can't win. Especially when you try your best.

Until the next time.

in Which I Take French Lessons, The First Viewing Of The House And Buying Presents

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yes,yes I know. I've resuscitated my old Welsh textbooks, starting to learn Polish and now on a Monday learning French?

Well.....yes.

But racist crime has got worse even since I last posted about it. I read an article that a car was attacked because it had French number plates. As I have said before the dark ages have begun.

So decided to add two more languages to the list. Picked because I've a petit knowledge of either. French which is of a sub O level standard and Italian of whose remote vocabulary gleaned almost organically. They've been taken off the remote bookshelves of my mind, the dust blown off and so Je vais.

And gradually my intention is to be more French than French, Polish than the Polish etc. It seems to me that if I want to listen to Verdi rather than Elgar then I should without nobody questioning my choice because it's not British, and more specifically English.

Because that is the insular society we are potentially facing now. Particularly if the Labour party keeps looking at its navel and then begins to cut itself open. Leaving Britain at the mercy of the right wing. In the meantime the cleverest politician in the Conservative party Theresa May has about to become Prime Minister simply by staying relatively quiet as her opponents blunder their way out of the race.

I have a timetable for learning these languages.....oh yes I do.

Monday/Tuesday: French
Wednesday/Thursday: Polish
Friday/Saturday: Welsh
Sunday: Italian

So I start watching online the French drama Spin on the Channel 4 strand Walter Presents. The same strand that showed the Polish series The Border I mentioned in an earlier post. Watched the first series before but now am on it again to listen as well as see. Actually it's French title is Les Hommes De L'Ombre or Shadow Men, Things sound better in French or Italian than they do in English. For example there is a Ligue 1 football team, I can't remember which, that is sponsored by Mutuelle Du Soleil which even the most ardent Brexiteer must admit sounds better than Sun Mutual.

The book I'm starting with is Teach Yourself French by Gaelle Graham. A woman who is not only a teacher and linguist but works for a trade union and is a commentator for French radio about English education (!!). Clearly a lady who takes multitasking to the next level.She's from Brittany originally though with talents like that perhaps she's Britainiche,

More French chat tomorrow.

So the first viewing of the house. I was in the car parked at the opposite side of the road like a private eye having given the estate agent the keys. It was early afternoon so no danger of schoolkids invading the street.

I saw a couple, late twenties/early thirties being led into the house. There they stayed for about forty minutes. In between gazing at my front door I started reading Michael Palin's diaries. The length of time made me feel rather nervous,not sure with excitement or fear. Surely I thought they must be interested?

Well perhaps,or perhaps not. Apparently the couple loved the upstairs but not the downstairs, Too small for a family of two children apparently. That surprised me. Their ultimate view, according to the estate agent was a maybe. I'm going to assume a no unless proved otherwise.

Final proper thing I've done today is to go  with my daughter to buy proper birthday presents at Macarthur Glen (a retail outlet complex just outside Bridgend) for my mother, who's coming down this weekend.

Daughter picked a Yankee Candle and a fancy holder. Personally the popularity of scented candles is something that has just passed me by as I'm always on the slow lane to fashionable. I get them when the smells are simple, say orange or strawberry. But it's when they get all descriptive, for example I remember a Yankee Candle called Christmas Eve. Since when did Christmas Eve have a smell ?

I played it safe present wise. Bought a Marks and Spencer gift voucher......and this

I know you want one

It's a cheese grater. Probably the oddest looking cheese grater that you will ever see. And come the weekend it will be my mother's. It's Marks and Spencer also. And you wonder why they're in trouble.

Until the next time,

Do You Remember Harry Carpenter? (Even Great Books Can Die). Also Books Bought And Borrowed

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with the question in the title. That's for anyone living in what will probably soon be named the Disunited Kingdom. A land whose government is apparently telling people living here originally from the EU that they might not be allowed to stay post BREXIT.

No matter that you worked here, started up businesses and/or a family

With every day that has followed since the referendum this Kingdom seems to be slowly moving to a very dark place indeed. A look here,a remark there, a graffitied wall strewn with racial insults, in some cases violence.

Britain has become a very worrying place to live right now. And I say this as a white male with a British passport.

So I went today to Porthcawl mainly to go to the library. Here is the Porthcawl view of the day.

Metaphor time

That view seemed to match my mood. Calm but with a sense of foreboding.

Before I went to Poundland for a few odd groceries. Poundland sell small stocks of stuff mainly for, surprise, surprise a pound. Now they do sell books most of which deserve to stay there. Some though will surprise you. There was a Howard Jacobson. But that wasn't the book that caught my eye. It was this.

Martin Booth - The American

This attracted me because it was set in Tuscany, where my Italian relatives live. Remember starting to watch the film on TV and nodding off but liking what I saw before seductive power of the nap took over.

It's not a Penguin paperback I know. But as it was only a pound it was bought.

And so to the library. Picking the football book to read was easier than I thought.

Andrew Jennings - The Dirty Game

Well the cover says it all really.

I was about to leave when in the corner of my eye I noticed this.

Sue Townsend - The Public Confessions Of A Middle-Aged Woman

Sue Townsend wrote the Adrian Mole books (I've read when he was a teenager but not those as an adult) but she also wrote some other stuff as well (I remember a novel...though not the title... where the Royal family were moved in a Republican Britain to a council house). These are a selection of columns she wrote on various subjects. I borrowed it, pathetic as it sounds, because I thought it would make me laugh. How sad is that?

So to the question Do You Remember Harry Carpenter? If you do then I've finished my "car book", Glued To The Box by Clive James. Let me say now that the next car book is volume one of  Michael Palin's Diaries bought a couple of weeks back. I now have five books on the go. I'll never kick the habit of reading but I've got to learn to control it. Thing is I don't know how.

This was his final published collection of his TV columns for The Observer between 1979-1982. It's quite simply just as good as I remember it all those years ago. Funny yet erudite. Here is a man capable of talking about an opera and then move on to The Rockford Files (that was in an earlier book - Just lumped that in to say that The Rockford Files seem to be one of the few seventies detective shows that has stood the test of time - I liked The Rockford Files - It seemed to be written and performed by adults - Clive James liked it as well).

He is the best critic I have ever read. One of the few that I would look forward to reading (or perhaps even prefer listening to, as I mentioned when discussing the book of his radio show he used to do called A Point Of View).

But........

Do you remember Harry Carpenter? He was a BBC sports presenter in the seventies and eighties. He was mainly known for his Boxing commentary but he'd also present The British Open and Wimbledon. Clive James writes about him here. If you do then you will read the book with a wistful smile about a time long gone.

If you don't then the bulk of this book is not for you. It'll mention programmes and people long since forgotten unless you look them up on Google or Youtube. I don't know why book or literary or theatre criticism (Christopher Hitchen,Dorothy Parker, Kenneth Tynan) survives but TV doesn't, certainly not for this period anyway.

So when the last person to remember Harry Carpenter dies. This book, great as it is will die with it.

Until the next time.

People Of Laleston: The Dirty,Smelly Ripped Jeaned Man Who Bought Two Books At Your Fete Was Me...Sorry

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I wake up early in the morning. My day is mapped out. Mow that jungle outside,go to the undercover tip that is Thygeston, watch three matches from Euro 2016. Few days are so easily planned.

The first thing to do though  is to get an internet stream ready so that the wife can watch the second rugby test between New Zealand and Wales. At the same time she wanted the television left on so she'd see the return of the British astronaut Tim Peake from that space station doing whatever it is astronauts do to justify not giving it to the poor in the world.

My wife: Woman,Welsh, Multitasker.

So whilst she does this I, being a man concentrate on just one task being the grass. Interrupted just the once when my daughter comes out shouting "It's amazin".

I look confused.

"Tim Peake's landed".

All that gets from me is a shrug. Partly for the reason sarcastically given above, but also because I don't understand all the media attention for the second Briton in space. Not as if he's gone to Mars. Anyway Brexit or no Brexit it's going to be a long time before another UK citizen gets up there again so am not interested.

Otherwise the mowing is done. It takes a while but it's done. Less obstacles now except that my wife decided to put the washing out hence I had to avoid sheets, towels and assorted garments hitting my face. Being mugged by lemony freshness. Still it's done.

Black bags full of garden was placed into the mighty Kia and off I went to Thygeston. 12:30. Key time was 2pm as that's when the first match, Belgium v Republic of Ireland started.

Now on the short journey to the tip I have to pass the village of Laleston. A pleasant affluent place though not immune from austerity. It's pub being boarded up for years now. It's most prominent landmark is the local church...which today had a fete. I've been there before and knew there would be a book stall. So the decision was made. Do the tip and when finished make a quick trip to the church.

It was one o'clock. One hour to football.

So remember I'd just finished mowing the grass and had been to the tip.I was at that moment at my most desirable. My hair felt it had a few South Walian insects in it. Was dirty and smelling of dead garden. Wearing a yellow faded Pittsburgh Steeler T shirt decorated with the evergreen grass of Bridgend. Garden jeans. in the fashionably ripped style borne of the unfashionableness of age. Sure I exuded the pinnacle of male sexuality. I would have to repel any advances. I'm married and anyway there were three football matches to watch.

This was the sight the middle aged woman behind the bookstall beheld as I approached the book stall. She would just have to control herself.

"How much are the books?" I asked.

"Three paperbacks for a £1 or two hardbacks for a pound" came the response.

Looking at what was available knew I was going to be difficult, Because there were only two books I wanted to buy.Of course one of them was a hardback and the other was a paperback. Enquring of the price brought about a discussion between the middle aged woman and her friend and her friend. What the word is for a group of such ladies I don't know.

Eventually a price of 80p was agreed upon. Fine.  A pound was produced.

"Sorry" she said in an apologetic tone that only women in a church environment can muster "we don't have any change."

Yeah right.

But I didn't have the time or the inclination to argue so gave the pound and walked away.

The two books I bought were as follows:

J B Priestley - Time and the Conways and Other Plays

This is in the light green spined Penguin Twentieth Century Classics series. One of the plays is An Inspector Calls/ I remember once many years ago in East London being alone at home on a Friday afternoon being taken by radio adaptation of it. And when I mean taken I mean stopping whatever I was doing in the kitchen and just sitting down to listen to it. That's the power it had.

The other book, an absolute brick of a hardback was:

Well it speaks for itself

The only reason why I bought this book was only the day before I'd watched an interview he gave at the Hay festival promoting the third volume. This of course is the first.

So these two books for a pound. Bargain. Or as they say in Cardiff Barrgain, I mentioned this detour and purchases to the wife on my return. Let's say she was unimpressed.

Half past one: A quick wash of body and hair, so that any insects were evicted then football took over the rest of the day.

Belgium beat Republic of Ireland 3-0. With Lukaku scoring two. Causing me to think that there are two Lukaku's playing alternate games. One rubbish and the other world class. Which all means I don't fancy their chances against Sweden.

Iceland drew with Hungary 1-1. Good , They both have been the successful underdogs so far. Fingers crossed.

Finally the red swarm of Portugal drew with Austria 0-0. Portugal did everything but score. That included Ronaldo hitting the post from a penalty, My theory is simple. Portugal have been cursed by an old gypsy woman.

Austria were a dull team. A good thing. After all history has taught us we should always be wary of lively Austrians.

So again to the Lalestonians wherever you are now apologies for my appearence

Until the next time,

Of Pelicans, Penguins,Panini and the leader of Plaid Cymru. With an added sprinkle of even more books and Maesteg

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

A couple of years ago I was having my hair cut and having a conversation with the hairdresser. For some reason the town of Maesteg, about half an hour away, was mentioned. She said that she'd never been there. I said I had.

"Why?" She asked

"Because I'm a world traveller" came my response. (Which on reflection was rather brave given that if there is one rule a man should always obey when it comes to gender politics it's never to annoy a lady with a sharp object around your face)

And one final point about the lady who cuts my hair. Her partner is possibly a woman's ideal man. A cook who doesn't like sport.

On Saturday I needed to go to the town and as it happened I'd learnt that the leader of Plaid Cymru was going to be at the market there around midday. Even though it is a well known killer of cats I was curious to see the leader of the political party I'd joined first hand.

So I hung around a bit.

What I like about Maesteg town centre is the way it can integrate the old and the new almost seamlessly. Obviously there are problems here as well but as I suggested yesterday it is far better than its equivalent in Bridgend.

I'm assuming this building is the local Tabernacle. Very impressive anyway.

The Building on the left is a Post Office

Now come now. Wouldn't you want your Council Offices to look like this?

The Town Hall and Market Entrance

I'd a few minutes to spare before she was due to come so looked at the book stall in the market. Just as Porthcawl has the Porthcawl Animal Welfare Service (PAWS) Maesteg has the Maesteg Animal Welfare Service (MAWS) which sells books at 50p each whether paper or hardback, I eventually picked four books as follows:

Fatima Beer - Higher Than Hope

This orange spined Penguin paperback was the authorised biography of Nelson Mandela. The important point to remember here is that it was written in 1990. The year he was released from jail.

I think I forgot to mention that not only do I collect Penguin paperbacks but I also collect their stablemate Pelican paperbacks (again it has to be in their classic coloured spine - in this case blue). What pleased was that I was able to buy two "vintage" ie pre ISBN numbered books.

A465 - Boris Ford (Editor) - The Pelican Guide to English Literature 7 - The Modern Age

A702 - Hugh Lloyd-Jones (Editor) - The Greek World

These vintage Pelican and Penguin Paperbacks are checked against the list written in a Paris Saint Germain notebook. Possibly the only time they can be put together in one sentence.

Believe me this is needed

And finally:

Michael Palin - Hemingway's Chair

Before you say "that's not a Penguin/Pelican paperback or anything to do with sports" well yes. But only the day before I'd downloaded a radio adaptation of this book and now it was there confronting me to buy it. So I did.

It was about twenty past twelve before she actually came. The life of a political leader in election time is obviously a busy one. I was in the market cafe with a cup of tea to warm me in what was a surprisingly cold day and had been ready to leave because there were other things I needed to do that day.

Leanne Williams is an impressive leader and worked the scene well.  She shook my hand and I told her that Plaid had my vote even though I'm English.. Wasn't going to go into full blown detail as to what lead me to this process or that I was now a member of the party as this was neither the time nor the place to gush like a girl to (insert boy band here).

Did though ask for a selfie...well it would've been a selfie if I'd known how to have used the phone. #OldMansProblems

Should've been a selfie

When I showed my wife later she was impressed. She too is going to vote Plaid Cymru,

Her visit to Maesteg probably means that Plaid they have a good chance of doing well here in the National Assembly elections. I think they're right. Based purely on the unscientific approach by the number of placards on the road from Bridgend when I was closer to the town.

I've finished A Point Of View by Clive James. Nothing has really changed from what I posted before. The only good thing about it really is that it has led me back to the podcasts.

What it means is that I need a new "Car book" and it's this.

Hunter Davies - The Fan

This is a collection of left field articles on football in the New Statesman by Hunter Davies. I've always liked him. He writes on a wide field of subjects interestingly and with enthusiasm

I'm a man in his fifties. But football and only football has the power of turning me instantly into a ten year old boy.And it occurred to me late last week that with the Euro 2016 coming soon it might be a good idea to collect a Panini Football stickers for my daughter as a souvenir when she gets older. I'm not going to deny that the schoolboy in me is part of the reason for this. But there is also the fact that this is first time Wales are in a major football tournament in my lifetime let alone hers.

My wife thinks this is silly. But I'm going to ignore her (for once). Until the end of Euro 2016 I'm going to buy 1 pack of stickers a day. How I will proceed after it finishes depends on how well I've done.

Of course I won't deny that this hasn't been completely worked out. The biggest problem being the question of what I do with doubles (as for obvious reasons I'm not going to deal with kids. I've no wish for anybody to put two and two together and make five). Hopefully though I'll muddle through.

Brings back memories

Until the next time...