On A Pre Tale From Hoffman Leading To Another Chat About Male Readers/Female Writers And their Covers And A Brief Return Of The Slight Hypocrite

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So this was the latest library book I've read.

The Rules Of Magic - Alice Hoffman

This novel is about three siblings, two women and a man growing up in America during the sixties each with supernatural abilities. As regular readers to this blog will know I try my best to put a story to it's barest essence as to not spoil the plot for new readers. So I'll say this. It takes a certain skill for a writer to produce an adult novel which combines believable reality with, well.... magic. And Ms Hoffman definitely has that magic touch.

It's a prequel to her novel Practical Magic. Now rather like in the Game Of Thrones book I chatted about a while back I don't like prequels, given that you may not know the route but you know the destination. But as I've not read Practical Magic I was in the advantage of treating The Rules Of Magic as Book One. If you've not read Practical Magic before I'd suggest you'd follow that as well. For I will be looking forward to reading that in the future.

The Rules Of Magic is a novel everyone can read and enjoy...I did and I'm a fifty four year old man.

And I say this because as regular readers will know I enjoy trying to read most books in my local library. An impossible task I know but a bit of fun but if it wasn't for that innocent but admittedly mad predilection of mine I wouldn't have borrowed this book. For as I've said before I believe that one of the reasons a lot of men read few books my female writers is that their covers put them off. I know that judging on the cover alone I would have avoided this.

Let's have another look at the cover again.

Not A Magic Cover

That is not the cover that would entrance a man. It suggests women's romantic fiction. But it gets worse. The blurb speaks of the family that "their love will be their undoing". To a man reading it this suggests some soppy sentimentality. But trust me this novel is anything but soppy.

Worst though are the quotes used to (deservedly) praise this book. On the front cover is a quote from The Times (Fair enough) but on the back are quotes from Jodi Picoult and Marie Claire....Marie Claire!!! It's like a female reader picking up a book and seeing a favourable quote from Playboy.

So I say this again. Despite the cover this is a book men can read and enjoy.

When I started this blog seemingly a long time ago I outed myself as a slight hypocrite as although I said I didn't understand people who read plays for their personal pleasure only to realise that I have some as part of my collection of vintage Penguin paperbacks.

Well.....

I downloaded Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov onto my Kindle. Partly because it was free, but mainly because I wanted to see whether my view of Chekhov as a short story writer (I didn't dislike him but don't understand why he's considered great. A view I call Literary Switzerland) would change on reading Chekhov the playwright.

It didn't.

No magic there.

Until the next time.

On Books: Where We Chat About the Only Rugby League Novel Most People Knows And Why My Teenage Self Was Right Over James Bond

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So let's start with the rugby league novel.

1674 - David Storey - This Sporting Life

This tells the story of Arthur Machin and what happens to him once he signs on to a professional rugby league team in the North of England in the late fifties. I say "professional" but for that time it's just an extra job from his main one in a factory. It's still fame though and what the novel shows is it's consequences for him and his life.

Thing is I'm not sure what I think now I've finished it. Which probably means I've not completely understood it. The biggest issue is the behaviour of Arthur Machin's landlady Mrs Hammond which I just don't get. Perhaps what happens to her explains it. Perhaps not. I've no idea.

And speaking about female characters leads us of course to James Bond.

So let me tell you a story of me in three time periods. Me as a teenager. Me in January February this year and me now.

It's 1977 and I'm thirteen. I have the princely sum of £1.50 in my pocket. I decide to buy two James Bond books. One was Goldfinger.

Well I hated it. Partly because it has the most racist prose I've ever experienced. No matter if you're North and South Korean I bet nobody there read that and wanted to read another bond book again.

The other reason was quite simple......the movie was better.

So the other book I put on the shelf and ignored. Eventually my mother wanted to read it so she put it on her shelf and that's where it stood. Unloved and unread.

The other book was this.

Ian Fleming - On Her Majesty's Secret Service

A quick word on the cover. When I put this on Twitter there was a comment on how typically sexist it was for the period (the seventies - 1977 to be precise). Well for that period it's actually quite restrained. The sexism is actually quite more subtle. In the inside cover there's a credit for the maker of the gun, the photographer, the clothes designers and even the hairdresser....but not the model.

Anyway regular readers will know I'm a fan of the Backlisted podcast and this book was the featured on early this year when I was in Essex exile looking after my then unwell mother. And well as it was on the shelf I decided to read it, though I didn't actually look at until now. I was hoping I was wrong.

Well I wasn't. This book was truly awful. My teenage self was right. The movies are better. Bond is a wisecracking saviour of the world. In the novels he's just a pompous prig and not really that secret of agents either. In the movies the sex is between lustful consenting adults. In the book Bond is hunting for women.

Ah you might say but what about the main woman in this novel Tracey? Well do you want to know how she was conceived? As a result of a rape between a Mediterranean gangster (who knows about Bond - again not so secret an agent) and a wayward English woman. You know what? She stayed and married him. Thus perpetuating the myth at that time (1960) women liked it.

Not only that but this was told by the gangster to Bond in the same way that they might be discussing the weather.

Of course the books were popular at the time but I suppose it just appeared glamorous at the time. The films (even this one starring George Lazenby) takes the basic plot, throws away the rubbish and then puts better parts to replace it.

Yes. My teenage self can be right sometimes.

Until the next time.

On Books: Chatting About An Unlikeable Penguin And An Almost Mad Vet

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It has been a long while since I've finished reading a vintage Penguin paperback but at last I've finished it. Why at last? Well regular readers might recall I actually started The Spotted Deer by J H Williams in July?

Why so long? Well quite frankly I hated it. The author is working for the British Government (and let's say here from now on) "the Empire". Not clear of the date but I think the early fifties. He's in Burma (now Myanmar).

In the beginning he makes it quite clear that he believes in empire. Now you might think that given how Myanmar has turned out he's correct. But two wrongs don't make a right. An empire is quite simply inexcusable.

Whilst not approving of it he also apparently accepts a colour ban on people not pale enough in bars. And whilst he might take the advice of local people he is British so he makes the decisions. He is the leader of an expedition to the Andaman islands. Whose inhabitants I think (I've forgotten this part to be honest - Quickly wiping away this from my memory) are described once as savages

Brexiteers will probably love this.

There has been a short and (very) occasional series on this blog seeing whether we can find a writer capable of usurping James Herriot from his status as the colossus of veterinary autobiography. We've had the young vet going off to South Africa from time to time. We've had the out of hours vet in Brighton. So let's see the USP of the next contender.

What???!!!

Is this man mad? Yorkshire? James Herriot's Yorkshire? Surely not...but yes it is.

The answer is he's not mad...just. Apparently there was a TV series called Yorkshire Vets which he was in. The practice he has was James Herriot's one. And it has an introduction by his son. Also whilst mainly in Yorkshire it's not solely set there.

It's also not awful. There is a particularly moving chapter, ironically not animal related, which I won't spoil. Ultimately though I didn't think it was anything special. I feel I've read this sort of thing before....and I have.

I think the point is this. If you approach this book as a fan of the programme you'll love it. If you approach it as a reader however, you will know in the end that it's been done better.

The search continues.

Until the next time.

On Books: Letters With Ludwig And Reading With Ruth

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Beethoven's Letters 1790-1826 Volume One was taken out of curiosity (and it was free) online. As I think I've said before the reader in his or her choice of books does play a certain type of Russian roulette as to how it well end up. In this regard I'm afraid the bullet was triggered.

For the general reader the problem with these letters are that they're mundane. Not so much the processes into how [insert Beethoven work here] was created. More can I have payment for the work, or how it's doing.

The one exception worth noting to the above are in the couple of letters where he discusses his deafness. They were truly moving. I forgot he suffered with this affliction when relatively young and yet despite this he would probably be one of the names anyone would mention when asked to name three classical composers.

For the most part though it's a book for scholars of the man's life. They'd be interested. Most people wouldn't be.

Now for the second book:

Ruth Prawer Jhabvala - Heat and Dust

I had forgotten when I bought a Penguin paperback version of his book in Maesteg a few years back that I'd already purchased it many years before when I was nineteen. Annoying when that happens.

In many ways it was an unusual book for me to have bought at that time. It's relatively small and the blurb for the this novel has a quote from The Times review "It is a jewel to be treasured". Words like "delicate" and "jewel" in this regard would have a male reader running to the hills. For it envisages something well, wimpy.

But I'd seen a couple of films where she was the scriptwriter and was a fan. This was not a wimpy writer. I could trust her. Was not aware though until I'd bought it that she was also a novelist.

So now decades later, when I'd bought the book again without remembering I'd got it in the first place have actually read it. And am happy to say that I'm still a fan.

This is the sort of novel where the plot is of secondary importance. Two British women in India in different periods. One in 1923 and the second in the present day (the novel was first published in 1975). I won't spoil it by going further but let's say there are no major surprises here.

No this is a novel where the key are the characters. You are absorbed into their lives and that includes the character of India itself.

It's a book that doesn't waste words on the atomosphere but those that it uses are effective enough.

Yes I'm still a fan.

Until the next time.

On Books: Read,Borrowed And Bought. Including A Booksale And Why I Might Have Underestimated Bernard Cornwell

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Now that the World Cup is slowly drawing to a close probably the only good thing is that there's more time to go back to reading. I must admit in the past month or so to having slowed up on it whilst there was the distraction of the global footy.

But now normal service has been resumed. And let's start with the book I've read since I last chatted on the subject.

Bernard Cornwell - Fools and Mortals

Now I slight digression is called for to explain why I've never read a Bernard Cornwell book before. In the mid nineties I made the mistake of watching a programme in the TV series of his Sharpe novels. All about the adventures of a British soldier in the Napoleonic wars. And to be honest in my early thirties it just didn't seem that interesting anymore whereas previously I would enjoy them. Only later did the explanation come clear.

I was growing old.

Also though as I've mentioned in this blog I read a C S Forester Hornblower novel about a year back and didn't like it. It's patriotism was over the top. The sort a member of UKIP would love. So not for me.

So Mr Cornwell's books have been avoided....until now. And let me say I loved Fools and Mortals. Set in Elizabethan times it follows a (literally) Shakespearean theatre company in the days where female roles were played by men. One of whom turns out to be the main character. William Shakespeare's younger brother.

Did Shakespeare have a brother? I don't know and it doesn't matter. It's a historical entertainment. Indeed I'll go as far as to say that as an entertainment it's the best book I've read this year.

I might still be right about his Sharpe novels. But reading Fools and Mortals has made me realise that should opportunity come I should give them a go.

I mentioned in my last post that I was going to spend part of Saturday in a book sale in Sully where I'm currently renting. I haven't bought that many books since we moved out of Bridgend so wasn't going to pass away the chance here.

(Another quick aside - Still renting at the moment whilst looking for "the place" - We thought we'd found a house and had an offer accepted only to drop out when the survey revealed a house that didn't so much need updating as upending and demolishing. It was that bad.)

It was held in The Old School Hall, now used for community activities.

Signs and Balloons For Books...I Love It

There was a good selection on display.

Full On Trestle Table Action

Now the price range was 1 book for a pound or six for five pounds. The intention was to buy six. The idea was two were those suggested by my favourite book podcast Backlisted, Two were going to be Penguin Paperbacks and two were going to be "Welsh" books as I've recently realised that I've not been chatting about Welsh books and their authors and this will change.

So the first book was:

Raymond Chandler -The Big Sleep

This is the sort of book I feel I know about even though I haven't read it. Certainly a book I should've read by now. So soon a literary bucket list will be ticked (An author on Backlisted by the way).

Now I only bought one "Welsh" book in the end. Could've bought more but wanted to avoid books by Catrin Collier or Dylan Thomas or about rugby.

(To be fair I've yet to get round to the audiobook I've got of Dylan Thomas' poetry - which I think is better listened to than read. And was tempted by a biography of Richard Burton. It's hardback brick length put me off. When we eventually more somewhere I will seek it out)

So it came to this.

Oliver Balch - Under The Tump 

Then I saw a Penguin Paperback.

Honor Tracy - Mind You I've Said Nothing

"Forays In The Irish Republic" is the description to this travel book. Let's just hope it's not cliché Ireland.

The next one was suggested again by Backlisted

Elizabeth Taylor - Mrs Palfrey At The Claremont.

The next does not fall into any of the categories I intended. Still....as I'm a fan

Clive James - Even As We Speak

And finally. Recommended by Backlisted and apparently David Bowie.

Spike Milligan - Puckoon

All for £5....

And that's not all. Went to the nearby library afterwards. The next book on the non fiction pile to read there was...

Jo Hardy - Tales From A Young Vet

All I can say is. If she can't get me to be interested like James Herriot could then she's failed.

No pressure then.

Until the next time.

The Ramblings Of Insomnia Post : Father's Day Edition

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It is as I'm writing this 5:16am in the morning. I've nothing to do until about eight. So it's another wander around everything and anything post because I can't sleep.

It's also Father's Day. Which I will be spending in the traditional manner of sitting on the sofa and watching football. There will be three matches on today thanks to the World Cup in Russia. Perhaps then I should thank Vladimir Putin for this Father's Day present (and they say he's a power hungry dictator!). I'm sure wife/daughter would also want to thank him for me watching football whilst they twiddle their thumbs for the day.

Mind you don't feel too sorry for them. I mean...Love Island for goodness sake!

Watched just two matches so far in the World Cup because of work so am looking forward to seeing them. Though with my luck I'll probably doze off and find myself awake to Poldark.

Here is the one piece of Father's Day advice I'll ever give. So pay attention. If your child gives you a DVD of Daddy Daycare starring Eddie Murphy watch it. It's a funny and entertaining movie. If however your offspring also gives you Daddy Daycare 2 (starring Cuba Gooding Junior!!) do your level best to avoid seeing it and then throw it away when no one will notice. One of the worst films I've ever seen. I still carry the mental scars.

It's so bad I'd happily watch Love Island instead.

I've told my daughter to just get me a £15 Amazon gift voucher and I'd be happy enough thank you very much. But I've noticed a multi-pack of Marmite Crisps badly hidden. For the record Marmite Crisps is the drug I can't resist. Not since they stopped doing Bovril crisps anyway. I loved Bovril Crisps. Ate them by the ton....hated Bovril though.

I note with interest Penguin Paperbacks decision to create a book catalogue which is more diverse to modern day Britain and the controversy that has arisen because of it. Personally I think of this as a publicity stunt given that they derecognised trade unions (I mentioned this in a previous post. It caused me to change the parameters of my Penguin/Pelican paperback collection. I know...First World Problems!).

How can you advocate diversity but not trade union rights I ask myself?

Chief news is apparently there will be a "Brexit Dividend" for the NHS which will be partly taken from tax increases. Hold on a minute. I thought that all of the money was going to be taken by the money previously spent on the EU.

That's what the bus said.

Right now things to do. Don't want anything to interrupt the footy later.

Until the next time.

In Which I Chat About Bad Santa, Pontypridd, Buying Penguins and A Welsh Rugby League Game....As you Do

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well at long last have finished The BeeKeeper's Daughter By Santa Montefiore. Whatever hope I had of finding a female writer whose quality (for male readers) was hidden by the chocolate box cover and blurb well it was not to be. The book did exactly what you thought  after looking at the cover.

There were no surprises, no shocks, really it ran on romance fiction cliché. Definitely a case of bad Santa.

Saturday was unusual as I wasn't working. And as it happens in the afternoon I'd nothing special to do I decided to go and visit a Welsh Rugby League game. Now there are better people than me that can go through the tragi-comic history of rugby league in Wales but for the moment just be aware that, though on a very small scale, there is a Welsh Rugby Premier League.

I have been to some games before when I lived in Bridgend there were the odd occasions when I'd travel to Pyle RFC, stand on a touchline and watch the Bridgend Bulldogs play whoever. This time though it would be different. For I would be going to watch the Rhondda Outlaws play the Valley Cougars and the match was going to be in Sardis Road....the legendary House Of Pain of the local rugby union club...I would be going to Pontypridd.

When I reached there about one thirty I had just enough time to grab a meal from the local Tesco and go to a particular place which I'll explain about in a moment.

I Call This "View From Sardis Road Car Park

As I didn't have enough time to wander let me say this. I've not been in Pontypridd for about two years. But there did not appear to be any major changes since I was last there. That's to it's credit. As was the £1 car charge until 6pm. Cheaper than Bridgend Town, with more to offer.

But since I was in Ponty there was one place I had to go to. The bookstall in the town market. Thankfully it's still there.

Truly,Truly Wonderful

It's the kind of classic bookshop I adore. Every space on every shelf is filled. A gem on every corner. I cannot  (as I'm sure you realise by now) recommend it highly enough.

The only regret was that I didn't have enough time to look around properly. In the event I picked two classic Penguin Paperbacks which were as follows:

C2158 - Ernest Bramah -Max Carrados Mysteries

And the other was:

Paul Bailey - Gabriel's Lament

And I should say with regard to Paul Bailey's book when I put this out on Twitter a number of people came back to say it's a great novel.

I could have stayed there forever. But I'd a rugby League match to watch (which as an aside is just four pounds including the programme...four pounds!! Cheaper than some meals at MacDonald's.

So then there I was in the House Of Pain. As I entered loud music was blasting, including the Dexy's Midnight Runners classic Come On Eileen. Not sure why that was being played unless Eileen is a Valley Cougar.

I won't lie and say that the crowd was massive and it was difficult to work out who like me was the casual supporter. Still I've seen crowds in certain Glamorgan Cricket matches that seemed just as sparse.

A quick note about their shirts. The Valleys Cougars play in pink. You'd like to think that it was to due to breast cancer awareness but still, real men play in pink.

The Cougars

Their opponents strip seemed the most odd to me. Looking like scrunched up posh chocolate wrapping paper.

Outlaws

The match then began. And what the early stages suggested was that the home side operated a charge at your opponents at whatever cost to your health strategy. it soon paid off and they scored a try.

Outlaws Attack

On the next drive however the Cougars showed they were more nimble than their opponents. Dodging tackles to equalise.

Apparently then it was brute strength over speed.

Attack Of The Cougars

The Outlaws charged then charged again. A sort of charge of the not so light brigade. The Cougars were resolute in their defence. Until an up and under kick was misjudged by a Cougar player, caught by an Outlaw for try number two.

But again as nimble as their namesake the Cougars responded with another try showing again how fast they were. With every try the announcer gave the score. And I noticed how depressed he sounded when the Cougars put extra points on the board. So when the visitors scored a third try you wondered whether you should call the Samaritans.

Outlaws tried to pressurise but mistakes began to show. One ball bounced off the chest of a cougar player straight into the arms of an Cougar player. Needless to say there wasn't a round of applause from the home bench.

On the away bench someone shouted at a baseball hatted guy behind me how many unforced errors there were. "Three plus two bad cheques" is what the answer sounded like to me. (Perhaps that means bodychecks...I've no idea)

Speaking of the benches they seemed a bit small to me.

Very Small Actually

Perhaps the Friends Of Pontypridd RFC can put up more money for a wider bench.

The first half finished 12-24 to the visitors. The second half seemed to begin as the first ended with another Cougar try. 12-30. Outlaws though responded. 16-30.

For reasons I couldn't see and understand less the Cougar number 17 was then yellow carded. As he left the pitch the Outlaws bench patted him in pity on the back. I say in pity, perhaps it was a pat of thanks, for the those Rhondda guys soon scored again. 22-30...and then again...28-30.

Things were getting close.

As the cliché goes...end to end stuff

The announcer sounded happy again....but not for long...the Cougars got their wind back and scored again 28-36.

And as the second half went on I noticed that the away team too had their share of men prepared to charge at their opponents. For the Outlaws being hit by the team played in pink must have been like having been attacked by an iron fist wrapped in candy floss.

Not A Dull Moment In The Game

All Action Stuff

The Cougars scored again...it was clearly all over...and then again ….it was definitely all over. 28-46. The announcer seemed really depressed now.

Rugby League in Wales provides an affordable day out for the family during the summer months. With a bit more marketing this league could establish a popular niche for itself in the Welsh sporting calendar. I'd like to think so.

Thankyou Rhondda Outlaws and Valley Cougars. It was fun.

Until the next time.

The Brief Return Of The Bookshop, Penguin Paperbacks and A Quick Word About Greetings Cards

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Wasn't working today (Monday) so the wife had some tasks for me to do.

"Get some ham as long as there are no purple bits in it".

Which I did. Apparently though the look was so white it was inedible so in the bin it went.

"Why did you get me Wholemeal bread?"

"I thought you liked it".

"I like Wholegrain idiot"

Oops...

But the one thing I did do without any argument or comeback was to post a couple of birthday cards the wife bought the day before. I went to Penarth to get some stamps before posting the letters. Job done.

Now a quick aside about cards. My wife is not the only woman I know who takes an interest in cards to such a forensic level it's CSI in it's thoroughness. She particularly takes interest in the verse.

Unless the card is humorous (rarely find them funny) I however have no interest in reading the verse. As long as the event, the picture and to whom it's referring to are OK I'm happy enough. And just for the record, when I receive a card I read what someone has written but the verse could be in Chinese for all I care.

Anyway back to Penarth and I was walking past the local bookshop where I noticed a series of miniature Penguin Paperbacks called Penguin Modern being displayed in a sought of light olive green cover.

The bookshop is called Griffin Books and it's that type of quirky place which is slowly disappearing from the local high street so more power to it's elbow. Unfortunately as we currently live in an apartment in the hunt for a proper home my book buying ways have been curtailed so much as though I would like to as there is no space currently for me to be a regular customer.

Ditto my collection of Penguin paperbacks which is locked in storage as I speak. Held until the moment arrives when I can open them and start reading "properly" again. At the moment the Kindle holds sway. And although as I've explained before the e reader has it's uses, there is something about the quiet pleasure of turning a page the electronic usurper can't match.

But here was a situation where the books were just £1 each and they were pocket book size....so....yes I was tempted......and having succumbed I went in.

Looking at the shelf where these Penguin Modern books were (fifty of them) the shop assistant/manager mentioned that they had been popular and were selling well. I could see why. There were works from authors from many parts of the globe such as Italo Calvino and Chinua Achebe. Eventually though I plumped for these two.

Different

Ryszard Kapuscinski was a Polish journalist who wrote The Emperor about the last days of Haile Selassie in Ethiopia and a collection of journalism called The Soccer War which I have read as well as other works that I haven't. I read once a review of a book that questioned a lot of the veracity of his work but as I haven't got round to reading that book I've no idea how valid that critique was.

Susan Sontag is a writer I've never read (so many books so little time) but I'm looking forward to reading her.

And so I was thinking. You know what I could just collect them. They're only small and wouldn't take that much space. I'd also be supporting my local bookshop.

Then I'd realised I'd made a mistake. I remembered too late that I didn't collect Penguin paperbacks with coloured bindings after 2013, Because their new owners did not recognise trade unions. I was so excited to buy an actual physical book it just slipped my mind.

Obviously I won't buy any more. But I feel I owe a debt to the Griffin Bookshop even though they wouldn't know (or probably care). So this is what I'll do. They are arranging a poetry reading in May (including Carol Ann Duffy). If I can make it I'll go there. If not I'll buy a hardback book from the shop.

Support your local bookshop.

Until the next time.

The Batsman, The Penguin......And Other Cricket Moments

Hello there, Hope you're feeling well today.

Me? Let's just say I've started writing this at 4:02am on a bank holiday Monday morning. Insomnia still rules.

But let's talk about yesterday and when hunting for a thing to do discovered that close to where we are renting at the moment there was going to be a cricket match near where I live. No flashy pyrotechnics and music of the twenty twenty. Just an amateur friendly between a few teams to while away the warm British summer Sunday. For once the cliché became reality.

The home team was the Barry Wanderers Cricket Club, who apparently were living up to their name given that we were in the nearby village of Sully and in a late change the I suppose showbiz divas of South East Wales Cricket that is Barry West End.

And just to explain how good the weather was. Before I took my spot I photographed this of the nearby sea.

Remember this is South Wales Not The South of France

I walked to the spot and took my place.

Third tree from the right

So the classic British summer scene was in place.

The other of course being pouring rain

Before I chat about the game properly I should mention that brought this with me for the tea interval.

William Faulkner - Go Down,Moses

Not only will I claim to be the first man to bring a William Faulkner novel to a cricket game but you'll note that amongst the Batsmen there's a Penguin (and if you think I brought this book down specifically for this moment......well yes).

The Wanderers were the first to bat in this forty over game. Leaving the divas of Barry West End to field. There was motivational noises of encouragement throughout. Plus the occasional other comment.

"The ball's heavier than when I was in France for the holiday."

"Well that's French cricket" (Bet he voted for Brexit).

Action came early. The first wicket was caught and bowled for six. 6-1

More encouragement "Go on Rees!" (or is that "Go on Rhys!"?) . As he was fielding.

It has to be said that the teams consisted of men with a wide age range. This is a good thing. It also explained this remark.

"He looks like Brian Close". It was a statement that aged the speaker. And as I understood it it aged me as well.

After the first overs by the fast bowlers of the team along came the spinners, including "the Indian George Clooney" that was shouted to him by his team mates. How this would make him bowl better I couldn't say.

At the other end was a big balding guy.....who was rather good. This I mentioned to the fielder who'd moved to the position near where I was.

To Wait For One Ball In A Cricket Game Hoping You Won't Drop It

The guy in the picture (who I think was called Andy - more of him later) tells me that the bowlers name was Des and he was a good all rounder. Proven in that he'd got the second Wanderers wicket bowled. 56-2.

Now for insect moments. Given that it was a hot summer's day they were all likely to come out including the ahh....




and the "get it off me!"




Because of where they were situated there were nearby some generators surrounded by a fence. Invariably a shot went into this.

And of course it was locked. No matter. "Andy" was on hand with a hosepipe and was able to move the ball towards him so he could reach it. Cue the jokes which I'll just leave to your imagination.

A ball is caught 91-3.

Our friend Andy then bowls. Another ball is caught. 123-4.

A further wicket as a ball is flicked stylishly......straight to the grateful hands of the fielder 136-5.

Two further wickets tumble. It's 163 for 7. However the score has been ticking along and in the last few overs the Wanderers move up a gear with boundaries all over the place.

The innings finishes at 213 for 7. Unsure how to call this. But for an interlude let's see another picture of the sea by Sully.

But now back to the game.

And you'll notice that I've taken a different position

The West End innings commences. The first bowler for the Wanderers is a young man called Mark. Shouts of "Marco" go around the pitch and, most surprisingly of all Roman emperor "Marcus Aurelius"The home team then winning the battle of team banter. Going all cultural and BBC4 on us.

Quick aside: The game revealed I needed a new pair of trainers.

A score is speedily built up. 38 when the first wicket is bowled. Cue our friend Andy to take centre stage.

"Take it easy on a grumbling Tummy". Probably the most confusing and disturbing statement of the afternoon is then shouted out.

Apart from when stalled by a couple of Wanderers spinners (of which I'll come back to later) our friend Andy and his partner decide it's time for Barry West End Showtime. Boundaries occur thick and fast and with ease. Including.....

Boys were asked to find the ball somewhere behind those trees.

They played on with the spare balls in the table in the clubhouse....at that moment it meant there was two balls left.

Our friend Andy had a missed run out and a shot that was skied upwards but not caught. Another ball went through the wicketkeeper ...4 byes. Luck it would appear was with our friend Andy.

(A quick aside the Wanderers captain was the wicket keeper. During the match he changed his position so that someone else took that spot. A brave thing to have done)

The score moved to 159 for one. The encouragement and geeing up by the Wanderers team seemed lukewarm. There could only be one result....until.....our friend Andy gets caught out.

His partner continues in the showtime mode. But he tries for a sweep shot and like Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent misses. Bowled. 180 for three.

Then another wicket. 180 for four.....you don't think?

A man called Timmo is brought on to bowl and gets a wicket. Bringing on "Father Christmas" was apparently the answer. 190 for five. You remember the two spinners who halted the onward march of the early order batsman for the West End? Their work has come back to bite the divas on the backside. As there were just two overs left.

Down to the wire

Rees (or is it Rhys?) is bowled. 198 for six. Two overs become one and one over becomes too much thanks to Wanderers tight bowling and fielding. They were tired when they appeared losing but the prospect for victory motivated them.

202 for six. Wanderers win

It was free incidentally and certainly enjoyable. If I can watch another match this season I will.

Thankyou Barry Wanderers Cricket Club and Barry West End Cricket Club. It was a good, enjoyable summer fun.

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.