How Renting Is Making Me Start To Learn French

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Yes I know. Those who read this blog yesterday will be reminded how constantly I say that I'm going to be learning languages mainly but circumstances (aka life) appear to conspire in my way.....well that's my excuse anyway.

But it occurred to me that since as a family it would be a renting we will go on moving from Bridgend to Penarth/surrounding area until the right place comes along then there will be moments where I'm going to be bored. Much as I like books you cannot read all the time, or watch sports, or even go out when the weather is bad.

There will moments of "family time". But shift work means that it might not actually exist to any extent than those ships that pass through the night. Also in daughter's case she has her "Bridgend" friends that she can speak to online as well as those ones she'll hopefully make in her new school. Also I am at that stage where the word "embarrassing" comes before "dad" in every other statement from her lips about me.

The point about renting though, is that things I could have done have been boxed/crated and will soon be warehoused. Opportunities to pass the time short of taking longer naps are actually limited. It then hit me.......learn French.

Now before you can say why not Welsh/Italian/any of the other languages I've been mentioning in the blog previously. Well French has the advantage that I've some residual knowledge dredged up from school as well as, crucially, that the Teach Yourself book I've got is in my Kindle (unlike for example all the Welsh books/papers which are crated in what was the dining room and now a storeroom as I speak).

Having already got the ebook, all I needed was to buy a binder, some lined paper,index tabs and it's just a case of allez.

As much as will be possible I'm going to try and get a French ambiance to get me in the mood. Listen to French radio, watch French TV/Films on Walter Presents/Netflix, take continental breakfasts, drink more coffee (though will never discard tea.....there are limits).

And it won't be the only language I will learn either. My new, even more revised, hopefully lifeproof plan is this. When we (eventually) move into somewhere more permanent will immediately learn Welsh as well and concentrate on these two until the beginning of 2019 when, adding on a yearly basis Gaelic, Italian, Polish and one other (not sure which one here). The aim is to gradually be fluent in six languages.

This is more than just brain food. As I mentioned when talking about Welsh but it applies to any European language you care to name learning a different tongue has become a political statement in the UK. Though in my case I've no wish to leave Britain (Wales....and preferably an independent Wales is my home) learning a language post Brexit means that you are saying there's a world beyond "the British way of life". Showing an interest beyond the right wing clichés marks you out as different. Someone who thinks that your mind should not be satisfied with .....insert reality TV show here.......until you die.

Until the next time.

A Metaphor For Labour In Wales

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Women eh? One minute they say that there won't be a general election until 2020 so you just go through your days assume the only political battle will be the local one come May. The next you're driving home after a trip to Lidls (Croissants - I'll explain why tomorrow - Instant Cappuchino - I'll explain why tomorrow too - Milk, 4 small bottles of water and Bananas) turn on the radio and find myself listening to an interview with a Tory MP.

So the interview is going on. Nigel Evans, Member of Parliament for Ribble Valley. A man who has always given me the impression that he'd wish he was English even though he was born in Wales.

(A quick aside here. Is it just me or do all Welsh Conservatives who make it in Westminster sound as if they've thrown their accent over the river once they've crossed the Severn bridge?)

Anyway there he is nattering away and it dawns on me all of a sudden that she's called an election. Thing is I suspect the Conservatives will win, and it'll be English votes that will sway it. I predict there would not be a Tory majority in the other three nations.

What that would mean though is that there would be a resentment in these other UK nations that Hard Brexit, with it's consequent jackboot politics fuelled by jackboot journalism is imposed. That alone will power a yes vote in Scotland in the next independent referendum.

Northern Ireland will be next. As the people there will realise what Hard Brexit will do with their lives and realise that there is a quick way back into the EU through reunification.

And as for Wales? Pro Brexit  Wales.Well when the consequences hit home there and good people start realising that they were misled (starting as I've said before with Bridgend where "control" has moved not to Westminster but Ford in Detroit). Then the independence movement will gather steam there as well.

Theresa May then, if I'm right, will be remembered as the Prime Minster who won an election but lost a Kingdom.

Anyway, the promised metaphor. had to go out again to the local store a five minute walk from where I live (forgotten the butter, or I can't believe it's not butter, or butter milk, or olive butter or anything that smooths the contents of a sandwich down my throat).

This building is along the route.

The Sadness of a Building That Can Remember Better Times

This building was the Ogmore and Vale local Labour Club. I never went inside but it was a big thing. Not only did it have a bar but also space that you could have a dance in if you were inclined. Indeed once a Strictly Come Dancing couple actually did a show there!

As they say that was during the glory days. It's been shut down and run down for roughly six years. It may be the biggest building on the block but as the picture shows it faces terminal decline. Whatever its achievements during the good times people do not have good words for the state it's in at the moment.

And that applies to Labour in Wales. Living off the past. I'll be voting Plaid Cymru in May and June (though in June it'll be somewhere else!)

Until the next time.

Treorchy Before I Die....Possibly

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

House news first. Six houses have been seen this weekend (it was meant to be seven but one, the one for me which I liked the most when I saw it online was sold before we were about to go out today) and none was liked by us all. So unless anything unexpected occurs a renting we will go.

Yesterday though we did nothing much except when friends, a couple from the legendary Rhondda Valley came round to visit. In the beginning it was to deliver some Easter eggs for my daughter but eventually it always develops into gossip as to how things are between us.

Normally the way things  turn the lady goes to chat with my wife whilst the gentleman and I watch some motorsport I've recorded for him. He is a fan, I'm more neutral. Today however all of us actually watched four episodes of the Welsh language channel's S4C programme Pobol Y Rhondda, Now it's second series it highlights the various interesting characters of that region, which as I've said before if you consider Wales as Italy with rain then this is the Welsh Tuscany.

To our friends it was a home movie full of people and places they recognised. I'd shown them the original series when that was on (they're not Welsh speakers) and they became fans. To my wife however it was a prompt to something I told her and indeed mentioned in this blog on Christmas day.

"My husband" she told them "has said that should I die before him he will move to Treorchy".

They turn and look a little surprised. You could tell from that comment that the wife was unimpressed when I told her this the first time. Suspect she thought it was rather ghoulish. Mind you in the scheme of things it's not as if I said that I was going to shack up with a woman half my age and we would perform sexual gymnastics to the limits that my heart and back would take me.

(Don't forget that this move to Penarth and the surrounding areas has been mainly been powered by the wife who gradually has been homesick for her homeland. As she was there for me (even when she didn't know it) when I suffered in silence from an agonising and paralysing depression on being unemployed I feel I owe her)

She had apparently also told this to some people in Cardiff/surrounding area who it appeared laughed at my plan. Wasn't bothered by this. There are some snobby people who consider a journey of over ten minutes from of the Welsh capital to be a trek outside of civilisation. And a journey to the Valleys? Why you need to hire Sherpas first.

The irony that they mocked my plan given that I'm a Londoner is not lost on me.

(And please note I said some snobby people. They are an extremely small minority. They do however exist)

The choice of Treorchy is simple. It's a town so in easy reach of shops. It also has a train station so if there came a time I was unable to drive would still would be able to travel. It is also, even from the town close to those Tuscan views that I treasure, but rarely in hot weather which I don't.

On reflection our friends were not surprised, They already knew how much I was a Valleys fan. What they did mention was that Treorchy is apparently considered the "posh" part of the Rhondda. Nearby Tonypandy has apparently experienced a marked decline. Last time I passed Tonypandy it was on a Bank holiday, shops were closed so couldn't really have an opinion.

Will it happen? Only the future will tell. Could be dead the moment I finish this post and just be marked as some deluded old romantic. The grass is always greener on the other side and in this case it's the green grass of the valley.

Until the next time.

A Woman With A Bruise In Her Eye

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Now I'm not going to lie to you. I've deliberately altered some of the facts so that the woman concerned and/or friends/family will not be sure that it's her I'm talking about. In it's essence though this is completely true.

So at work yesterday. Saturday. Nothing much really happens except that I was doing my job.

Then I saw her.

A description of the woman is unimportant. She could have been eighteen or eighty, have an hour glass figure or take an hour to walk around it does not matter. All that matters was her left bruised eye.

I have been (and I'm not sure it's best word to describe this) fortunate that outside television or newspapers never to have seen a person with a bruise on their face. So it came as a shock. The eye itself was puffed up cartoon style. Eyelid was almost totally olive green and underneath the eye was a large smear of purple bruise. Nobody that saw her could have avoided looking at it.

Asked what happened. She must have been used to this conversation for the past few days,but calmly and politely responded that she'd walked into a door that was suddenly swinging open. A lot of swearing her story continued then took place.

Now I'm not saying that the woman was lying. I have no idea. I'm not a detective. But you could not help but recalling stories of people, particularly women, who have bruises on their faces and put it down to unfortunate "accidents" when asked. Either from fear or embarrassment. But then there is a final blow,punch,strike which results in severe long term injury and sometimes even death.

Of course there was nothing I could do. Her position was clear. It was an accident and for all I knew that's all there was to it. It did occur to me though (and I admit that this idea is not thought through) that should anybody (woman, man, child) have a bruise on their face that the police are aware of then it should be put on a database for a six month period. After this period the information is wiped off the system unless another injury to the face is noticed between that time when the police would automatically investigate whatever story the injured person gave.

Would such an idea stop people who physically abuse others? Of course not. But if one menace is off the streets because of this then it would be worth it.

Until the next time.

The Post For Athiests,Henry James Doubters and Those Who Remember Alan Gilzein

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with some housekeeping, or rather housenotgetting news. The search continues. The reason why I haven't blogged for the past few days is that we were close to getting two houses, both which we had seen twice. Ultimately though the doubts that were niggling in our minds, one house for me, the other for the wife, stopped us from making an offer the buyer couldn't refuse.

In my case it was a house at the limits of our budget which still needed work on it and, more crucially, had the feel of needing work that we couldn't see. As for the wife she sees the next house as a final forever home and it was the steps on a tiered garden which was ultimately the dealbreaker. She could not see how it could be dealt with as we become more aged (remember should I outlive my wife this will not be my last house. Which is probably why this didn't enter my brain.Will move to the Rhondda Valley, particularly Treorchy and end my days in this classic example of Italy with rain).

This Easter weekend we are having a househunting binge in the Penarth and surrounding areas, four houses on Saturday, three on Monday. I say "we" because I'll be working on Saturday so a friend might accompany my wife and daughter then. If no house comes into play by the end of next weekend a renting we will go.

And as we're chatting about the Easter weekend (seamless or what?) I'm writing this post at 5:23am on Good Friday morning. I'm working two days on this holiday period, today and tomorrow. Other than not being able to view those four houses on Saturday I'm not bothered by this. I'm not religious, but it goes beyond that.....I'm an atheist.

From Catholicism to atheism in fifty three years, actually much earlier than that really, my forties. I just came to a point in my life when I saw the suffering in the world and thought " A God? Really?".

Do you know what the worst thing about being an atheist is? It's that if we're right and our literal lifetime guarantee expires, we can't gloat to those who believe and say "I told you so" as like an unfixable machine when you're gone you're gone.

Mind you should despite logic and science should those who believe in an afterlife are proved right they will have little time to gloat as given all the religions in the world there can only be one that's actually correct. For all we know people will enter an afterlife and find that all their beliefs have been an elaborate joke by Zeus.

On that basis it was probably a joke by Zeus that has me awake at this time on Good Friday when I'm working the afternoon/evening shift ............or led me to reading a collection of short stories by Henry James.

This was, let me stress again, the first book by Henry James I've ever read. Also,
if you're a regular reader of this blog you'll know that I can dislike one book by a writer and like the next. That said it was the most pointless book I've read this year so far and definitely the most disappointing.

Nothing much happens and I'm including any Katherine Mansfield style nuance in that as well. My one thought as I was reading this was "Is that all there is"?

The next book could not have been more different. In Search Of Alan Gilzean by James Morgan. Gilzean was a footballer who played for Dundee and (how I remember him through the nostalgic prism of childhood) Tottenham in the sixties and seventies. Now I'm West Ham till I die (with no afterlife remember) but I did enjoy watching Spurs in that period. They played with a sort of elan, an enthusiasm which reminded me of how you felt playing football at school....just with a bit more skilll.
Gilzein, along with the likes of Martin Chivers and Steve Perryman was synonymous with that period, and although they were not as successful as their North London rivals Arsenal they're probably (with the exception of Bob Wilson) remembered more fondly to the neutral.

The mystery with Alan Gilzein is what happened to him after he left football. No one apparently knew. He was, as the saying goes, "off the radar".

It's this that makes this book different because essentially it's two stories entwined into one. Firstly it's a football biography and a good one at that as it reveals a complex character that footballing history has seemed to have underrated. Secondly though it's a detective story as we follow the author as he seeks to find out what's happened to his subject. He mixes these strands well. It's a good read and I do recommend it.

So the book I'm now starting to read is Don Quixote by Miguel De Cervantes. It was chosen randomly though it seems to be a bit current now given the arguments re Spain/Gibraltar. I'm not sure where I stand on Gibraltar. Except to say that given the way Britain is becoming a cold and cruel country particularly post Brexit perhaps they should look again at Spain should the rise of jackboot politics/journalism continue.

Until the next time.

A Touch Of The Bios

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I've said it before, and I'll probably bore everyone again until we actually move, but this twilight zone period of packing everything but essentials until it has taken place has meant an increase in my reading.

In a period of twenty four hours since my previous post I've finished two books, (though as I'll explain later there is a particular reason re one of them) both biographies.

The Life of Mrs Robert Louis Stevenson by Nellie Van De Grift Sanchez was a pleasant enough read. The author was the sister of the subject (and let's as we should name her Frances Matilda Van De Grift) so we were unlikely from the start to get anything resembling "Whilst Robert was writing famous novels Frances would amuse herself by flower arranging and shooting arrows at stray dogs".

What you get is an author who seemed to genuinely care for her sister and a life that was not without its problems but had a genuine love affair in its core. It's not going to be the best biography that you'll ever read but I don't think you'll regret having done so.

The other book turned out to be the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Probably the oldest autobiography I've ever read. It was also not that big a read.

As I was swiping the pages I was thinking, his early life is all very well but where are the juicy bits? Where is the "MY BATTLE WITH THE BRITS" or "CARNAGE IN DRAWING THE CONSTITUTION - I told Jefferson gun control checks were important?" It wasn't until very late in the book was there any mention of his experiments with electricity.

The real shock though came at the end. As I was wondering what was going on the last page revealed....that it was unfinished. I'm assuming because he died.

This was a free book, that said I did feel a bit short changed. What I read was not that interesting and didn't really explain what lead him to fight a war of independence. In a parallel universe there is I suspect a more complete and fascinating book, just not this one.

The next book on the list is a collection of short stories by Henry James. I must admit that this will be the first book I've ever read by him. He's the sort of author I've always been meaning to read but life interfered....until now.

Until the next time.

In Which I Chat About Jane Austen,Rugby, RLS' Wife, Houses And The Disappearance Of Barry Town FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I woke up on Saturday, unwillingly you understand, at quarter to four in the morning. And after making a cup of tea did what I tend to do often now. Read. so Emma by Jane Austen was finished.

Speaking as I can now do,with the vast experience of having reading one of her novels, is that Jane Austen moves in with F Scott Fitzgerald and Anton Chekhov as a writer with whom I'm in literary Switzerland about. She is certainly readable. But I don't understand how she can be considered "great".

As I explained previously being neutral on a writer is a difficult position to be in. If only because not disliking one means that you can't shake off the feeling that you might be missing something. What I especially don't understand is why she's stood the test of time especially when compared to writers like the Brontes or George Eliot. But then again what do I know being a man?

The next book on the great ebook unread was Rugby Union Basics For Dummies in a day by Nick Cain and Greg Growden. It was free and to be honest after reading it was probably the best thing about it. I learnt very little about a sport whose rules I've only gleaned through osmosis. Anyway it was finished. Two books done in a day.

Did you know that Robert Louis Stevenson's wife was American? I didn't. But it's the first thing I've learnt in the latest book I'm reading The Life of Mrs Robert Louis Stevenson by his wife's sister Nellie Van De Grift Sanchez. So far so good.

On the house searching front went to see two today. Both seem genuine contenders. Wife and I are going to spend the weekend thinking this one through. We might offer on Monday. More then.

After that was done we went to see a friend who lives in Barry. She and the wife I knew would spend the afternoon chatting about the houses we've seen and the general moving situation. Knew I'd be bored.What to do?

But then a solution occurred to me. Our friend lived near Jenner Park, home of the Welsh league side Barry Town FC. As there were no more houses to watch I'd get daughter to go online, check and if they were playing at home and go off to the game.

This was done. The internet was clear. Barry Town FC would be playing Goytre United FC at two thirty. I'd be a little late, but I'd not been able to watch football for a while so it would give me a little break from everything that's swirling my beleaguered brain with regard to moving house and finding one to live in.

It wouldn't have been the first time I've been to Jenner Park. When I was courting my wife and I did crosscountry courting with my wife between South Wales and Essex (A real Gavin Stacey moment) her uncle (even more Gavin/Stacey like), a good man now sadly passed away took me to a match there between Barry Town and Flint Town FC.

I'd learnt two things from that game. One that Welsh football went far beyond Cardiff,Swansea Wrexham and Newport and the other was that Flint Town taught me that dependent on exactly where you are the North Walian accent could have a trace of Scouse on it.

As I was closer to the ground heard no sounds of a match or saw supporters moving in. Noticed ticket offices being boarded up, Eventually from a small gap I'd noticed....no football...indeed not even passing birds on the pitch. As I said on my return to our friends' house wherever Barry Town were playing it was not Jenner Park.

Further investigations by daughter revealed the phrase "venue to be decided" on the internet. I found out later that they'd played Goytre United at Goytre's ground. The opposite fixture will be next Saturday, useless to me as I'll be working.

Ah well...

Until the next time,

How Moving House Has Increased My Reading And Measuring Male Maturity Through Jane Austin

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

There is a twilight zone stage that me and my family are living in at the moment. Preparing for the move though it will be a number of weeks ahead so that a lot of things have been boxed, crated, charity shopped or just thrown away at the local tip. A consequence of which is that circumstances throw themselves up with unexpected results.

It's five o'clock this (Tuesday) morning. Exactly one hour before I wanted to get up. Nothing to watch on TV either recorded or live (which seem to be plastered with people trying to sell you cooking gadgets you'll rarely use, cleaning gadgets you'll rarely use or get into some rigorous training DVDs that I'm sure will lead me to a six pack and heart failure The DVD/discs are crated, as are the paper books. Nothing else to do for that hour than read on my Kindle (other e readers are available).

Before I wouldn't have considered reading at this hour, certainly not a paper book, as it's not comfortable for my eyes. But given the back light there's no problem here.

So Amazon (and the companies that sell the other e readers that are available) there's a whole new market of people to flog your wares to. Those who want to read but can't get at their paper books....you're welcome....a free gift voucher would suffice.

The book I finished this morning was H G Wells' 1899 novel When The Sleeper Awakes. The first thing to say about this is that the only way you can read it is by suspending your disbelief to such a level you'll consider when finishing taking up high wire lessons. The plot can only be described as bonkers. Starting from the fact that we have to believe that not only can a man survive two hundred years in a trance but doesn't age either!

The other thing you need to abandon when reading the book is the thought that in essence H G Wells is rehashing the plot from the earlier novel  The Time Machine (Victorian gent in the future having to deal with the society there).

It is readable....just. It's also in parts racist. The "N" word was mentioned twice. This was both unexpected and unwelcome.

Next I read Emile Zola's short story The Flood (I know, never read him before and he comes into my life twice in a week). I won't go into the plot other than what's obvious from the title. What I will say is that if you're not moved after having read this you've a heart of stone and probably a member of UKIP.

And so to the current book I'm reading. Emma by Jane Austen. It's the first Austen book I've ever read (though some paper books are in the great crated unread.

It's funny how my attitude to Austen has changed even though I've never read her work before. As a child soon to be a teenager I rejected her because she was "just for girls". As a teenager/twenties I wouldn't read her because she seemed to be the thinking woman's Mills and Boon.

(As an aside I wouldn't condemn my past self for that view. I've written before how I believe that some female writers would have a far greater male readership if the covers didn't give men the wrong impression about their work. Marian Keyes is a recent example, though at the time Georgette Heyer and Norah Lofts were rejected by me exactly because their covers reminded me of Mills and Boon)

In my thirties and forties I had acknowledged that she was worth reading but life and other books always seemed to come before her. Now, in the age of fifty three, being I suspect the only man outside of publishing who has read a Georgette Heyer novel first Jane Austen has arrived in my life.

Hope I like it.

Until the next time.

In Which My Edgar Wallace Amensia Is Cured......Unfortunately

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

You may recall that when mentioning that next book on great ebook unread was The Keepers Of The Kings Peace by Edgar Wallace I said two particular things. One was that I'd no idea of the plot (as the book was free and by a writer I'd heard of I was happy to obtain it) and that the last Edgar Wallace book I'd read was so long ago (decades in fact - the nineteen eighties) I had forgotten what my opinion of it was.

Well that's now changed. Perhaps it was literary shock therapy but everything bar the title of the book I'd read in the eighties (bought for twenty pence in Wanstead Library....I remember that now!) has come back.

The Keepers Of The Kings Peace was written in 1917 and is part of the Saunders of the River series about a commissioner of a British African colony. That sentence alone should tell you where its political thoughts lie. Essentially it's a group of short stories showing how Saunders and his lieutenant "Bones" deal with various problems whilst ruling "the natives" but always having time for a spot of tiffin

And as the above paragraph suggests it's racist in the patronising "We've taken over your country and will now teach you our superior way of life" sort of way. The one white woman in the story is described as more beautiful than the native women and in most of the stories the dealings between the British and the local people are really like between master and servant.

The "N" word is used three times though to be fair twice by a villain.

But even if we leave aside the imperialism and racism (!!) the book also jogged my memory as to why I didn't like the thriller I'd read all those (many) years ago. For whilst I wouldn't go as far as to say it was dull it's only a few notches above that. Pedestrian is the best word to describe it when I would have been perfectly happy if it had just been on an urban speed limit.

What it reminded me of was that the thriller I'd read had no nuance, no danger, no thrill. A problem was seen,and dealt with and that was it. Exactly the same thing here. There was no sense that "the British" were going to emerge from this damaged in any way. It was just so predictable.

So then, a book for Edgar Wallace fans or those Brexiteers who think that a better union than the EU is to create a British Empire Mark 2 starting with Spain. Everyone else should avoid.

Whether this is because of Edgar Wallace's reputation as a writer who churned books like factories produce cars I don't know. What I do know is that compared to the other writer I've read with a similar reputation for producing many books, George Simenon, Edgar Wallace trails far,far behind.

Perhaps some memories are best left forgotten.

The next ebook from the great unread is When The Sleeper Awakes by H G Wells. My view on H G Wells is mixed but what makes this book interesting is that I never heard of it before downloading it.

Until the next time.

Until the

Bridgend Town: An Addendum

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I had honestly not intended to write anything further about Bridgend Town since my last piece. Even though the house move will be later than originally anticipated I'd assume that it would not disintegrate further.

Well I was wrong. So wrong that I didn't have enough charge on my phone to take pictures of shops that have apparently closed down since the last post, so you'll have to take my word for it.

I was in the town today as had to give the solicitor a copy of the gas heating certificate for the house. Whilst driving towards the centre on its outskirts, literally a traffic light system throw away, I noticed that a shop that sold double glazed windows was closed. And when I say closed, I mean gutted of almost everything that was in there, including a lifesized cardboard cut out of ex snooker player Steve Davis, dressed in all his snookery finery.

There is also a possibility that two other shops in the town centre that I'd noticed the shutters were down at eleven o'clock on a Monday morning have also closed down permanently. I say "possibility" because there wasn't enough time for me to check and see whether it was just closed today for some reason (like a funeral). Should I return to Bridgend Town for some reason I'll double check on this. It's why I would not have posted pictures of those shops today anyway.

So, one more shop definitely closed down with the possibility of a further two as well. With every day that passes Bridgend Town seems to slowly die before your eyes and yet nobody in positions of power seem to be helping it in any way whatsoever.

Bridgend Town will soon be described, if it hasn't been already, as an urban tragedy.

Until the next time.

The Importance Of Being Ernest Alfred Viztelly

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I've finished reading With Zola in England by Ernest Alfred Viztelly. An account of Zola's exile in England when he was being arrested in France for the Dreyfus affair which was published in 1899.

The book is an amalgam of articles Viztelly, a journalist, wrote about how he helped Zola in this time in the London Evening News.

It was an interesting read in many ways. It's Victorian Britain yet there are still issues of media attention as well as the fear of Zola being apprehended against his will and taken back home to France.

But what makes this book really important is when you compare the attitudes of turn of the century Britain to the present day. Whilst obviously Zola is a "celebrity", did not have a physically (though obviously emotionally) traumatic journey to England, had rich friends to help him and was living in relative comfort it is still the case that this was a Britain that took in asylum seekers.

If Zola had lived today the jackboot media would have questioned why he was in Britain, mocked any friends that dared to assist this drain on Britain's resources, would have made anywhere he resided appear like Buckingham Palace, condemned his lack of English and would have only welcomed him if he attacked the European union from the highest mountain.

What this would have done is that less people would have helped him settle in a foreign land and the jackboot journalism rabble rousing would have also made him venerable to abuse and possible attack from the feral amongst us.

For obviously accepting that security checks on asylum seekers need to made the attitude of Britain now to asylum seekers is cold and cruel. It will also damage Britain in the long term in the eyes of the rest of the world.

Britain was the country that let in Karl Marx. It will be given no marks for what it's doing now.

So Ernest Alfred Viztelly, a man who was proud of Britain's then attitude to asylum seekers and who helped a friend in need.He is the type of Great Briton that we should follow.

The next book on the great ebook unread is Keeper Of The Peace by Edgar Wallace. It's not clear what the plot's about and I must admit that it's a long time since I've read an Edgar Wallace book (such a long time ago I can't remember what I thought of it) so am curious to read one now.

Until the next time.

Hooked On Classics (2) and The Great EBook Buying Game (2)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I've finished reading The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield and to be honest I was stunned.

These stories are very clever. Nothing much happens, no literary eqvilant of melodramatic music will enter your heads as you read them. The characters appear to live comfortable lives. And yet slowly she reveals people who are walking around in a state of quiet sadness.

You the reader are embroiled in the lives of these people for a brief while, but are affected by it.

It was quite simply the best collection of short stories that I've ever read.

The next ebook . Got for reasons of cheapness (it was free) is With Zola in England by Ernest Alfred Vizetelly. It was Viztelly's (who was apparently a journalist in the old London Evening News) account of the time in exile of Emile Zola in England (in a time when Britain accepted people who fled their country of origin for political reasons) having left France to avoid imprisonment for his actions on the "Dreyfus Affair". So far so good.

As all my paper books are now boxed, crated etc in preparation for the move you may remember that I created what I'm now calling The Great Ebook Buying Game (given now the fashion is to title everything "great". From baking shows to Acts of Parilament that will turn Britain into some right wing wet dream).

Given that I'm not buying anymore paper books until we permantly move house. This temporary monthly game is simply seeing how many ebooks I can buy on Amazon for £5. I'm doing this as I'm writing this post now. So let's see what happens.

I go to the Amazon "Daily Deals" One of them looks Chick Lit stuff, one of them is George Orwell's Animal Farm (have read that) and the remaining one is The Humans by Matt Haig. It seems interesting enough. So it's bought at 99p.

Looked at "Recommended reads" for me by Amazon. Nothing grabs my attention. Then time for the 250 books they're offering for 99p. I stop at Absolute Friends by John Le Carre. You know I haven't read Le Carre in years. Bought.

Amazon then offer more "Recommended Reads" suggested by my purchase of the Le Carre. I stop at a biography of the Italian fascist poet Gabriele D'Annuzio. by Lucy Hughes-Hallett. I think about this one long and hard. Eventually I decide to buy it. There is a rise of the extreme right in Britain, I'm curious to know what turns people that way. Bought for 99p.

Looking further at the Recommended reads following my purchase of the biography leads me for some reason to the novel Main Street by Sinclair Lewis. It's just 75p. Bought. This leads me to yet another Sinclair Lewis book Babbitt at just 49p. Bought.I have 79p left. So I go for another Sinclair Lewis book Free Air at 75p. Today then has become Sinclair Lewis day.

Until the next time.

The Farewell Tour Begins

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

"When are you moving?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life is sometimes very confusing.

Until the next time.

A Moving Tale: Prologue. Bereft Of Things

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

D H Lawrence,Oscar Wilde and Guisborough Town FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time

Bridgend Town: Destroyed By Labour

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

This was taken today

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

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

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

Not mentioned in the poster

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

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

A tragedy for readers

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

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

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

What a view

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

Used to be a card shop

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

The Shop on the right was a charity shop

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

Note the Heart Logo - Really Mocking

Heartbreaking

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

This was taken today

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

As if it was yesterday

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

Here are a few more shops that have closed:

An Italian Restaurant

A Clothes Shop

The latest shop to have closed down is this.

The Polish Shop On The Left

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

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

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

Bridgend Needs Plaid - This Was Taken Around Twelve Noon Today

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well you can imagine this went down well.

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

Alone At Work With D H Lawrence

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

Hooked On Classics Part One: Lorna Doone

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

The Power of The Six Holes

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

I'm back

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

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

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No it was the mould.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.

What If The Worse Case Scenario Regarding Bridgend Ford Happens?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the next time.