On A Boring Underground / Subway Journey? Call Perry Mason

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

For those who don't know. If you want to go to Victoria Underground station from Snaresbrook station you take the central line to Mile End, cross the platform and take the District Line to Victoria and that's it. Great railway journeys of the world it ain't.

So what you need to pass the time is a book. And I don't mean the Kindle either. Wasn't going to take that to the underground. So instead I looked at my mother's bookshelves and noticed a slightly battered paperback that I bought. I took it and read it. Half from Snaresbrook to Victoria on Tuesday and the remainder on the reverse journey today?

Why? Because wife/daughter came down from Wales to remind themselves what I looked like (and of course vice versa) for these five days.

A couple of diversions from the main chat. Firstly Monday is important as to whether I stay in Essex exile or can leave for Wales that day. Everything will depend on the result of my mother's outpatients appointment and whether after that able to leave before the Beast From The East snow arrives. Fingers crossed for that.

Secondly a quick word about the borough of  Westminster. People talk about the contrast within a short space of time between rich and poor. Must admit I agree. Here is a building near Victoria station.

Rich 

I must admit I really hate this building. Not just because of my dislike of untrammelled capitalism. But because it hurts my eyes.

A short walk away you'll get this

Reality

Anyway back to the book I picked which was...

Erle Stanley Gardner - The Case Of The Negligent Nymph

Erle Stanley Gardner's creation Perry Mason was the lawyer cum detective. This was in fact the first Perry I've ever perused. And I loved it.

It occurred to me as I was reading that this was the sort of novel (part of a series of course but this was written in 1956) that I think is rarely written nowadays. Where you're reading a book purely as an entertainment and you get the feeling that the author is having fun. That Erle is holding a party and you, the reader have been invited.

I suspect any degree of realism in this book was purely coincidental and that if you're a member of any branch of Law and Order you'll be tearing your hair out at the depiction of characters in your profession being ridiculed by the genus that is Mason. But it really doesn't matter. It's an entertainment. It's the perfect book for a commuter ride. Doesn't think you're thick. But doesn't expect your brain to be in top gear either. 

Until the next time.

Wandering Through Wanstead High street

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am not normally a man who goes back to the past, but sometimes circumstances offer it to you and, well you can;t resist.

I spent about two decades of my life living near Wanstead in Essex. I say Essex but in truth if you ignore actual boundaries then it's the place where East London and Essex coexist....and Essex starts to win. It's not as if I've not been in the intervening years. Driven past it and a couple of years back went to a wedding reception there. But for reasons I won't bore you with I had the chance to walk along Wanstead High Street on a grey Monday lunchtime and I took it.

Firstly perhaps I should show the statue where the town remembers it's war dead.

Quietly Impressive

It did occur to me as I was wandering has changed more than any other place I remember in my childhood. I might be wrong. Memories play tricks but here's an example.

Just A Pub? Well perhaps...

There was a pub. In this spot I think that was mocked up to look like a cricket pavilion. That's gone now anyway.

Some changes were even more dramatic. Here's a pharmacy.

But not just a pharmacy

For it was in fact a main post office and, though the picture doesn't make it clear it's actually a pharmacy come Post Office now.

This however was the biggest shock.

Not the statue of Churchill But The Building behind him

That building and it's a big building, used to be the local Conservative club. Now it's a pub/restaurant. Those of you who believe in symbolism should rejoice.

There used to be a bookshop. Now it's just part of a chain of Belgian restaurants.

Belgian restaurant chain:What the world has been crying out for

Some things though remain the same. This, even for a non-drinker like me, is a true pub.

The George

And what did I feel at the end of this short nostalgic Wanstead wander? Very old.

Until the next time.

When A TV Show Is An Unexpected Comfort (Bones)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So still in Essex exile at the moment. Hopefully just over a week to go before I can return to Wales. In the meantime Wales seems to appear in different ways. For example the discovery that I can watch Welsh club rugby on the TV in Essex via the red button was a pleasant surprise though the match itself, between the Ospreys and a South African team wasn't.

But as my mother is thankfully on the road to recovery it did occur to me about the things that pulled me through when things did not seem so bright. Coming back to the house from the hospital on a late evening, uncertain about the future, grabbing a microwave meal, a meal that someone in the family kindly made for me or a buying a bag of chips from the local Chinese around the corner (I tend to go Belgian with chips. Mayonnaise is my thing) and then propping myself in front of the TV.

I've mentioned before about the programmes I've been watching, either straight from the TV or as a DVD box set, during these two months, but during those specific moments of uncertainty one of these shows seemed more important than others. I think because this was the show I grew to like during this period when things were at it's most darkest.

And that programme (as you can tell by the title) of this post is Bones. What makes this even more unusual is that when I saw the odd episode before I didn't like it. Thought it was too glossy.

It does happen like this. Unexpectedly a programme creeps up on you unawares and before you know it you're a fan. It becomes a sort of comfort blanket when times are not good.

Bones is I know an odd choice. Loosely based on the life and novels of Kathy Reichs. Essentially episodes consist of a gruesome murder where you would see the victim in various stages of decomposition however as they would mainly be in a skeletonal state. This is convenient as the FBI in the form of Special Agent Seeley Booth is onto the case with his partner Doctor Temperence Brennan, a forensic anthropologist from the Jeffersonian Institute. Not just her though. There are other "squints" (scientific experts in their field) from the same institute.

I think the reason why it resonated was that it showed a group of good people facing a dark situation and being able, both with humour and intelligence to resolve it.

I have a few box sets now of this twelve season show. My mother's moaning that I'm watching too much of a programme that she doesn't really understand. She'd rather watch Murder She Wrote (Am happy to help my mother during these past few months...but there are limits).

Until the next time.

The Catalan Language In The Age Of Jackboot Politics

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

For forty years the language spoken in Catalonia has been Catalan. But now things have changed. Because the Spanish Government in Madrid angered by the democratically government of the region wanting a democratic election to result in a democratic Catalonia which they stopped in the most brutal actions of a Western European country since, well Spain under Franco now wants to control the region through a more insidious way.

Even though the Catalan people have reelected a parliament with a pro independence majority.

They intend Catalan children to be taught solely in Spanish. Why? Because they fear the power of those who speak the indigenous language as it shows independence of thought and those seeking independence for a nation. This is the same fear that permeates the resistance of the DUP to an Irish language act, or the sniping of mainstream media towards Welsh.

What the Spanish government seem to believe is that if the young Catalans can be seduced into speaking Spanish then gradually they will divorce themselves from Catalonia in other ways as well. It's this logic that people who want more of us to learn Welsh/Gaelic (Scots or Irish) have to fight against the all pervasive power of English.

What Spain wants and I've argued before that this is the tactic of those who oppose the teaching of Welsh, is that the Catalan language dies of gradual neglect.

It will I suspect fail. For their actions during the referendum have led to the anti Spanish backlash. Fear of the language by Spain will probably result in it being taught underground. And what the Catalan people will note by the actions of the Spanish government is that the greatest weapon they will have in the fight for independence is the power of the tongue.

Until the next time.

On A Vain Search For A Jeffrey Archer Novel In W H Smiths Epping

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It seems that on returning from hospital my mother's taste in books has gone as wild as her taste in food. She asked me today as well as groceries to get a novel for her in the Epping branch of W H Smith (she can't remember where her library book is). That novel was Not A Penny More Not A Penny Less by Jeffrey Archer.

This choice, left field though it was, was not an issue for me. Firstly it meant that her taste for reading had returned. Secondly, as I've mentioned before in this blog I have no problems with Jeff's books before A Matter Of Honour judged purely as an entertainment. Indeed I've read Not A Penny More Not A Penny Less and, as a piece of bestsellery fun, liked it.

Now what I'm going to say next is not at all scientific. Obviously the state of selling books has changed since I was a child. The internet has seen to that. Still the percentage of adult books for sale in the shop seemed small for me and if you exclude those being offered as a "Two for £7" offer then really pitiful when you reduce the choice to adult fiction. The time when a small branch of W H Smiths was my childhood book nirvana has long since gone (Ilford many decades ago).

So looking for Archer's books did not take me long. Nor did looking at them either. There were just four. These four were part of the "Cliveden Chronicles" (which I haven't read) and as they were numbers two,four,five and six respectively then buying them instead of the novel she wanted to read was not going to buy them as a consolation prize. Indeed if you were not following the chronicles then no one was going to buy them.

When I was young, so the glasses I'm wearing are obviously rose tinted as well as modelled on Joe 90, then if you were a bestselling writer (I'm not talking about the factory like James Patterson - plus one other) then most of your books were going to be on sale in the local small town bookshop. Not apparently anymore. No Kane and Abel or indeed my favourite Archer novel of all time First Amongst Equals. Nothing. And you can't say that it was because they were written decades ago. Stephen King's Carrie and Misery were in that very same branch.

Jodi Picoult and Stephen King had more books than Archer in this branch. As indeed did Terry Pratchett and Peter James.

So what am I saying? Perhaps it's the case that Jeffrey Archer is not as much of a bestselling writer than he was. No real idea and to be honest I don't care.

Well if you live in a small town and want a particular book that very day then you will probably have to go to a bigger town (for example the W H Smith in nearby Harlow is larger). A small town with a bookshop is unfortunately rare nowadays unless you're watching old movies. Penarth has one. Epping did once but it closed years ago.

The small town bookshop then. Slowly dying due to the internet and supermarkets. And yes I'm just as much of a hypocrite as the rest of us.

Until the next time.

On Reading In A Hospital Outpatients And A Little Bit More Hooray For Harlow

Hello there. Hope you're feeling today.

Whilst there is always the unexpected. Basically the only things that would apparently stop me from returning to Wales by the end of the month are two particular outpatient appointments for my mother.

Today was appointment number one.

I won't go into full details. But everything was fine. However it did involve waiting for about three hours in the hospital. Three hours which I spent reading. And since three seems to be the number of the day then three was the amount of books completed today, most of the time in that three hour period.

So let's start with Scarlet Thomas' 2001 novel Bright Young Things. Which is about a group of jaded but brilliant twentysomethings that find themselves in an island. Won't go further as I don't wish to spoil it for anybody else.

The best thing about the book are the opening chapters before they reach the island. They are interesting. They paint a picture of the "Bright Young Things" of the title.

Unfortunately for me that was yesterday. The bits I read today were dull. It is the sort of book where you wonder whether all of a sudden the author just forgot the plot. There was a feeling of drift.

And speaking of drift....I nodded off in the outpatients as I was reading,almost dropping the kindle as I did so. Think I mentally nodded off long before that. As for the ending. Some people might be angry about it. To be honest I was too disinterested to care.

James Whistler was an artist. He was also the author of The Gentle of Making Enemies. A book which details some of the run-ins he had with the art establishment. Particularly a libel case he had with John Ruskin. The same Ruskin who wrote Harbours of England that I chatted about (albeit very briefly) in my last post.

I couldn't work out reading this whether Whistler just enjoyed being a stirrer or was just a pain in the backside. If I was a betting man I'd say the latter. An interesting book but really for curiosity value only.

Lady Susan (which I finished after going leaving outpatients) was Jane Austen's shortest novel though apparently written before (though published after) the others. It's basically a comedy of manners although in the form of various correspondence.

Of the three (there's that number again) Austen books I've read this was the one I liked the least. It just seemed not so much Lady Susan or Lazy Susan but a Lazy Jane. Just didn't seem that exceptional. Still, if this her earliest book perhaps it's forgivable.

The current book I'm reading is Romance Of Roman Villas (The Renaissance) by Elizabeth Champney

Yesterday went to Harlow to buy a pair of jeans. I noticed another statue.

Upright Motive.....Certainly Upright

This was done by Henry Moore. One of the few sculptors (for what it's worth) I've ever heard of. Can't say I like it personally, but it's worth mentioning.

Aside from the jeans I bought something else

I Shopped Polish

Until the next time.

On Books: Including With Regard To William Morris How You Cannot Judge A Book By Its Wallcover

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

William Morris then. Socialist wallpaper guy. Hero of his era. I'm left-wing too.

But let me give you a secret.

His wallpaper designs? Of those I've seen. I don't like them. Suspect my grandmother would have though.

And of course my opinion is absolutely right. As is yours if you disagree. Because what you want to be put onto your walls. Be it wallpaper or in my preference paint is entirely up to you.

Now the point of all of this is that when I woke up at four o'clock in this Monday morning. Unable to sleep further. Worried about my mother. Not knowing for sure when I can return to Wales from Essex exile (though 27th Feb taking her with me to complete her recovery seems the most likely). Well that's the moment when I grab my Kindle to find out that the next book was his book Hopes and Fears For Art. And I'm not

It is not a bad book. Actually for a subject I'm not all that interested in it had it's moments. He doesn't like bankers, has views on art that the majority can appreciate and his comments on the effect of trade on Indian art exports is an interesting snippet in itself.

Not the sort of book I should warn that when you realise you've nodded off after swiping a few pages you can plough through regardless. You have to go back. Still it's a good read. And the version I read didn't have any illustrations of wallpaper...which is a help.

Sometimes reading a book without knowing the background is fun. Sometimes though it's a waste of time. When I downloaded Harbours Of England (published 1856) by John Ruskin it was because a) I heard about him and b) it was free.

However essentially what this book is about is Ruskin talking about certain paintings of John Turner. Paintings that I probably have seen but have never noticed. It could be the greatest piece of art criticism ever but it was wasted on me.

The next book is Bright Young Things by Scarlett Thomas. Suspect I'll be able to get into it a whole lot quicker.

Until the next time.

The Farewall Tour Of The McDonald's Menu Part 3: The Big Mac

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I've made the decision not to eat any thing from Mcdonald's anymore once I've eaten every regular medium meal from their standard menu for one last time. Now opportunity has not knocked for me recently, but tonight my mother, who I have been looking after in Essex exile since she has been discharged from hospital asked again for a Chicken Mcnuggett meal.

Now her taste buds have gone really askew since being discharged. Before she would have turned her nose at anything linked to the Big M. Now however the Mcnuggett and my mother have been suddenly entwined.

The first time she asked, I I you understand refused. Couldn't leave her alone in the house whilst I took the car on the five minute journey to the nearest Mcdonald's, off the M11 just outside Epping. But this Sunday night was different. I could do it.

The Mcdonald's itself is an interesting place given that it was once a pub. Interesting in that how many churches have closed down and now pubs have followed suit. Not sure exactly what this means but the world certainly has changed since I was a child.

Of course I too was going to have a McDonald's. I looked at the menu and the next one on the list was a Big Mac. You know despite what the people at Big M will tell you by calling their most expensive offerings by this name the Big Mac is truly their signature dish. When most people have a picture of a McDonald's meal in their heads it's the Big Mac people have in their minds. It is after all Big and Enticing and well, has that image of America.

For the most part when I have been in a McDonald's the Big Mac medium meal is what I choose. For no other reason than I know there's less chance of having to wait than if I'd ordered the Fillet O Fish or, Heaven forbid, the Veggie Burger.

But the sting, or should I say aftertaste in the tale is this. When I've described a McDonald's meal in this blog as like a cheap bestseller, enjoyable but quickly forgotten, it's the Big Mac meal I'm talking about.

There is though one other thing. Like a fading Hollywood movie star the Big Mac has lost some of it's Americana glamour. All of a sudden it looks old.

This meal did not change that.

Of Faded Burger Glory

What really surprised me as I ate this Big Mac meal for the final time was that I knew I wasn't going to miss it.

My mother liked her Chicken Mcnuggets though.

Until the next time.

Why Plaid Cymru Should Not Panic Part Three: Alyn And Deeside

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Though in Essex exile at the moment as I'm looking after my mother I wasn't unaware of the recent by-election in Alyn and Deeside following the suicide of Carl Sargeant.

I've spoken about the background to Mr Sargeant's death and the possible effect on First Minister Carwyn Jones before so I'm not going to discuss that. But if Twitter is a guide the by-election would appear to have to caused a reaction within Plaid Cymru as they lost share of the vote.

It is my view that this is not a by-election where you can judge Plaid Cymru one way or the other. Whilst I don't have the answer as to why the Liberals increased the vote. The choice of Mr Sargeant's son as Labour candidate clearly had an emotional appeal which made it difficult for Plaid to have taken votes away from the governing party in the National Assembly.

I have also said before that things will not be simple for Plaid Cymru in the near future. Since the last UK general election where Labour did surprisingly well people have the hope that they can just give that one last push and become the government. I know that this was an election for the National Assembly but Welsh Labour, even though they don't deserve it, have benefited from it.

But the moment will come when Labour will be perceived as a weak opposition or an unpopular government and this is where Plaid Cymru needs to strike. Any discontent in the meantime will be highlighted in the media, will be a distraction and will only help the undeserving Welsh Labour party.

Until the next time.

Should I Not Read John Le Carre ......For My Mother's Health?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Whilst she is making a remarkable recovery my mother does at this moment need a professional carer to come in every morning for reasons I won't go into.

The point though is that nothing can be done in the morning until the carer comes in. And the company uses the extremely wide timescale of 7-11. For the past two days she has come in between 8-9. Today however she came in at ten.

Thing is until the carer comes in there is nothing apart from making my mother breakfast in bed that I can do. So I find myself every morning now watching one of the DVD sets I bought from Amazon to help pass the time. Have been going through Series 2 of Bones, a show I didn't like at the time but am warming towards now (on a weekday evening am watching on the channel Your TV Bones, Body of Proof and Castle shows which are perfect entertainment).

The other box sets I bought were Perception Series 1, a show I liked but didn't see all of hence the purchase and The Net (the TV series of the film) which I bought because it was cheap and now know why.

Anyway because she came late I wasn't able to have a quick trip to my mother's local GP to get her full medication until around eleven. And whilst her prescription was being made, I was able to read the latest book from my Kindle. Which turned out to be Single and Single by John Le Carre.

The thing is this. The last book I read of his was Absolute Friends. Which was at the time my mother had her first cataract operation (I wrote about this at the time). And (though the hospital where she stayed for the past few weeks advised was purely coincidental) her troubles seemed to begin from the moment she had the operation.

Can a book cause bad luck? I actually believe yes and no. It is after all a state of mind. If you believe that a book has caused problems then stopping reading relieves you from that worry, whether it was justified or not.

A few years ago I started reading Next Man Up by John Feinstein. A book where the writer follows the American football Team the Baltimore Ravens. From the moment I started to read the book my daughter tripped and grazed her knee.

Ok....

Then my wife cuts herself whilst trying to open a can of peaches. A cut so bad it required stitches from Accident and Emergency.

When they found out that everything seemed to happen from when I started reading the book. Wife and daughter pleaded with me, alright they nagged me to stop reading. Fearing that as what happened to them seemed to increase in severity the fate that would have awaited me if I continued would have been much worse. So I stopped.

And I thought being a Chicago Bears fan would be the limit to my dangers following American Football.

Best then I postpone reading the Le Carre...not superstitious you understand...just thinking about my mother's health.

Until the next time.

The Black Pig (Mochyn Du) As Metaphor For Wales' Future Under Westminster

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As I'm in Essex exile at the moment looking after my mother. I don't feel that it's the right time to discuss most Welsh issues as I'm literally miles away. There are certainly things that I do want to deal with, the mud from the Hinckley Point nuclear power station being buried in Cardiff or the Barry incinerator springs to mind. But to me they are best looked into when I return.

But as regular readers will know. Even though I'm in Essex I'm not completely immune in this blog from discussing things Welsh. Which leads me to the Black Pig, or as I should say, Y Mochyn Du.

Y Mochyn Du was a pub in Cardiff city centre and popular with Welsh Language Speakers. Now before I go on I've never visited the place. Partly because I don't live near enough partly because I'm of an age where visiting a town centre in the night is the exception not the rule. But mainly because of the minor little fact that I don't drink. So let's face it I'm not it's target audience.

But remember I'm talking about this place for metaphor for Wales. Therefore we need to begin with the fact that is has been taken over by the London based chain Brewhouse and Kitchen. So what has the London based chain done? It has changed the name of the pub to the imaginatively named Brewhouse and Kitchen Cardiff. Thus in a stroke it has taken the Welshness of the place away so to assimilate it with the other English pubs in the chain. It has become the Cardiff branch office and nothing more.

Does Alun Cairns have shares in the firm?

But then it gets even more concerning. The drinks list includes under the caption "English Style Ales" (whatever that actually means) an ale called Y Mockyn Du. Now let's pause here. A Welsh ale done in "an English style" (whatever that means) with a name that's almost literally a mockery of it's past (that or it was written by an Englishman/woman brought in who thought that was how it was spelt).

Also the Twitter account adds insult to injury where they describe that they're about to open "a shiny new pub". Again I'm not the target audience but I would guess that no one actually wants a "shiny" pub. They want it to be clean but not shiny. The pictures it includes makes you realise that it will be very little different to other Brewhouse and Kitchen pubs throughout Britain. The Welshness barring a throwaway tokeness is gone.

And this is the metaphor for Wales. Today a pub...down the line a nation?

Until the next time.

Listening To Football With My Mother : Newport County Edition

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today.

So for the moment I'm looking after my mother now thankfully discharged from hospital in this Essex exile for I hope two more weeks before being able to take her back to Wales to complete her recovery and for my wife and daughter to know what husband/dad looks like (my daughter, thankfully in jest - I think - calls me "The Abandoner".

The days seem to be exactly like my mother's days whilst in hospital. Periods of boredom broken in with the hectic. Looking after an unwell relative, even for a hopefully short period makes you appreciate and understand what true carers have to face day in day out.

Yesterday when my mother was settled back in her house I was able to watch Swansea City on free to air TV thrash Notts County 8-1. My mother was discharged from hospital, Swansea City was the giant that killed in the FA cup and I ate a rather good microwave meal from the Co-op. It was a good evening.

This evening however the FA cup replay was not on free to air.Instead the only way I could follow it was on the wireless. Tottenham Hotspur (boo hiss. Even if they are the team of Harlow) and Newport County who, like their West Walian equivalent of yesterday, are for me in that group of teams I wish well unless they face West Ham.

And they are also the underdogs. And when I say underdogs Newport County the lowest positioned side left in the competition.

So the programme on BBC Radio 5 Live begins. I miss the preview. Partly because we were waiting for my mother's carer to the evening. She didn't come. She was running late. NHS might have looked after my mother but the aftercare has been transferred to the private sector. And they are late.

Once that has been sorted out then I need to get to the local chippy for dinner. Pie and chips for me. Sausage and chips for my mother. Her taste buds seem to have radically changed since she's left the hospital. She has eaten today Porridge,bacon sandwiches,grapes,cherries,whole nut chocolate and crunchie chocolate bar. Also tea, coffee and lemonade

The most amazing thing though was the one I'd refused to get. A chicken Mcnuggett meal. Before she would have turned her nose at it. Now she wants it. The only reason why I refused was that it was just that too far away to get given it was the first full day since she was discharged from the hospital.

And so we eat. And we listen to Newport County battling against their Premier league rivals.

"Tottenham" asks my mother "Are they the rough team?"

I think she's confusing Spurs with Millwall.

Was about to answer when Spurs score. An own goal by Butler. Very unfortunate. About ten minutes later Lamela scores a second. The possibility of this going all Notts County begins to be a worrying thought in the head.

The way it's described Newport seem to have been deflated in the end of the first half. Personally my view was they might as well throw everything including the South Walian kitchen sink at Tottenham.

"Who are Spurs playing?" My mother is awake again.

"Newport"

"Newport in Wales?"

I was tempted to say "No Newport in the Isle of Wight".

During the half time break. Where the BBC Winter Olympics people were moaning about the cold weather (yes I know!) she asks more questions.

"Is the game over?"

"No it's half time"

My mother was asleep for most of the second half. And from the sounds so was the game. Tottenham had many chances. Newport had just the one.However The scoreline stayed at 2-0.

But let's just say this. Newport County were beaten but not humiliated.

Until the next time.

Wiltshire...What Is It Good for? .....Shepherding Apparently

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

My personal experience of Wiltshire is basically limited to driving along the M4. So all my knowledge of the place is limited to observing green grass which to my unknowledgeable eye seems perfect for sheep to graze.

Which is a good thing considering the latest book I've finished is A Shepherd's Life: Impressions Of The South Wiltshire Downs by W H Hudson published in 1910.

So let me start by saying one thing: "This is probably one of the best books about the countryside that I've ever read. I'm not saying for one second that it would have inspired me to leave my wife and daughter in Wales and my mother here in Essex for shepherding (but she's not in hospital anymore - She's been discharged tonight - Yippee - Still frail and needs me to be with her but I'm hoping after a couple of weeks she can finish her recovery in Wales).However it did grip me.

Why is such an interesting countryside book? Because whilst the countryside as well as the natural world may be an important factor it's the people, especially the shepherd of the title Caleb Bawcombe and the tough life they lead.

The toughness is the key. No lyrical description of lush green grass and lambs frolicking here.

Hudson's politics is intriguing. Whilst clearly not a socialist he is not unaffected by the conditions the workers have to face. Or the unfair laws against them.

And perhaps the most interesting example of this is his view of villages. for he does not approve of the squire or squire type figure. All very good and left wing you might think. However his solution is that the village should should fend for itself in a hard world. A sort of prototype Brexit. Makes me wonder if he lived today Hudson would have been a UKIP supporter.

Still politics aside this is an important book. It's reality countryside style.

Until the next time.

On Reading Between Hospital Visits....Including A Mormon Western

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Emergencies aside Sundays at a hospital are dull affairs. The consultants are not there to consult. The big doctors are not there to do big things. No mainly medication is given and wheels are just made running until Monday. It is also eerily quiet. And for the patients of course irritating. As their futures

And of course there are the hospital visits.

So I'm seeing my mother and there is a gap between the afternoon and evening visits. It is pointless to go back to the house during the break. So armed with a coke bottle it's time to read whilst the few people around me eat,drink and chat.

So it's time to chat.....

Victorian Short Stories:Stories Of Successful Marriages is not as I assumed just by Elizabeth Gaskell but others as well. Unfortunately the stories were just, well, unsuccessful. Next was The Advocate by Charles Haversage. A small comic novel....just not so comic.

But the most interesting book was Riders Of The Purple Sage by Zane Grey published in 1912. This apparently was the novel that set the tenplate was the Western genre. I get it. There is the young buck character. the main females being feisty but whimpering when faced with "a real man" and of course the mysterious stranger, treated with suspicion because he's "not from these parts".

However, as the title of the post indicates, what makes this book different is the setting, Utah and the involvement of Mormons. No native Americans or bad guys in black hats here.

The book is readable. You can see how he had a career in writing. But as I was going through it I couldn't really decide whether this book has specific Mormon as villain or is generally anti Mormon the religion. My view is the latter but you can make the case for the former. The thing is if I did explain how then it would spoil things should you read it

It occurred to me also that I haven't a read a Western novel in decades. When I was young the Western was a staple of popular culture. Now it's a novelty.

Until the next time.

On Books: How Theo Is Now Terminated And How Engels Is Relevant Today

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

The question I know you've been asking on Friday evening is this. If you have to pick some writings to put in a collection from a writer famous in his/her time but now forgotten how would you go about it?

Well if the collection of Theodore Dreiser is anything to go by what you do is to put the best book by a EU twenty seven country mile (kilometre if you wish but the joke is not so good) Sister Carrie first. You put the second best book (Jennie Galbraith) next. And after that throw in potboliery twaddle like Titan or The Genius. Or dull work like Twelve Men or the short stories.

And that's it. Job done.

Truly Sister Carrie aside the only real pleasure I had in this collection was it's ending.

The next book was The Condition Of The Working Class in England in 1844 by Friedrich Engels. Whilst Freddie may not be the possessor of the ability to produce sassy titles. This book is relevant today.

I won't go into much detail. That would be a political spoiler. But when you read it things will begin to unnerve you. Because the Britain it describes then is not far removed from the Britain of today. For the poorest amongst us it's already there. For most working class families it's not a few steps away and even for most middle class families sudden bad luck would make it closer than they would believe.

You think that it's fanciful? The welfare state and the NHS are the two tangible things that are different from the Victorian era. And they are the two things the Conservatives are chipping away from the fabric of British society.

I'll give one example. Employers were complaining about laws to limit the working day to ten hours. Ten hours!

So whilst you shouldn't expect a rip roaring read. Don't avoid this book. For you might find that you'll experience the Victorian Britain it describes in your future.

The next book is Victorian Short Stories: Stories of Successful marriages. I'm expecting that the title is deceptive given that the author is Elizabeth Gaskell of North and South fame.

We shall see.

Until the next time.

The Return Of The £5 Amazon E-book Buying game (£4.68 Version)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's the first of the month and the early morning. I'm in Essex exile whilst my mother is still in hospital recovering from her operation so at the moment have nothing much to do.

So in the spirit of shrugging my shoulders before I go and have a bath decide to resuscitate the Amazon £5 ebook buying game. Basically where starting from their Daily Deals and following from their recommendations try to buy the cheapest (though they would have to interest me) books I could buy for a total of £5.

This time though. As there is £19.68 in the account. The balance to play with, rather like chocolate bars, has shrunk to £4.68 for this month.

So let's begin.

I look at the Daily and Monthly Deals. Nothing screams buy me. So I look at the books that are "recommended" for me based on my ebook-buying purchases. One book strikes me instantly. The Common Reader by Virginia Woolf. A collection of essays. Worth a read I think so bought for 99p.

£3.69 left. "Top Picks For you" The screen emboldenedly pronounces. I look.I notice The Tenderness Of Wolves. Costa Book of the year 2007 (Costa has been going for over ten years?) . That too is 99p. Bought.

£2.70 left. Suddenly my eyes fall on a complete collection of the works of Marcel Proust. Have never read him but you feel that a subconscious literary bucket list in your head is saying "buy it". It is also just 49p so bought.

£2.21 left. The system then gives me the complete works of James Joyce. but I know I've Dubliners in the Kindle so I pass. Then I notice the complete works of Franz Kafka for 49p as well. That same literary bucket list is telling me not to be an idiot and buy it, and buy it now.

So I do. £1.72 left. The collected works of the essayist William Hazlitt crops up. 99p. Bought.

73p left. Spend 49p on the complete works of Alexander Pushkin. I know I have a novel of his (I think a poetic one at that) in storage at the moment. But hey. It's the complete set so why not? Bought and for this month the game is finished.

And I look at the books I've bought and think? Am I a proper reader? All these classic works that I haven't read. But then it comes back to the curse of the reader. So many books but so little time. Even at my fifty four years on this planet life interferes with the need to turn and now swipe the page. Still they are bought now. A greater chance that I'll get round to reading them sometime.

Until the next time.

Hooray for Harlow (Part Two)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

The more I'm in Essex exile whilst my mother is in hospital the more I'm conscious of this attitude to the "new" town of Harlow.

Today I'm walking along the street near where my mother's home is. I'm stopped by a man asking how she is. I say she's recovering and indeed in an hour's time I'd be visiting her after doing a few things in Harlow (the hospital is nearby to the town centre) which, I add is a place I rather like.

"Have you " he asked "been there at night?"

Aside from when I leave the hospital in the evening the answer's no. But I don't consider it an issue. After all I'm fifty four. Not of an age where you look forward go out regularly in any town centre in the night.

"Well" he says "there are good and bad spots in every town".

This is of course true. Yet you could tell from the sound of his voice that he figured that there were more minuses in the Harlow list than pluses.

I went to the town centre again this afternoon. And my view hasn't changed. Not Paris or Milan but not worthy of the mockery or snobbery of others ether. I noticed a few shops that were closed down but the vast majority were open and seemingly doing good business. People seemed happy and chatty and just leading their lives.

Mentioned in the original tweet that there was a statue of large books which I couldn't take last Sunday cause kids were playing on it. As presumably they were being educated today however ....

The thought did occur to me on Sunday that the kids were of the generation that aside from school they would be unlikely to want to read a paper book again. Which is sad.

I also noticed this statue.

This is Meat Porters by Ralph White. Two things. Firstly I'm not sure whether they would pass Health and Safety. Secondly though I didn't look too closely, I'm not sure the men had any clothes on.

And along the main thoroughfare there's this.

This monument is there to symbolise Harlow  as a new town. Personally it seems rather sad it just seems rather forgotten. I like the statues myself. They're unusual, slightly quirky but in a good eccentric way. Rather like Harlow itself.

And as for Harlow at night I give you....

Moon Over A Car Park

 Until the next time.

The Businessman As God In Fiction

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Have finished Titan by Theodore Dreiser and I didn't like it. Though readable, (yes Theo  still knows how to make you swipe the page) it was disappointingly predictable. Young Carrie it isn't. If we're taking score of those I liked and disliked then the football match from this ebook omnibus is currently 2-2.

I had thought that the next book was going to be the third in the trilogy but no, instead it's going to be his novel The Genius. Hope I'll like it.

But reading Titan (published I should say in 1914) made me realise about the portrayal of businessmen in fiction as a certain type of propaganda for hard right no holds barred capitalism. So perhaps we should chat about it further.

The characteristics of the businessman (and let's be clear about this it's about men here) are as follows:

1) The man is a business genius. Thing is in real life few businesses become instant hits. Instead they grow organically. Yet in this fiction everything the businessman touches turns to gold. The only problems occur  through the unforeseen or the malevolent actions of others.

This leads us to:

2) Attitude of Other Men: Men either hate him or wish they were him to the point of worship. As for women.....

3) Attitude of women: Because you're a businessman women will automatically fall in love with you. You have the pick of all the women you want. No matter how badly you treat them when you go to your next conquest they will think of you even if they're with another man.

Of course the reality here is different. If you looked at the pictures of the major directors of the collapsed company Carillion. What you saw (presumably taken out of the annual report) was the faces of fat smug suited older men. I would doubt that the platoon of women that fiction suggests would flock to these individuals would occur in reality. Even before the bankruptcy.

4) Blackmail and Bribery is OK: What does it matter if they are crimes? Grease the wheels for business that's all that matters. Punishment is for the lower orders.

If you want a more realistic and sympathetic portrayal of a businessman (though in this case more of a manager). I would suggest Nice work by David Lodge. It shows a good man trying to do his best. I would recommend it.

Until the next time.

Hooray For Harlow

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I visited my mother in hospital this afternoon. I needed to go into Harlow town Centre (which is nearby) to get a few pairs of fluffy pyjamas from Primark. The first time indeed I have ever bought women's clothing....he says quickly.

In the morning I'd mentioned this to a cousin who was enquiring about my mother's condition. I said that I'd only ever been once before and I liked it.

"Well I don't" came the response.

Harlow seems to have suffered from NewTownitis a symptom of which is to get decidedly sniffy when it's mentioned. "New" for the sufferers means not old, lacking a sense of tradition, a sense of style. Even though of course some of these buildings were built in the sixties or seventies

Of course there is an "Old" Harlow but nobody thinks about them anymore. The big buildings that announce themselves as you drive along is what most people think of Harlow. The Study Centre, The Leisure Centre (that describes itself as a leisure "zone") and the shopping complex filled with restaurants and superstores called The Water Garden.

Having driven through the area for the past week, and have wandered through it today my view hasn't changed. I'm not going to say that should you have the choice of Paris,Rome or New York the only way is Harlow. But I liked the town. There are far worse places to live in Britain and it does not deserve the snooty disdain that those who hardly know the town seem to give it.

You can always judge a town centre by the shops. So let's start with this:

That is a Polish shop. I noticed another nearby. Harlow: Quietly cosmopolitan.

The shopping centre is called The Harvey Centre. This is the statue in front of it.

To be honest it's an odd statue. Given that the unnamed lady concerned seems to turning her back on the very place she guards. There is incidentally a more interesting sculpture of large books nearby However kids were playing on it and so I couldn't take a picture in case people put two and two together and made five. Still it's worth a look if you're there.

The centre itself is a friendly place to wander round with a good mixture of shops. Must admit I liked it....except for this.

What the......

How did Spurs take control of Harlow so much that they have their own shop here? somehow I get the feeling that the West Ham board missed a trick again.

The shopping centre includes a cinema.Nearby there are more shops as well as a playhouse and a library. Clearly boxes are being ticked. But to me they seem to have slotted in well.

Of course when you think of Harlow you think of something like this.

But there is nothing wrong with this if it works. And from the relatively brief time I was there today it did seem to work. Sure there are more traditional houses nearby. Less glossy. But it does not matter. What matters is that Harlow seems to be place where new really does appear to mean better.

Until the next time.

The BBC, Like The NHS, Is Free At The Point Of Delivery....Except Apparently At The NHS

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

This blog I know has been disjointed recently. My mother is currently in hospital and is recovering from an operation. I won't go into details, that's my mother's personal affair. but I think, I hope, that I will be back in Wales within two to three weeks. But for the moment I continue to be in Essex exile.

I should say that I have no complaints about the NHS hospital she's in (unlike her GP practice, but that's another story). The problems I have are not specific to this hospital but seem to be general. the car parking charges are a tax in England on people's emotions as they are visiting their loved ones. And there is also the question of the available TV installed on every bed in the hospital from an American company called Hospiedia....for a fee.

There are many channels on offer, including those for sports and movies. But it's the fact that they charge for free to air channels that gets me. After all they are seeking money from people at their most venerable. When you are in hospital, unless you are too ill to be bored. Time is either frenzied or dull. and Hospiedia knows this.

Now BBC1,BBC2,ITV,Channels Four and Five are available for free....between eight and twelve in the morning. So unless Homes Under The Hammer, decades old American comedies which seem to be on a virtual loop or Jeremy Kyle make your world complete. You're screwed.

There are arguments that Hospedia will put up about this. But for the moment let's just focus on the BBC. If you are a licence fee payer of the state broadcaster and find yourself unfortunately confined in a hospital bed under the state run health service then surely it should be free beyond the confines of morning daytime TV.

The elderly, people on low incomes and indeed the entire licence fee paying community should get the BBC channels for free. It's what the state should provide to it's citizens at the very least.

Until the next time.

In Which Theodore Entertains But Ultimately Disappoints

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Being in my Essex exile looking after my mother means that there are periods where I have nothing to do but of course restricted as to what I can do. Which means that reading is one of those things that passes the time.

So a few days back I mentioned that I was reading Theodore Dreiser's 1912 novel The Financier and today, whilst my mother was asleep,I finished it off.

The book chronicles part of the life of Frank Cowperwood, the financier of the title. There are various problems with it but let me explain one thing. It is readable. When you're in the position of having to constantly look at someone to make sure they're OK and yet still find yourself in 19th century Philadelphia with no difficulty then that is the mark of a storyteller.

However there are problems. The relationship between men and women which is complex in Young Carrie or Jennie Gerhardt is much more simplistic and traditional here. It also in passing suggests an unacceptable view of African Americans. I'm not clear here whether it's the author's personal views or that of his character, but it's still unacceptable.

The central character is the sort of J R type figure that we have read or seen time after time after time again. And the trouble with it is that leaving aside your political objections for a moment you know that no matter how objectionable the character is. The author admires him. And I'm afraid Theo falls into that category.

And for the reader the other real objection to this book is this. The ending is rushed. It just has the feeling of knots having been tied.

It's as if Theo couldn't be bothered. He just wanted to move on to the second book in the trilogy The Titan, which is the book I'm reading now. The title alone gives me too much of an idea as to what I'm reading.

I hope I'm wrong.

Until the next time.

Theodore Dreiser: A Mystery Writer Of Sorts

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

For every reader there comes a book which, though not the best one you've ever read, or you'd bypass instantly in picking that certain something for a long stay in a desert island that nonetheless surprised you during the process of reading. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser (published in 1900) was that sort of book.

Let me give you one part of the plot only. The beginning. Carrie of the title is a young woman who moves from small town America to Chicago.

Now the point is this. you as the reader is led to a certain mindset. And you go along with it, until something happens which makes you wonder whether you've approached the book correctly. But, and this is the skill, Dreiser does not as you go through the book say that you're wrong. Oh no what he says is that you might be wrong.

And that, I'd suggest is the sign of a writer who knows how to handle the plot. Because you as the reader has to continue reading to find out.

Not just plot mind you. Character as well. Your loyalties as a reader ebb and flow and ebb again. I would challenge anybody reading this book to honestly say that their view of any person is consistent from when they started to when it finished.

Relationships too. For the time they are written they are a mixture of their time or surprisingly modern to 2018 readers. As for his views of men and women whilst I wouldn't call him a feminist the position of men and women are not as clear as they first appear.

And like the plot itself the mystery is knowing whether or not you're initial judgement was right.

The novel was from a collection. The next one in that collection was Jennie Gerhardt. A book published in 1911.It has to be said that if you read Young Carrie then then there are less shocks here. But it's not without surprises.

So the next book in the collection is The Financier  a 1912 novel. We'll see if Dreiser is still a mystery at the end of it.

Until the next time.

Chelsea v Norwich City (Catalonia)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am in the third day of my Essex exile whilst looking after my mother. Until I mention otherwise I won't be mentioning anything about it until she recovers.

When you look after someone, even for a hopefully short period of time, the day either is very busy or very boring. As I'm writing this it's eight o'clock pm. Chelsea are playing Norwich City in an F A cup replay. It's on BBC1 , my mother is asleep so I can watch it

I'm supporting Norwich in this. Partly because they're the underdog. But also because their football shirts are in yellow. Yellow: the colour of Catalonia. the colour the Spanish government are afraid of. Oh I know it's mad. But it makes it interesting.

Early minutes there is constant Chelsea pressure. Chances were missed. Tip of a football boot and it would have been a goal chances.

Yellow is a bright colour. But not the brightest of the evening. That belongs to outfit worn by Chelsea goalkeeper Caballero. Best described as Radioactive.

Apparently there is a Chelsea player whose name is pronounced Feng Shui. Always out of position though. Later we're told West Ham want him....typical! He also gives Norwich their closest chance of the game first half.

Chelsea have a chance that's tipped onto the cross bar.

The team in yellow is defending itself well against a team with richer resources. Note the metaphor to Spain and Catalonia there folks.

But more chances come through Norwich's way. More confident as the half progresses.

Kenedy of Chelsea reacts to being fouled by slapping his opponent. Handbags not being available.

First half ends 0-0. Advantage to the Catalans.

But then Feng Shui finds the right position and scores for Chelsea....damn

Norwich do fight back with a chance that hits the post.

Chelsea resort to cheating as Pedro dives in the penalty area. Not just diving but bad diving at that.

As the half progressed Chelsea was trying to bore the game to death. As if the one goal meant that mentally the drawbridge was raised in their players' mind. However the Catalans throw everything to score an equaliser.Then right at the end of the ninety fourth minutes Jemal Lewis scores for the Catalans.

Extra time then.

Willian hurdles over a Catalan defender's leg and falls. Not a penatlty thank goodness. Another Chelsea penalty request is rejected.

First period comes and go. One all still. Catalonia is still in with a chance.

Second period and again a penalty request from Chelsea against Klose...not even Klose.

Towards the end of the second period Pedro is sent off for a second bookable offence. You know it was the right decison because Conte didn't overreact. Another penalty request rejected. Morata gets booked...reacts badly..gets sent off. Chelsea down to nine men.

Extra time finishes . Penalties

Willian for Chelsea Scored.

Olivera for Norwich. Caballero saved

Luiz for Chelsea. Scored.

Madison for Norwich scored with the cheekiest of penalties. The arrogance of youth.

Azpulqueta for Chelsea scored

Vrancic for Norwich scored

Conte for Chelsea scored.

Murphy for Norwich scored.

Hazard for Chelsea scores and Chelsea wins.

So the Catalans lose ......but only just......and tomorrow is another day.

Until the next time.

The First Early Morning Ramblings Of 2018

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

At time of writing this it's 5:09am but I've probably been awake for an hour longer. My mother is still not one hundred percent. As she is with people tomorrow and there are things I need to do (like pay the rent) I've decided to leave for Essex on Tuesday. Though I know she's better than she was and is certainly eating more the improvement which was there when I left Essex for Wales last Monday seems to have stalled. This flu is certainly persistent.

I don't want to go. But obviously there are things in life that you have to do because it's simply the right thing. Indeed when wife is awake will get the Paris St Germain travel bag ready. Get that over with first.

So my thoughts are mainly dominated by my mother this morning. Which explains I think how I can go to bed at 12:30am on a Sunday morning and wake up around four hours later.

Saw highlights of West Ham's victory over Huddersfield last night. I was pleased. But a little distracted.

There is for the moment nothing to do. The calm before the snowstorm.

There is another reason why I'm not looking forward to the trip to Essex. My knee is playing up again. Before it seemed to only make itself (literally) felt when it touched the ground. I thought there was an improvement. But now there seems to be a throbbing pain on the side, where there wasn't one before. There are no issues moving driving etc, but it reminds me it's there. Once my mother is sorted out will need to get this looked into.

On Books: Including My Daughter's Hatred For Literature And The New 1984

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I'm driving my daughter to school yesterday morning. She's fifteen and already taking exams as seems to be the way nowadays. The exam she took was for English literature. As I chatted about this exam to her she made this to me stunning statement.

"I hate literature".

It mentally stopped me in my tracks (not physically as I was driving). She doesn't like literature? Am I a bad parent? Am I the last in a generation to actually want to read a book? Will librarians and booksellers want to throw the book at me?

Further interrogation however suggested something more complex. She said she "enjoyed" Of Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck. I wouldn't say it was a book to be "enjoyed" but she liked it so fair enough.

She also (like me) was a fan of An Inspector Calls by J B Priestley. Fine....

No it turned out that what she actually "hated" was poetry.....well that's alright then.

I have mentioned before in this blog that the biggest gap in my reading knowledge is poetry. Though there are exceptions taken as a whole I've no real interest. Caused mainly by the fact that as a teenager I didn't understand how the price of a slim volume of poetry was roughly the same as a novel so I went for the bigger book instead. Consequently, with exceptions, I feel as if I'm a bad reader of poetry because to me it doesn't seem worth the effort.

Like father like daughter it appears.

She went on to mention two poets specifically. The first was Dylan Thomas. I've mentioned previously from the bits I've heard (though not gone round to checking this) that I suspect he is the sort of poet better listened to than read.

Her real dislike though was towards Daniel Abse. Roughly her opinion of him was "a Cardiff guy who whinges about Wales".

Now my daughter has an advantage over me regarding Mr Abse, as I've never read any of his poems. I have however years ago read a book of essays and I certainly don't recall any whingery.

The relative unpopularity of poetry is interesting. Because if you think about the world of television I grew up in and the byte sized world of the internet that is daughter's domain, you would think that the instant do it quickly world we live in would be more suited to the poem. But apparently not.

Because of my mother being unwell my reading has been haphazard in the last few weeks. Indeed I've had to return the Annie Prolux book unread to the library (trust me that instantly borrowing back would be an admin nightmare for Sully library). I've also though been reading a book that my wife had bought me for Christmas when she asked me what I'd wanted to read. Thinking of the Backlisted podcast I went for this.

Derek Raymond - A State Of Denmark

Forget about the fact that it was published in the seventies (after all 1984 is still a powerful read even though 1984 has long gone). It's a book that has suddenly found it's moment. A novel that describes an England (note not Scotland or Wales) under a dictatorship.

The key to this story is this. The England that this book describes does not exist. But in the aftermath of the Brexit vote it's not impossible. Jackboot politics fuelled by jackboot media exists. I'm not going to spoil it by explaining the plot but after you read this you'll understand.

It may not be the greatest book you'll ever read. But since the Brexit referendum it becomes one of the most important as it conjures up a vision that we may find ourselves sleepwalking into.

Until the next time.

Welsh Labour: Franchising It's Duties To Yorkshire

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today,

Well I'm back in Wales. At time of writing it's just gone eleven in the evening and outside the weather is pouring down with rain. But despite it I've missed in the past two weeks wife/daughter (joint first obviously) and then Wales. Aside from any family event or as in this case here my mother being unwell there is no reason for me to visit England again. And you know what? I don't want to.

But whilst as I think I've shown commitment to Wales yet again Welsh Labour seems to willingly bite the hands of the people who voted for them. Yet again have taken Welsh voters for granted.

This concerns the Welsh Select Committee in the House of Commons. Now Stephen Kinnock who was on this committee decided to step down from it and concentrate work on other committees. We'll park that decision for a moment. The point here is that it left a vacancy for Labour to fill.

And fill it they have.....with an MP with a Yorkshire constituency

Now this has normally happened on a ministerial level with the Conservatives. If they haven't enough Scottish/Welsh MPs they'd fill any vacancy with Scots/Welsh MPs who had English constituencies.

Here though is different (though some of them might be on the Labour shadow cabinet) Labour have twenty eight MPs to chose from. And yet the vacancy has been filled by an English Labour MP with a Yorkshire constituency.

Why? Because no Welsh Labour MP wanted to fill it.

Apparently Stephen Kinnock did not appear in any Welsh committee meeting in this parliament anyway. Such was his commitment to Welsh affairs.

Thelma Walker the MP who has stepped into the breach has said that Wales and Yorkshire have similar issues such as farming or Brexit for example.

Trouble with that statement is that whilst Wales and Yorkshire may be "similar", it does not mean they are the same. It betrays an ignorance of Welsh issues. But to Welsh Labour "What's the problem? She wants to do it." As if that's somehow alright.

Again the essential niceness of the Welsh people is being taken advantage of here. After all can you imagine the Scots putting up with this? What other nation has to put up with it's elected representatives not willing to represent it on a Parliamentary Committee?

Leaving aside their front bench spokespeople and opposition whips as well as four who are on the committee. The remaining eligible Welsh Labour MPs are apparently too busy on other committees to attend the Welsh one. Well somebody should get one of these Welsh Labour MPs and make him/her go on the Welsh committee instead.

It's a matter of principle. Difficult for Welsh Labour I know.

Until the next time.

Neath Castle: Conquered By The Union Jack ?

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today.

Well here I am in Essex. Getting ready to drive back to Wales on Monday when all of a sudden Welsh news makes me yet again want to put fingers to keyboard.

Neath Castle. A Castle in Neath, in Wales (let's be clear about this here) have a flagpole just in front of it. Which shows the Welsh flag being as it is in Wales.

But no longer apparently because it's been replaced by the Union Jack.

Why this has been done or whodunit is not completely clear.

Let's start with who. Unless blog villain Alun Cairns has turned into a practical joker ("What a lovable scamp he is! Can't wait to see what he does on April Fools Day!) then the only logical suspect is Neath Town Council.

Let's assume it is the council. Either as an organisation or an individual from the council making a decision for whatever reason. Then the first question is why? Why would a Welsh council be prepared not to proudly display a Welsh flag in front of a Welsh castle? Why is it that unless rugby is involved there seems a gradual piecemeal dismantling of Welsh identity in, wait for it, Wales?

There are two logical reasons for this: One Neath Town Council has been infiltrated by spies working for the aforementioned political toad that is Cairns.

Or....

You may remember a recent post where I discussed Dafydd Elis Thomas. Independent Assembly member but current minister for Tourism. A man who has moved from former leader of Plaid Cymru to advocating that Wales should promote itself as a principality as a marketing option.

Perhaps this, either from a request from the Elis Thomas' office or as a response to it, is the reason why.

But what this Welsh council has apparently forgotten is that they are a Welsh council. In life symbolism is everything. A Union Jack instead of the Welsh flag outside of Neath castle suggests a nation conquered. Not only that but the actions of the council gives an image of a nation that has surrendered and is collaborating with it's conquerors.

Until the next time.

On Books and Football : Talking About True Legend Brian Clough

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well as my mother is getting better there are less things that I have to do as nursemaid. What this means is that for the first time in a week and a half  I've had time to concentrate on reading.

So let's go to an ebook I'd actually finished Letters On Sweden,Norway and Denmark by Mary Wollstonecraft. There is a mystery about this book to me. Wikipedia stated that it was written by Mary Shelley. However the introduction suggested that it was in fact her mother.

I don't have the time or inclination to check. Personally I'm hoping that it was her writer who wrote this. If only because it was a dull read.

Dull though is a description that I wouldn't give to the next ebook that I've read Cloughie: Walking On Water:My Life.

For those of you too young to remember Brian Clough was a legendary (when the word meant something and wasn't used to describe chicken burger) manager of the seventies and eighties. Taking two unfashionable teams Derby County and Nottingham Forest to League and (with regard to Forest) European glory.

This book, published in 2002 and ghost written by John Sadler is an autobiography of this larger than life man.

Since I've started this blog I've read three books by football managers before this one. There was the amiable tome by current Cardiff City manager Neil Warnock, the stunningly badly written Sam Allardyce biography and the weird biography cum business management book by Carlo Ancelotti.

This book is not only better than those. It's one of  the best football manager autobiography I've ever read. On a par with John Lyall's Just Like My Dreams.

The start is the key. Clough is in hospital awaiting a liver transplant due to his alcoholism. He has left Nottingham Forest following relegation. As you read it there is a sense of a man knowng that time is not on his side. The brash Brian of legend is replaced by a more reflective one. Never for example have I read an autobiography where a manager acknowledges that he was partly (because of the effects of the alcoholism) responsible for a team's relegation. He also speaks about his love of the drink and his regret about his feud with former assistant Peter Taylor and later how he handled Justin Fashanu

(And yes I forgive him for his remarks on blog hero Trevor Brooking. After all Trev answered him on the pitch)

Throughout he is not afraid to mention his failures as well as his successes.

What it reminded me of was Johnny Cash's last song Hurt. A dying genius looking back on his life.

It is a biography but it's a credit to Clough and John Sadler that rt reads as if he's chatting to you. He will speak about a subject meander and then go back to the main subject of the chapter. And you know what? It works.

Of the three books I mentioned earlier, it puts to shame the Carlo Ancelotti bio/business thing. Clough's style would not have been approved by Carlo. But we know who, given the resources at his disposal has achieved more.

Possibly if you're too young to remember him then this biography may be a difficult to understand. for those of us old enough though it's a worthwhile read of a true legend.

It will make you sad. It will make you wistful. It will make you smile as you remember him.

The next ebook is Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser.

Until the next time.

Listening To West Ham United With My Mother Part 2

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well for the second time in three days am listening to West Ham United playing against minor blog villain Tottenham. I'm with my mother in Essex being nursemaid whilst she's recovering from a virus infection. She is thankfully better though for reasons I'm not going to explain I won't be able to return to Wales until Tuesday possibly Monday.

My mother is not that knowledgeable on football.

"Who are West Ham playing?" Tottenham I respond. She gives a look that suggests that she's heard of them but that's the amount of her

"Is Nobby Stiles still alive?"

"What's happened to the manager with Bobby Moore?" Ron Greenwood? I answer. No. After twenty questions it turned out she was talking about Harry Redknapp.

There was an early Spurs chance "Have they scored?" No.

Constant Spurs pressure. "Where's it being played?" asks my mother. "Wembley"
"Ah" she says "whilst the new stadium is being built".
She knew that?

There is the tone from the BBC Radio 5 Live commentary that suggests Tottenham are going to score soon. I hear the sound of "Bubbles" in the air. The summariser is Steve Claridge, an ex-footballer with more clubs than Jack Nicklaus, and whose book Tales From The Boot Camps I'd recommend.

It is goalless in the first half. 74% possession for Spurs but goalless. This is so far so good.

"Can you do bacon in a microwave?" asks my mother. With every day that passes she's asking for more things food wise. She fancies that for lunch tomorrow. Fine by me.

Second half seems dull when all of a sudden there's a penalty call for Spurs. Apparently it was a good call. No penalty....thankfully. Shortly another penalty call. Again rejected by the referee Mike Dean. A man Arsene Wenger doesn't like. Arsene Wenger: a man who proved the Grinch didn't try to steal Christmas, he was too busy managing Arsenal.

Then against the run of play Obiang scores for West Ham on twenty minutes . A brilliant goal to watch on radio apparently.The excitement portion of the commentary and the crowd increases. You don't think.....?

Thirteen minutes remaining. See the goal on Twitter.....wow!

Then Son scores for Tottenham. Apparently just as good as Obiang's. 1-1 then.

That's how the match finishes. Must admit I'd have taken that result at the start of the game.

My mother was asleep for most of the second half. At the end of the match she wakes up.

"Who won?"

I tell her it was a draw.

"At least they didn't lose".

True enough.

Until the next time.

Listening To Swansea City And West Ham United With My Mother

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

"Nothing to watch on the television?" says my mother.

I'm as regular readers will know in Essex in the moment as my mother is recovering from a viral infection. Good news is that she's much better and all she needs to get a bit more energy back. I'll be leaving for Wales on Saturday.

But to answer my mother's question no there's nothing on the television. So I'm listening to football instead. The match on BBC Radio Five Live was blog friend Swansea City vs minor blog villain  Tottenham whilst there would be reports on blog hero (alright flawed hero) West Ham vs blog I don't know how to describe them West Bromwich Albion.

Swansea City had the new managerial appointment of Carlos Carvalhal. Which you could only look and wonder "why him?" West Ham had David Moyes, a manager where my opinion has moved from "Why him? He's rubbish, He's the messiah and currently "Why him?"

After about twelve minutes Spurs score. Llorente.Ex Swansea player. Apparently it was offside but no one seemed to really care as it appeared that Tottenham were so good /Swansea so bad. Listening to ex Swansea and in terms of his performance as a Hammer the best ex Arsenal player to play for us John Hartson being depressed. Swansea seem to be outplayed and outmanoeuvred in the apparently teeming South Wales rain.

Half an hour comes news from London. West Bromwich score. Leading West Ham 1-0. So let's get this straight, the teams I'd want to win are losing....perhaps it's me.

My mother has nodded off. Wish I could.

As the first half ends Swansea gives its fans more hope than at it's beginning but as any West Ham fan will tell you there is a misery in hope.

Second half.  Do I know what happened in the beginning? No. Wife rings. Tell her that I'm going to come home on Saturday. Moment I pass her to my mother there's good news from the TV. West Ham has equalised...meanwhile I hear discussions of the colour of paint on rooms. Another sign that she's better is that long female conversations on the phone have returned.

My mother chats further with my wife. Apart from the odd bit of excitement there appears to be no action with the matches. More action with the conversation between mother and wife.....worries me when they are close. Somehow I feel it's going to end badly for me somehow.

"I agree with you" says my mother to the wife. Suggesting that she disagrees with me.

Thirty five minutes that call was. Mainly between two of the three women in my life (the other being my daughter I should stress).

Two minutes left in the game. Spurs score. That would be it for the Swans.

Then last minute...WEST HAM SCORE!!! Andy Carroll the player who can be irritating yet inspiring in equal measure is in his inspirational moment . Now you might argue that West Brom were tired having spent two matches in three days...and you would be right...but I'm afraid I don't care...BECAUSE WEST HAM WON!!!

"Spare a thought for Alan Pardew" says the BBC radio reporter....well.....no.

I know childish of me. But as I've said once before (when I wasn't this old) that although I'm a fifty four year old man football, and only football, has the power to turn me into a ten year old boy.

Match Of The Day is on tonight. My mother has gone to bed. Will be watching it now.

Until the next time.