There was a time not so very long ago when child actors in movies were nauseating and that includes Shirley Temple. They invariably over-acted, over emphasised or were alarmingly cute. Today the kids give every appearance of being not only totally natural and to the manner born but quite brilliant with it. What brought this to mind is that the other night I watched “Nanny McPhee” in which there are seven children all of whom could knock the socks off many an adult actor, in particular two of the young boys whose every glance, every inflection, every nuance was simply spot on. No other way to describe it. Boy, did they have it taped! Down to good direction? I don’t think so. I think the natural talent is just there. I go back to “Finding Neverland” and the boys in that, also brilliant, and a while further back the television drama “The Lost Boys” on the same subject. In that there is a scene with one of the boys playing checkers with Barrie and, if you want to see a superb scene of subtle flirtation and seductiveness just watch that boy’s performance. The kids in the Greek production of “The Island” are equally as amazing.
The night before that I watched Kenneth Branagh’s film “Sleuth.” I noted Mister Branagh’s has also taken to that ego trip of maintaining the film is his entire creation – A Kenneth Branagh Film. I really don’t know what to think about Kenneth. Is he as talented as one supposes or does he just have a lot of chutzpah? I remember thinking, when I saw it some time ago, that his “Frankenstein” was a mess and now what do I say about his “Sleuth”? Well, in the first place, apart from the title, it bears as much resemblance to Mister Schaffer’s play as “No Sex Please We’re British” does to “Hamlet.” It must have been a fairly inexpensive enterprise: one set and two actors. The set was meant to look hugely impressive but in my opinion was, like the interiors in Frankenstein, totally out of synch. As for the performances never have I seen that remarkable actor Michael Caine give a more stilted performance and Jude Law was giving his ‘isn’t this a lot of fun, aren’t I the cleverclogs RADA bit. The whole gay relationship in the original play was hinted at in the most bizarre fashion and shied away from. I give it half a star.
Agatha Christie might have been one of the most prolific and popular of authors but I’m not too sure about the quality of her actual writing. I have just finished reading her “Murder Is Easy” a fairly early work I think. I must confess I have never before read an Agatha Christie novel. I have been in a couple of her plays which, for actors, aren’t exactly a doddle. If you’re playing the inspector you’re quite liable to come in with a line from act three when you are still in act two and a lot of knitting has to go on to get back on track. Many years ago I was offered an audition for “The Mousetrap” the play that has run for a hundred years and need never come off as every five or six years there is a new generation of playgoers, in particular I believe the Japanese, so I trolled along to the Ambassadors to see the play and decided I didn’t think I wanted it. One summer I was offered three Agony plays in a row in North Wales and was very quick to turn that one down. Not only would I possibly not know what act I was in, but what play! The only reason I have just read this novel is that Douglas bought it on one of his boring journeys. I find nothing out of the ordinary in Miss Christie’s prose and some of her dialogue is excruciating – though true to the period I suppose. She seems to often include “an effeminate young man” in her books. Was he there as a red herring? Did she have a thing about it or was she merely one of the world’s innocents? As I mentioned above, hinted at and shied away from.
Oyez Oyez Oyez…There are going to be two cakes, one will be the traditional tiered number and the other William’s favourite chocolate confection. Now isn’t that just the most exciting news? Are you not thrilled to the marrow? Not one cake but two, golly gosh and forsooth!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Blog 276
There was a time not so very long ago when child actors in movies were nauseating and that includes Shirley Temple. They invariably over-acted, over emphasised or were alarmingly cute. Today the kids give every appearance of being not only totally natural and to the manner born but quite brilliant with it. What brought this to mind is that the other night I watched “Nanny McPhee” in which there are seven children all of whom could knock the socks off many an adult actor, in particular two of the young boys whose every glance, every inflection, every nuance was simply spot on. No other way to describe it. Boy, did they have it taped! Down to good direction? I don’t think so. I think the natural talent is just there. I go back to “Finding Neverland” and the boys in that, also brilliant, and a while further back the television drama “The Lost Boys” on the same subject. In that there is a scene with one of the boys playing checkers with Barrie and, if you want to see a superb scene of subtle flirtation and seductiveness just watch that boy’s performance. The kids in the Greek production of “The Island” are equally as amazing.
The night before that I watched Kenneth Branagh’s film “Sleuth.” I noted Mister Branagh’s has also taken to that ego trip of maintaining the film is his entire creation – A Kenneth Branagh Film. I really don’t know what to think about Kenneth. Is he as talented as one supposes or does he just have a lot of chutzpah? I remember thinking, when I saw it some time ago, that his “Frankenstein” was a mess and now what do I say about his “Sleuth”? Well, in the first place, apart from the title, it bears as much resemblance to Mister Schaffer’s play as “No Sex Please We’re British” does to “Hamlet.” It must have been a fairly inexpensive enterprise: one set and two actors. The set was meant to look hugely impressive but in my opinion was, like the interiors in Frankenstein, totally out of synch. As for the performances never have I seen that remarkable actor Michael Caine give a more stilted performance and Jude Law was giving his ‘isn’t this a lot of fun, aren’t I the cleverclogs RADA bit. The whole gay relationship in the original play was hinted at in the most bizarre fashion and shied away from. I give it half a star.
Agatha Christie might have been one of the most prolific and popular of authors but I’m not too sure about the quality of her actual writing. I have just finished reading her “Murder Is Easy” a fairly early work I think. I must confess I have never before read an Agatha Christie novel. I have been in a couple of her plays which, for actors, aren’t exactly a doddle. If you’re playing the inspector you’re quite liable to come in with a line from act three when you are still in act two and a lot of knitting has to go on to get back on track. Many years ago I was offered an audition for “The Mousetrap” the play that has run for a hundred years and need never come off as every five or six years there is a new generation of playgoers, in particular I believe the Japanese, so I trolled along to the Ambassadors to see the play and decided I didn’t think I wanted it. One summer I was offered three Agony plays in a row in North Wales and was very quick to turn that one down. Not only would I possibly not know what act I was in, but what play! The only reason I have just read this novel is that Douglas bought it on one of his boring journeys. I find nothing out of the ordinary in Miss Christie’s prose and some of her dialogue is excruciating – though true to the period I suppose. She seems to often include “an effeminate young man” in her books. Was he there as a red herring? Did she have a thing about it or was she merely one of the world’s innocents? As I mentioned above, hinted at and shied away from.
Oyez Oyez Oyez…There are going to be two cakes, one will be the traditional tiered number and the other William’s favourite chocolate confection. Now isn’t that just the most exciting news? Are you not thrilled to the marrow? Not one cake but two, golly gosh and forsooth!
There was a time not so very long ago when child actors in movies were nauseating and that includes Shirley Temple. They invariably over-acted, over emphasised or were alarmingly cute. Today the kids give every appearance of being not only totally natural and to the manner born but quite brilliant with it. What brought this to mind is that the other night I watched “Nanny McPhee” in which there are seven children all of whom could knock the socks off many an adult actor, in particular two of the young boys whose every glance, every inflection, every nuance was simply spot on. No other way to describe it. Boy, did they have it taped! Down to good direction? I don’t think so. I think the natural talent is just there. I go back to “Finding Neverland” and the boys in that, also brilliant, and a while further back the television drama “The Lost Boys” on the same subject. In that there is a scene with one of the boys playing checkers with Barrie and, if you want to see a superb scene of subtle flirtation and seductiveness just watch that boy’s performance. The kids in the Greek production of “The Island” are equally as amazing.
The night before that I watched Kenneth Branagh’s film “Sleuth.” I noted Mister Branagh’s has also taken to that ego trip of maintaining the film is his entire creation – A Kenneth Branagh Film. I really don’t know what to think about Kenneth. Is he as talented as one supposes or does he just have a lot of chutzpah? I remember thinking, when I saw it some time ago, that his “Frankenstein” was a mess and now what do I say about his “Sleuth”? Well, in the first place, apart from the title, it bears as much resemblance to Mister Schaffer’s play as “No Sex Please We’re British” does to “Hamlet.” It must have been a fairly inexpensive enterprise: one set and two actors. The set was meant to look hugely impressive but in my opinion was, like the interiors in Frankenstein, totally out of synch. As for the performances never have I seen that remarkable actor Michael Caine give a more stilted performance and Jude Law was giving his ‘isn’t this a lot of fun, aren’t I the cleverclogs RADA bit. The whole gay relationship in the original play was hinted at in the most bizarre fashion and shied away from. I give it half a star.
Agatha Christie might have been one of the most prolific and popular of authors but I’m not too sure about the quality of her actual writing. I have just finished reading her “Murder Is Easy” a fairly early work I think. I must confess I have never before read an Agatha Christie novel. I have been in a couple of her plays which, for actors, aren’t exactly a doddle. If you’re playing the inspector you’re quite liable to come in with a line from act three when you are still in act two and a lot of knitting has to go on to get back on track. Many years ago I was offered an audition for “The Mousetrap” the play that has run for a hundred years and need never come off as every five or six years there is a new generation of playgoers, in particular I believe the Japanese, so I trolled along to the Ambassadors to see the play and decided I didn’t think I wanted it. One summer I was offered three Agony plays in a row in North Wales and was very quick to turn that one down. Not only would I possibly not know what act I was in, but what play! The only reason I have just read this novel is that Douglas bought it on one of his boring journeys. I find nothing out of the ordinary in Miss Christie’s prose and some of her dialogue is excruciating – though true to the period I suppose. She seems to often include “an effeminate young man” in her books. Was he there as a red herring? Did she have a thing about it or was she merely one of the world’s innocents? As I mentioned above, hinted at and shied away from.
Oyez Oyez Oyez…There are going to be two cakes, one will be the traditional tiered number and the other William’s favourite chocolate confection. Now isn’t that just the most exciting news? Are you not thrilled to the marrow? Not one cake but two, golly gosh and forsooth!
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Even the BBC Music Magazine has had to get in on the act: in this month’s issue a quiz; ten musical items with the name of William or Kate! I gave them only a cursorily glance but probably the only one I could answer would have been Kiss Me Kate based on Taming Of The shrew. A Chinese manufacturer has boobed; its factory turning out commemorative mugs emblazoned with a picture of Kate and Harry instead of William. On the back, an inscription reads: 'The fairytale romantic union of all the centuries. 29th April 2011.' Luckily most of the other souvenir designers have got the facts straight. In recent weeks everything from fine china to sick bags have been available for purchase, but this week royal enthusiasts in Britain can get their hands on royal wedding fake nails featuring a miniature version of the couple's engagement photo! Whatever next? Though it seems as though a few souvenirs on the market may quite literally be getting out of hand, some royal watchers insist on taking a closer look at the future newlyweds' love life. Could Prince William and the future Princess Catherine be destined to have a rocky marriage? Should 'Waitie Katie' and her prince have waited a few more months and had a summer wedding? That's what one astrologist believes, after having drawn up Prince William and Kate Middleton's marriage birth chart. Reportedly, on 29 April 2011, the day planned for their royal wedding, 'nearly all of the planets are in disharmonious positions, which could mean a married life filled with challenges and misunderstandings, One assumes the horoscope writers of the British press will be more sympathetic or will history be repeating itself? Meanwhile, as best man, Harry has by tradition to give a speech and he has been getting advice from three comedians. Poor lad, not only does he have to speak in front of a crowd of royals, titled heads, lords, ladies and gentlemen but in front of the whole world, such is the miracle of television. I hope he gets a chance to visit the loo before he has to do this. He might be fearless on the battlefields of Iraq but this is something entirely different. Where have the years gone to? It seems only yesterday that they were boys taking part in their mother’s cortège. It seems like only yesterday that President Kennedy was shot and there were those pictures of his little son saluting his coffin as it went by. That son has himself been dead a few years. Time indeed waits for no man.
Spring is here. The clocks have gone forward an hour and the days have been warm and sunny. That’s not to say it won’t turn again. I seem to remember a couple of Aprils that were rather chilly. Hope not though. The firewood is almost finished. One morning I looked out the breakfast room windows to see the plum in full bloom, just a mass of white blossom. They hadn’t been there day before. Seems to happen over night.
Spring is here. The clocks have gone forward an hour and the days have been warm and sunny. That’s not to say it won’t turn again. I seem to remember a couple of Aprils that were rather chilly. Hope not though. The firewood is almost finished. One morning I looked out the breakfast room windows to see the plum in full bloom, just a mass of white blossom. They hadn’t been there day before. Seems to happen over night.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Experts predict that that £78000 dress will rocket in value once Kate becomes queen. This becomes more and more ridiculous. The whole royal marriage thing creating, as it seems to do, worldwide hysteria if not fever and lots of lovely lolly for some, evidently including Kate’s mother, becomes more and more bizarre with each passing day. Gosh, look! Buckingham Palace has released pictures of the coach the happy couple will be travelling in. Isn’t that just too too exciting? I hate to poop on the party but I seem to recall two previous royal weddings not all that long ago that were hailed the same way and ended in disaster. Andrew married Fergie – disaster. William’s father married Williams’s mother – disaster. Let’s hope it’s third time lucky, especially as it seems that no longer need a wife be of royal blood. In fact no one could be more of a commoner than our Kate and the bride’s mother sounds a right case. What does her maj make of the hoi polloi marrying into the Windsor family? Oh where is the blood of the Guelphin? Mind you, good old Henry VIII cast his net pretty wide when it came to marriage though were none of them quite as common as Kate? I’m not being disparaging here, just stating a fact. Debrett’s will never be the same again. What kind of a coat of arms will the College of Heralds dream up for our Kate? Oh why can they not be like Tone and Cherie who informs us (as though we needed to know) that her Tone still excites her in all ways! The mind simply boggles. Boggle boggle boggle it goes. The queen had to entertain and hobnob with these commoners as well when Tony was prime minister. Another who has proved that in this world dishonesty pays big dividends.
Continuing with the world’s madness, a little bit of sense has crept in with government abolishing some Quangos, but at what cost? £20million has already been paid out in Quango redundancies. The final cost of axing Quangos is not known! A request under the Freedom of Information Act has revealed almost 1,000 redundancies so far from 29 of the 481 public bodies being wound down. In one case The Crown Prosecution Service paid a single recipient £200,000. The government, which aims to save £1bn a year from the closures from 2014, said it was pleased with progress. It has announced that 192 Quangos - will be abolished and a further 289 changed by merging them with other groups. Among those being abolished entirely are the Youth Justice Board for England and Wales, the Animal Welfare Advisory Committee (pity about that one) and Cycling England. How could they do that? Cyclists up in arms, you’ve nothing to lose but your wheels. A spokesperson for the Department for Business, which is responsible for closing some Quangos, said the process was being carried out in a way that protected taxpayers' interests and provided value for money. I should coco. I should also mention that in writing about aid to Russia and China, aid is actually being withdrawn from sixteen countries in all. Is someone in Whitehall also showing a bit of sense?
South Somerset District Council (oh woe the ratepayers of South Somerset) have paid out £429000 to Philip Dolan, ex-chief executive who has taken voluntary retirement and who says he would like to work in local government again, once more no doubt getting a handsome payment when retiring. It’s not only divorced wives these days who run screaming with laughter all the way to the bank. The figure of Mister Dolan’s payment only came to light because the poor dear took umbrage at the rumour going around that he was actually paid £569000. Tell me, is it me who is slowly going mad?
Continuing with the world’s madness, a little bit of sense has crept in with government abolishing some Quangos, but at what cost? £20million has already been paid out in Quango redundancies. The final cost of axing Quangos is not known! A request under the Freedom of Information Act has revealed almost 1,000 redundancies so far from 29 of the 481 public bodies being wound down. In one case The Crown Prosecution Service paid a single recipient £200,000. The government, which aims to save £1bn a year from the closures from 2014, said it was pleased with progress. It has announced that 192 Quangos - will be abolished and a further 289 changed by merging them with other groups. Among those being abolished entirely are the Youth Justice Board for England and Wales, the Animal Welfare Advisory Committee (pity about that one) and Cycling England. How could they do that? Cyclists up in arms, you’ve nothing to lose but your wheels. A spokesperson for the Department for Business, which is responsible for closing some Quangos, said the process was being carried out in a way that protected taxpayers' interests and provided value for money. I should coco. I should also mention that in writing about aid to Russia and China, aid is actually being withdrawn from sixteen countries in all. Is someone in Whitehall also showing a bit of sense?
South Somerset District Council (oh woe the ratepayers of South Somerset) have paid out £429000 to Philip Dolan, ex-chief executive who has taken voluntary retirement and who says he would like to work in local government again, once more no doubt getting a handsome payment when retiring. It’s not only divorced wives these days who run screaming with laughter all the way to the bank. The figure of Mister Dolan’s payment only came to light because the poor dear took umbrage at the rumour going around that he was actually paid £569000. Tell me, is it me who is slowly going mad?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Its’ a mad mad world, my masters, and it seems to be getting madder by the minute. The virtually bankrupt UK where everyone is feeling the pinch and told to tighten their belts has decided to no longer send aid to two countries. Which two impoverished countries may they be? Somalia maybe or Zimbabwe? No it couldn’t be Zimbabwe because sanctions are in place there. The countries to which the UK has been sending aid but will do so no longer are Russia, awash with oil and gas and which has more multi-billionaires than anywhere else with the possible exception of America, and China which has the world’s most flourishing economy! Meanwhile in England the bankers, greedy beyond greed and totally immoral if not downright lunatic are still living in their same old world that bears no relation to reality; their world that almost brought the real world to its knees not so long ago and it would seem a lame duck government is loathe to take them on and do anything about it. The Royal Bank of Scotland last year lost £1.1billion, bailed out previously by the government (for government read taxpayer) who owns 84%. RBS, having made this enormous loss, why have more than a hundred senior executives each pocketed £1.16million? A team of five workers evidently share a pot of an astonishing £26million. The question I ask is, if the bank made such an enormous loss, why is it paying out these bonuses to staff that obviously are not up to their job? They will come up with the usual excuse that if they don’t pay up the staff will leave for richer fields. My answer to that is perhaps it would be better to let them go. Who wants them? Such has been the gravy train none of them will ever have to work again. Ellen Alemany, chief executive of RBS American arm with salary, bonus and pension payments has walked off with £7.5million. RBS’s boss picked up £7.7million. It is totally obscene. Ninety percent tax on these amounts would soon restore some sanity to this crazy world of banking. Shareholders in RBS are suffering badly. An investment of £100 in 2005 is now hardly worth £10. Other banks have not been backward in coming forward. 231 staff at Barclays for instance (also a big loss maker) receiving an average of £2.4million each last year. And while the favoured elite are scuttling off with their unjust rewards, the ordinary bank worker suffers. Lloyds has announced it is axing 570 jobs and outsourcing more than 560. Does the phrase bad taste in the mouth come to mind?
Continuing with this madness, someone has just forked out £78000 for the dress that Kate Middleton modelled in front of William when at university and what does it consist of? Is it high fashion? Has it any style? Is it worth seventy eight pence even? It’s tat, a piece of colourless see-through rag from tits to mid-thigh and would indicate that the purchaser is definitely out of his or her mind or is completely lacking in sense or taste. With that sort of money to spend so frivolously the buyer just has to be a British banker.
Continuing with this madness, someone has just forked out £78000 for the dress that Kate Middleton modelled in front of William when at university and what does it consist of? Is it high fashion? Has it any style? Is it worth seventy eight pence even? It’s tat, a piece of colourless see-through rag from tits to mid-thigh and would indicate that the purchaser is definitely out of his or her mind or is completely lacking in sense or taste. With that sort of money to spend so frivolously the buyer just has to be a British banker.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Just a couple of hundred yards from our house there is a little church in the grounds of which is the old village schoolroom. Until the other evening when we went to listen to a piano recital I had never been in there and what a fascinating room it is. It is about twenty feet wide and at least a hundred feet or thereabouts long and is like a small and fascinating museum. The walls are covered with old photographs of Cretan heroes and clergy long dead, letters, newspaper cuttings, old photographs and paintings, mainly of war scenes and there is even a small ancient cannon to go with them. It has the most beautiful traditional wooden ceiling and evidently it will be used for cultural events in the future. The only thing lacking is a loo! I managed to last but at my age it’s always a bit dodgy. The recital itself was most enjoyable especially as when I heard what it was going to consist of, that is a local composer playing his own compositions, I fervently wished I hadn’t come. As it turned out his compositions were most enjoyable, at times exciting, which only goes to prove one shouldn’t jump to hasty conclusions. And talking about composers I read at the Theatre Awards in London, Steven Sondheim has been given a special award for his contribution to theatre and well deserved too. I still can’t fathom why he allowed Tim Burton to make such a ghastly hash of his “Sweeney Todd” and “Sunday in the park with George” is the only work I have not been able to come to grips with. Our friend David Harwell has just directed it at his university, Alabama at Huntsville, and tells me it was standing ovation time, people in tears (for the right reason) and a big hit. I must be totally out of step. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time and probably not the last. I remember another American friend, Andy Leech, raving about it many years ago. And still on the subject of music, well writing and music, tomorrow afternoon at Wilton’s music Hall, the only one left in London, sees the launch of Christopher Beeching’s biography of George Leybourne, Champagne Charlie, titled “The heaviest of Swells” so hopefully it will be a big success. Wonderful that the launch should be in such a historic building. I ought to say that Chris has done so much intense research over the years and gone into such detail that this is only volume one. He now has to settle down to write volume two. It is going to be a week of Champagne Charlie at Wilton’s in fact. Apart from the launch there is a talk lined up, a slightly shortened version of the one man show I wrote for him a long time ago (script available on Amazon) and an evening of Music Hall to end with. It is most exciting; break a leg, Chris.
And finally I decided to put in the computer all the lyrics I have written over the years for various musicals and would you believe it came to 214 pages? All of it good, some of it though I say it myself in Oscar Wilde vein, brilliant. I sometimes look at it and think did I really write that? In tandem with Mister Truman Capote – I am a genius.
And finally I decided to put in the computer all the lyrics I have written over the years for various musicals and would you believe it came to 214 pages? All of it good, some of it though I say it myself in Oscar Wilde vein, brilliant. I sometimes look at it and think did I really write that? In tandem with Mister Truman Capote – I am a genius.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
‘I’m an alcoholic, I’m a drug addict, I’m homosexual, I’m a genius’ – Truman Capote.
Made me think of the line in “The History Boys” that creased me up when one of the kids says, ‘I’m gay, I’m Jewish, I live in Leeds, I’m fucked!’ I quote from memory but I think I am right.
And while on the subject I read in the paper that Steven Preddy and Martyn Hall, the gay couple who have already won cash from the Christian Bed and breakfast couple, Peter and Hazelmary Bull who turned them away from their hotel as their beliefs allowed only properly married couples to stay in double rooms, are appealing as they say their compensation of £1800 each was not enough and they want much higher compensation. Tch! Tch!
When I was first in London and working for Kemsley Newspapers the YMCA was one of my haunts, providing me with a gym, a swimming pool, a place to relax and socialise with acquaintances, if not friends, and inexpensive comestibles. (There’s a fancy word for you.) I also played rugby for their team and made my very first appearance on the London stage playing Hastings in the drama society’s production of ‘She Stoops To Conquer.’ Over the front door of the old Y that has long since disappeared there was a Biblical inscription which read ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’ Well, not being a god-fearing person I suppose I’m not all that wise and I’m afraid I hold no brief for the Christians even though, if this is not a contradiction, I do feel sorry for them. They never realised what a hornet’s nest they were setting about their ears when they turned this pair away. Anyway, Jesus did warn his followers they would receive some pretty rough treatment in this old world so the Bulls, not that they will, should feel pleased that they upheld their principles even though it has cost them dear and looks as though, if the pair get their way, it will be costing them more. Their argument is that the hoteliers got off too lightly because of their Christian beliefs. Really? How did they arrive at this conclusion and who the hell do they think they are self-righteously pursuing the Christian couple in this manner? Haven’t they already brought them to the verge of bankruptcy? Of course the action is costing them nothing as it is being funded by the ‘Equality and Human Rights Commission’ – i.e. the tax payers and quite naturally, and rightly in my opinion, it has raised protests. The guys say it is not about money. Really? If it is not about money what is it about? Surely, heavens to Betsy! It can’t be sheer vindictiveness, can it? Perish the thought. Again I say it, just who do these smirking, preening, self-righteous, smug (from their photograph) full of their own importance twats think they are. I hope they lose, not only their appeal but the original £1800 against which the Christians are appealing. Meanwhile on this see-saw it’s the lawyers as usual who make the bucks.
Made me think of the line in “The History Boys” that creased me up when one of the kids says, ‘I’m gay, I’m Jewish, I live in Leeds, I’m fucked!’ I quote from memory but I think I am right.
And while on the subject I read in the paper that Steven Preddy and Martyn Hall, the gay couple who have already won cash from the Christian Bed and breakfast couple, Peter and Hazelmary Bull who turned them away from their hotel as their beliefs allowed only properly married couples to stay in double rooms, are appealing as they say their compensation of £1800 each was not enough and they want much higher compensation. Tch! Tch!
When I was first in London and working for Kemsley Newspapers the YMCA was one of my haunts, providing me with a gym, a swimming pool, a place to relax and socialise with acquaintances, if not friends, and inexpensive comestibles. (There’s a fancy word for you.) I also played rugby for their team and made my very first appearance on the London stage playing Hastings in the drama society’s production of ‘She Stoops To Conquer.’ Over the front door of the old Y that has long since disappeared there was a Biblical inscription which read ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’ Well, not being a god-fearing person I suppose I’m not all that wise and I’m afraid I hold no brief for the Christians even though, if this is not a contradiction, I do feel sorry for them. They never realised what a hornet’s nest they were setting about their ears when they turned this pair away. Anyway, Jesus did warn his followers they would receive some pretty rough treatment in this old world so the Bulls, not that they will, should feel pleased that they upheld their principles even though it has cost them dear and looks as though, if the pair get their way, it will be costing them more. Their argument is that the hoteliers got off too lightly because of their Christian beliefs. Really? How did they arrive at this conclusion and who the hell do they think they are self-righteously pursuing the Christian couple in this manner? Haven’t they already brought them to the verge of bankruptcy? Of course the action is costing them nothing as it is being funded by the ‘Equality and Human Rights Commission’ – i.e. the tax payers and quite naturally, and rightly in my opinion, it has raised protests. The guys say it is not about money. Really? If it is not about money what is it about? Surely, heavens to Betsy! It can’t be sheer vindictiveness, can it? Perish the thought. Again I say it, just who do these smirking, preening, self-righteous, smug (from their photograph) full of their own importance twats think they are. I hope they lose, not only their appeal but the original £1800 against which the Christians are appealing. Meanwhile on this see-saw it’s the lawyers as usual who make the bucks.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Instead of some original writing to day I thought I would pass on this e-mail message received from a friend. It isn’t possible for every one of them to be whiter than white – whoops! Scrub that. It isn’t possible rather for every politician to be like Caesar’s wife but… Poor Caesar’s wife having to be virtuous or at least give the impression of being virtuous when Caesar was not only having it off with the Egyptian, he was known, so I believe, as “every man’s wife and every woman’s husband”. If there is no truth in this slanderous statement I am sure someone will set me right.
>
> >
> > This is unbelievable, but can you imagine working for a company that
> > has a little more than 600 employees and has the following employee
> > statistics.
> >
> >29 have been accused of spouse abuse
> >
> > 7 have been arrested for fraud
> >
> > 9 have been accused of writing bad cheques
> > 17 have directly or indirectly bankrupted at least 2 businesses
> >
> > 3 have done time for assault
> > 71 cannot get a credit card due to bad credit
> >
> > 14 have been arrested on drug-related charges
> > 8 have been arrested for shoplifting
> >
> > 21 are currently defendants in lawsuits
> > 84 have been arrested for drink driving in the last year and
> > collectively,
> > this year alone, they have cost the British tax payer £92,993,748 in
> > expenses!!!
> > Which organisation is this?
> >
> > It's the 635 members of the UK House of Commons,
> >
> >the same group that cranks out hundreds of new laws
> > each year designed to keep the rest of us in line.
> >
> > What a bunch of bastards we have running our country
> >
> > - it says it all...
> >
> > And just to top all that they probably have the best
> > 'corporate' pension scheme in the country!!
> >
> > If you agree that this is an appalling state of affairs,
> >
> > please pass it on to everyone you know
So I thought the easiest way of passing it on was by Blog.
Happy voting next time you vote!
>
> >
> > This is unbelievable, but can you imagine working for a company that
> > has a little more than 600 employees and has the following employee
> > statistics.
> >
> >29 have been accused of spouse abuse
> >
> > 7 have been arrested for fraud
> >
> > 9 have been accused of writing bad cheques
> > 17 have directly or indirectly bankrupted at least 2 businesses
> >
> > 3 have done time for assault
> > 71 cannot get a credit card due to bad credit
> >
> > 14 have been arrested on drug-related charges
> > 8 have been arrested for shoplifting
> >
> > 21 are currently defendants in lawsuits
> > 84 have been arrested for drink driving in the last year and
> > collectively,
> > this year alone, they have cost the British tax payer £92,993,748 in
> > expenses!!!
> > Which organisation is this?
> >
> > It's the 635 members of the UK House of Commons,
> >
> >the same group that cranks out hundreds of new laws
> > each year designed to keep the rest of us in line.
> >
> > What a bunch of bastards we have running our country
> >
> > - it says it all...
> >
> > And just to top all that they probably have the best
> > 'corporate' pension scheme in the country!!
> >
> > If you agree that this is an appalling state of affairs,
> >
> > please pass it on to everyone you know
So I thought the easiest way of passing it on was by Blog.
Happy voting next time you vote!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Blog 269
After a mild winter the start of spring came in not roaring like a lion but more like a sodden polar bear with an icy nose: howling blustery gales, rain, hail, a smattering of snow and freezing temperatures; fortunately not due to last. The White Mountains look beautiful with snow glinting on the peaks and a covering right down to the foothills which is not something you see all that often.
How does one sell books? Well, I suppose if you have the money to advertise you advertise. If you don’t have the money, too bad. Reviews? Yes, I have bought books on the strength of reviews I’ve read but what if your books aren’t reviewed? If you’re a VIP, a socialite, one of the beautiful people, a celeb you can advertise on TV in talk shows and be paid for it. If bookshops are selling your books you can do signings. If none of this applies, finally, I suppose, there’s word of mouth. I only discovered Karin Slaughter because a visitor left one of her first books here and I picked it up, enjoyed it, and have read five or six since then. The same for two of my very favourite fictional characters, both detectives: Commisario Guido Brunetti, Venetian detective in the Donna Leon books and Erst Fandorin, the detective in Imperial Russia by Boris Akunin. Haven’t got around to the Swede yet, ‘the girl with this, the girl with that the girl with the other,’ despite them being world best-sellers and filmed. Maybe if a holiday maker leaves one here I’ll get around to it.
I think I mentioned once before coming across a prolific author I had never heard of and in last week’s paper I read a review of a memoir ‘A Widow’s Story’ by Joyce Carol Oates. Now why should Joyce Carol Oates, who one has never heard of, get virtually a full page review for her memoirs? The title ‘A Widow’s Story’ is hardly likely to set the pulse racing. Well, it turns out she is an American author of more than fifty novels! (How, I ask myself, does one find the subject and plots for that number of books without repeating oneself? I know Agony Christie did it but the mind still boggles), thirty short story collections, countless essays, reviews, plays, novellas, and children’s books. That is certainly a lifetime’s achievement and one had never heard of her let alone read anything she has written.
Have just, after a suitable passage of time, reread ‘The Orton Diaries’ and got to thinking about this talented man whose life was so abruptly ended. What would he have produced if he had lived to now be in his seventies? When he died he was evidently on the verge of producing a fourth play after ‘What The Butler Saw’ which really shook up the town when produced. Ralph Richardson evidently hated being in it and felt he had made a grave mistake especially as Winston Churchill’s penis was supposed to be produced which he simply would not countenance under any circumstances. Orton evidently suggested to his agent that he change it to Kennedy’s penis which horrified her as Kennedy was ‘a martyr.’ I suppose the penis of any famous person would have caused outrage.
The other thought I had was did Joe Orton wish for his death? He new perfectly well the rage that could overtake Ken Halliwell. He had been physically attacked before and there were plenty of pretty obvious warnings in Halliwell’s behaviour and the things he said. In his diary entry for Friday 14th July 1967, the year of his death, Orton wrote, ‘Took a walk. Nobody around to pick up. Only a lot of disgusting old men. I shall be a disgusting old man myself one day, I thought, mournfully. Only I have high hopes of dying in my prime.’ High hopes of dying in his prime and his wish was granted when shortly afterwards Halliwell bludgeoned him to death with a hammer before committing suicide.
I have little doubt though that had that event not taken place, Orton would not have lived to a ripe old age. Such was his promiscuity there is every possibility he would have succumbed to HIV and an Aids’ related illness because that would have been at the beginning of the so-called gay plague when to pick up the virus was a certain death sentence.
After a mild winter the start of spring came in not roaring like a lion but more like a sodden polar bear with an icy nose: howling blustery gales, rain, hail, a smattering of snow and freezing temperatures; fortunately not due to last. The White Mountains look beautiful with snow glinting on the peaks and a covering right down to the foothills which is not something you see all that often.
How does one sell books? Well, I suppose if you have the money to advertise you advertise. If you don’t have the money, too bad. Reviews? Yes, I have bought books on the strength of reviews I’ve read but what if your books aren’t reviewed? If you’re a VIP, a socialite, one of the beautiful people, a celeb you can advertise on TV in talk shows and be paid for it. If bookshops are selling your books you can do signings. If none of this applies, finally, I suppose, there’s word of mouth. I only discovered Karin Slaughter because a visitor left one of her first books here and I picked it up, enjoyed it, and have read five or six since then. The same for two of my very favourite fictional characters, both detectives: Commisario Guido Brunetti, Venetian detective in the Donna Leon books and Erst Fandorin, the detective in Imperial Russia by Boris Akunin. Haven’t got around to the Swede yet, ‘the girl with this, the girl with that the girl with the other,’ despite them being world best-sellers and filmed. Maybe if a holiday maker leaves one here I’ll get around to it.
I think I mentioned once before coming across a prolific author I had never heard of and in last week’s paper I read a review of a memoir ‘A Widow’s Story’ by Joyce Carol Oates. Now why should Joyce Carol Oates, who one has never heard of, get virtually a full page review for her memoirs? The title ‘A Widow’s Story’ is hardly likely to set the pulse racing. Well, it turns out she is an American author of more than fifty novels! (How, I ask myself, does one find the subject and plots for that number of books without repeating oneself? I know Agony Christie did it but the mind still boggles), thirty short story collections, countless essays, reviews, plays, novellas, and children’s books. That is certainly a lifetime’s achievement and one had never heard of her let alone read anything she has written.
Have just, after a suitable passage of time, reread ‘The Orton Diaries’ and got to thinking about this talented man whose life was so abruptly ended. What would he have produced if he had lived to now be in his seventies? When he died he was evidently on the verge of producing a fourth play after ‘What The Butler Saw’ which really shook up the town when produced. Ralph Richardson evidently hated being in it and felt he had made a grave mistake especially as Winston Churchill’s penis was supposed to be produced which he simply would not countenance under any circumstances. Orton evidently suggested to his agent that he change it to Kennedy’s penis which horrified her as Kennedy was ‘a martyr.’ I suppose the penis of any famous person would have caused outrage.
The other thought I had was did Joe Orton wish for his death? He new perfectly well the rage that could overtake Ken Halliwell. He had been physically attacked before and there were plenty of pretty obvious warnings in Halliwell’s behaviour and the things he said. In his diary entry for Friday 14th July 1967, the year of his death, Orton wrote, ‘Took a walk. Nobody around to pick up. Only a lot of disgusting old men. I shall be a disgusting old man myself one day, I thought, mournfully. Only I have high hopes of dying in my prime.’ High hopes of dying in his prime and his wish was granted when shortly afterwards Halliwell bludgeoned him to death with a hammer before committing suicide.
I have little doubt though that had that event not taken place, Orton would not have lived to a ripe old age. Such was his promiscuity there is every possibility he would have succumbed to HIV and an Aids’ related illness because that would have been at the beginning of the so-called gay plague when to pick up the virus was a certain death sentence.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The internet is simply awash with pornography as I mentioned before when discussing the banning of books in American schools, but there is something much more horrible, so much so that I sometimes find myself wishing there was such a thing as censorship. Quite by accident I came across a site on the internet which was so anti-Semitic it was without doubt one of the ugliest entries I have ever read. It’s a long long time since I heard the word Kike though I notice Yid wasn’t used at all which was always the word of abuse I heard when I was young. Nigger got a few mentions as well of course when ugly comparisons were made. There are some truly frightening and sick people in this world including unfortunately some Jews themselves. Did you know there is an organisation in California called Jews for Jesus? and it’s not run by Christians; make of that what you will. All the old myths and clichés were bandied about and what struck me most forcibly was the feeling of fear in so much of this despicable diatribe. Hitler is alive and well and living in the United States. What do you make of someone who writes (in German) ‘I still have gas for Jewish youth.’ I am not so naïve as to believe the days of anti-Semitism or any kind of racism for that matter are over but I never realised just how virulent it can be. More fool I you might say and with reason. I decided to explore further by opening a site on racist jokes and this proved to be even sicker, especially when it came to the holocaust and jokes about gas etcetera. The nigger jokes were just as obscene many of them referring to hanging. Obviously the KKK is still alive and kicking or, if not, wishful thinking by all those white supremacists and rednecks from the boondocks that it was. All this got me to thinking of what Jews have meant in my life. I don’t want to come out with that hoary old saying about some of my best friends (and lovers) being Jews, true though that it is but, when I think about it, I have certainly been enriched by the influence of Jews, both personal friends and out in the big wide world. My first sort of best friend at school, Peter Lasker, was Jewish. My drama teacher, Pearle Celine of blessed memory, without whose generosity, encouragement, and coaching I may never have entered the theatre, was Jewish. All our friends in New York whose hospitality we have enjoyed over the years have been Jewish. Alas time has now robbed us of them. The person to whom I am indebted for my living and working for a while in the United States, Tom Arthur, is Jewish. It was one of the happiest periods of my life and among other things resulted in my making many friends and writing two plays, directing and acting in plays I would never have been given the chance to in the commercial world.
Music, a great part of my life, the list of Jewish composers, classical, modern, Broadway, jazz is endless. What enjoyment I get from their work. Same goes for Jewish musicians, Jewish writers, Jewish performers, Jewish artists, Jews in the theatre, film and television. When I think of it, it is impossible for me to be anti-Semitic; I would be in self denial. The world owes a great deal of gratitude to the Jews in many fields and it is much more frightening to consider someone like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his kind as the real threat in this world.
Music, a great part of my life, the list of Jewish composers, classical, modern, Broadway, jazz is endless. What enjoyment I get from their work. Same goes for Jewish musicians, Jewish writers, Jewish performers, Jewish artists, Jews in the theatre, film and television. When I think of it, it is impossible for me to be anti-Semitic; I would be in self denial. The world owes a great deal of gratitude to the Jews in many fields and it is much more frightening to consider someone like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his kind as the real threat in this world.
Friday, March 11, 2011
One of the symptoms of growing old is it becomes more and more difficult to keep the butter on the knife. Another symptom of growing old of course is that sex is no longer an imperative. For youth however it is another matter.
A university in the US state of Utah has suspended a star basketball player for having pre-marital sex with his girlfriend in violation of the school's strict "honour code". He was dropped after admitting the transgression to staff at Brigham Young University. More fool he, why would he do that? Guilty conscience or just plain stupid? His team, ranked third in the nation in college basketball, immediately lost against an unranked team. The BYU honour code requires students to be "chaste and virtuous". BYU officials have defended the decision after the news was first reported by the Salt Lake Tribune, saying that students are fully aware of the rigorous code, and often choose the school because of it. "We live this. This is who we are," said Tom Holmoe, BYU athletic director. The Utah-based university is run by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, known to most people I suppose as the Mormons. All students agree to abide by the honour code, which reflects Mormon values. And this is a sect that started off allowing a man to have multiple wives! The code includes prohibitions on drinking, smoking, drugs, tea, coffee, swearing and sex, as well as a commitment regularly to attend church. The student’s suspension has garnered headlines across the country because it comes at the beginning of the prestigious NCAA tournament - a nationwide contest for university teams, often called "March Madness". The BYU team, the Cougars, was set to enter as first seed. Reportedly the sinful transgressor has apologized to his teammates but I cannot help wondering how many of them are totally innocent. Not one lascivious thought, boys? Not one instance of top sheet tapping? Not one date with Mrs. Palmer and her five children? In America, honour codes are mostly associated with military academies, but a number of universities, including the University of Virginia and Princeton, also enforce them. (Enforce? Note that word – enforce.) I can understand religious institutions, particularly fundamentalist ones like Bob Jones, having an honour code but I’m really surprised to read that Virginia enforces one. The girls I saw walking about that campus on a lovely summer’s day were sex personified on two legs and the boys couldn’t keep their eyes off them. At Bob Jones in South Carolina the girls were much more discreet and modest in their attire and did not flaunt their sexuality in the same way but I should think at all these institutions it’s masturbation time morning, noon and night. You simply cannot chase out nature like this and expect her to meekly give in. Why is it that for Christians sex is top of the list when it comes to sinning? Indeed, is sexual desire a sin at all? If it is, why did God invent it? Oh, I know what the answer to that will be – there is a time and a place, the time being when you are married, the place being the marital bed, the reason not to enjoy but to procreate, and in the missionary position if you please, none of this Karma Sutra nonsense thank you. That is what God invented it for. Go forth and multiply, not go forth and enjoy this gift I have given you. And, as an afterthought, what punishment did the girlfriend receive for this little lapse in honour? After all, it does take two to tango.
PS: Twenty one priests in Philadelphia have been indicted on child abuse charges. Po po po as a Greek would say.
PPS: Blog delayed once more by power cut 7.30 to 4.20 – the third in less than two weeks and the coldest day yet!
A university in the US state of Utah has suspended a star basketball player for having pre-marital sex with his girlfriend in violation of the school's strict "honour code". He was dropped after admitting the transgression to staff at Brigham Young University. More fool he, why would he do that? Guilty conscience or just plain stupid? His team, ranked third in the nation in college basketball, immediately lost against an unranked team. The BYU honour code requires students to be "chaste and virtuous". BYU officials have defended the decision after the news was first reported by the Salt Lake Tribune, saying that students are fully aware of the rigorous code, and often choose the school because of it. "We live this. This is who we are," said Tom Holmoe, BYU athletic director. The Utah-based university is run by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, known to most people I suppose as the Mormons. All students agree to abide by the honour code, which reflects Mormon values. And this is a sect that started off allowing a man to have multiple wives! The code includes prohibitions on drinking, smoking, drugs, tea, coffee, swearing and sex, as well as a commitment regularly to attend church. The student’s suspension has garnered headlines across the country because it comes at the beginning of the prestigious NCAA tournament - a nationwide contest for university teams, often called "March Madness". The BYU team, the Cougars, was set to enter as first seed. Reportedly the sinful transgressor has apologized to his teammates but I cannot help wondering how many of them are totally innocent. Not one lascivious thought, boys? Not one instance of top sheet tapping? Not one date with Mrs. Palmer and her five children? In America, honour codes are mostly associated with military academies, but a number of universities, including the University of Virginia and Princeton, also enforce them. (Enforce? Note that word – enforce.) I can understand religious institutions, particularly fundamentalist ones like Bob Jones, having an honour code but I’m really surprised to read that Virginia enforces one. The girls I saw walking about that campus on a lovely summer’s day were sex personified on two legs and the boys couldn’t keep their eyes off them. At Bob Jones in South Carolina the girls were much more discreet and modest in their attire and did not flaunt their sexuality in the same way but I should think at all these institutions it’s masturbation time morning, noon and night. You simply cannot chase out nature like this and expect her to meekly give in. Why is it that for Christians sex is top of the list when it comes to sinning? Indeed, is sexual desire a sin at all? If it is, why did God invent it? Oh, I know what the answer to that will be – there is a time and a place, the time being when you are married, the place being the marital bed, the reason not to enjoy but to procreate, and in the missionary position if you please, none of this Karma Sutra nonsense thank you. That is what God invented it for. Go forth and multiply, not go forth and enjoy this gift I have given you. And, as an afterthought, what punishment did the girlfriend receive for this little lapse in honour? After all, it does take two to tango.
PS: Twenty one priests in Philadelphia have been indicted on child abuse charges. Po po po as a Greek would say.
PPS: Blog delayed once more by power cut 7.30 to 4.20 – the third in less than two weeks and the coldest day yet!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Carnival week: we’ve had the parades, naturally some of them rained on; the floats, the costumes, the singing, the dancing, joyful exuberance and it’s all over for another year. Every evening Television stations have beamed out hours and hours of it all, some of it pretty impressive stuff from the larger centres though nothing of course quite as big as Rio. Our little one in Kalyves is fun and fortunately this year was not rained upon. The kite flying on clean Monday was a bit wet though. I wonder if the kites managed to get up and stay up or, sodden, remain firmly earthbound. Now the festivities are all over, it’s good-bye to meat and the beginning of Lent and forty days of fasting, fasting that is for those to whom it matters. This is the time of year when the manufacturers and purveyors of halva have a field day. I remember going to a supermarket in Stoke Newington many years ago and buying as a treat an ounce or two of very expensive halva whereas here it is purchased by the kilo, dates too that in England were a Christmas luxury that came in fancy boxes complete with toothpicks so you didn’t get sticky fingers.
With the almost continuous rain and grey skies we’ve had for the past week the lobby is flooded and the interior of the car is a swimming pool. Without some warm sunshine it ain’t going to dry out. Why the car is flooded I really don’t know except for the fact that she’s an old girl now and obviously leaking in places that should be watertight. (It comes to all of us in old age does it not?) There seems to be no logic in the Greek way of thinking. The government wants people to give up their old cars and buy new ones so what do they do? They bump up the tax on old cars as an incentive to get rid of them and so make it that little bit more difficult to afford a new one.
For the past weeks (how many weeks?) This house has been a hive of activity. Chris busy on his stained glass windows and he and Douglas both beavering away preparing for the launch in Wilton’s Music Hall, London, on the 22nd of this month of Chris’s biography of George Leybourne titled “The Heaviest of Swells” (available on Amazon). It’s going to be a sort of Leybourne few days as not only is there going to be the book launch but he will be performing a shortened version of the show I wrote for him “Champagne Charlie (playscript available on Amazon) so many years ago, and this will be followed up by a music hall bill the BBC are interviewing him for and filming. If it is anything like the preparations that have been going on they’re going to come back totally exhausted but I’m sure it will be worth it. Chris is as happy as a sandboy rehearsing. He was born to perform and will be a performer till his dying day whereas with me there came a time when it no longer had appeal. Locally he has twice given a talk with music and illustrations which seemed much appreciated. They leave for England on the sixteenth and the house is going to be very quiet for the following fortnight. Wilton’s is a wonderful venue for the launch, being the last surviving music hall in London and Leybourne performed there on that date 131 years ago.
www.heaviestofswells.com
Wilton’s website is www.wiltons.org.uk with all the details.
With the almost continuous rain and grey skies we’ve had for the past week the lobby is flooded and the interior of the car is a swimming pool. Without some warm sunshine it ain’t going to dry out. Why the car is flooded I really don’t know except for the fact that she’s an old girl now and obviously leaking in places that should be watertight. (It comes to all of us in old age does it not?) There seems to be no logic in the Greek way of thinking. The government wants people to give up their old cars and buy new ones so what do they do? They bump up the tax on old cars as an incentive to get rid of them and so make it that little bit more difficult to afford a new one.
For the past weeks (how many weeks?) This house has been a hive of activity. Chris busy on his stained glass windows and he and Douglas both beavering away preparing for the launch in Wilton’s Music Hall, London, on the 22nd of this month of Chris’s biography of George Leybourne titled “The Heaviest of Swells” (available on Amazon). It’s going to be a sort of Leybourne few days as not only is there going to be the book launch but he will be performing a shortened version of the show I wrote for him “Champagne Charlie (playscript available on Amazon) so many years ago, and this will be followed up by a music hall bill the BBC are interviewing him for and filming. If it is anything like the preparations that have been going on they’re going to come back totally exhausted but I’m sure it will be worth it. Chris is as happy as a sandboy rehearsing. He was born to perform and will be a performer till his dying day whereas with me there came a time when it no longer had appeal. Locally he has twice given a talk with music and illustrations which seemed much appreciated. They leave for England on the sixteenth and the house is going to be very quiet for the following fortnight. Wilton’s is a wonderful venue for the launch, being the last surviving music hall in London and Leybourne performed there on that date 131 years ago.
www.heaviestofswells.com
Wilton’s website is www.wiltons.org.uk with all the details.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Lewis has taken me to task for not including Truman Capote in my list of southern writers and, yes, I admit the omission. I thought about it for quite a while and decided I am not familiar enough with his work. I have read “Other Rooms” and “In Cold Blood” but nothing else. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” I only know as a movie and I haven’t read his short stories. As for Gore Vidal, who I met in London many years ago, who I have always admired and for whom I cooked a curry, can one really consider him a southerner? He was born in West Point and, although he spent much time on his grandfather’s estate in Virginia I still don’t think of him as being a southerner unless one takes into account a southern heritage. Washington DC was (is?) his stomping ground and like many Americans he is particularly fond of Italy but that’s by the by.
Rosa Angela – When we first arrived in Crete we were obliged (actually as EU citizens we weren’t obliged at all but the Greeks took a different point of view and still do) to be issued with resident’s permits so, complete with passport and the usual four photographs, up the hill to the old police station we went. Now for those of you who have never had dealings with Greek bureaucracy I need to point out that, apart from any number of official rubber stamps, it is necessary on any kind of form to have both father’s and mother’s names so, when it came to my father’s name, the policeman behind the desk was totally baffled by Llewellyn. It was the double L’s that got him. I explained that it was a Welsh name but I don’t think that cleared up the matter, nevertheless Llewellyn was duly written down with some humphing and muttering. So now it came to my mother’s name – Rosa Angela. He looked up from his form and there was a long silence. Oh, dear, I thought, what now? He took a deep breath and said “Rosa Angela”…pause, different inflection, almost dreamily… “Rosa Angela”… pause, and now almost singing it, “Rosa Angela” and made out my permit for five years instead of the normal one. We still carry a resident’s permit even after fourteen years and recently had them renewed; a business that took forever as the young policeman in the new police station was not really interested and kept putting it off, especially as foreigners are now to be found in abundance and it was an awful lot of form filling. The village of Gavalohori some time ago was renamed by the Cretans Anglohori. It was a bit like a comedy sketch in a way the number of times we appeared in his office and he was suffering a bad cold at the time so the sniffles never stopped. These new permits don’t have a time limit so, unless we lose one, don’t ever have to be renewed.
All Greeks carry an identity card and I don’t know why the English are so up in arms on the subject, apart from the possible cost of course. God, a British passport these days costs as much as a flight to some exotic place. I suppose in a way it’s the same syndrome as the Americans who are anti-healthcare. The permit of course doesn’t turn you into a naturalised Greek – that will never happen – but it does somehow make you feel more a part of the community and lost without it. When I had the previous one stolen in Athens I felt quite denuded until the new one was issued.
Rosa Angela – When we first arrived in Crete we were obliged (actually as EU citizens we weren’t obliged at all but the Greeks took a different point of view and still do) to be issued with resident’s permits so, complete with passport and the usual four photographs, up the hill to the old police station we went. Now for those of you who have never had dealings with Greek bureaucracy I need to point out that, apart from any number of official rubber stamps, it is necessary on any kind of form to have both father’s and mother’s names so, when it came to my father’s name, the policeman behind the desk was totally baffled by Llewellyn. It was the double L’s that got him. I explained that it was a Welsh name but I don’t think that cleared up the matter, nevertheless Llewellyn was duly written down with some humphing and muttering. So now it came to my mother’s name – Rosa Angela. He looked up from his form and there was a long silence. Oh, dear, I thought, what now? He took a deep breath and said “Rosa Angela”…pause, different inflection, almost dreamily… “Rosa Angela”… pause, and now almost singing it, “Rosa Angela” and made out my permit for five years instead of the normal one. We still carry a resident’s permit even after fourteen years and recently had them renewed; a business that took forever as the young policeman in the new police station was not really interested and kept putting it off, especially as foreigners are now to be found in abundance and it was an awful lot of form filling. The village of Gavalohori some time ago was renamed by the Cretans Anglohori. It was a bit like a comedy sketch in a way the number of times we appeared in his office and he was suffering a bad cold at the time so the sniffles never stopped. These new permits don’t have a time limit so, unless we lose one, don’t ever have to be renewed.
All Greeks carry an identity card and I don’t know why the English are so up in arms on the subject, apart from the possible cost of course. God, a British passport these days costs as much as a flight to some exotic place. I suppose in a way it’s the same syndrome as the Americans who are anti-healthcare. The permit of course doesn’t turn you into a naturalised Greek – that will never happen – but it does somehow make you feel more a part of the community and lost without it. When I had the previous one stolen in Athens I felt quite denuded until the new one was issued.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Lying in bed the other night waiting to drop off to sleep I got to wondering about my own boyhood. Like Ron Harris could I write 32 short stories about it? Maybe it was Ron’s book that started me off on this train of thought; maybe it was three days and nights of heavy incessant rain keeping me awake a little longer as I could hear it thundering on my bathroom roof. Whatever the cause, in particular I was thinking of school holidays in Port Elizabeth with Italian uncles, aunts, and cousins, and wondering if I made the most of them. Much much too late now of course to be thinking of the lost opportunities of youth and the saying that youth is wasted on the young is only too true. If only we knew then what we know now but that would create its own difficulties of course. It was my grandfather who was Italian and who emigrated to South Africa so, apart from my Aunt Rosina, you could say the others were really South Africans; Italian South Africans I suppose if one was to go along with the modern ridiculous American trend in ethnicity. Grandfather Bartolo was born in Rizzo but Reggio Calabria was the family home and there are cousins who still live there. Aunt Rosina was Italian, orphaned in a horrific earthquake in Reggio the family took her in and Uncle Frank went back to Italy to marry her. My cousins then were Josephina, Bartolo, Umberto, Jillorma and Vincenzo and I had another cousin, Tony, who was the son of Uncle Vincent and Aunt Sally. Aunt Sally was a da Costa before marriage, a Portuguese name. She was a diabetic and I always used to think she was so brave giving herself that injection every day. Two more cousins, Marie Rose and Joan and were the daughters of Auntie Grace but they were older than I and I really didn’t have much to do with them. The family, with the exception of Uncle Nin and cousin Vincent immigrated to Australia as, being of southern Italian stock, they did tend to be somewhat dark of complexion and were evidently sometimes being taken for “coloured” (or so I have been told) which in apartheid South Africa could prove at times somewhat uncomfortable to say the least. Uncle Nin didn’t go to Australia with the rest of them as, strange though it may seem, he couldn’t take hot weather and ended up in Bournemouth. He and my Auntie Marie were the only members of the family not to be married, which brings me to the youngest - my mother. Aunt Marie was one of the handsomest of women but my mother was the most beautiful and I am not saying that simply because she was my mother. Looking at a photograph of her aged sixteen she was most aptly named Rosa Angela.
My grandmother, who definitely looked Italian, in fact there could even have been a touch of the tar brush in her features, was in fact English. I discovered this fairly recently on a trip to Italy. I had always wanted to see the family home, the “Casa Mutilati” in Reggio ever since as a child Aunt Marie told me about it. Would it be anything like I imagined down through the years? No! It was not a house as I had always thought but an apartment block and the Paino’s home is a flat therein. One cousin, Giuseppe was still there when Douglas and I visited. I don’t know if he is still there now. We haven’t been in touch for a while and he is into his eighties with one sister even older but she has a flat of her own elsewhere. My grandmother’s name was Maria Charlotte, nee Brockman and her family came from Deal in Kent, her father being a James Brockman. She died in 1939 shortly before my eighth birthday and left a very respectable sum of £1553.15.5 to be divided equally between the kids. All six inherited £91.13.4 each from the first part of the estate and my mother got £113.2.0 from the residue. The others all got £113.2.1 but 5 doesn’t stretch to 6 so mom missed out on that last penny. Was it because she was the youngest? Who knows?
I remember arriving at 38 Bullen Street, South End for our holiday in Uncle Vincent’s ancient Chevy, lots of weeping and wailing, gnashing of teeth, renting of clothes, sackcloth and ashes (wild exaggeration of course, couldn’t help it. No disrespect meant.) and my being ushered into Aunt Rosina’s kitchen while my weeping mother went to say her farewells to granny in the seldom used best front room. This was my first experience of death and so I never got to meet my maternal grandmother which was a great shame. From the tales I’ve heard tell, she was a feisty lady. Grandpa Bartolo died in 1927, four years before I was born.
My grandmother, who definitely looked Italian, in fact there could even have been a touch of the tar brush in her features, was in fact English. I discovered this fairly recently on a trip to Italy. I had always wanted to see the family home, the “Casa Mutilati” in Reggio ever since as a child Aunt Marie told me about it. Would it be anything like I imagined down through the years? No! It was not a house as I had always thought but an apartment block and the Paino’s home is a flat therein. One cousin, Giuseppe was still there when Douglas and I visited. I don’t know if he is still there now. We haven’t been in touch for a while and he is into his eighties with one sister even older but she has a flat of her own elsewhere. My grandmother’s name was Maria Charlotte, nee Brockman and her family came from Deal in Kent, her father being a James Brockman. She died in 1939 shortly before my eighth birthday and left a very respectable sum of £1553.15.5 to be divided equally between the kids. All six inherited £91.13.4 each from the first part of the estate and my mother got £113.2.0 from the residue. The others all got £113.2.1 but 5 doesn’t stretch to 6 so mom missed out on that last penny. Was it because she was the youngest? Who knows?
I remember arriving at 38 Bullen Street, South End for our holiday in Uncle Vincent’s ancient Chevy, lots of weeping and wailing, gnashing of teeth, renting of clothes, sackcloth and ashes (wild exaggeration of course, couldn’t help it. No disrespect meant.) and my being ushered into Aunt Rosina’s kitchen while my weeping mother went to say her farewells to granny in the seldom used best front room. This was my first experience of death and so I never got to meet my maternal grandmother which was a great shame. From the tales I’ve heard tell, she was a feisty lady. Grandpa Bartolo died in 1927, four years before I was born.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
There is no copyright in titles and it would seem finding original titles is very much a lost cause. No one as yet, as far as I know, has thought of using ‘No Official Umbrella’ but there is no way to stop someone using it if they so wish. Many years ago the first stage play I had produced was called ‘Oh, Brother!’ Shortly afterwards the BBC came out with a comedy television series set in a monastery and starring Derek Nimmo, he of the prehensile toes, and naturally it was called ‘Oh Brother!’ Later I was asked to write a screenplay I titled ‘Speed.’ I originally wanted to call it ‘Torque’ but that was fine written down, not so good when spoken – was it ‘talk?’ I also liked the title ‘Images’ if pronounced the French way (so romantic) but who would know that? People would simply say images. Anyway the film never saw the light of day but shortly afterwards a film called ‘Speed came out of Hollywood.’
I can’t seem to come up with original titles for the Thornton King books, not for the first three anyway, apt though each one may be. ‘Dead On Time?’ there are at least half a dozen, ‘Just in Case?’ another with that title published shortly afterwards, ‘Dead On Target?’ Don’t know about this one but I’ll bet my bottom dollar if it isn’t already used it soon will be. I don’t think anyone will come up with another ‘The Cinelli Vases.’ Think I must be safe with that one, but I notice on Amazon my novel ‘Angel’ has a companion title. When I wrote it there were lots of titles with the word ‘Angel’ in them but not, as far as we could find, one using just that single word. Well there is one now. Hey-ho, think I’ll write a book called ‘Gone With The Wind.’ Oh yes, ‘Blood River’ was another title I wanted to use and that has also seen the light of day.
UK copyright laws to be reviewed says David Cameron, “to make them fit for the internet age.” He said the law could be relaxed to allow greater use of copyright material without the owner's permission!!!!!!!! Note that will you? Without the owner’s permission, the owner’s permission being exactly what the copyright law protects.
Speaking at an event in the East End of London, at which he announced a series of investments by IT giants including Facebook and Google, Mr Cameron said the founders of Google had told the government they could not have started their company in Britain. He said: "The service they provide depends on taking a snapshot of all the content on the internet at any one time and they feel our copyright system is not as friendly to this sort of innovation as it is in the United States. "Over there, they have what are called 'fair-use' provisions, which some people believe gives companies more breathing space to create new products and services. So I can announce today that we are reviewing our IP laws, to see if we can make them fit for the internet age. I want to encourage the sort of creative innovation that exists in America." The six month review will look at what the UK can learn from US rules on the use of copyright material without the rights holder's permission. It will also look at removing some of the potential barriers that stand in the way of new internet-based business models, such as the cost of obtaining permission from rights holders and the cost and complexity of enforcing intellectual property rights in the UK and internationally.
The announcement was welcomed by internet freedom campaigners, who said the government had to redress the balance after the controversial Digital Economy Bill, which strengthens the ability of copyright holders to block access to websites hosting illegal content. It is hoped the government would introduce "basic user rights" so that people could make personal copies of music and videos, or transfer them from one format to another, without fear of prosecution. Wrong.
But the Publishers Association, which represents some of the big names in book, audio and digital publishing in the UK, sounded a note of caution. "The immutable fact remains that the people who generate and invest in creativity deserve and need to be rewarded." Right.
For someone who is fighting a giant corporation, Twentieth Century Fox, for breach of his copyright and in consequence non-payment of royalties, I am not sure this is not good news at all.
I can’t seem to come up with original titles for the Thornton King books, not for the first three anyway, apt though each one may be. ‘Dead On Time?’ there are at least half a dozen, ‘Just in Case?’ another with that title published shortly afterwards, ‘Dead On Target?’ Don’t know about this one but I’ll bet my bottom dollar if it isn’t already used it soon will be. I don’t think anyone will come up with another ‘The Cinelli Vases.’ Think I must be safe with that one, but I notice on Amazon my novel ‘Angel’ has a companion title. When I wrote it there were lots of titles with the word ‘Angel’ in them but not, as far as we could find, one using just that single word. Well there is one now. Hey-ho, think I’ll write a book called ‘Gone With The Wind.’ Oh yes, ‘Blood River’ was another title I wanted to use and that has also seen the light of day.
UK copyright laws to be reviewed says David Cameron, “to make them fit for the internet age.” He said the law could be relaxed to allow greater use of copyright material without the owner's permission!!!!!!!! Note that will you? Without the owner’s permission, the owner’s permission being exactly what the copyright law protects.
Speaking at an event in the East End of London, at which he announced a series of investments by IT giants including Facebook and Google, Mr Cameron said the founders of Google had told the government they could not have started their company in Britain. He said: "The service they provide depends on taking a snapshot of all the content on the internet at any one time and they feel our copyright system is not as friendly to this sort of innovation as it is in the United States. "Over there, they have what are called 'fair-use' provisions, which some people believe gives companies more breathing space to create new products and services. So I can announce today that we are reviewing our IP laws, to see if we can make them fit for the internet age. I want to encourage the sort of creative innovation that exists in America." The six month review will look at what the UK can learn from US rules on the use of copyright material without the rights holder's permission. It will also look at removing some of the potential barriers that stand in the way of new internet-based business models, such as the cost of obtaining permission from rights holders and the cost and complexity of enforcing intellectual property rights in the UK and internationally.
The announcement was welcomed by internet freedom campaigners, who said the government had to redress the balance after the controversial Digital Economy Bill, which strengthens the ability of copyright holders to block access to websites hosting illegal content. It is hoped the government would introduce "basic user rights" so that people could make personal copies of music and videos, or transfer them from one format to another, without fear of prosecution. Wrong.
But the Publishers Association, which represents some of the big names in book, audio and digital publishing in the UK, sounded a note of caution. "The immutable fact remains that the people who generate and invest in creativity deserve and need to be rewarded." Right.
For someone who is fighting a giant corporation, Twentieth Century Fox, for breach of his copyright and in consequence non-payment of royalties, I am not sure this is not good news at all.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
“Oh my darling, my darling, my darling! Please hear me. The only one I have ever loved at all, the only one who has ever loved me….Oh, Tom, my darling! Don’t forget it. If you know how I love you, how I have always loved you in my jealous morbid moods, in all my exacting selfishness. Oh Tom, my darling, my darling! Can’t you say one word, one little word before we part?”
Al Jolson might have been willing to walk a million miles for one of his mammee’s smiles but, if I had it, I would bet a million dollars this book will never be found in any school library. The quote is from a nineteenth century American novel by one Frederic Loring and the picture he paints is not one of a girl saying good-bye to her sweetheart but a union soldier over the form of his dying friend. Interesting, no?
These musings all started off with Mark Twain but I continue with writers and writing. To start with I cannot understand parents banning books when the internet is simply awash with easily accessible pornography and on film and television kids are subjected to the most brutal violence, pretty explicit sex scenes and, after the gate was opened and the four letter word allowed to escape, directors have used it to such an extent in movies that, maybe they don’t realise it, but it has lost all meaning and dramatic value and is irredeemingly boring. I am wondering if it is reality that American parents are afraid of, as the Nazis were afraid of books they didn’t approve of, or which could disseminate dangerous ideas, and so burnt them. Watching film or television is a shared experience, reading a book is a solitary one to one and so much more intimate.
I’m afraid I am not up to scratch as far as “serious” modern American authors are concerned. All my American reading these days seems to have been concentrated on thriller writers like Karen Slaughter, but I have just read a book that is a little masterpiece by an author as yet unknown. It is being published by DCG and is called “Mister Boy – Tales of a Southern Gentleman” by Ron Harris. It consists of 32 short stories all based on fact, all about growing up in rural Alabama and it is a gem. It is written with such charm, such style it speaks directly to you: full of wit, of observation, of nostalgia for a lost more innocent world and, yes, of love; a world before computers, mobile phones, I’pods and any other modern paraphernalia that have become the norm. Maybe I took to it so much because there were reminders of my own boyhood growing up in South Africa in the thirties and forties, the days before television when kids had to make their own amusement, find their own way in a world that at times could be quite mystifying if not alarming. Reading this book I am reminded of other southern writes of note; Carson McCullers, Eudora Welty, Beth Henley, yes Tennessee Williams, Thomas Dixon Jnr., William Faulkner and more. How come the south produces so may wonderfully gifted writers? Now, as far as I am concerned, you can add the name Ron Harris to the list. I devoutly hope this book when it is in circulation will not be banned in America’s schools even though three or four stories involve the adventures of the pee-pee! If junior America can turn away from the computer screen just for a while, “Mister Boy” will give them a wonderful insight into a lost age.
Al Jolson might have been willing to walk a million miles for one of his mammee’s smiles but, if I had it, I would bet a million dollars this book will never be found in any school library. The quote is from a nineteenth century American novel by one Frederic Loring and the picture he paints is not one of a girl saying good-bye to her sweetheart but a union soldier over the form of his dying friend. Interesting, no?
These musings all started off with Mark Twain but I continue with writers and writing. To start with I cannot understand parents banning books when the internet is simply awash with easily accessible pornography and on film and television kids are subjected to the most brutal violence, pretty explicit sex scenes and, after the gate was opened and the four letter word allowed to escape, directors have used it to such an extent in movies that, maybe they don’t realise it, but it has lost all meaning and dramatic value and is irredeemingly boring. I am wondering if it is reality that American parents are afraid of, as the Nazis were afraid of books they didn’t approve of, or which could disseminate dangerous ideas, and so burnt them. Watching film or television is a shared experience, reading a book is a solitary one to one and so much more intimate.
I’m afraid I am not up to scratch as far as “serious” modern American authors are concerned. All my American reading these days seems to have been concentrated on thriller writers like Karen Slaughter, but I have just read a book that is a little masterpiece by an author as yet unknown. It is being published by DCG and is called “Mister Boy – Tales of a Southern Gentleman” by Ron Harris. It consists of 32 short stories all based on fact, all about growing up in rural Alabama and it is a gem. It is written with such charm, such style it speaks directly to you: full of wit, of observation, of nostalgia for a lost more innocent world and, yes, of love; a world before computers, mobile phones, I’pods and any other modern paraphernalia that have become the norm. Maybe I took to it so much because there were reminders of my own boyhood growing up in South Africa in the thirties and forties, the days before television when kids had to make their own amusement, find their own way in a world that at times could be quite mystifying if not alarming. Reading this book I am reminded of other southern writes of note; Carson McCullers, Eudora Welty, Beth Henley, yes Tennessee Williams, Thomas Dixon Jnr., William Faulkner and more. How come the south produces so may wonderfully gifted writers? Now, as far as I am concerned, you can add the name Ron Harris to the list. I devoutly hope this book when it is in circulation will not be banned in America’s schools even though three or four stories involve the adventures of the pee-pee! If junior America can turn away from the computer screen just for a while, “Mister Boy” will give them a wonderful insight into a lost age.
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