WEDNESDAY 21st JULY ‘10 Stand by your beds – we are on Sky World! The real meaning of this has not come home to me yet, but the transition (to use the new ‘in’ word) has been made, thanks to my daughter and Nick Bell, he of the delightful one-time post office in Upton. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Secure in the knowledge that I have Mr. Rupert Murdoch’s support I can now speak freely on subjects hitherto ignored and will take advantage of this. You betcha! Regular readers will note my style is suddenly more punchy – the word ‘betcha!’ is not a word I generally use. Anyway, my transferring from BT to Sky has saved me money and given me fee telephone calls all over the place. And I’ve the fastest Internet in the world. Nja nja ni nja na’ |
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TUESDAY 20th JULY ‘10 A week of tousled activity involving trips to London on consecutive days, and using both car and coach. It even involved a trip to see Peter Knight, agent to the Stars, and culminated with a meal in a luxury restaurant of his choosing. Holy mackerel! Such food is seldom seen. One might assume that something big was happening. That possibly the national newspaper that has been holding on to our comic strip for eighteen months had come to a decision – but no! Nothing so life changing as that. We were, in fact, preparing the strip to be shown to other newspapers. This takes up time and money. It should have been done a year ago. Whilst in the Metropolis I put myself about a bit, attending this function and that function (lots of chandeliers and intellectual chit chat) and enjoyed myself no end. I even wore a suit at times. Crazy,non? P.S. Remind me never to travel by coach to London on a Saturday morning. Horrendous. |
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MONDAY 12th JULY ‘10 To Henley in the all singin’ all dancin’ Kaisermobile (Perry Como my choice today) to lunch with the Monday crowd. It is the first time I have seen Bernard since his pacemaker was fitted. Slightly disappointed to find he looks exactly the same. We discussed at length the national newspaper that has been holding on to our comic strip “Two too many” for eighteen months without reaching a decision as to it’s future. But these discussions all end up the same – nowhere, I am all for getting it back and trying other newspapers, but our agent, for reasons best known to himself, is not keen on the idea and has not been keen for the whole eighteen months. (For no special reason I shrugged my shoulders as I wrote crazy, non – I wonder if everyone does it?) The Tour de France has, of course, been taking up a lot of my time. Eurosport have been rather good in its coverage. Readers of my diary will have noticed that my forecast of Spain winning just about everything going is uncanny – it’s a gift I have. We only need Contador to win the Tour and I have achieved a Triple Whammee! A sporting triple whammee – and I know nothing about sport. Crazy, non? (ouch!) |
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FRIDAY 2nd JULY ‘10 The death of novelist Beryl Bainbridge today saddens me. I lived near her in Camden Town and used to see her in the Delancey restaurant. It was a place where the unlikeliest people suddenly showed up. (Larry Adler, the maestro of the mouth organ was another regular. He told me he played the piano better than the instrument for which he was world Beryl was, to my mind, always more ‘showbiz’ than author. I offered her the part of the tea lady in the ‘Bristow’ radio series, which I was writing at that time. She was enthusiastic but told me I needed to ask her publishers. I spoke with them but they said they would rather her finish the book she was writing. Beryl shrugged when I informed her of this but I could see she was very disappointed. The book, " Every Man for Himself' (about the 'Titanic') went on to win acclaim and the Whitbread award. |
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MONDAY 28th JUNE ‘10 I have decided that Spain is the country to win the World Cup, the Spaniard Nadal for Wimbledon and his fellow countryman Contador the Tour de France - so, Spain is King! And having delivered these judgements I can enjoy my breakfast croissants in peace. For some strange reason I have taken to devouring these flakey confections lately on a regular basis, so morning finds me at a table on the Chipping Norton boulevard munching away like Billy- ho. (Don't forget the blackcurrant jam!). Yum! yum! And I am still awaiting for Sky to do something about the phone package. It was supposed to have been carried out on the 4th of this month. So far - nothing. Rather surprising. They have taken the money, after all. |
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SUNDAY 27th JUNE ‘10 (Finally got the date right, Birthdays always throw me into a spin) What a busy bee I am! From Barnet to Epsom via a zig zag route known only to myself (not so clever, this – it took me hours and seemed to involve my crossing and recrossing the Thames on a number of occasions) but I made it in time to devour a prawn lunch and tell Pam (my other sister) exactly the kind of socks I want. (Pam has taken to knitting socks. Her flat is a blaze of colour) And from there, fortified by prawns in garlic sauce, to Chipping Norton, where I arrived in time to hear that England were out of the World Cup. Can’t say I am surprised – I thought they were a lousy team anyway. |
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SATURDAY 25th JUNE ‘10 To London, to celebrate my sister’s birthday, in a Kaisermobile enlivened by Bing Crosby singing a selection of old favourites. My kind of music this. Clever and witty words. And I like Bing. I met him once. I was accompanying Michael Ffolkes, the cartoonist, who went to Camden Town to draw a caricature of Bing for the magazine “Punch”. Crosby explained he was not allowed to have a drawing made for contractual reasons. Ffolkes got round this by drawing Bing from the rear, so that only the famous Crosby ears and pipe were visible. It was unmistakeably Bing Crosby. “Punch” used it, of course. So I was in a good mood when I arrived in Barnet, and stayed in that mood for the whole weekend. Lots of football. I mean lots. |
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TUESDAY 22nd JUNE ‘10 To the garage, where the Kaisermobile strolled through the MOT tests with consummate ease. (It’s the way I drive). Today I listened to the Bristow radio series, which has been running for the past couple of months. I find the programme quite funny. Certainly funnier than most of the stuff that is being put out these days. Making the recordings was a rather strange experience. They were all recorded in Bush House in Central London and because I was not ‘showbiz’ I never considered myself part of the team. I was rather like ‘the Fying Dutchman’.I cannot remember a single occasion when I had a conversation with Michael Williams, the star of the show. He was seriously ill while we were doing the series and did not enjoy himself. But, as I said earlier, I think they are funny. So put that in your pipe and smoke it. Ho! Ho! Ho! |
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SUNDAY 13th JUNE ‘10 The Unity lunch – in spite of the eight members that cancelled, highly successful, and the haddock toothsome, the one problem that remained for yours truly was the return journey without the use of the A43 (for some reason great sections of it closed and the sat nav is out of use at the moment). When I eventually reached Chipping Norton I had done over a hundred and forty miles! The actual distance is seventy something miles but the people that put out the ‘diverted traffic’ signs had apparently lost their sense of directions and gone home, leaving millions of us floundering around in the Midlands. But I made it and celebrated by eating a box of Magnums. (‘One Magnum is never sufficient’). Yum, yum. |
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SATURDAY 12th JUNE ‘10 To Stamford, through villages dressed up like dog’s dinners thanks to the World cup having started. Flags and bunting prevail. I am afraid I don’t think much of our chances. And staying at Tone the Tailor’s palatial residence finding it difficult to get to sleep with Abba belting it out at a packed Burghley House just down the road (Bjorn Again!). I am in this neck of the woods to attend the Unity C.C. lunch tomorrow. It should be fun. I am down for haddock. Bettina has acquired another pug, all black, (the name forgotten) and this one and Pandora pair scurry around the place by a circuitous route every few minutes at breakneck speed. Tony - ever placid, watches them charge up and down the stairs with amusement. He and Bettina also have ducks that turn up for meals. They wait for their food by the pond that is so packed with fish it resembles the river Ganges on a religious holiday. |
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WEDNESDAY 9 JUNE ‘10 The windscreen wipers on the Kaisermobile sorted out (did I mention they packed up on my way back from Wales over the weekend?) are now fully active again due to the raggle taggle gypsies O, I am looking forward to some rain to test them. Maybe this weekend, when I will be attending the Unity Cycling Club’s lunch will provide the time and place. At the moment, e’en as we we speak, I am having my telephone, T.V and Broadband replaced, having transferred from BT to Sky. I wait, with bated breath for this to ‘go live’ as the man says. This was scheduled to take place on the 4th June but things are falling behind. BT have not got there act together, says the Sky man. I am to hang on. So I am hanging on. |
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SATURDAY 5th JUNE ‘10 To Rhiwbina Hill, Cardiff in good weather, to attend the wedding of Alexander and Helen. Everything organized, everything as it should be. The marquee erected in the field opposite. The rolling countryside down to the town and the sea in the distance. Lots of familiar faces. Everything hunky dory then, until I caught sight of myself in one of the tall mirrors and the awful truth came home to me. I look like a garden gnome. Straight up. A garden gnome. Put me in the garden and you wouldn’t think I was a day visitor. Set me down where the upper lawn meets the lower and I would look as if I belonged. It’s the beard that clinches things. Charlie the barber from Barnet’s handiwork has done what no other haircut has ever done. It has turned me into a figure of fun. A garden gnome, though. Admittedly, age and posture may have helped, but the overall impression was garden gnome. I’d pass as one in a line –up is what I’m saying and this hurts. Quite spoilt the day. I hardly touched my food and left before it was dark. The question I was asking as I drove to the bottom of the hill that leads out onto the M4 is – do those kind of mirrors – the really expensive mirrors ever lie? Does age cause them to warp and distort? Tell me they do. Or maybe it was not the mirror but the light? It was late evening and we were on a hill. A very steep hill…the angle can make quite a difference… |
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WEDNESDAY 2nd JULY ‘10 Eight o clock in the morning and a queue at the barbers – astonishing. Not for me, Luigi. Sorry. And then to London and the theatre – and with my sister Locket to the Cottesloe on the South Bank to see the worst play I have ever seen. Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish. Waste of time and space. ‘Love the Sinner’. How it ever got on is a mystery. I was bored with it from the moment the curtains went up. Anyway, we walked out at the interval and took a stroll along the Thames in beautiful weather which more than made up for the whatever it was we had left behind. Who picks ‘em? Who writes ‘em? I am not interested in the answers, incidentally. And when we got back to Barnet I had my hair cut at Charlies. No queues at Charlies. Myself well shaven and meticulously shorn we returned home to pick up Henry – (Locket’s husband recovering from a broken ankle) and sped to their special fish n’chip shop where we consumed gargantuan helpings of plaice, skate and (for me only) chocolate ice cream. Scrumptious.. |
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SUNDAY 23rd MAY ‘10 Today, sunny and warm I went for a drive. It is very pretty around Chipping Norton. The countryside has never looked lovelier. I sat on a rustic bench on the green in Kingham. Not a soul in sight. Just down the road, at the Daylesford organic farm it was just the opposite. The car par full to overflowing. I did not bother. |
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THURSDAY 29th APRIL ‘10 Tonight I watched the debate on who should lead this country for the next five years and although I have watched all three programmes I was struck by the fact that there has been no mention of the illegal war that has claimed so many British lives. Not one question. Not even from grieving relatives. Why is this, I wonder? ? Does it mean no one apart from myself is interested? Am I alone in thinking that the body bags that have been returning to this country on an almost daily basis have been accepted as the norm? Not one question. Not even a mention. How sad. |
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MONDAY 19th APRIL ‘10 Just as Prime Minister Gordon Brown regards benignly over the antics of fellow competitors David Cameron and Nick Clegg as children who refuse to come indoors at bath time, so I regard the behaviour of the two Icelandic volcanos Eyjafjallajokull (the other, we are informed, broods moodily but thankfully does nothing) as par for the course. Boys will be boys, etcetera. I understand this. Upset that the Greens seemed to have ignored them they are drawing attention to themselves. Fine. But when they start messin’ with yours truly I say stop. And I say stop - Right now! For the eruption business is messin’ with my plans. I say my plans but I mean OUR plans – mine and Bernard’s. Bermard is the all singin' all dancin' man who draws our new strip cartoon. Eyjafjallajokull has stopped us dead in our tracks. To explain what is going on I must tell readers that the national newspaper that has been holding on to the aforementioned strip for fifteen months employs a man whose job is to look after cartoons. And he, thanks to the outpourings of the big E., is grounded in Turkey. This is not good. We need the man back. It is time to send in a gunboat. |
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SUNDAY 11th APRIL ‘10 The day dawns bright and fair – and after haddock and poached eggs it is down to the river in ships. Yippee! Except in this case, ship – and – courtesy of an Oyster card, a ship belonging to the Corporation of London, our destination the Thames barrier. The Unity Cycling Club has forsaken the wheel for the wave. We never made the Barrier but chose to picnic in the park at Greenwich. Splendid stuff in good weather. Good, not great. But warm enough for me to sit on a seat and pant while others climbed the hill that led to the building on top of the hill that reminded me of the lighthouse in “ Shutter Island”, the worst film I have ever seen. And on the return journey a photograph taken by fellow traveller shows me with a face good enough to be up there on Mount Rushmore. Noble, is the word. Not quite the only word. Austere is in there somewhere. Austere and noble. I like it. |
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SATURDAY 10th APRIL ‘10 To London for the weekend, and tonight to the cinema with sister Locket. The film “Shutter Island”. The worst film I have ever seen. |
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FRIDAY 9th APRIL ‘10 In spite of repeated assurances from our agent that the national newspaper that has been holding our strip cartoon for fifteen months will shortly be making a decision, Bernard and I are still awaiting a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I am baffled, of course, as to why it is taking so long, but I am baffled by so many things these days that I accept being baffled as the norm. Meanwhile life goes on and with an election coming up I find myself baffled on that front too. How can a party that takes a country to an illegal war and is to blame for the number of bodies that arrive back on an almost daily basis be re-elected? How can they expect a single vote? Baffled again. On a lighter note but still baffled I went to see the film “A Single Man” and came out wondering why they had gone to the trouble of making it. I have never liked Isherwood and thought the film rather pointless. |
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