A Brief Encounter with Sir Jim

The Twenty-Second of November Two Thousand and Twelve. Thursday.

Scarborough has fallen out of love with Jimmy Savile - understandably so. The man who was laid to rest here at an angle so that he could see the sea was celebrated for his connections with this town. For example, it was he that arranged for the QM2 AND QE2 cruise liners to perform a sail past of the towns bays. Apparently, a tribute cruise performed by the new Queen Elizabeth was due to take place next year, including another sail past of Scarborough in August, but this has since been cancelled in light of the revelations about the man.

As well as an elaborate headstone on his grave, various tributes in the form of plaques and paths named after him were put in place only recently.

Before...

And even more recently they have been removed.

...After

There have been rumours about Savile for years but it's astonishing how quickly the official version of who he was has been superseded by a newer repulsive version. And all celebration of that 'official' version has been swiftly discarded as upsetting and inappropriate.

More and more about Savile is being uncovered, a lot of it simply incredible. This blog contains some bizarre details about his life and career. It's astonishing nothing (or any weight) was brought to bear against the man while he was alive. But then to most he merely seemed eccentric rather than dangerous.

That was true enough on the one occasion I crossed his path. One of the things Savile was well-known for in the 70s was his series of adverts promoting British Rail. On top of any financial rewards he received for this he also got a gold pass that allowed him unlimited travel on the railway. With Scarborough being one of his favourite haunts, it was only a matter of time before I came across him at the station.

It was fairly early on in my career there - I couldn't remember the exact year. All I can recall was that I was in the ticket office one Sunday morning. Sundays are always rife with engineering work somewhere on the network and on this day there were no trains coming in or out of Scarborough at all. Coaches were taking passengers between Scarborough, York and Leeds.

The familiar figure, dressed in his trademark tracksuit and sporting all his jewelery approached the ticket window. He exchanged some words with the supervisor, who had met him before. Then he asked me how to get to 'String of Beads' which he quickly explained was some sort of peculiar of rhyming slang for 'Leeds'

I explained to him about the Rail Replacement Bus Service. This didn't faze him at all and I commented that he was taking it very well (I had already had several other customers that morning who were thoroughly PO'd about the whole affair). He replied that taking a coach was not really a problem. Things could be much worse, he opined. We could all be living in Kosovo (I guess that reference helps to tie down the period this all took place in, a little...), he said. And with that he went and boarded the coach.

It was a strange little encounter, but I've remembered it all this time.

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Left Means Straight

The Twenty-First of November Two Thousand and Twelve. Wednesday.

I'm trying to think when the last time I wore an earring must have been. I think it was on one of the work's Christmas dos, but as to which one it was - how long ago it was - I can't say. I think I feel a bit too old and sensible to wear one now. Although Indiana Jones doesn't seem to think it's a problem

And yet, and yet...

It's nice to have the option. I've never been one for dressing up. I can see the appeal of cosplay, of fancy dress, indeed I admire people with the courage, craft and skill to role play in any way, whether it's a bit of fun at a party or a full-on convention appearance. But I've always had difficulties with clothing and fashion, even on a day-to-day basis. Nevertheless, as a teenager I went and had my ear pierced.

It's odd - there are lots of details I can't remember about that time but the chain of events that led to me having my ear pierced are still there. Maybe not the details. For example, I can't remember the reason we were all round at Karen Hurst's house. But I do remember talking to her dad. He had his ear pierced and for some reason it was seeing him that made me want to follow suit.

I remember the day I set off to get it done. My friend and neighbour, Nick, was outside just as I left the house. I told him where I was going and he didn't believe I was going to do it. In fact, so convinced was he he offered to pay half the price of it if I went ahead and did it. I was going to do it anyway, but to his credit he paid up when I returned with that first stud in my ear.

Nearly thirty years ago, dear me. I've had studs and sleepers, dangly ones and jewelled ones since then. I've never really fancied getting any other part of my anatomy pierced (although I do enjoy referring to the James Bond actor as Pierced Brosnan). Pretty much the only jewelery I've ever worn. Well, with one notable exception.

So, not being particularly fashion conscious I'm not sure why I started wearing an earring. Even more peculiarly, I'm not sure why I stopped. I don't think it's something I would like to do every day now. For some reason that seems like a different person. But it's just popped into my head as something I'd like to revisit at least for a little while.

I'll think I'll pop to the market and get a new sleeper tomorrow.

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Community Service

The Twentieth of November Two Thousand and Twelve. Tuesday.

Just a quick Telly Recommendation tonight, Ls and Gs. It was first brought to my attention when someone mentioned that there was this American comedy - the first series of which was shown on Viva over here, but that was as far as it went - that occasionally rolled out a spoof of Doctor Who.

All good fun, but what about the show itself?

Well, I splashed out for the DVD of the first series (season? series?) and I am four eps in and loving it. It's called Community and it is mos def my Nineteenth Telly Recommendation.

It's got Chevy Chase in it, but don't let that put you off. Honestly, google it, then buy it. It's v good.

Erm, that's it really. Just an advert for some cockamanie TV show. Boy, I need some sleep.

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Kindling

The Nineteenth of November Two Thousand and Twelve. Monday.

I don't write enough. Probably part of the reason for that is I don't read enough. And probably part of the reason for that is books are just too darn long.

Well, they're not really, are they? But for some reason, unless I am completely and utterly gripped by a book I seem to find it difficult to get to the end these days. I think it's yet more evidence of my dwindling powers of concentration as I approach my dotage (ah, there it is just across the square. I can see it now).

The more pragmatic among you may wish to point to the invention of something called the 'short story', but these have a troubling tendency to turn up in collections. I feel the same disappointment in having read four out of ten stories in a short story collection as I do in getting only barely halfway through a novel. Yes, those might be complete and self-contained tales, but like listening to half an album (remember those, o generation of downloaders?) it still feels like a job not completed.

(Actually, I don't know why I'm being all snotty to downloaders. The whole thrust of this blogdule (is that what individual blog entries are called? Is it? IS IT?) is about downloading stuff.)

So thank goodness something has come along that means you no longer have to read a whole book.

What am I talking about?

Kindle samples!

I don't have an actual Kindle - although if they actually sold the 8.9 inch screen Kindle Fire in this country (what is that all about? Why do they region lock US Kindles? Let's just assume here that DRM and region locking is a dumb idea and move on) I might consider getting one to read my comics on - but I do have the app on me iPhone. Even on that tiny screen, it's easy enough to read. And, as I have mentioned elsewhere, as space becomes a premium in my tiny non-dimensionally transcendental flat I am embracing the digit-all age with all digits (bit of a stretch that, but I couldn't resist). So I have downloaded the odd virtual novel or two but they do have the nasty habit of costing actual money.

Actually, in struggling to come up with a punny title for this blogdule (that doesn't really work, does it? And yet I can tell - even now - that I am going to continue to use it) it occurs to me that the idea of book burning does seem implicit in the name Kindle. Is that deliberate? It seems a fairly obvious connection. Interesting that there isn't a copy of Fahrenheit 451 in the Kindle store. 

In an amazing piece of metatextuality here, the reason these sentences don't make sense is I am listening to an edition of Just a Minute from 28 May rather than concentrating on what I'm writing. They mentioned Tristram Shandy, which, after enjoying Michael Winterbottom's film A Cock and Bull Story, inspired me to immediately download a free Kindle edition of The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, a book famous for its constant digressions.

When the radio recording had finished, the recorder reverted to the last channel it was on. In this case ITV3, and Doc Martin featuring Caroline Catz was on. Now I'll admit to having a bit of a crush on the lovely Caroline so I had a quick look on Wikipedia to see what she's up to at the moment, whereupon I discovered she is married to Michael Higgs, who I had been watching as the dad on Wizards vs Aliens earlier. Why is it when I start writing this blog thing I can constantly get distracted by the fundamental interconnectedness of things?

The more you write, the more you begin to recognise your own ticks (some might say 'clichés') as a writer. Digressional hyphens seem to be one. And have you noticed how more and more rhetorical questions seem to be creeping in?

Anyway, I invoke the works of Douglas Adams (on a bit of an Adams kick at the mo - finally bought the DVD of the TV Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, which, let's be honest, has got to be my Eighteenth Telly Recommendation) because he is responsible for my latest addiction: Kindle samples.

Kindle samples are great. They're free and as they only make up the first few pages of a book you can polish them off in no time and not worry about how the rest of the book turns out. Where they are particularly effective is when they release a new edition of a book you already have but it features a brand new introduction. This is where Hitch Hiker comes into it, cos a few years back they brought out new editions of the books with intros by the likes of Russell T Davies and Neil Gaiman - yours for free. In fact, it's only just occurred to me that they've done the same with rereleases of a dozen of the Target Doctor Who novelisations, and I have just cracked on and downloaded the new intros to those while enjoying a slightly stale chocolate eclair.

Obviously, the idea is to entice you into buying the whole thing. And there are samples in my Kindle library that I might just do that with. But for now I am enjoying completing the incompletness of books by Tina Fey, Tim Key, Stewart Lee, Haruki Murakami, Caitlin Moran and Mark Kermode. Biographies and factual books are great because not knowing how the book ends doesn't really affect the bits you're reading. I'm getting very clued up on the early childhood of an awful lot of people. 

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Book Recommendation Time

The Sixteenth of October Two Thousand and Twelve. Tuesday.

This is what you get if you mix two potions and then roll 07 on d100: "Mild poison which causes nausea and loss of 1 point each of strength and dexterity for 5-20 rounds, no saving throw possible; one potion is cancelled, the other is at half strength and duration. (Use random determination for which is cancelled and which is at half efficacy.)"

I don't think I'd even heard the words 'miscibility' or 'efficacy' before this.

Oh, a little note reminds you to roll in secret and give no uncalled-for clues until necessary.

If you're travelling the astral plane there's a one in twenty chance you'll meet something. Roll 38 on d100 and the something will be
Tiamat, 5 headed dragon star of the D& D cartoon. I have never used any of these tables but they are awesome.

I don't believe this fabulous blog has done a book recommendation (cue some editing later if I actually have) so let me start now by mentioning three of my favourite reads. Well, I say reads. What these books have in common is that they're more sort of dip-in and dip-out volumes. Such as the one I've quoted from above my First Book Recommendation The 1st Edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Masters' Guide.

Hmm, could have done with focussing the camera first. Never mind. Maybe it's a property of the bizarre forces contained within that have caused the distortion. Yeah, that's the most likely explanation.

As well as being full of every rule for every situation you could possible come across in your life as a brave adventurer it also contained actual drawings of naked ladies (well, demons and mermaids - close enough) that made it the ideal purchase for the 13 year old boy. I didn't even realise until now that they have released special commemorative editions of the 1st ed AD&D rulebooks this year. A quick scan around shows that the limited release of these new editions has ensured they've gone up in price already. Let's put a price tag on that proustian rush.

My Second Book Recommendation is West Yorkshire Train Times, perhaps the best combined volume of train timetables produced anywhere in the country.

Each timetable contained within is available individually but there's just something about this omnibus that satisfies, its substantial page count affording it the status of a latter-day Bradshaw's. Many of the timetables extend beyond the borders of West Yorkshire (oh yes, you'll find both Manchester and Scarborough in here!) meaning details of most of the North's train services can be at your fingertips with the turn of a page. This is the stuff.

On a side note, I quite like the fact that the railway signs of three consecutive PTEs all use an 'M' branding on their stations. You could take a journey from Huddersfield to Huyton and come across the following.




And if those two weren't anoraky enough for you you're going to love my Third Book Recommendation The London A to Z. 

My own love affair with the A to Z began naturally enough with my own native edition from Manchester. It was already several years out of date when I used it to explore streets that were no longer there and routes that could no longer be followed. The sight of Manchester Central  and Manchester Exchange stations dangled a long gone carrot of exploration (that's a recognised metaphor, isn't it?) in front of me. But it's the majesty of the London edition that makes me gasp in awe even now. Never mind all the hoo-hah about the inaccuracies of Apple Maps there's something that speaks to me in turning a page and discovering a whole new world to explore. I now have a 2012 edition, updated to include Overground stations and Olympic venues. There are other, useful but less elegant, atlases but you can't do better than an A to Z. Here's what Wikipedia has to say about Phyllis Pearsall, the extraordinary woman who created the first A to Z.

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Staycation Breakfast Blog* 05 - Home

The Ninth of August Two Thousand and Twelve. Thursday.

*Incorporating Supper News and The Elevenses Argus

Oh, I love the Wizard of Oz. The fillum. Haven't read the book. Heart's will never be practical until they're made unbreakable. Time has been powerless to its kindly philosophy out of fashion. And, of course, pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

But as a wee boy one thing I could never really get my head round was why at the end of it all Glinda just pops up and says 'You had the way to get home with you all along.' What!? Why didn't she just tell her that's how the Ruby Slippers worked in the first place? Why did they have to go through all that potentially lethal rigamarole?

Now, as a wiser and more mature individual (I wish...) I know the answer. Not just the smart alec one about narrative necessity and it would have been a very short film if she had. But she had to go on the journey to realise just exactly what was so important about home. If she hadn't gone exploring how could she discover that 'there's no place like home'.

I've had a lovely day today. Very laid back. That was supposed to be the formula for the rest of the week - late starts, no imperatives and the chance to unwind. But I couldn't help myself coming up with a checklist of things to do and places to see. And I think if I hadn't done some of that I wouldn't truly have relaxed. Some part of me would be wondering what it is that I am missing. Well now I know, and while I wouldn't have missed it for the world it's made me glad of what I had all along.

I sat at home and watched a bit of telly (New Girl is my Seventeenth Telly Recommendation) and enjoyed some Weetabix, a bagel, some coffee and some juice. It was ace.

Yesterday was book day. Well, they take a bit longer to get through than a film or comic. So I'm actually still in the middle of the one I started reading. It's the Doctor Who novel The Coming of the Terraphiles by none other than Michael Moorcock and very entertaining it is too. Lots of musings on the nature of the multiverse (I've not read much Moorcock - the Oswald Bastable books and 3/4 of the Jerry Cornelius ones but it's clearly the same man at the helm), a bit of a Wodehouse pastiche and a namecheck for Meng and Ecker, who I knew I'd heard of but I couldn't remember where. A quick Google reminded me that it was in St Ann's arcade in Manchester. Still a bit to go - I'm not the fastest reader in the world - but it's all good so far.

To conclude the Breakfast Blog I'll mention what I've been up to today. I keeping with a regular breakfast I did what I do most of all - watch telly. So whereas I could have watched the unaired pilot of Sherlock, an episode of The Mind of JG Reeder and The God Complex and The Wedding of River Song (with the commentary) any night on this occasion they were part of my official programme.

That's it for now. I go on proper holiday on Sunday. There might be a blog or two from that, but I think we're all close enough friends now to know what the likelihood of that really is.

Nevertheless...

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Staycation Breakfast Blog 04 - Arnie's, Whitby

The Eighth of August Two Thousand and Twelve. Wednesday.

Today, I hit what is known in the breakfast-seeking world as 'The Wall'. I mentioned earlier how there comes a point where you tire of having a whopping great breakfast and decide a bowl of cereal would be just as nice. The place I had in mind today was 20 miles away and as I ran for the bus there was almost a moment where I thought the effort was too much. I even briefly considered hopping on the train to York and having a Burger King brown breakfast at the station, so disappointed was I with its absence yesterday.

But 'The Wall' is there to be broken through. Whitby was my goal, and even though the double-decker was nearly full, forward I went and pressed on with my goal.

And this was it:

Veggie Eggy Bread Breakfast at Arnie's in the Market Place in Whitby. Sat in the shade, enjoying the sun with eggy bread, caramelised onion chutney and the tomato substituted for an extra hash brown! That tupperware thing contains the condiment sachets. And you know what, it was all very pleasant, but I want you to go back and have another look at the breakfast I had at the Rendezvous on Monday. It was much cheaper and had egg (yes, I know there's egg in the bread, and I do love that, but that whole 'dip your toast in the yolk' thing is an important part of this) and beans. Not eggabeans, but egg and beans. Consequently, I think that was the more satisfying meal, both for pocket and palate. Still, I had a nice time in and around Whitby, so it's all good.

Yesterday was Audio day, that is to say I was listening to sound-only stuff off of CD, download and the radio. With my headphones on it meant I could still get out and about while listening to various stuff. And various stuff it was.

I started off with the last of Richard Herring's Leicester Square Theatre Podcasts, where the cornish-faced buffoon spoke with Armando Ianucci OBE and Graham Linehan. This entertained me while I wandered about Primrose Valley Holiday Park. When that finished I listened to someone I haven't heard for years, Arnold Brown. And why not?

I then made my way down to the beach, took off my shoes and walked down to Filey, paddling as I went. From one Scot to another as Arnold went away to be replaced by the sound of Sylvester McCoy as the Doctor in The Word Lord, a self-contained episode from the Big Finish release Forty-Five which you can download for 99p.

I had a bit of a mooch around Filey and caught the train back home while listening to The Minister of Chance, a free download made through contributions of listeners with a few familiar Whoish names attached. It's actually pretty good, having some similarities with Doctor Who which is not too surprising as the Minister originally appeared some years back in a Who webcast called Death Comes to Time played by Stephen Fry.

Next was a bootleg of Daniel Kitson's stand-up show, 'It's the Fireworks Talking', performed in Cardiff in 2007. The little coincidences that have dotted around this week reared up again. Kitson talked about the joy of going for a paddle, just an hour or two after I had done just that. Less of a coincidence, more of a hypnotic command was the way I ended up lying down next to the south bay star map after he talked about millions of stars you can see in the perfect black of the Australian sky. He began by talking about melancholia, and when, as his perfectly structured piece built to an emotional climax some idiot in the audience ruined it, the piece inadvertently ended with it too. Kitson was savage with the heckler, insisting he leave or be ejected. How easy it is for morons to spoil beautiful things. How easy it is to be a moron.

I still think I shared a bill with Daniel Kitson on the one and only occasion I attempted stand up. If it was him. he gave some supportive comments and said something nice about my material. I'd rather leave it with the Schrodinger-like possibility that it was him rather than collapse to the certainty that it wasn't him by trying to find out.

When I got home it was the turn of stuff I had recorded off of the radio. I started with two episodes of Jeremy and Rebecca Front's comedy Incredible Women. I then went on to hear Jeremy interview Rebecca on Chain Reaction, followed by Rebecca Front interviewing Chris Addison.

Then there was three bits of Eoin Colfer's addition to the the Hitch-Hiker's Guide. And Another Thing..., read by Stephen Mangan with Peter Serafinowicz providing the voice of the Book.

The evening came to an end with a couple of doses of Matt Berry's therapy comedy, I, Regress. Phew!

I am certain tomorrow's entry is going to be a lot shorter...

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