Quintin Jardine's blog

This afternoon’s selection on the iPod at siesta time was Elaine Bookbinder, later and better known as Elkie Brooks. The Elk is in danger of becoming a forgotten treasure, but that’s what she is. She doesn’t record much these days, but she’s touring this year. In November she’s in Alnwick Playhouse, not far from where the in-laws live. Are you listening, bruv?

An every time question at my gigs is this: If Skinner was adapted for TV who would you want to play him?

Answer: Idris Elba.

When I say that, mostly the audiences smile, and nod, knowingly. Then I explain who he is, and most of them nod a lot harder. Having just watched the conclusion of the terrific second series of Luther on BBC1, my conviction is even firmer that he’s the man for the part. In a TV adaptation, skin tone and accent don’t matter a damn. You want the man who can present your character most powerfully; you want the best actor out there in that type of role. And Idris is the man.

A very talented acquaintance of mine launched a new exhibition at the weekend in Torroella de Montgri.

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Check him out if you have a moment. There are three language options, Catalan being the original, but you can also study in Spanish or English.

Just spent a nice afternoon break, listening to Emmylou and Mark Knopfler, then the first few songs fromJohn R Cash’s American Recordings. I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.

Sunday evening, went with friends to a new (to us) restaurant in EstarTit, called Mont Pla.

Having eaten out on Saturday and been sadly disappointed, I chose the same menu as the night before and was even more disappointed. Not because it was worse, but because it was unrecognisably better. I’m saying nothing here , because of a loyalty of which I’m rather proud, but maybe the message will get through.

Okay, I was wrong. It went the full distance. But only because the Hayemaker was less ‘chinny’ than most people thought, and because Wladimir was as cautious as he’s always been. The lesson to be drawn from the ‘fight of the year’ is that world boxing needs to take a look at its weight limits. The Kiltschkos are both around two metres tall and weigh 250 lbs, and they are no longer exceptional; some of the younger guys coming through are bigger than them. While Muhammad Ali would have had both of the brothers for breakfast weighing in at around the same as Haye did, he was once in a life-time, the best ever. With the heavyweight category beginning at 200lbs, a weight that Haye made comfortably only three years ago, the system is encouraging dangerous mismatches. Surely it’s time for the sanctioning bodies to get together and raise it.

As for Haye, ironically he and Wladimir are in the same boat thanks to his defeat. If he had won, a rematch would have drawn serious money. Now, neither of them could find an opponent against whom they could fill a phone box. Still, the £20m they are expected to share will be some consolation to them both.

This will be a bad weekend for British sport, in terms of results. Yesterday, Andy Murray did his best but lost to the best all-round tennis player in the game. Today I’m sure that David Haye will give it his all against the slightly smaller and younger of the two giant Klitschko brothers, but he has no chance. He won’t get near big Wladimir, and when he comes into range himself as he will have to, that will be that; fight will be over, summon medical assistance. Klitschko, inside two rounds, definitivo.

This time tomorrow, meaningful world-level heavyweight boxing will be a thing of the past. Wlad and Vitali will have nobody left to fight other than each other, and their mum won’t let them.

I’m glad you finally got round to writing. Two years ahead of me in Elmbank Street, you say. Would have have been in Muir Austin’s year? So far I’ve never made it further north than Ottawa, but if I ever get to Montreal, I’ll look you up.

There are five restaurants in St Marti d’Empuries, where the Primavera Blackstone mysteries are based. Every one of them is very good. Four out of the five serve top-class pizza and pasta alongside more traditional menus, and every weekend from now till  the end of the high summer season, you will have to queue for a table at each of  those. One does not, and there is no queue outside. This is bad in one respect, for the wealth and morale of Can Roura’s owner and chef, Joan Malé, and good in another, for it means I can usually find a table every time I go there, which is often. Eileen and I ate there last night, with our friends John and Pat, who had never been there before but will go back. It’s easy to introduce friends to Joan’s place, for you know that he will never let you down. I have eaten in Michelin star restaurants in Scotland and Spain; Can Roura is up there with any of them and better than some and its prices are almost embarrassingly reasonable.

I will not be happy until I have to queue there for a table on a Friday or Saturday, but that can’t happen without the summer denizens of L’Escala-Empuries and its surrounding camp-sites fighting against their inexplicable pizza addiction hysteria and exploring the alternative. This is my challenge to them; yes, eat in Meson del Conde, eat in La Terrassa d’Empuries, eat in L’Esculapi , and eat in Can Coll. You’ll be well fed in every one of them. But make sure you eat also in Can Roura; I guarantee that you’ll want to go back.

That’s a major compliment, Lisa, thanks. May you have a long and successful career, but try not to marry anyone named McDermid. If you bump into Skinner at Fettes, please tell him I’ll need to see him again in a few months, but that I’m heavily involved with a forty-something single mother at the moment.

You want to know what happens next with Alex and Andy? To be honest, so do I. You can never tell with that pair.

Hello again Isla. The next Primavera will be called ‘As Easy as Murder’. It’ll be on the shelves next January.

We’re just putting the next one to bed, but that’s a year away from publication.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-13986769

I’ve just watched BBC Breakfast . . . I know it’s boring and formulaic, but it’s my habit . . . and endured an item on today’s teachers’ strike. I say endured because I found myself wanting to reach out and throttle the spokeswoman for the staff side, Dr Mary Boustead, the General Secretary of the Association of Teachers and Lecturers. I don’t know what he doctorate covers, but it sure isn’t good manners. She put her slightly dodgy points stridently, and would not allow her adversary on the red sofa to answer a single one. The ATL biography describes her as an accomplished public speaker who has debated at the Oxford Union. (I’ll bet her side lost.) I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the affable Bill Turnbull come so close to telling a guest to ‘Shut the **** up’. Doesn’t matter how good your case is, if it’s put as badly as that you will lose public sympathy, and so the ATL membership should think very carefully about confining the Gen Sec to barracks for the duration.

By the way, before anyone accuses me of being anti-teacher, I’m the son of two and I’ve been married to two, so forget that.

As another birthday limps to a close, time to wind up a very nice day and thank all my chums for their good wishes, through the blog and through Facebook. You load sixteen tons, and what do you get . . .

I don’t normally do this but I’m feeling frisky, so I’ll publish your comment, word for word.

‘ I am a new reader of your books and just love them! However, in Alarm Call the name of the Las Vegas International Airport was repeatedly spelled incorrectly. It should of course be McCarran and not McCarron. Maybe that was corrected in later publications. The former U.S.Senator Pat McCarran would not have been impressed! I am very impressed with your stories.‘

Thank you for that advice; nobody had brought it to my attention until now. You are, of course, quite correct, and I should tear lumps off the normally impeccable copy editor who failed to pick that up. Except . . . I won’t.

As it happens I am rather proud to have mis-spelled the name of the late Senator McCarran, revealed by my research to be one of the least impressive legislators ever to sit in Congress, given his intercession that halted an FBI investigation into Mafia involvement in the emerging Las Vegas, his admiration for Franco and other despots, and his paving the way for McCarthyism.

I know that, Marg. Think of it as a birthday gift.

Cheers Marg. Same to you when it arrives and next year for your fiftieth. Bob Skinner ages one year to everyone else’s four. Never mastered it personally.

I have just checked my blog stats. To date, since it started I have made 666 posts. Wow! In half an hour I will turn 66, in the 6th month of the year. Fans of The Omen should be wetting their pants as they read this. I mentioned that to Martin, my editor, this afternoon. He said it was scary; I told him it was meant to be. Am I an old devil, or what?