Quintin Jardine's blog

Even as I write this, my dear wife is ‘up the shops’, picking her way through the tinsel and the trees. It’s on the way, make no mistake about it. If there is still anyone out there of a mind to give a book for Christmas, bear in mind that the only source that will  guarantee delivery of a signed QJ volume in time for the big day is http://www.campbellreadbooks.com. Click on the link to the right of  this post and you’ll be taken straight there.

A couple of days ago I posted a note about the unspeakable Talk Talk/AOL and their refusal to provide me with the means of transferring my business to another internet service provider. This morning I found a further message from them, arguing that a recent unauthorised increase on my monthly charge wasn’t really an increase, just some more money that they were taking from my account as a result of them deciding, without my consent, to change a payment system that’s been in place for years.

However . . . they have promised to send me a MAC code within five days; five working days that is. Since ‘within five working days’ can be a cute way of saying ‘a full week from now’, if it goes to that extreme, at least a fortnight will have elapsed since my original request, despite the regulatory requirement for action within those five working days.

In case anyone should think I’m being hard on the Talk Talk group, I am not alone. As witness, click or copy and paste this link which refers to another part of its business;

http://consumers.ofcom.org.uk/2010/11/talktalk-and-tiscali-uk-breached-rules-to-protect-consumers/

For all their cute, populist advertising, these are not nice people.

When I was a lad, there was a popular saying in our house: ‘He/she’s made more comebacks than Nellie Melba.’

As anyone who knows me knows, for the last 30+ years I have amused myself, and abused others, every Thursday evening as part of a band of brothers engaging in the fruitless pursuit of a football around North Berwick Sports centre. A few years ago this group was immortalised in the title of a Skinner novel, Thursday Legends, and that’s how it’s traded ever since.  When I returned from Spain ten days ago, I found that I had become the most senior of the crew, by an even greater margin, thanks to the withdrawal of my buddy Hugh, who had been at it for even longer than me. Having myself reached a certain age, I mused upon this and as a result, advised my much younger colleagues that last Thursday would be my last official game. I would, I declared, no longer put my name forward for selection, and would only turn out in extremis, in the event of a last minute withdrawal by one of the ten selected.

So guess what? Yesterday evening, I was settled into my armchair at home, eating the winnings from the St Aidan’s Church quiz, having been to the gym earlier (since I wasn’t playing football) and run 5km on the treadmill in a decent time for a **-year-old, when an email popped up on my Blackberry. That crisis had arisen; the group was down to nine. Being a man of my word, I turned out. My team won. Comfortably. Despite the handicap of my advancing years. So? No question, I have to plan my Thursdays better than that; if Dave Cameron is raising the retirement age, then so am I.

Now, this is where it gets surreal. The player who dropped out is named Neil, but is universally known as Nellie, and, in common with the great Australian operatic Dame, he has a variety of toast named after him. (You have heard of Brown Toast, yes?)

Unlike the old diva, I plan to make only one come-back, but this is it, boys, this is it.

. . . about Greenland. According to the CIA World Factbook, a much better source than Wikipedia, there are 57,637 Greenlanders, or whom just under 50% are  women. Nonetheless it is the 13th largest country in the world, and its largest island. It encompasses four time zones, which must make it very difficult for Greenlanders to set their watches with any certainty. The median age is 33.5 and, 84% are urban dwellers; I cannot imagine how they counted the other 16%, but one does not ask too many searching questions of the CIA, unless one has an unnatural desire to experience water-boarding for oneself. It is the 207th most populous country in the world, but ranks 140 in birth rate, which offers some clue as to its favourite sport. It also boasts 100% adult literacy, which means that its people cannot claim to be unable to read the instructions on condoms. Its economy is based around the export of shrimp and fish, but it is believed to have the potential for oil and gas extraction, and since it has already secured self-governing status from its parent, Denmark, when that does start to flow it will reap the benefit. (Take note, fellow Scots.) Roadbuilding is not an issue, since there are none outside the towns. However it does have 15 airports, (Ryanair?) and one passenger ferry.

I am not a regular church-goer. Indeed, I rarely discuss my religious beliefs, which are not exactly conformist. However I was persuaded (it wasn’t a hard sell) by my friend Eric to be on his team at a quiz night in aid of the local episcopalian church. I also volunteered my wife, for which I will be doing penance for some time. There were four of us, and since two were called Eileen we didn’t have to scratch around too long for a team name. The questions were fairly difficult, but our areas of knowledge seemed to mesh fairly well, for when the points were tallied, we won. And now a confession. I don’t know the winning margin, but if it was one point, my thanks to British Airways. If it hadn’t been for the moving map on my recent flight to Vancouver, I wouldn’t have had a clue about the capital of Greenland. (Godthab)

Major gracias for all the helpful comments and suggestions for an alternative ISP to the unspeakable Talk Talk/AOL people. My first inclination was to go to BT, and I may still do so, but I’m going to have a serious look at PlusNet. (Thanks, Robert.) I’ve already established that Sky Broadband is a bummer, on two grounds; I’m an existing customer, and I don’t live in a  high-speed zone.

For several years I’ve used AOL as my internet service provider. I was happy with it, until one day a terrible thing happened. The client book of AOL UK was bought by the disastrous Talk Talk, an organisation whose customer service makes Hell look like a holiday camp. It took a while for the worst to happen, but it did. UK mainstream broadcasting has been accused of dumbing down in recent years, but it’s still pretty highbrow compared with the shit that greets me whenever I sign on to my ISP. You see, they have this ‘Welcome page’. Welcome to the underclass, welcome to the underworld. It might be ideal for certain groups, for example an infinite number of monkeys, or people who add comments to stories on the Daily Mail Online, but to those with a few brain cells left working it’s an insult.

Thing is, not only do I have no interest in what Katie Price had for breakfast, I find the whole cult of the modern meeja celebrity offensive. I don’t care who Katie’s slagging this week; if some singer gets out of a car clumsily, with no knickers on, (would that be the **** of the celebrity?) that’s her  problem; I’d pass Draconian privacy laws that would fill our prisons with Paparazzi and the people who publish their output. Who killed Princess Diana? Our bloody media did, by creating a climate in which she felt compelled to run from these hyenas.

But as far as AOL UK is concerned, such objections have no weight. They’re on a mission; they began by catering for the lowest common denominator, and now they’re trying to drag it down. In the process, whenever I go to check my email their drivel is forced on me, like it or not.

Well, in the fictional but immortal words of  the doubly late Howard Beale, (those who are entertained by AOL will assume that he was an EastEnders character) I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more. Five days ago, I told them as much, and asked them to send me a MAC code, the thing you need when you’re changing your ISP. This morning I received an email from some prat in ‘customer services’, (‘Tea-break’s over, back on your heads’) refusing to do so. That’s actually illegal, as he’s going to find out. A few months ago they gave me three months’ service for half-price (still way too much) and they seem to think that makes me their slave for another year. Wrong. Cogito, ergo sum, and Talk Talk/AOL UK whose business seems to be trying to disprove that fundamental principle, are about to find out what it means.

Thanks, M; I certainly wanna be in yours. You think so? To be honest, it’s just something I do, and I don’t find it particularly difficult. That character may have resembled someone initially, and yes, I have a face in mind as I describe her exploits, but she’s evolved over the years, and now I step into her shoes pretty much automatically. The thong? No, absolutely not!

Thanks, Alan. Readers like you are good for the ego. (Note to QJ: must keep it in check.)

Ever heard of a Kobo? I hadn’t either until I saw a stall on Granville Island with that name above it. My son and I had a look, and found that it was a wireless e-reader backed by Indigo, the biggest Canadian retailer, (clue: Kobo is an anagram) Kindle style, but not Kindle. We both have those, so we weren’t potential customers, but they were having a draw, so we filled in forms and gave them our email addresses which was all it took. Ten minutes later one of the ladies came across to the festival office to tell him that he’d won it.

No, I haven’t been ill, or in the huff. I’ve been pre-occupied, that’s all, with all manner of things; with working off nine hours’ jet-lag then having another mini-bout of same, the result of moving back to Scotland from Spain the day after the clocks went back, with catching up on Scottish business, with starting to prepare for the Lennoxlove Book Festival on November 19, and all sorts of other stuff. Vancouver, as always was great, enjoyable events with appreciative audiences, and new friends made; cheers to Chevy, Gail and Linwood. Public thanks also, to Barry Auger, a gracious, generous and hugely entertaining host, to his other half, the unsinkable Alma Lee, to Susan and Lonnie, to Peri Maric, who will never walk alone, and to Hal Wake and his team.

But now I’m settled in for a couple of winter months in Scotland. Since I got back, at least half a dozen people have asked me what I’m doing in Gullane in November when I could be in Spain. The answer is, I like it here; it’s where I’m from, and bottom line it’s where I live. If I wanted to winter properly, I’d go a lot further south than L’Escala, trust me. That said, there is one way in which Catalunya does score in the winter and that is through its time zone. I don’t mind the dark mornings too much, but I do enjoy not having to turn on the lights until after five, even in the very dead of winter. I’ve noticed a few people saying the same via the media over the last few days. Is momentum for a change starting to grow? At the moment, government is not looking at switching to Central European time or to permanent BST, but given the present parliamentary situation it must surely be open to persuasion.

The unfortunate truth is John, those typos are probably on the printed version as well. Spell-checkers are convenient, but also dangerous, and  digitisation doesn’t require a complete reset. As for that word, well spotted, but no, it isn’t a brain-freeze by anyone, other than me, because it is misspelt. (I confess, it should be ‘Mercès’.) In the part of Spain in which that scene is set, people use Catalan, rather than Castellano. It’s the official language, with 10,000,000 speakers, and that character is one of them. It’s used in public communications, in schools, and in general conversation.

Whatchaonabout, Martyn? A Rush of Blood has been available for the last six months via the website on http://www.campbellreadbooks.com. It’s in hardback and trade paperback at the moment, and it will be there in mass market form next February.

Why do you call yourself jellybaby? And what’s your favourite colour? Congratulations on your voracity for books. My next? The Loner, a mystery with a difference, is due out in hardback next March.

E-book availability on Waterstones and WHS confuses me too. I’m looking into it, and I’m told that ‘It’s technical’, and that they’ll be available soon. They are all on Amazon Kindle, though.

Hold on! You did 20 Skinners in six weeks? That makes you the world record holder. If there are other claimants out there I’d love to hear from them.

Thanks for your message. The first thing I have to say to you is that there’s a world of difference between Bob Skinner and Skulduggery Pleasant. The second is that while it’s been a long time since I had a twelve-year-old, if I had I’d be holding back for two or thee years before I introduced her to Bob. Your 17-year-old though, he’s a candidate, not least if his cultural influences are drawn from video games. That said, in a way I envy him; I’d love to look at that world, but I have two problems with it, those being generational and time.

I’ve just read a piece of sports gossip alleging that Wayne Rooney’s Damascus moment may have a lot to do with the fact that his weekly pay packet has gone up to £250,000. If that’s true, it sets a new world record for the price of loyalty.

Second day in Vancouver after my first of two events last night, and I’m enjoying it as much as ever. Muchas gracias to Hal Wake for the invitation to the excellent Vancouver International Writers’ and Readers’ Festival, to Linwood Barclay and Gail Bowen, my co-panellists on the Revue Stage, and to our incredible moderator, Senator Larry W Campbell, former Mayor of Vancouver, who doesn’t look a bit like his official photograph. First thing Larry said to me last night, was ‘My grandfather was from Bellshill.’ I replied, ‘Big deal, so was mine,’ and we were off from there. I don’t know how we wound up discussing the anaesthetic qualities of Buckfast Tonic Wine in front of a live audience, but we did.