Quintin Jardine's blog

Just when we thought it was all over, the fuss over MPs’ expenses’ has been stirred up again. From what’s been leaked so far an auditor without powers of compulsion is about to ask a couple of hundred members to repay money paid in respect of claims agreed by the Commons fees’ office. If I read that right the man is saying, ‘You didn’t break the rules, but fork out anyway.’ If I’m also right about subsequent comments, may of those members are going to refuse, politely or otherwise.

I’d like to see a line drawn under this business, once and for all. Yes, the Daily Torygraph’s exposures have succeeded in ridding us of a couple of people whose misuse of the system clearly stamped them as unfit for public office, and have exposed some ludicrous lesser abuses. But enough’s enough. It’s time to recognise that the system was as unfit for purpose in that it allowed some of these claims to be passed, even after scrutiny, and leave the new Speaker to fix it. The fact that Bercow was chosen when nobody actually likes him indicates that he’s probably the best person for the task.

We’re going to have a general election in Britain next year. Undoubtedly, public anger over this affair will be reflected in the results. But it shouldn’t be allowed to distract voters from the really important issue; which of the contending parties do we trust most to dig us out of the ordure that Captain Barbossa and his crew have piled up around us by falling asleep at the wheel, and creating a banking regulatory system that was even more open to abuse that the Westminster feeding trough.

There’s one other thing. A review of MPs’ expenses is long overdue, nobody doubts that. But there’s something about the sanctimony of the media that has stuck in my craw all the way through this. Glass houses? Stone-throwing? Maybe a little humility rather than triumphalism, some of it pretty vicious, would have been in order.

My firm plans for the future don’t extend beyond November at this time, and they don’t include Dundee. It’s like this at the venue you mention; they invite, we accept, or not as the case may be. If they do and it fits my timetable, I’d probably say ‘yes’.

Some of my English readers who follow football may have been a little upset last week by a character called Jack Warner, who chose to mount an unprovoked attack on the FA’s bid for the 2018 World Cup. Roy Keane once described Mr Warner as a ‘clown’, but he’s far removed from that. I urge those who care about this issue to get hold of a book called ‘Foul!’ by Andrew Jennings, and read it from cover to cover. You may find that parts of it stretch credibility, but if you do, bear this in mind; to date, nobody’s sued Mr Jennings or his publisher.

QJ thanks you very much. Yes, the new style seems to be going down well. It gives me a great deal more freedom, and feeds my control-freakiness. There were also space constraints on the old journal format; there are virtually none on this thing.

The new campbellreadbooks site might make your friend irrelevant if you’d care to use it. Publication dates of individual titles vary around the world, but it will always be up to the minute.

Haven’t been to New York for a while, or to the US for that matter. Maybe next year.

They’re big on questions in Canada. As part of the very thorough preparation for the thirtieth International Festival of Authors at Harbourfront, Toronto, I’ve been asked to answer seven questions. I thought you might like to see them also, with responses.

1 What was the first music album you bought or remember listening to? What are you listening to now?

 An Evening With Belafonte, 1954.

Now I listen to around 14,000 songs at random on my iPod. Most recent CD/download purchases include ‘ I feel apocalyptic today’ – Monoceros, ‘Moon glow’- Jimmy Scott, ‘American Saturday Night’ – Brad Paisley, ‘Greatest Hits’ – Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, ‘Gurrumul’ – Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu.  

2 Favourite film(s)?

 Con Air. In Bruges. The Deer Hunter. Raiders of the Lost Ark. Silent Movie. Blazing Saddles. The Fifth Element. 

3 Favourite pastime?

 Watching football. (North Americans call it soccer) 

4 Favourite places to visit/vacation?

 Toronto, (no kidding) Singapore, Chicago, Granada, Sevilla, Sydney. 
 
 5 Three books that you would recommend to friends?

 Foul! by Andrew Jennings. Power of the Dog by Don Winslow.  A Darkness More than Night, by Michael Connelly 

6 Your guilty pleasure?

 Playing five-a-side football (soccer) with guys half my age. 

7 Words to live by?

 Try to learn something new every day, regardless of the number of days that have passed by already.

In advance of the IFOA in Toronto in a couple of weeks, I was sent an interesting questionnaire by Geoff Pevere, the Toronto Star’s book columnist, as part of his research for an article he’s preparing. Here are his questions and my answers; we’ll see how many make the cut.

How do you get started writing?

 Slowly. I produce two books a year, and I try to maintain some sort of disciplined schedule. By that I mean I know when I should be starting what is usually a four-month cycle, although actually doing it is a different matter. As my designated start day approaches I try to clear my mind of other things . . . for example I stop reading . . . and ease myself into the creative mind-set. I hide all the games on my computer. I try to leave phone answering to my wife, but that never works for I have a reflex that won’t let a phone ring three times without my picking it up, even though most of the calls are for her anyway.

 How do you avoid getting started writing?

 I fail to hide all the games on my computer. (Windows won’t let you delete them.) I take on other tasks, including public events. I decide that the weather’s still good enough to play some more golf or use the pool.

 Where do you write?

 In my office. I have two, one in Scotland and one in Spain, where the phone rings less frequently, so that’s where I tend to do most of it.

 What is the optimal creative atmosphere?

 Peace and quiet. Once I’m started I’m reasonably disciplined. I tend to write in two shifts per day morning and evening, leaving the afternoon for siesta – exercise. I do a lot of my best thinking in the gym or ploughing up and down our very small pool.

 Idiosyncrasies: dress, music, food, furniture, etc.?

 Yes, I usually dress to write, although sometimes in not very much. No, I don’t divert myself with music, unless I’m editing a draft and then it’s okay. No, I don’t eat when I’m writing, other than the biscuit my wife will bring me with mid-morning coffee. My wife’s a gem. (Literally; those are her initials.) Yes, I have a chair a desk and a computer. Etc., thinking while you’re swimming or pounding away on a treadmill could be described as idiosyncratic, I suppose. There is one other, though; what I call my ‘F G moment’. That’s when everything falls into place and I can see the whole book as a piece in my mind’s eye, I can see the light and it is good. That’s when I go down to my wife and say, ‘Babe, I’m a F*****g Genius.’

 Do you actually like writing?

 When I get up on a dull November morning, as I will soon, with a scenario in my head but little else, and I crank out the first thousand words of the next Skinner, or Primavera, that’s when I like it least. But I still like it, always. And as each work progresses, gaining momentum until the finish is in sight and I’m producing up to 5,000 words on a good day, I like it more and more, until I reach the two magic words (‘The End’, in case you’re wondering. Ever seen Romancing the Stone? Remember how it starts?) and I’m reminded once again that there is no greater gift than being able to sit down and create something from your own mind, and when you do it for a living, no better job in the world. Okay, maybe I’d be of more value to more people if I was a brain surgeon or a cancer researcher or a supermarket check-out clerk. But on the other hand, brain surgeons and cancer researchers and supermarket check-out clerks need to be distracted too, need to escape from their work from time to time if they’re to function with 100% efficiency. If I can provide an escape route through my work, what’s not to like about that?

What you have to remember is that this idea of digging up golf courses to plant fruit and veg has been mooted  by the people who gave Edinburgh the tram project. Leaving that presentational problem to one side, though, I have no strong view about it, but I’m not biased in favour of golf. My step-daughter has an allotment in London, and loves it. Maybe the cooncil should  put all six of its courses on the market. If the Scottish Golf Union is serious about encouraging the development of the game, it might buy a couple and continue to run them as pay and play courses, which are important to people who can’t afford to join a club or are stuck on a waiting list. Any that don’t sell . . . if they’re not viable, it’s difficult to argue against a change of use. But would a golf course necessarily be suitable for division into allotments? Don’t they have to be on ground that’s more or less level?

One thought does occur. Are the police geared up to cope with any sudden increase in veg theft?

This is on TripAdvisor, but I feel that I have to share it with you too.

Eileen, my lovely wife, is from South Shields, and on the occasion of her 40th birthday, she asked me to take her back to her roots. For that purpose she chose the Little Haven Hotel, right on the mouth of the Tyne; to be frank I’d rather have gone to the Malmaison, but what she wants she gets, so I booked in and arranged a dinner party for the six of us who were in on the secret.

I’d have thought that Bank Holiday Monday would have been a big day for any hotel, but that was far from the case. The impression we were given from the moment that we checked in was that we were in some way an inconvenience. Before we were seated in the dining room, we were told that we would have to be finished our meal by 9pm, because ‘the chef  is going home then’. Having gone along with that I expected that he would extend his best efforts, but what was put before us was mediocre in quality, and served by staff in the manner of  McDonald’s counter clerks. ‘Plonk! There you are.’

The wine service was incredibly bad. The Little Haven needs to learn the difference between a barman and a wine waiter, and so does the individual.

When a wine waiter brings a bottle to a table, he will assume that the guests wish it to be opened and poured.

A proper wine waiter will uncork a bottle of red anything at the table, and offer it for approval before pouring. He will not present it with the cork already pulled, then stuck back in the neck of the bottle. Nor, unless he has been specifically been asked to do so by the guest, will he bring it in an ice-bucket!

Finally, although I have no prejudice against white wine with screw tops, in this day and age a wine waiter will not leave even the most robust of guests to unscrew the thing himself!

Having gone through those experiences and then slept very badly in an uncomfortable bed, I had low expectations when it came to breakfast, and again the Little Haven lived down to these, indeed below them. When I feel nauseous even before I leave the table, I know that something is not right. On reflection, it may have been the fact that the corridors smelled faintly but persistently of curry, even though there didn’t appear to be any on the menu.

All that w as bad enough, but when I got home and unpacked, I discovered that the uncomfortable chair on which I had been seated at dinner had ripped the back of my best jacket. Yes, this was taken up with the hotel; when it became clear that I wasn’t going away, I was promised a full incvestigation by a chap who identified himself as The Manager.  A full investigation should have taken five minutes, but it was four weeks later that he denied responsibility, on the ground that I hadn’t discovered the damage on his premises.

All that said, guess what angers QJ the most?

My ruined jacket? No; I have other jackets.

The mediocre food and beverages and appalling service? No; I survived.

The fact that my wife chose the Little Haven for a big day in her life and it let her down? Yes. That I will not forgive.

I’ve given the management every chance to mollify me … not even with money, for a simple apology, or even the faintest indication of concern, would have been enough … but they haven’t taken it. That being the case, I intend to use every means at my disposal to discourage my world-wide circle of friends and acquaintances, and every one else I can reach, from ever darkening the doors of the Little Haven Hotel.

Welcome, friends, to what used to be QJ’s journal. From now on, I won’t be posting messages on or around the first of every month, but whenever I damn well please. Also, if you send me a message through the main site’s email facility, you can expect a response rather quicker than before.

So, visit early, visit often.

Bob says: ‘Thing is. My Kid will always be My Kid; that’s how it is with me, and with my pal QJ. If she was found clutching a bloody chainsaw and surrounded by body parts, I’d defend her to the end. So would he. No, she wasn’t perfect in the situation, but who ever is. The guy in question certainly wasn’t and he compromised them both. Huge mistake.’

QJ says: ‘Dundee has been called many (mostly good)  things, but The Outer Darkness is a little on the severe side.’

You can either sit it out or dance. You’re dancing,  no mistake.

What was your Auntie Jessie’s surname? I have friends from there.

Highlight of last month? A trip to the Wigtown Book Festival. It involved four days of almost continuous travel from Spain via Gullane, but it’s always worth it. I’d like to thank Adrian Turpin, the energetic director of the event . . . running a book festival is no job for the faint-hearted . . . his staff and his volunteer crew for the warmth of their welcome. My gratitude also to those who attended my gig, and to Olivier Joly, who did a damn good job of chairing it.

It’s sad but true that for many of us who live in central Scotland, the area south west of the A74M is largely undiscovered and uncharted territory. I’ve been to Dumfries a couple of times, and I seem to recall visiting Stranraer once (although I can’t remember why) but Newton Stewart and Wigtown were firsts for me. It’s a pity, for the area is well worth a visit.

How do we encourage more people, native and visiting tourists, to go there? As the meerkat says on the telly, ‘Simples’. Instead of concentrating virtually all of our limited national transport budget in and around the major cities, the government should explore the economic benefit of improving our network across Scotland.

I haven’t done the sums but I’m prepared to bet that the A713 from Ayr to Castle Douglas could be turned into a road fit for purpose that would open up the whole of the Galloway area, by linking into the central Scotland trunk route through the A77, for much less money than it’s costing to lay a loathed and unwanted scar in the shape of a tram route across our capital city. Or, if roads are deemed non-PC these days, then let’s look seriously at laying down a strategic rail network. We’ve just had tabled, a proposal to build a new high-speed rail line linking London to the major cities. That will only proceed after around ten years of arguments; if and when it does it’ll take thirty years of endless budget escalations to complete, by which time it will possibly no longer be necessary, since business travel will have given way to remote meetings and internet conferencing. Instead of heading down the road to such profligacy, let’s spend the same amount of money in giving our people the chance to get to know our own country, and maybe even repopulate parts of it in time.

(Incidentally the Spanish high speed rail network will be complete in couple of years. They took the investment decision in time, and committed to the project 100 per cent. As a result they’re forty years ahead of Britain. More than half of the business travellers between Madrid and Barcelona use rail rather than the air link, and Zaragoza is said to be benefiting also, from people who decide to meet halfway.)

 

*****

 

My next trip is to Toronto later this month, as part of the Scots contingent attending the prestigious International Festival of Authors. This is my schedule:

 

1.    Reading:     Sunday, October 25, 2009

        2:00pm

        Lakeside Terrace,

        235 Queens Quay West.

   

2.    Round table:    Tuesday, October 27, 2009

        8:00pm

        Lakeside Terrace,

        235 Queens Quay West.

 

*****

 

For those who missed the news last month, a reminder that http://www.CampbellreadBooks.com, a dedicated service offering signed books by QJ, is now up and running and off to a flying and successful start. Just hit the purchase button or the home page graphic and it’ll take you straight there.

 

*****

 

This month’s feedback chums.

 

Norah Rothwell. Don’t worry about Skinner; he’ll always be my top priority. As for Andy . . . the guy just couldn’t stay away, could he.

 

Robert Armour. It’s the fact that my maternal grandmother was an Armour also, that’s persuaded me to cut you some slack. I thank you for your kind words and let the rest go by. I’ve learned to be less judgemental too over the years; I’ve learned to assume that everyone who sits down in front of a computer to tell a story is giving of his or her absolute best, and that when their work achieves publication it’s because some pretty shrewd and hard-nosed people reckon that it’s of sufficient merit to be a commercial success. With that in mind every creative writer, of fiction or fact, earns my automatic respect. Read on, kinsman.

 

Moe Munyon. I’ll have a word with Keith about that security box. If it isn’t built into the system, we’ll dump it. Make the most of your new status, enjoy FLW, and use that email address any time you like. My late father-in-law was in the Pacific too, in captivity for three years. At my brother-in-law’s insistence and with his help, he wrote a book about it.

 

Virginia Hermes. Nice spot. No, there hasn’t; it fits in with FLW and any references should be taken as sincere tributes.

 

Paula Watkins. You know where to find them; just press the button. I have a friend who is one of your clan, Kevyn by name, once met never forgotten.

 

Dianne Price. It isn’t true. Okay? You and all those other Americans can keep on salivating.

 

Joan McKie. Thanks, and thanks also for supporting the Wigtown Festival. It deserves it.

 

Tom Wotherspoon. Whoever gave you that advice is in line for a good kicking. If you get in touch with Campbell Read Books, by email or telephone, they may be able to help short term. If not, Unnatural Justice will be back in stock very soon.

 

Marj Marson. I trust that your weather forecast was misleading, as they can be in this part of the world. We haven’t been rained on at all for the last two weeks.

 

Keith Tomlin. Trust me. Oz is off the pitch. However his nephew Johnny is reaching an interesting age . . .

 

Kat Williams. Turkey is best first time around. Blood Red, January 7, Skinner 20, June 2010. And maybe something completely different next autumn, if I decide to commit the funds to publish it.

 

Ann Matheson. And hello to you. Yes, that’s a distant memory now, supplanted by Wigtown, which will soon be supplanted by Toronto. Maybe see you next year, if we’re all still around and I’m invited.

 

Gordon McIntosh. When I have too much time on my hands, I write. Why don’t you try the same?

 

Irene Haston. We’ve spoken before, haven’t we. You had a brother, yes? Re MtJ, if all goes according to plan, soon every QJ title will be available on the Campbellreadbooks website.

 

And to the rest, see you soon.

 

QJ

I caught the end of the Everton and Athens game last night. This six officials thing is absolute bollocks. It used to be that we had one ref, and two linesmen whose job was to stick their flags up, end of story. Last night an Athens player was sent off not by the referee, but by a linesman who saw something that was not apparent to anyone else in the ground. The same partially sighted referee did see Saha flap a hand at JuanFran, who then went down like Jane Seymour’s drawers for just long enough to the idiot to whip out a red card, then bounced back to his feet. However neither he nor the superflous tosser behind the goals seemed to notice JuanFran kicking Saha. If I’d been Saha, I’d have taken the guy into the car park afterwards and kicked the shit out of him. In the Liverpool of Shankly’s time Tommy Smith or Ron Yeats would have taken care of that chore, and I’m sure Everton had their enforcers as well. None of the officials paid any attention either to JuanFran’s three previous attempts to have Everton players sent off, by initiating contact and then going down like he’d been slashed. If a guy tried that in Scottish minor football even today, he’d be taken to hospital shortly afterwards and the ref wouldn’t have seen a thing. Having six officials is a bad idea from the start. Having six officials when half of them are useless, compounds matters, and endangers the very fabric of the game.