Ominous
I took this shot on June 27, while flying over the Pyrenees. I don’t know what such a cloud formation indicates, but instinctively I didn’t fancy being underneath it.
Amelia Pasch
Good luck in your quest for an agent, Amelia. I look forward to reading your work when it’s published
Keith Tomlin
Don’t jump, mate, for Christ’s sake. Hold on until February when Deadly Business, the next Primavera will be published, then till June for Pray for the Dying, the next Skinner. Meantime, I am hard at work on more, honest.
Fug on the Tyne
Last night we caught the first episode of a new series on BBC2 called ‘Hebburn‘. My dear wife is from Tyneside and used to teach in that community, so she tittered from start to finish, and I was able to watch almost all of it without the aid of sub-titles. My favourite line was the one uttered by Granny as she wheeled herself out of the pub disabled toilet. As for the bagels, they were priceless. And the fat guy in the vest sucking in a couple of his bellies and flexing his pecs as he passed Denise at the bus stop. If you didn’t see it and can access BBC iPlayer, check it out for yourself.
To think again . . .
At last, it’s official. There will be a referendum on Scottish independence, most likely on the 700th anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, a significant date in our history. My mind is already made up, and has been for many years. I will be voting ‘Yes!’ (Note the exclamation mark.)
I have a few English friends who don’t understand why that will be. My answer is always the same; ‘Because I’m Scottish. That’s my nationality. That’s what I am.’ My dream is that one day I will present my Scottish passport to a foreign immigration official. Maybe he’ll be English, maybe Canadian, most likely Spanish; whatever, wherever, I will insist that it is stamped, for it will be a momentous day in my life.
Already the ‘No’ campaign is rolling, and many of my fellow Scots are in that camp. I’m not going to demean them by calling them names. They’re not ‘Fearties’, most of them, but people who hold a different view to mine and who see our future in a continuing political union with our English nee’burs. But I’m not going to allow the assertion that we are voting for the break-up of the United Kingdom to stand unchallenged.
The United Kingdom has been in existence since 1603, and came about because the Virgin Queen left no weans (Well, she wouldn’t, would she?) to succeed her. The Union of the Parliaments came about in 1707, and it is that ill-considered but long-lasting marriage that will be dissolved if Scotland says ‘Yes!’ I will not be voting to reject the Head of State; I’m a monarchist, and more than happy with the present occupant. No, I will be voting to end an economic and fiscal union that has always been dominated by London and has always put London’s interests first. And I’ll even do so knowing for certain that the new state will have a left of centre government; I, who have never voted Labour in my life.
Nor am I going to allow myself to be deflected by the sterling smokescreen. The pound is a British unit of currency, not English; Scotland is its co-owner, and it is entirely logical that we should retain it, in the short term at least, taking our share of the asset and setting up a Scottish central bank, possibly with Alistair Darling as its first Governor.
Will it ever happen? Will I ever present that Scottish passport? Current polls indicate that if the referendum was held tomorrow, the single question on the ballot paper would see a resounding ‘No’ vote. But it won’t be. Those of us who believe in a sovereign Scotland, in a politically and fiscally independent Scotland, have the intervening period to persuade our fellows to ask themselves the simple questions, ‘Who am I? What am I? What do I want to bequeath to my children?’
The more we can do that, the more likely we are to energise the electorate, particularly its youngest members . . . very young some of them . . . and to awaken the inherent courage of the nation that we always have been in our hearts, and can be again, in the fullest sense.
Moira Hollamby
Moira, (and anyone else who’s in doubt) for the record, Oz Blackstone doesn’t die in any book. He goes to Jesus off the page, at some point between ‘For the Death of Me‘, and the first of Primavera’s adventures, ‘Inhuman Remains‘.
Paul Beauregard
Good news for you, Paul, and any other US residents in search of QJ titles. http://www.campbellreadbooks.com will ship to any global destination.
Incidentally, I met another Beauregard, in late 1979. First name, Buddy, he was a Texan and the boss of the MSV Tharos, a fire-fighting support rig in the North Sea. Any relation?
Bampots with keyboards
When I was a lad I did a bit of football reporting for the local paper on which I worked. There were some characters around then, the likes of Bob ‘Rex’ Kingsley, Gair ‘Budgie’ Henderson, Jim ‘Scoop’ Rodger, James ‘Solly’ Sanderson, Malky Munro, whose nickname rhymed with his forename, George ‘Corky’ Young, and even for a time Willie ‘Deedle’ Waddell, who went from the Daily Express into the Rangers manager’s office. Most of these guys didn’t know a lot of big words, but they did know their football, and they were realists.
Today’s generation seems to be different. They’re too dull to have nicknames and they do seem to know lots of big words, (although not always how to use them) but **** all else. Currently they have decided collectively that Craig Levein, the beleaguered Scotland national coach, team manager, call him what you will, must be sacked. This is on the basis of a lousy result in sweltering summer conditions in the US, a game that should never have been played, two home draws against very competent sides, one of whom went on to hump Wales 6 — 1 a few days later, and a defeat by our island neighbours on Friday which was entirely down to the linesman who disregarded the laws of geometry (if geometry has laws) in chalking off a perfectly good second Scotland goal, and a referee who must be a big ballet fan, since he gave Gareth Bale top marks for a Swan Lake dive late in the day, as Wales faced defeat. He also gave him a penalty kick which turned the game. Hardly Craig’s fault, either of those decisions, but their consequence was that his side were robbed of a good away win.
The jackals of the Scottish football press have decided that this is unacceptable. They disregard the fact that for the last year the manager has been without his inspirational captain, that another top midfielder has a chronic injury that is limiting his availability, and that our best striker has been in the huff. They overlook the sad truth that at this time we do not have a back four capable of keeping hens out of a dustbin, far less holding off international class forwards. They report, then deride, the fact that the players are behind the coach. They want his head, and they are determined to have it.
But there’s one relevant question that is not being asked. If not Craig, then who? Who is available, of those, who would be better, and who in his right mind would want the job? The list of candidates is not extensive. Owen Coyle’s name is mentioned, but he is actually Irish by football nationality and is much more likely to wind up in charge of the Republic. Graeme Souness says he is finished with management. Gordon Strachan does not inspire and also seems very comfortable in the media. The likes of Mark McGhee and Steve Kean have one thing alone going for them, their nationality, and God preserve us from such foolish choices. Stuart McCall is doing an excellent job at Motherwell, but he doesn’t seem the type who would cope with seeing his players six times a year as opposed to every week.
The fact is there is only one logical choice for the Scotland hot seat, and that is the man who is currently being pilloried. It’s being said now that defeat in Belgium tomorrow night will be the final nail in his coffin. If that becomes the case, then the people running Scottish football will have been proven as blinkered and moronic as the people writing about it. There are only two sides in Europe, Spain and Germany, who might be backed to win in Belgium, and even they would be happy to come away with a draw.
The Tartan Army may not be happy with recent results, but they are realists. They know that while we are not good enough at this moment to come through a very tough World Cup qualifying group, we do have some very good young players on the way up. If the present coach is allowed to see out his contract, there is every chance that he will build a side worthy of the jerseys. If the clattering classes have their way, as I fear they will, they’ll get what they deserve.
Ken Dodd
Okay, as you’ve seen, I can post videos now. What do you think of the show so far?
I’ve been assisted in this by a WordPress guy called Phil, who has helped me through, ironing out a couple of glitches in the process. Phil has the best job title I have ever seen, and he lives up to it. WordPress call him a ‘Happiness Engineer’.
Lance
As I’ve said in an earlier post, I have no idea of the truth in the Lance Armstrong case, but a few things about it seem just a little smelly to me. I am always wary of the zealots at the head of anti-doping agencies around the world, and of their methods.
That’s why a report I’ve just read seems to me worthy of independent investigation. A day after the Armstrong papers were released by the USADA, with its slightly sinister head, Mr Travis Tygart securing world-wide personal media coverage, it has been announced that five of Armstrong’s former team-mates have been given doping bans, reduced to six months each because they gave evidence against him. They will do their time over the winter and will be free to compete next year. If that is not suborning witnesses, then what the hell is?
When a kangaroo court is assembled, the smart play is usually to ignore it, and leave it to jump to its heart’s content. That’s what Armstrong and his legal team have done . . . so far. Let’s see where this finishes
Question
This is awful stuff, but I’m concerned that the lady making the allegations ‘waived her anonymity’ to tell her story to ITV. Why would she have to do that? Her claims would have been no less serious even if her name had been kept out of it.
Jimmy Savile and the two-faced watch
It has become impossible to miss the stuff that’s coming to the surface about the late Sir Jimmy Savile. If it’s true, am I shocked? Yes, very. Am I surprised? No, not very.
I had occasion to meet Sir Jimmy in the late 70s, when he was on a visit to the state mental hospital in Carstairs, Scotland, that being one of my civil service responsibilities at the time. I accompanied him on a tour of the place; it was, as you’d expect, full of very disturbed people, and I was struck by the way that he was able to communicate with all but one of two of them. He spent a couple of minutes with as many as he could and left each one calmer and happier than they had been. I’ve never forgotten that; the man had a genuine and unusual gift.
However I still remember also, the Jimmy who sat later and chatted with the small group of invited journalists who had been with us. As I listened to him, I tried to get a grip of the depth of the man, to see what made him different. But I couldn’t; he seemed entirely two-dimensional, as if his true self was hidden behind a very thick wall. But he let one thing slip. On that day he was wearing a wrist watch, or rather two wristwatches on a single strap, one front, one back. Someone asked him why. His reply: ‘Well, as it ‘appens, it’s like this. If you’re with a young lady in certain circumstances, it means you never need to move your arm to see what time it is.’
Seems that more than Jimmy’s time-piece may have been two faced.
Added October 6.
But then again, a few days down the road, and I’m disturbed for another reason. People are coming out of the woodwork with tales of abuse. They may well be genuine; let’s say they are. However they are not proven. Yet this morning I heard a BBC executive declare JS guilty, when he said that there is no doubt these things happened.
Sorry, mate, but while all this seems to have been an open secret, if his hand-wringing contemporaries are to be believed as they rush to distance themselves from potential scandal, not a single charge was laid while all these allegations were allegedly taking place. JS was never put on trial. Indeed a police investigation into a complaint was dismissed out of hand.
Now that Jimmy is dead, of course, there is no burden of proof, and in the current climate, anyone who comes forward to declare that he had horns under that hair and a hole in the ‘Jim’ll Fit It’ chair to accommodate his tail will be given a ready hearing and presented as a credible witness.
What we’re seeing now is a media lynch mob. If that doesn’t disturb you, it should.
