The debonair Basil Marigold's

They became dinosaurs way before I had ever heard of them, or their music. I was about 14/15 and had stayed up late one night and flicking across TV channels, at the time, there was only the 4! I caught a film mid way through and in the scene a train flashes past a young boy stood in a darkened tunnel, the faces that look out to him from the train are deformed by pig like masks they then walk into a meat grinder and animated out of the other end and behind all this weirdness, and slightly discomforting video, was up to that point the greatest sound I had ever heard. It turned out to be, The Pink Floyd (rock dinosaurs, in 1990!) As I then spent the next hour watching the ever more disturbed evolution of, Bob Geldof, as 'Pink' descendin from a rock star to fascist leader as a metaphor for madness. I was hooked, instantly and needed to  find out more about Pink Floyd. I rememeber  the following day telling my best friend at school about this most disturbing of films. His ste

I am a terrible music snob. No, really. I am. This surprises you doesn't? It shouldn't. I think my passion for music, is perhaps higher than that for books, I think. Yet, even I can make mistakes and so it seems I have of late. I am sure I have blind spots in my musical knowledge; For instance, should you wish to consult an expert in Icelandic death metal, then this would not be me. Would you like to discuss the impact of the music of the 'Carpenters', then again, move on. You can probably also add to this whatever the DJ's (if this is what they are still called on R1), are playing on this station. I imagine it is some form of manifestation of what a migraine is, set to music. So. The, 'Joy Division' then. Perhaps the first band in the history of music to name themselves after the prostitution wing of a concentration camp. Which if not defining them as a band that wanted to challenge preconceptions then I am not sure exactly what else they could have done,

His name was, Riccardo. He sat in front of me at the Kate Bush concert. I know his name because he seemed intent on introducing himself to both the women sitting on either side of him. He was American, he was gregarious.  After he had sat down and spoken to the women next to him for about 10 minutes I now knew that this was his second night at the concert & he was, the following day, travelling to Italy to spend time with someone he met on his holidays who had invited him to his Italian farm if he should ever find himself in Italy. First clue, Riccardo. When people say to you, 'Oh, whenever you are next over in a country 4000 miles away from your home, you must come to mine and we shall spent some time together'. THIS IS NOT TRUE. it means the opposite. Translated, it actually means. 'If you ever somehow find your way across 4000 miles of world, away from your home. Never, ever darken my door. I am saying this just to be polite knowing that 4000 miles is quite a

As an addendum to the previous post. I thought I would transcribe my master list to show, if anyone was interested, how the reading was spaced out during those 33 weeks. As you can see, some books were devoured in only a day (some nice thin volumes), while others took a few days. You can also see where I had to take a break from overkill. It seems to be a case of, perhaps, an average time of maybe 3/4 days to read a novel when I was fully focused. 1. The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920)  read by 20-11-2013 nov 2. The Murder on the Links (1923)   read by 26-11-2013 nov 3. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926) read by 28-11-2013 nov 4. The Big Four (1927) read by 07-12-2013 dec 5. The Mystery of the Blue Train (1928) read by 09-12-2013 dec 6. Peril at End House (1932)  read by 05-01-2014 jan 7. Lord Edgware Dies (1933)  read by 13-01-2014 jan 8. Murder on the Orient Express (1934)  read by 15-01-2014 jan 9. Three Act Tragedy (1935)  read by 18-01-2014 jan 10. Death in the Cloud

And it ended. It ended on the 9th July 2014. The well blogged quest to read the 33 Agatha Christie, Hercule Poirot novels, in a year. It didn't take a year. It took, coincidently, 33 weeks to achieve the goal I had set myself 52 weeks to achieve. I came in 19 weeks early! On average therefore, I managed 1 book a week. This is obviously not quite as it happened; How it happened is laid out in the below chart. It shows that I started gently and got very focused in the months of March, April & May. As you can see, I think I struggled with, 'Poirot Fatigue', in the month June. Finally polishing it off in early July.  It has proved a highly enjoyable experience, if at times highly intense! When you submerge yourself in a character over a compressed period you really do befriend them and begin to understand how the, 'little grey cells' work. So, what did I learn about, Poirot? Like, Inspector Morse. The literary character is far more gripping than the TV

Its time to discuss the ultimate abhorrent thing I have come across. A thing so abhorrent it is an affront to humanity, yet it is from humanity's mind that this great evil has sprung from. There are few truly evil things in the world. It is a very powerful word and should be used sparingly by us for only the truly evil. Yet, sadly some things are so abhorrent to us or should be seen as so, without a doubt. Like, reality TV for example, but that is not as abhorrent to me as what I'm talking about (indeed the very idea it could be judged worse than reality TV shows the very level we've reached!) What, you may ask is a greater evil than this? What is humanity produced that makes me shiver more than the success of reality TV makers? The rectangle toilet! Neither is there a place in the world, nor any less evil attached to it's accomplice, the square toilet seat!  Which desperately unhappy (evil soul) created this abomination? But more importantly, why? 

Having spent a fairly wet, Bank holiday monday, walking around Rufford Park. I found myself lost in thought about the place. I remember going to a big park, with a great ruin, when I was very little and had come up north for a holiday. I also remember not going for a long time, in between the trip as a kid with, Nannar and Grandad and me, moving up north, in search of fame and fortune. I had somehow fused the park and it's ruined Abbey into a location I believed to be, Clumber park, another place not so far away.  It was the first time I went to Rufford, with the girl who became my wife that my memories returned and I realised that the 'ruined building' I remembered but could not place was actually, Rufford Abbey at Rufford Park. It was a happy memory I held as a kid, a place I seem to remember with joy. There is something quite wondrous about the building. On this Bank Holiday for some reason I found myself wondering what the actual history to the place was.  To try an

What began as an inspiration from the BBC radio programme, good reads, that swiftly metamorphosed into a literary quest to read all the Agatha Christie, ' Hercule Poirot'   'novels', in Chronological order, is, like the books themselves, beginning to reach its conclusion. In Poirot parlance, the suspects are presently gathering in the drawing room, as our 'Egg headed, Belgian, ex-policeman, enters to begin his initial declamation to the assembled witnesses of his, 'methodical' and 'orderly' genius. I am currently only six books from facing, 'The Last Curtain' (both literally and Literary speaking - and yes, this is a pun. You can laugh...now!). It has been a long and, at times, arduous a journey since those halcyon October days in 2013 when this whole project grew from the origins of the 'A,B,C murders' discussed on the radio on the drive home from work.  Yet, the end now is in sight for both Poirot and myself. I have been thinki

Northumberland collects castles, like David Moyes collects, well, defeats. One imagines that the council has a collection of generic brown tourist/places of interest signs that have a blank followed by 'Castle'. Though to be fair, they are wonderful castles each and every one. In various stages from usable (Bamburgh, for instance has private rented apartments), Lindisfarne, was re-modelled and used as a holdiay 'castle'. Dunstanburgh castle is pretty much 4 walls left standing. Alnwick houses a Duke and his family and my daughter made sand castles. Everything is Castle related and I can imagine that, Roy Castle once lived in Northumberland, in a castle.

Northumberland beaches can be very beautiful, as beaches go, they tick quite a few boxes that good beaches need; they can be long and curved, they possess fine and clean sand, very few rocks (unlike the breakwater beach in brixham, for example) as you head towards the sea you have the good, compacted sand, ideal for sand castles and the day we went yesterday it also had glorious blue skies and a day of sunshine. Yet, oddly, this beach (and the others I have been to so far, also), it was pretty well deserted. Certainly not too busy at all (compare this to the Grockle heavy Devon coastline in summer). All these boxes above have been ticked and were this; Devon, Dorset or Cornwall the beach would be standing room only for large, burnt red English men with beer bellies and comparing their tattoos with the wife or girlfriend. But not here, not in Northumberland and that's for the other box it ticks; ferociously high winds from the east coming across the north sea! In full effect, a wind

I have been further north, which is technically another country altogether, Scotland. However, this is the first time I have headed so far north and not left England behind. I am presently, in the least populated county in England, the county of Northumberland. It has this distinction of being the least populated county in England I was surprised by this, as I thought maybe it would Cornwall, or Cumbria, but no, I stand corrected (though I stand alone, as there are so few people to stand with me). Ancestral county of the Percy family, as Dukes of Northumberland. The ancestral seat being, Alnwick, although the county capital is now, Morpeth.   It was quite a drive, the county is dissected by the A1/A1(M) heading along the east coast as it finally runs into Scotland. The proximity to Scotland seems to have defined the history and nature of the county. The Scots and the English often clashed in and around Northumberland, it being less difficult to penetrate by armed forces than the mo

It is without doubt a very personal list, these things by their nature must be. Yet, 6 years ago the Guardian published an article here  by a journalist who listed what he believed to be the 10 best book shops in the world. It is as I've mentioned, a truly variable love and one man's goose...etc.  The point is that I have now visited the bookshop that stands proudly at number 6 in the list. Scarthin books in the Peak District (Cromford to be exact, geographically!). I had never been before until a few weeks ago. My wife took me, she is aware I have predilection for book shops (of any variety, unless of course, Cheryl Cole opens a shop only selling her books). I have visited very many in my life so far and indeed, I plan to visit an awful lot more in search of the continual bargain that needs to be be bought and brought home with me, as its new owner.  I have, however, become more disciplined with my book buying. It really has to be something 'exceptional', as opp

My, Poirot, novel reading challenge is going well after what has been a fruitful period in the month of March. I have managed to read from, Dumb Witness to Hercule Poirot's christmas. (in total 4 books so far, read from the 4th to the 20th March. I know this because my chronological list is dated when they are read. Yep, it's that methodical (or anorak-ish) depending on your opinion about lists. I may, just may be able to shoe horn number 5 in before the end of march (perhaps, if I'm being wildly ambitious, 6?). However, March has been the most productive reading month since I started! It has also meant I have come to a major milestone. The half way point in my challenge! Hercule Poirot's christmas was number 17 of the 34 I am too read. I have managed to read a christmas story with Easter coming up on the horizon. But the joy of reaching the half way line has resulted in quite a euphoric feeling (I am not focusing on the fact that I have another 17 books to go, for e

Until this past weekend. I had in 37 years, visited 18 World Heritage sites. It is more than I thought, though looking at the list I realise that it is also not quite enough to be happy with. Last saturday, however, I turned this number into 19. Strangely enough, the site was only 16 miles from the front door, in the rolling dales of Derbyshire. I have lived, 'up north' for nearly 14 years now and yet, for some reason had never visited, Cromford Mills, before. I guess the location (didn't drive before I got married), lack of buses, company, etc all meant that I never really explored off of the main bus routes and to be honest I tended to go away more often than I do now, abroad, mainly, Italy, really Rome, the most beautiful city in the world. The one place I love the most.  So, on Saturday, with the family in tow we headed out into the rural beauty that is Derby. We went past mine and my sons favourite Derbyshire attraction, Crich Tramway Museum. As we pulled into

I kind of had an inkling before I set out on my path to the Poirot challenge achievement, mentioned, previously, that a lot of my issue for never reading any until I reached 36 years of age was an ingrained prejudice and perception on my part. This, I believed I had overcome. Well, tonight a little part of that false perception has come true. Perception has become truth. I have been supplied by both Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire library services for my book requests and with all challenges, I have discovered a friend, who I name 'Challenge ally' who has their own vast, Poirot Library, which I am now fortunately a member of and plundering regularly.  However, in my over eagerness to get ahead, after the delivery of 3 new books for me. (As a digression, I will now describe the last transaction; I had three books to return and three books to receive and it involved me handing a bag into an open car window to our go between (her husband, but 'go between' suits the sto