Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 73
January 16, 2013
Are you sitting comfortably?
Then I'll begin. And on this very day in 1950 she did. Daphne Oxenford, that is. The voice of 'Listen with Mother'.
If the name seems familiar it might be because it was in the news late last year for less happy reasons. Daphne Oxenford died in December aged ninety-three, after a lifetime acting, entertaining troops (she was a member of ENSA during the war) and, of course, reading stories to children at 'a quarter-to-two' as the announcer would intone on the BBC Light Programme.
If, like me, you happen to be of 'a certain age' then you'll probably remember the music that followed (Beceuse from the Dolly Suite by Gabriel Faure) before the dulcet, post prandial tones of Miss Oxenford (or perhaps Julia Lang or Dorothy Smith, two of the other presenters) would welcome you to one of the few items of dedicated children's broadcasting available at the time.
Kids today, CBeebies on morning 'til night - don't know they're born, do they?
So, are you sitting comfortably? If so, this might bring back a few memories...
Download and Convert this YouTube Video to MP3
If the name seems familiar it might be because it was in the news late last year for less happy reasons. Daphne Oxenford died in December aged ninety-three, after a lifetime acting, entertaining troops (she was a member of ENSA during the war) and, of course, reading stories to children at 'a quarter-to-two' as the announcer would intone on the BBC Light Programme.
If, like me, you happen to be of 'a certain age' then you'll probably remember the music that followed (Beceuse from the Dolly Suite by Gabriel Faure) before the dulcet, post prandial tones of Miss Oxenford (or perhaps Julia Lang or Dorothy Smith, two of the other presenters) would welcome you to one of the few items of dedicated children's broadcasting available at the time.
Kids today, CBeebies on morning 'til night - don't know they're born, do they?
So, are you sitting comfortably? If so, this might bring back a few memories...
Download and Convert this YouTube Video to MP3
January 15, 2013
Want to be Writer-in-Residence for Radio 4?
Exciting news from Auntie reaches Dotterel Towers today. To whit, the following press release...
Following the popularity of So You Want To Be A Scientist last year, Radio 4 will launch So You Want To Be A Writer in the spring of 2013. So You Want To Be A Writer will be both a talent search and an initiative to encourage anyone who has ever wanted to write to find out how to do it. It will open up the world of writing to listeners, and enhance their understanding of it.
So You Want To Be A Writer will form part of Open Book, the network’s flagship books programme presented by Mariella Frostrup. The programme will hear from leading authors about how unpublished writers can best develop the necessary skills to write their own stories, and how they can find an individual writing voice.
Throughout the year there will be regular reports on the progress of the talent search, as well as features exploring the benefits and pleasures of the act of writing. Whether it’s a striking first novel, a string of short stories, or telling a family history in an engaging and memorable way, So You Want To Be A Writer will demystify the world of books and create a path through the maze of the publishing industry – from strong ideas and first drafts all the way through to agents and e-publishing.
This year will also see the appointment of Radio 4’s first Writer In Residence. The search is now on for an independent voice of literary merit to think and write about the changing times we’re living through. The successful writer will be given a unique platform on air and online to forge a dialogue with the audience and become an ambassador for the spirit of Radio 4.
Gwyneth Williams says: “I appointed a Writer In Residence during my time at the World Service – Hamid Ismailov, the Uzbek journalist, poet and author. Hamid has had a substantial impact in this role, and the value of his work, rich in humanity and humour, has enriched the airwaves. An independent artistic voice has real value on air and online and we need it on Radio 4.”
It's not often I quote so extensively from a press release but this, I think you'll agree, is rather exciting news - especially for all wannabe writers. And as that was the subject of my last post (what d'you mean you haven't read it?) it's rather timely, too.
And as for the idea of writer-in-residence for Radio Four well, that's pretty exciting isn't it? I mean, think of the potential: Shipping Forecast sonnets; a Front Row rap; some assonance for the Archers; hyperbole for John Humphries and the endless oxymoron that is late-night Radio Four 'comedy'.
Where do I apply?
Following the popularity of So You Want To Be A Scientist last year, Radio 4 will launch So You Want To Be A Writer in the spring of 2013. So You Want To Be A Writer will be both a talent search and an initiative to encourage anyone who has ever wanted to write to find out how to do it. It will open up the world of writing to listeners, and enhance their understanding of it.
So You Want To Be A Writer will form part of Open Book, the network’s flagship books programme presented by Mariella Frostrup. The programme will hear from leading authors about how unpublished writers can best develop the necessary skills to write their own stories, and how they can find an individual writing voice.
Throughout the year there will be regular reports on the progress of the talent search, as well as features exploring the benefits and pleasures of the act of writing. Whether it’s a striking first novel, a string of short stories, or telling a family history in an engaging and memorable way, So You Want To Be A Writer will demystify the world of books and create a path through the maze of the publishing industry – from strong ideas and first drafts all the way through to agents and e-publishing.
This year will also see the appointment of Radio 4’s first Writer In Residence. The search is now on for an independent voice of literary merit to think and write about the changing times we’re living through. The successful writer will be given a unique platform on air and online to forge a dialogue with the audience and become an ambassador for the spirit of Radio 4.
Gwyneth Williams says: “I appointed a Writer In Residence during my time at the World Service – Hamid Ismailov, the Uzbek journalist, poet and author. Hamid has had a substantial impact in this role, and the value of his work, rich in humanity and humour, has enriched the airwaves. An independent artistic voice has real value on air and online and we need it on Radio 4.”
It's not often I quote so extensively from a press release but this, I think you'll agree, is rather exciting news - especially for all wannabe writers. And as that was the subject of my last post (what d'you mean you haven't read it?) it's rather timely, too.
And as for the idea of writer-in-residence for Radio Four well, that's pretty exciting isn't it? I mean, think of the potential: Shipping Forecast sonnets; a Front Row rap; some assonance for the Archers; hyperbole for John Humphries and the endless oxymoron that is late-night Radio Four 'comedy'.
Where do I apply?
January 11, 2013
How to be a writer
Remember the creative writing e-course? Remember those lessons, delivered weekly to your inbox, the exercises, and the online peer mentoring forums? Well, one of the Alumni has only gone and got herself a publishing deal, hasn't she? And we were both invited into the studios of BBC Lincolnshire yesterday to tell the story.
In case you didn't know, a couple of years ago, flushed by my own modest success and wildly over-confident about my abilities, I created a free ten-week, online course for new writers. We even published an end-of-term anthology, Tiny Acorns, containing the best of the students work.
It all started, as with a lot of success stories, with disappointment. Having signed up to a college course and been let down, blogger Carol Smith happened casually to ask if I knew of any other options. And I sallied forth rather foolishly and said I'd fill the breach with a course of my own, on line, especially for her (and - ultimately - a few hundred others from as far afield as Canada and Australia).
The rest, as they say, is history. Or it would be if there wasn't still so much interest. The book of the course (containing all the lessons ) is still selling (proceeds to Children in Need), an advanced course was commissioned by publishers Need2Know (and released last year) and now, finally, a book deal for Jeannette Ellwood.
Here's that interview:
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In case you didn't know, a couple of years ago, flushed by my own modest success and wildly over-confident about my abilities, I created a free ten-week, online course for new writers. We even published an end-of-term anthology, Tiny Acorns, containing the best of the students work.
It all started, as with a lot of success stories, with disappointment. Having signed up to a college course and been let down, blogger Carol Smith happened casually to ask if I knew of any other options. And I sallied forth rather foolishly and said I'd fill the breach with a course of my own, on line, especially for her (and - ultimately - a few hundred others from as far afield as Canada and Australia).
The rest, as they say, is history. Or it would be if there wasn't still so much interest. The book of the course (containing all the lessons ) is still selling (proceeds to Children in Need), an advanced course was commissioned by publishers Need2Know (and released last year) and now, finally, a book deal for Jeannette Ellwood.
Here's that interview:
January 7, 2013
A lesson for David Cameron
I used to be a teacher, once. And one of the things I used to teach was philosophy. Now philosophy is really nothing more than the art of thinking clearly - logically - about a problem.
Admittedly, the problems of philosophy are usually rather tricky: why are we here? what is reality? where does right and wrong come from? But I thought, this morning, I'd invite David Cameron into my classroom to do a little basic logic. Because one of the following statements about today's child benefit cuts - repeated by government spokesmen and women across the media this morning - is a non sequitur (that's philosophy for -'bollocks', by the way). Now, Mr Cameron. Can you identify which one?
Statement A: child benefit must be cut to help reduce the nation's deficit;
Statement B: those with broadest shoulders should bear the biggest burden;
Statement C: the majority of parents will still receive child benefit.
No, Mr Cameron? Oh do come on! Anyone else, then? Anyone?
Let's go through them one by one shall we? Statement A is undoubtedly true, if - as this government has - you decide to cut public spending as your route to deficit reduction. (Yes, Balls, we know: other routes may be available. Now, put down that ocarina!)
Now, B. Again, true. We'd expect those who can afford to to pay more, wouldn't we everybody? Yes, sir.
And statement C. That seems pretty watertight, too, doesn't it? It's undoubtedly true that a mere 15% of those claiming child benefit at midnight last night will no longer be doing so today.
So, where's the problem?
Well, let's look at that last statement again, shall we? Of that 15% there will undoubtedly by a tiny proportion of very wealthy individuals who will barely notice a missing trifle from their income stream and will merrily toss to their accountant the necessary self-assessment form. They've got broad shoulders, as you say. They should pay.
But so should more than a few of the 85% remaining recipients of child benefit, shouldn't they? Because their household income combined is in some cases considerably more than that of the 'broad shoulder' brigade, isn't it Mr Cameron? Oh do keep up!
Which means, in essence, that there will be those among the losers this morning whose shoulders are a good deal narrower than some, perhaps many, of the majority - sitting pretty with a joint income potentially of up to £90,000, who are still receiving child benefit. Child benefit that you, Mr C - yes you too, Osborne (oh do put your hand down!) - said you needed to help reduce the deficit.
Yes, not very bright of you, is it Cameron? What school did you say you'd been to before coming here? Eton, was it? And how much did your father spend on that, I wonder? Lets see shall we, six years between the ages of thirteen and eighteen at, what, thirty grand a year? That's a pair of very broad shoulders, isn't it David?
Yes.
Class dismissed.
If only...
Admittedly, the problems of philosophy are usually rather tricky: why are we here? what is reality? where does right and wrong come from? But I thought, this morning, I'd invite David Cameron into my classroom to do a little basic logic. Because one of the following statements about today's child benefit cuts - repeated by government spokesmen and women across the media this morning - is a non sequitur (that's philosophy for -'bollocks', by the way). Now, Mr Cameron. Can you identify which one?
Statement A: child benefit must be cut to help reduce the nation's deficit;
Statement B: those with broadest shoulders should bear the biggest burden;
Statement C: the majority of parents will still receive child benefit.
No, Mr Cameron? Oh do come on! Anyone else, then? Anyone?
Let's go through them one by one shall we? Statement A is undoubtedly true, if - as this government has - you decide to cut public spending as your route to deficit reduction. (Yes, Balls, we know: other routes may be available. Now, put down that ocarina!)
Now, B. Again, true. We'd expect those who can afford to to pay more, wouldn't we everybody? Yes, sir.
And statement C. That seems pretty watertight, too, doesn't it? It's undoubtedly true that a mere 15% of those claiming child benefit at midnight last night will no longer be doing so today.
So, where's the problem?
Well, let's look at that last statement again, shall we? Of that 15% there will undoubtedly by a tiny proportion of very wealthy individuals who will barely notice a missing trifle from their income stream and will merrily toss to their accountant the necessary self-assessment form. They've got broad shoulders, as you say. They should pay.
But so should more than a few of the 85% remaining recipients of child benefit, shouldn't they? Because their household income combined is in some cases considerably more than that of the 'broad shoulder' brigade, isn't it Mr Cameron? Oh do keep up!
Which means, in essence, that there will be those among the losers this morning whose shoulders are a good deal narrower than some, perhaps many, of the majority - sitting pretty with a joint income potentially of up to £90,000, who are still receiving child benefit. Child benefit that you, Mr C - yes you too, Osborne (oh do put your hand down!) - said you needed to help reduce the deficit.
Yes, not very bright of you, is it Cameron? What school did you say you'd been to before coming here? Eton, was it? And how much did your father spend on that, I wonder? Lets see shall we, six years between the ages of thirteen and eighteen at, what, thirty grand a year? That's a pair of very broad shoulders, isn't it David?
Yes.
Class dismissed.
If only...
January 5, 2013
Rod: The Autobiography
We bloggers are often getting asked to review things. It's part of the territory, and I'm happy to oblige most of the time. (I have, in the past, drawn the line at certain female depilatory products and incontinence pants.) The deal is they send something, sometimes to keep, and I write about it... if I like it. Simple, really. If I don't, I won't. That's the policy.
Even so, I sometimes worry that the largesse of certain PR companies might inadvertently sway my ruthlessly impartial judgement, from time-to-time. I mean, the offer of a couple of cartons of cream crackers, gratis, or a tube or three of Deep Heat and (it is well known) I'm anybody's.
Anyway, to ring the changes I thought I'd review some stuff I'd either got (i.e. as a present) or else read (without being sent free for the purpose, thereof) over the next few weeks and I'm starting with a book I never thought I'd read, by a man I didn't think I liked, in whose songs and life I've only previously had the most passing of interests. Rod Stewart.
Yes, Rod the Mod. Do-Ya-Think-I'm-Sexy Hot-Legs Stewart.
I can pretty much guarantee that, if you were to ask anyone who knows me and my normally cerebral reading habits they'd have placed this book last on their list of Christmas reading predictions for yours truly.
Anyone who knows my taste in music, too, might be forgiven at this point for wondering if I've somehow OD-ed on the sherry trifle or had an extreme reaction to a seasonal glut of John Rutter (incidentally, the best comment I heard about 'Mr Christmas's' newly-commissioned carol, premiered at the King's Nine Lessons service on Christmas Eve this Christmas was 'I thought it was by Andrew Lloyd-Webber!' Priceless.)
But I digress. Back to Rod. It all started way back in October when I inadvertently caught Mr Stewart being interviewed by Kirsty Lang on BBC Radio Four's Front Row. I think I was driving. Certainly only half-listening. But I found my attention gradually increasing, my interest slowly rising rather like the gravity-defying barnet of the man himself (and about as unbelievably). In short, by the end of the item, I began to think of Mr Rod Stewart in a somewhat different light, and there began a small but undeniable fascination and desire to get hold of the book he was discussing.
Here it is:
I bought a copy thinking it'd be the perfect light-read over Christmas and - do you know what? - it was. In fact, it was slightly better than that. Well written (by him? I do hope so) and by turns honest and intriguing (as well as shocking and a little bit mocking) it is, in short, something of a revelation.
At this point I have to confess a sneaking regard for the eponymous biographer's musical talents, especially when accompanied by his erstwhile backing group The Faces. (I'm especially partial to the anthemic energy of the song 'Stay with Me', and have an especial fondness for Mr Stewart's solo classic, Maggie May.)
But the man himself? The gravity-defying hair and Viagra-shaming tumescence? The bottom wiggling, stage strutting, tight-trouser-wearing posing and posturing? The frankly exhausting, super-human philandering? No. I confess (at the risk of sounding like a Victorian patriarch) to being rather 'put off' by such exhibitionist behaviour. (Ok, and a tad jealous too!) Yes, I know the guy's a rock star and a bloody brilliant singer, but...
My Damascus Road experience actually occurred on page 271 with Rod describing the arrangements for flying a succession of models in to Cannes (where our hero is shooting a video) in order to, er... keep him warm at night. I think it deserves an extended quotation:
The arrangements had the rigour and precision of a military operation. Don Archell would drive the outgoing girl to Nice Airport, drop her at departures, then head round to arrivals to collect the incoming replacement. I reckon the logistics for the 2012 Olympics were only slightly more complex than those involved in the smooth running of 'the long hot summer'.
Elsewhere, Rod had tips aplenty for parents (which include packing - in addition to sandwich, apple etc. - random items such as a screwdriver in your child's school lunch box) and, of course, descriptions aplenty of the high-jinks enjoyed by rock bands on tour along with the consumption of infeasible quantities of cocaine.
But none of them has quite the same blinding revelatory effect as that moment on page 271, with (at the time) twice-married (and many many more times entwined) Rod searching in his little black book - yes, little black book! - for past conquests to fly in (and out) of France on a nightly basis during a summer spent making a pop video.
Because in that moment, it suddenly hit me. It's Don Giovanni! The man is the living, breathing, singing, womanising, carousing, hell-raising embodiment of literature's (and music's) greatest-ever villain. And safe in that knowledge, you can (almost) forgive the man anything.
Almost.
If you're going to sin, you might as well sin big - be hung for a sheep (FOR, I said!) as a lamb, as the saying goes. The Don of legend (and an especially magnificent Mozart opera which I review here) notched enough conquests on the bedpost to leave it resembling an overlarge twiglet I suppose, but, but...
Did Don Giovanni have a train-set? Yes, a train-set?
Because Rod Stewart does.
Yes.
And do you think that's sexy?
Even so, I sometimes worry that the largesse of certain PR companies might inadvertently sway my ruthlessly impartial judgement, from time-to-time. I mean, the offer of a couple of cartons of cream crackers, gratis, or a tube or three of Deep Heat and (it is well known) I'm anybody's.
Anyway, to ring the changes I thought I'd review some stuff I'd either got (i.e. as a present) or else read (without being sent free for the purpose, thereof) over the next few weeks and I'm starting with a book I never thought I'd read, by a man I didn't think I liked, in whose songs and life I've only previously had the most passing of interests. Rod Stewart.
Yes, Rod the Mod. Do-Ya-Think-I'm-Sexy Hot-Legs Stewart.
I can pretty much guarantee that, if you were to ask anyone who knows me and my normally cerebral reading habits they'd have placed this book last on their list of Christmas reading predictions for yours truly.
Anyone who knows my taste in music, too, might be forgiven at this point for wondering if I've somehow OD-ed on the sherry trifle or had an extreme reaction to a seasonal glut of John Rutter (incidentally, the best comment I heard about 'Mr Christmas's' newly-commissioned carol, premiered at the King's Nine Lessons service on Christmas Eve this Christmas was 'I thought it was by Andrew Lloyd-Webber!' Priceless.)
But I digress. Back to Rod. It all started way back in October when I inadvertently caught Mr Stewart being interviewed by Kirsty Lang on BBC Radio Four's Front Row. I think I was driving. Certainly only half-listening. But I found my attention gradually increasing, my interest slowly rising rather like the gravity-defying barnet of the man himself (and about as unbelievably). In short, by the end of the item, I began to think of Mr Rod Stewart in a somewhat different light, and there began a small but undeniable fascination and desire to get hold of the book he was discussing.
Here it is:
I bought a copy thinking it'd be the perfect light-read over Christmas and - do you know what? - it was. In fact, it was slightly better than that. Well written (by him? I do hope so) and by turns honest and intriguing (as well as shocking and a little bit mocking) it is, in short, something of a revelation.
At this point I have to confess a sneaking regard for the eponymous biographer's musical talents, especially when accompanied by his erstwhile backing group The Faces. (I'm especially partial to the anthemic energy of the song 'Stay with Me', and have an especial fondness for Mr Stewart's solo classic, Maggie May.)
But the man himself? The gravity-defying hair and Viagra-shaming tumescence? The bottom wiggling, stage strutting, tight-trouser-wearing posing and posturing? The frankly exhausting, super-human philandering? No. I confess (at the risk of sounding like a Victorian patriarch) to being rather 'put off' by such exhibitionist behaviour. (Ok, and a tad jealous too!) Yes, I know the guy's a rock star and a bloody brilliant singer, but...
My Damascus Road experience actually occurred on page 271 with Rod describing the arrangements for flying a succession of models in to Cannes (where our hero is shooting a video) in order to, er... keep him warm at night. I think it deserves an extended quotation:
The arrangements had the rigour and precision of a military operation. Don Archell would drive the outgoing girl to Nice Airport, drop her at departures, then head round to arrivals to collect the incoming replacement. I reckon the logistics for the 2012 Olympics were only slightly more complex than those involved in the smooth running of 'the long hot summer'.
Elsewhere, Rod had tips aplenty for parents (which include packing - in addition to sandwich, apple etc. - random items such as a screwdriver in your child's school lunch box) and, of course, descriptions aplenty of the high-jinks enjoyed by rock bands on tour along with the consumption of infeasible quantities of cocaine.
But none of them has quite the same blinding revelatory effect as that moment on page 271, with (at the time) twice-married (and many many more times entwined) Rod searching in his little black book - yes, little black book! - for past conquests to fly in (and out) of France on a nightly basis during a summer spent making a pop video.
Because in that moment, it suddenly hit me. It's Don Giovanni! The man is the living, breathing, singing, womanising, carousing, hell-raising embodiment of literature's (and music's) greatest-ever villain. And safe in that knowledge, you can (almost) forgive the man anything.
Almost.
If you're going to sin, you might as well sin big - be hung for a sheep (FOR, I said!) as a lamb, as the saying goes. The Don of legend (and an especially magnificent Mozart opera which I review here) notched enough conquests on the bedpost to leave it resembling an overlarge twiglet I suppose, but, but...
Did Don Giovanni have a train-set? Yes, a train-set?
Because Rod Stewart does.
Yes.
And do you think that's sexy?
Rod: The Autobiography by Rod Stewart: a review
We bloggers are often getting asked to review things. It's part of the territory, and I'm happy to oblige most of the time. (I have, in the past, drawn the line at certain female depilatory products and incontinence pants.) The deal is they send something, sometimes to keep, and I write about it... if I like it. Simple, really. If I don't, I won't. That's the policy.
Even so, I sometimes worry that the largesse of certain PR companies might inadvertently sway my ruthlessly impartial judgement, from time-to-time. I mean, the offer of a couple of cartons of cream crackers, gratis, or a tube or three of Deep Heat and (it is well known) I'm anybody's.
Anyway, to ring the changes I thought I'd review some stuff I'd either got (i.e. as a present) or else read (without being sent free for the purpose, thereof) over the next few weeks and I'm starting with a book I never thought I'd read, by a man I didn't think I liked, in whose songs and life I've only previously had the most passing of interests. Rod Stewart.
Yes, Rod the Mod. Do-Ya-Think-I'm-Sexy Hot-Legs Stewart.
I can pretty much guarantee that, if you were to ask anyone who knows me and my normally cerebral reading habits they'd have placed this book last on their list of Christmas reading predictions for yours truly.
Anyone who knows my taste in music, too, might be forgiven at this point for wondering if I've somehow OD-ed on the sherry trifle or had an extreme reaction to a seasonal glut of John Rutter (incidentally, the best comment I heard about 'Mr Christmas's' newly-commissioned carol, premiered at the King's Nine Lessons service on Christmas Eve this Christmas was 'I thought it was by Andrew Lloyd-Webber!' Priceless.)
But I digress. Back to Rod. It all started way back in October when I inadvertently caught Mr Stewart being interviewed by Kirsty Lang on BBC Radio Four's Front Row. I think I was driving. Certainly only half-listening. But I found my attention gradually increasing, my interest slowly rising rather like the gravity-defying barnet of the man himself (and about as unbelievably). In short, by the end of the item, I began to think of Mr Rod Stewart in a somewhat different light, and there began a small but undeniable fascination and desire to get hold of the book he was discussing.
Here it is:
I bought a copy thinking it'd be the perfect light-read over Christmas and - do you know what? - it was. In fact, it was slightly better than that. Well written (by him? I do hope so) and by turns honest and intriguing (as well as shocking and a little bit mocking) it is, in short, something of a revelation.
At this point I have to confess a sneaking regard for the eponymous biographer's musical talents, especially when accompanied by his erstwhile backing group The Faces. (I'm especially partial to the anthemic energy of the song 'Stay with Me', and have an especial fondness for Mr Stewart's solo classic, Maggie May.)
But the man himself? The gravity-defying hair and Viagra-shaming tumescence? The bottom wiggling, stage strutting, tight-trouser-wearing posing and posturing? The frankly exhausting, super-human philandering? No. I confess (at the risk of sounding like a Victorian patriarch) to being rather 'put off' by such exhibitionist behaviour. (Ok, and a tad jealous too!) Yes, I know the guy's a rock star and a bloody brilliant singer, but...
My Damascus Road experience actually occurred on page 271 with Rod describing the arrangements for flying a succession of models in to Cannes (where our hero is shooting a video) in order to, er... keep him warm at night. I think it deserves an extended quotation:
The arrangements had the rigour and precision of a military operation. Don Archell would drive the outgoing girl to Nice Airport, drop her at departures, then head round to arrivals to collect the incoming replacement. I reckon the logistics for the 2012 Olympics were only slightly more complex than those involved in the smooth running of 'the long hot summer'.
Elsewhere, Rod had tips aplenty for parents (which include packing - in addition to sandwich, apple etc. - random items such as a screwdriver in your child's school lunch box) and, of course, descriptions aplenty of the high-jinks enjoyed by rock bands on tour along with the consumption of infeasible quantities of cocaine.
But none of them has quite the same blinding revelatory effect as that moment on page 271, with (at the time) twice-married (and many many more times entwined) Rod searching in his little black book - yes, little black book! - for past conquests to fly in (and out) of France on a nightly basis during a summer spent making a pop video.
Because in that moment, it suddenly hit me. It's Don Giovanni! The man is the living, breathing, singing, womanising, carousing, hell-raising embodiment of literature's (and music's) greatest-ever villain. And safe in that knowledge, you can (almost) forgive the man anything.
Almost.
If you're going to sin, you might as well sin big - be hung for a sheep (FOR, I said!) as a lamb, as the saying goes. The Don of legend (and an especially magnificent Mozart opera which I review here) notched enough conquests on the bedpost to leave it resembling an overlarge twiglet I suppose, but, but...
Did Don Giovanni have a train-set? Yes, a train-set?
Because Rod Stewart does.
Yes.
And do you think that's sexy?
Even so, I sometimes worry that the largesse of certain PR companies might inadvertently sway my ruthlessly impartial judgement, from time-to-time. I mean, the offer of a couple of cartons of cream crackers, gratis, or a tube or three of Deep Heat and (it is well known) I'm anybody's.
Anyway, to ring the changes I thought I'd review some stuff I'd either got (i.e. as a present) or else read (without being sent free for the purpose, thereof) over the next few weeks and I'm starting with a book I never thought I'd read, by a man I didn't think I liked, in whose songs and life I've only previously had the most passing of interests. Rod Stewart.
Yes, Rod the Mod. Do-Ya-Think-I'm-Sexy Hot-Legs Stewart.
I can pretty much guarantee that, if you were to ask anyone who knows me and my normally cerebral reading habits they'd have placed this book last on their list of Christmas reading predictions for yours truly.
Anyone who knows my taste in music, too, might be forgiven at this point for wondering if I've somehow OD-ed on the sherry trifle or had an extreme reaction to a seasonal glut of John Rutter (incidentally, the best comment I heard about 'Mr Christmas's' newly-commissioned carol, premiered at the King's Nine Lessons service on Christmas Eve this Christmas was 'I thought it was by Andrew Lloyd-Webber!' Priceless.)
But I digress. Back to Rod. It all started way back in October when I inadvertently caught Mr Stewart being interviewed by Kirsty Lang on BBC Radio Four's Front Row. I think I was driving. Certainly only half-listening. But I found my attention gradually increasing, my interest slowly rising rather like the gravity-defying barnet of the man himself (and about as unbelievably). In short, by the end of the item, I began to think of Mr Rod Stewart in a somewhat different light, and there began a small but undeniable fascination and desire to get hold of the book he was discussing.
Here it is:
I bought a copy thinking it'd be the perfect light-read over Christmas and - do you know what? - it was. In fact, it was slightly better than that. Well written (by him? I do hope so) and by turns honest and intriguing (as well as shocking and a little bit mocking) it is, in short, something of a revelation.
At this point I have to confess a sneaking regard for the eponymous biographer's musical talents, especially when accompanied by his erstwhile backing group The Faces. (I'm especially partial to the anthemic energy of the song 'Stay with Me', and have an especial fondness for Mr Stewart's solo classic, Maggie May.)
But the man himself? The gravity-defying hair and Viagra-shaming tumescence? The bottom wiggling, stage strutting, tight-trouser-wearing posing and posturing? The frankly exhausting, super-human philandering? No. I confess (at the risk of sounding like a Victorian patriarch) to being rather 'put off' by such exhibitionist behaviour. (Ok, and a tad jealous too!) Yes, I know the guy's a rock star and a bloody brilliant singer, but...
My Damascus Road experience actually occurred on page 271 with Rod describing the arrangements for flying a succession of models in to Cannes (where our hero is shooting a video) in order to, er... keep him warm at night. I think it deserves an extended quotation:
The arrangements had the rigour and precision of a military operation. Don Archell would drive the outgoing girl to Nice Airport, drop her at departures, then head round to arrivals to collect the incoming replacement. I reckon the logistics for the 2012 Olympics were only slightly more complex than those involved in the smooth running of 'the long hot summer'.
Elsewhere, Rod had tips aplenty for parents (which include packing - in addition to sandwich, apple etc. - random items such as a screwdriver in your child's school lunch box) and, of course, descriptions aplenty of the high-jinks enjoyed by rock bands on tour along with the consumption of infeasible quantities of cocaine.
But none of them has quite the same blinding revelatory effect as that moment on page 271, with (at the time) twice-married (and many many more times entwined) Rod searching in his little black book - yes, little black book! - for past conquests to fly in (and out) of France on a nightly basis during a summer spent making a pop video.
Because in that moment, it suddenly hit me. It's Don Giovanni! The man is the living, breathing, singing, womanising, carousing, hell-raising embodiment of literature's (and music's) greatest-ever villain. And safe in that knowledge, you can (almost) forgive the man anything.
Almost.
If you're going to sin, you might as well sin big - be hung for a sheep (FOR, I said!) as a lamb, as the saying goes. The Don of legend (and an especially magnificent Mozart opera which I review here) notched enough conquests on the bedpost to leave it resembling an overlarge twiglet I suppose, but, but...
Did Don Giovanni have a train-set? Yes, a train-set?
Because Rod Stewart does.
Yes.
And do you think that's sexy?
December 29, 2012
Sponsored Video: Tom Tom Unwrap the world?
Ok, so you've done Christmas. You've unwrapped the presents. Want to unwrap the world? Yes - the WORLD! Well, that's what TomTom is offering in an amazing competition with top prize of one of six unforgettable driving adventures for 4 people.
Featuring six of the most famous drives in the world (Ruta 40 in Argentina, the Garden Route in South Africa, the Grand Alpine Tour in Europe, the Malaysian Roundabout, the Australian Coastal Route, the California Pacific Coastal Highway) as well as a host of other prizes, this competition will also get your creative juices flowing.
To play, simply go online at tomtom.com/more select a continent of your choosing and unwrap it. Once you've successfully unwrapped an entire route, you can upload a file to explain why they should be selected - with up to four others - to drive it! And your file can be as creative as you like - be it a song, story, video or even poem! The most original and fun entry will win a trip on the unwrapped route.
To get a but more of a feel for things, have a look at this sponsored TomTom video. But be warned! As they themselves admit: 'to promote our new competition on tomtom.com/ more, we really, really tried to make a great video. But because we spent our entire advertising budget on thousands of great prizes and presents for you, this "viral" might not be as impressive as we would have liked. Sorry.'
Oh well. If you think you can do better, why not enter? The more creative you are the better. To find out more,
Check TomTom’s Website out
Like TomTom on Facebook
Follow TomTom on Twitter
This post has been sponsored by TomTom.
December 28, 2012
Oh no it isn't!
It's panto season. Oh yes it is. And Charlie and I were lucky enough last week to be invited to see 'Aladdin: A Wish Come True' at the O2.
Having been to a show I often like to take a peek at other people's reviews. Neither Dominic Cavendish ('ploddingly unfunny') in the Torygraph nor Lyn Gardner in the Grauniad ('cheerless') thought much of it but - I suspect - they weren't part of the core audience of kids eager for a bit of shouting, booing and cheering (Charlie, on leaving, said simply 'this feels like I'm dreaming') or parents in need of a bit of dazzling and wowing from a thoroughly professional, all-singing, all-dancing production. Yes, the seats are a tad uncomfortable and - much as we loved it - the show is about half an hour too long, but... it's a panto with something for everyone.
Catch it while you can.
Having been to a show I often like to take a peek at other people's reviews. Neither Dominic Cavendish ('ploddingly unfunny') in the Torygraph nor Lyn Gardner in the Grauniad ('cheerless') thought much of it but - I suspect - they weren't part of the core audience of kids eager for a bit of shouting, booing and cheering (Charlie, on leaving, said simply 'this feels like I'm dreaming') or parents in need of a bit of dazzling and wowing from a thoroughly professional, all-singing, all-dancing production. Yes, the seats are a tad uncomfortable and - much as we loved it - the show is about half an hour too long, but... it's a panto with something for everyone.
Catch it while you can.
December 24, 2012
A carol for Christmas Eve...
RIP John Philip "Jake" Thackray (27 February 1938 – 24 December 2002)
December 23, 2012
Barnes and Noble Nook HD: Review
I knew this would happen...
That's Charlie with the new Barnes and Noble NOOK HD®.
According to the blurb, this is 'the lightest and highest-resolution 7-inch HD tablet' and 'has the world’s highest-resolution screen ever on a 7-inch tablet...which makes magazines, films and apps look even better.'
That's what they say. What about me? Well, as I told them the other day when they phoned to see how I'd been getting on, I'd have more to say if I'd been able to use it but... well, the picture (above) tells its own story.
Since then I have had chance to use it and...
Well, I can confirm the resolution is, quite simply, stunning. And they're not paying me to say that. And the Nook HD has to go back in another couple of weeks. But. Well. Although I haven't another 7 inch tablet to compare it with I'd say it was every bit the equal of the iPad’s “resolutionary” display. The clincher for us though - and, I'd say, for all families - is its multiple-user profiles, which means we can all set the device up and download and use what's appropriate to us - and parents can control what's appropriate for their children by keeping the account and download details secure in their - grown-up - profile.
Oh and that account. You have to sign up to Barnes and Noble - just like you do to Amazon if you own a Kindle - but it's free. And you don't have to buy anything if you don't want to as there are over a million titles entirely free to download. But you WILL want to buy something - films, paid-for titles, magazines subscriptions - because the reading and viewing pleasure is so, well... pleasurable.
You know that thing when you see an article in a magazine you want to keep and you just, well, rip it out? Well a two-finger swipe of the touch-screen as you're reading (as near as you'll get to ripping out the page made of paper) and you've got it in your scrapbook. It's that easy. And, you know, its fun too. (You'll 'rip out' a lot more than you intend to just because its such a good game!)
Anyway, back to the kids. Once they've gone to bed why not download one of the many 'read and record' titles available and, well, 'read and record' a bedtime story for them? It's like creating your very own audio book and - next evening, at bedtime - they can flip the pages, see the pictures, and hear you reading the story even though you're downstairs with a gin and tonic watching the television.
Seriously, this is going to be invaluable for parents who have to spend time away from home. A stash of 'read and record' titles stored on the Nook and daddy can still read you a bedtime story even though he's thousands of miles away and in another time-zone.
Earlier this year, after (inadvertently) standing on my ASUS EeePad (and before Tim at OneTone very generously replaced it for me) I took the plunge and bought an iPad3. I've been very pleased with my purchase - no regrets; it does what it says and it does what I want and - as a confirmed iPhone addict - it integrates well with all that.
But... but.
If the Nook HD had been around at the time I'd have had a very, very difficult job choosing between the two and may (tell it not in Gath!) ultimately have plumped for the Nook not least for it's family-friendly capabilities.
In short, if you're pondering your options and have some Christmas gift money burning a hole in your pocket (£229 for 16GB; £269 for 32GB, both expandable) I can highly recommend one of these.
That's Charlie with the new Barnes and Noble NOOK HD®.
According to the blurb, this is 'the lightest and highest-resolution 7-inch HD tablet' and 'has the world’s highest-resolution screen ever on a 7-inch tablet...which makes magazines, films and apps look even better.'
That's what they say. What about me? Well, as I told them the other day when they phoned to see how I'd been getting on, I'd have more to say if I'd been able to use it but... well, the picture (above) tells its own story.
Since then I have had chance to use it and...
Well, I can confirm the resolution is, quite simply, stunning. And they're not paying me to say that. And the Nook HD has to go back in another couple of weeks. But. Well. Although I haven't another 7 inch tablet to compare it with I'd say it was every bit the equal of the iPad’s “resolutionary” display. The clincher for us though - and, I'd say, for all families - is its multiple-user profiles, which means we can all set the device up and download and use what's appropriate to us - and parents can control what's appropriate for their children by keeping the account and download details secure in their - grown-up - profile.
Oh and that account. You have to sign up to Barnes and Noble - just like you do to Amazon if you own a Kindle - but it's free. And you don't have to buy anything if you don't want to as there are over a million titles entirely free to download. But you WILL want to buy something - films, paid-for titles, magazines subscriptions - because the reading and viewing pleasure is so, well... pleasurable.
You know that thing when you see an article in a magazine you want to keep and you just, well, rip it out? Well a two-finger swipe of the touch-screen as you're reading (as near as you'll get to ripping out the page made of paper) and you've got it in your scrapbook. It's that easy. And, you know, its fun too. (You'll 'rip out' a lot more than you intend to just because its such a good game!)
Anyway, back to the kids. Once they've gone to bed why not download one of the many 'read and record' titles available and, well, 'read and record' a bedtime story for them? It's like creating your very own audio book and - next evening, at bedtime - they can flip the pages, see the pictures, and hear you reading the story even though you're downstairs with a gin and tonic watching the television.
Seriously, this is going to be invaluable for parents who have to spend time away from home. A stash of 'read and record' titles stored on the Nook and daddy can still read you a bedtime story even though he's thousands of miles away and in another time-zone.
Earlier this year, after (inadvertently) standing on my ASUS EeePad (and before Tim at OneTone very generously replaced it for me) I took the plunge and bought an iPad3. I've been very pleased with my purchase - no regrets; it does what it says and it does what I want and - as a confirmed iPhone addict - it integrates well with all that.
But... but.
If the Nook HD had been around at the time I'd have had a very, very difficult job choosing between the two and may (tell it not in Gath!) ultimately have plumped for the Nook not least for it's family-friendly capabilities.
In short, if you're pondering your options and have some Christmas gift money burning a hole in your pocket (£229 for 16GB; £269 for 32GB, both expandable) I can highly recommend one of these.
