Random Jottings

I revisit David Copperfield and find I love Dora

There are times when the To Be Read pile is toppling over, books are dropping through the letterbox and you have so much to read and you think I don't want to read any of them. This happens to me periodically and the only way to get out of this slump is to turn to something old and loved.  This time I checked all my shelves and decided Charles Dickens was what I needed and I had a think and picked up David Copperfield.

I had not read it for years. It has always been one of my favourite, if not my most favourite, of all the Dickens that I have read but I was so familiar with it I left it for a long time. I am glad I did as when I started to read it again it was alive and fresh and gosh, simply wonderful.   Dickens can be sentimental, sometimes overley so, and some of his characters can irritate. Little Nell from the Old Curiousity Shop and Esther from Bleak House being top of the list. David Copperfield is home to Dora Spenlow who I used to find a real pain but on reading this time I found myself feeling a great affection for her.

The story of how David's mother married Mr Murdstone and was on the receiving end of what would now be called mental abuse is a familiar one. When I first read this book when I was about twelve I wept buckets. On re-reading I was again reduced to floods of tears. How does Dickens do it?

"On the last night in the evening she kissed me and said 'if my baby should die too Peggotty, please let them lay him in my arms and bury us together.....and tell him that his mother when she lay there blessed him not once but a thousand times....

Peggotty my dear put me nearer you, lay your good arm underneath my neck and turn me to you for your face is going far off and I want it to be neaer'

I put it as she asked and Oh Davy the time had come when my first parting words to you were true - when she was glad to lay her poor head on her stupid cross old Peggotty's arm and she died like a child that had gone to sleep"

Parts of David Copperfield are autobiographical, particularly the part where he was put out to work in the blacking factory and the misery and suffering he underwent. It pervades his books and affected him for the rest of his life.  I will not go into this here but recommend that you get hold of  the wonderful biography written by Clare Harman.

There are parrallels later in the book when he falls in love with Dora Spenlow, the daughter of his employer, when he is in chambers and this part when he is totally besotted is very funny indeed and shows Dickens at this best.  They marry. And it is clear that Dora is like his mother, her gentleness, naivety and, to be plain, her silliness.  And when I reread this book when I was in my twenties it struck me then, and does so now, that David began to behave towards her the way Mr Murdstone had towards his mother. It is not unkind, he loves her very much, but he decides her 'mind needs forming'.

"The formation went on very slowly....I persevered for months and it began to occur to me that Dora's mind was already formed"

Fortunately he draws back from the brink when he realises that he has made Dora unhappy and just has to accept the way she is.  On re-reading this now I have discovered that there is an underlying strength of character in Dora that I had not noticed before. She does have wisdom and realises how David feels:

"I loved my wife dearly and I was happy but the happiness I had vaguely anticipated was not the happiness I enjoyed and there was always something wanting"

We now know that this was Dickens own feelings regarding his marriage to Catherine, They married young, had many children and he became rich and famous and then found that he had nothing in common with her any more. In the book David behaves better than Charles did who treated his wife abominably and curelly and even tried to have her committed to a lunatic asylum. A letter discussing this has recently come to light and it beggers belief how he tried to manipulate  public opinion by traducing her and telling lies.

Dora loses a baby and becomes ill. We are not told what her illness is merely that she gradually weakens and fades. And this is where I truly loved Dora. She knows she is dying and accepts it with a maturity that belies her character.

"I am going to speak to you Doady. I am going to say somethng I have often thought of saying lately. You won’t mind?"

"Mind my darling?"

'Doady dear I am afraid I was too young. I don't mean in years only but in experience and thoughts and everything.....I think it would have been better if we had loved each other as a boy and girl and forgotten It. I have begun to think I was not fit to be a wife...you are very clever and I never was'

"We have been very happy my sweet Dora"

'I was very happy but as the years went on my dear boy would have wearied of his child wife. She would have been less and less a companion to him. He would have been more and more sensible of what was wanting in his home. She wouldn't have improved. It is better as it is"

By this stage I was sitting in my arm chair with tears pouring down my face.  And this is why I now love Dora.

I loved reading this again and also because it contains my favourite Dickens character - Aunt Betsy Trotwood.

I have to forgive Dickens. He was cruel and vile to his wife and yet I feel in this death bed scene with Dora when he is totally grief stricken he realises the truth of his real life marriage and knows he behaved badly. 

Just a thought...

This has sent me back to my Dickens shelf and I am now thinking of Dombey and Son which I have never read. It is time I did.

Blood Orange - Harriet Tyce

Before I retired and was commuting to London every day I used to dream about being ill. Not awful ill but just a nice gentle sniffle and cold so that I could loll in bed and read. Well, the reality is that if you are ill you feel lousy and simply cannot concentrate on reading at all so it is a non-starter. I was reminded of this dream of mine this week when I was struck down with some fluey lurgy thingy and took to my bed. Blood Orange was sitting on my bedside table saying Read Me. Oh how I wanted to but could not.

Two days passed and I decided I was feeling a bit more humanoid so decided to give it a whirl. Picture me Dear Reader propped up on my pillows, cup of tea to hand, looking like the Wreck of the Hesperus and reeking of Vick's Vapour rub. Or perhaps NOT picture me...

I opened the book up and OH NO I scream it is written in the present tense. Well I did not actually scream because I had no voice but I did internally. I am sorry but I do not like books written in the present tense or the future pluperfect whatever (does that even exist?) but I soldiered on.

And you know what?

After two pages, yes two, it DID NOT MATTER. I was hooked.

Ok so after all this burbling, what is it about?

According to the blurb "Alison has it all: loving husband, daughter and a career on the rise - she is about to defend her first murder case. Why is she risking everything for somebody who treates her with no respect?"

Alison's client killed her husband. Stabbed him to death. She is found sitting by the body covered in blood and makes no attempt to deny she is guilty.  She seems curiously fatalistic about it all.  Alison and her work partner, Patrick, interview her and gradually tease out of her the true story of her marriage and it was not as perfect as it appears.  OK now here I have to say I guessed straight away what had happened, I have read far too many crime novels not to, but that was fine, no worries I wanted to see how it would work out.

Patrick - now Alison is having an affair with him. He is a womaniser, untrustworthy and treats her like dirt. And somebody knows she is involved and is sending her nasty vicious texts about it.

So we have a tangled web of deceit and lies and Alison trying to balance these complications and cope with her marriage which is slowly falling apart.

Right I cannot go on any further without delving into the plot and the ins and outs and I do Not Want to. I would make a poor fist of the intricacies and I also think it best if you nip out or go online and buy this book and sit down and read it yourself. Just bear in mind the murder victim, what a nasty piece of work he is. Contrast him with the wonderfull Carl,  Alison's husband who looks after their daughter and runs a clinic for sexual disorders. Look at the parrallels and wonder.

Enough.

I read this book straight through in two hours. I could not put it down. My tea went cold and I forgot I was feeling lousy. I was totally gripped. And the ending! oh boy what an ending. Though I had my suspicions I was not prepared for this and I have to say I sat up in bed pumped my fist in the air and said YES!

Compelling, page turning and simply terrific this book has garnered great reviews and raves from everyone who has read it. Every time I tuned into Twitter over the last few weeks Blood Orange was being raved about and quite rightly too.

After reading it I do went on Twitter, immediately started to follow Harriet Tyce and started to harass her. WHEN is the next book coming out? I am working on it she says. Oh good.

All I can say is Well get a Move on.

Brilliant.

Random Lurgy

Loads to write about but got a fluey thing at the moment which is turning my brain into mush. Back soon

Recent Reading - Part Deux

Right more recent reads.

Two more Montalbano books by Camilleri - the Overnight Kidnapper and Death at Sea. These books are sheer delight and I adore them so no reasoned review will be made. If you love them too then you will know what I mean. I gather that one can go to Sicily and have a 'Montalbano tour' and I must say it certainly is tempting. Read them both with huge enjoyment. How I love Catarella.

Then two reprints of Golden Age mysteries published by Dean Street Press. Who Killed Dick Whittington by E & MA Radford and The Strange Case of Harriet Hall by Moray Dalton. I shall be reviewing these in full in the next edition of the online book magazine Shiny New Books, but I must mention here that they are both worth a read. Who Killed Dick Whittington features D I Harry Manson 'analytical detective par excellence'. I find him slightly pompour but the murder and how it was done was tricky and well thought out.

The Moray Dalton title was terrific and I am delighted to see that there are more titles available by this author. They are all available in paperback or e-books and I really took to Inspector Collier of Scotland Yard. Another name to add to my endless list of Golden Age writers to explore.  Do check them out. Both Released in March but can be pre-ordered and at £1.19 a bargain.

I mentioned in Part One of Recent Reading that I had re-read A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter and was delighted with some of the comments re this which you kindly left.  One reader recommended Keeper of the Bees to me as another good read by this author.  I found it available on Kindle and downloaded and read. Victorian age fiction, English or American, can get overwrought at times and this has been taken into consideration. Females tend to 'pant' a lot with 'heaving breasts' but this is part of the style and I accept that. There is a certain amount of that in Limberlost but it does not worry me. However, in Keeper of the Bees in which the narrator and chief protagonist is male, he does go on a bit to put it mildly.  Injured and ill young man home from the war takes to the road and ends up helping the Bee Master, an old man taken ill and who needs somebody to look after his bees while he is in hospital. As expected in this kind of fairy tale world, he dies and leaves his house to his Good Samaritan.  I enjoyed the main premise of the book but the endless pages of description of how bees live went on for ever and really bogged everything down. There is also a character in it called Scout and I found that she/he made me feel very uncomfortable indeed.  I did enjoy it but not as much as I thought I would.

From a previous post you will have seen that I have been having a D E Stevenson binge and this is continuing.  Her books vary wildly in standard.  I have read Listening Valley which I really enjoyed even though the premise in it of a shy young girl of 19 marrying a 60 year old was slightly unnerving. I am currently a third of the way through the Four Graces which is profoundly silly and flappy. Four sisters living in a country village with their father the Vicar and I am sure we are supposed to find them charming and sweet but so far I am finding them a pain. It is set during the second World War but the author makes it clear that she is not writing about it at all. Fair enough. It does not impinge.

Then I read The English Air. What a difference. Franz von Heiden, who has an English mother and a German father, comes to England in 1938 to visit his English relatives.  As all readers will suspect he has been sent there to report back on morale etc by his father who is a member of the Nazi command. At first he finds everything odd, he feels that the British do not care or are not interested in world affairs but only fun. He despises a young man who sits around doing nothing all summer except the odd game of tennis and then has to revise his opinion when he finds out he is a decorated War hero and recovering from being badly injured.

As the book progresses and he returns to Germany he realises that all the views he held about his homeland are skewed and what he believed in is no longer true. It has a profound effect on him.

This book is out of print so you will have to hunt for it, but I was impressed with it. The view of England portrayed through his eyes and which he comes to love reminds me of Mollie Panter-Downes superb book One Fine Day, an elegiac country solid to the backbone.  I really enjoyed this book and thought it was streets ahead of many of her other titles. I have a later edition but it was originally published in 1940.   Worth getting hold of.

I have also read some vintage romances from Mary Burchell which reflect the times and mores of the fifties beautifully. So beautifully old fashioned and I loved them.  She is an amazing woman.  I am sure I have written about Mary Burchell before, but will do so again, as she is a most interesting woman. Her real name is Ida Cook and she and her sister, both opera lovers, travelled all over Europe visiting various opera houses. This was pre-war and they became very well know as they always wore fur coats and lots of jewellery and made friends in every airport and city they visited. During WW2 they continued these visits, even to Germany, where they were regarded as those Eccentric English Women and were allowed through. Sewn into their fur coats and smuggled in were more jewels and money which was passed onto those helping the Jews get out of the country. They continued doing this for years and, after the war, Mary carried on writing for Mills & Boon and all proceeds of her books went to supporting refugees from the war. She also wrote a wonderful biography of my favourite baritone, Tito Gobbi and became a great friend of his.

Her later books which feature opera and music are available as ebooks and worth a look as well. Her knowledge of music and singing is obvious.

I have reached one of those plateaus when I look at the heap awaiting my attention and feel no desire to read any of them. When that happens I do a re-read and this time I have picked up David Copperfield and am looking forward to rediscovering all those wonderful characters.

Well, perhaps not Mr Micawber....

Au reservoir

Recent reading

Time goes by so quickly and I have just realised that it is a little while since I posted so as it is a cold chilly afternoon and I am indoors nice and warm and music playing, now seems the perfect time to catch up on my recent reading. A lot the titles I have read in the last week or so are old friends and re-reads with a couple of new ones thrown in. We will start with the old friends first.

A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter.  I first came across this book in my teens. I had never heard of it and there it was languishing on the shelves at my school library. As far as I know I was the only person who ever read it. When I left school I checked and it was still there, my date stamp on it the only one. Rather sad really.

It was published in 1909. The author came from Indiana and later, when she was well known, used her position and infuence to urge legislative support for the conservation of Limberlost swamp and other wetlands in the State. A Girl of the Limberlost is her best known work and brought her worldwide fame.  The central character Elnora Comstock is a lonely poverty sticken girl living on a farm in Adams County with her mother who cares little for her daughter and neglects her.  Elnora goes to the Limberlost Swamp to collect and sell moth speciments and earns money to pay for her education.

Elnora's mother went into labour while trying to save her husband who had fallen into the swamp and had to watch him die. She blamed her daughter for his death and Elnora's upbringing is a barren and unloving one.  Her mother finally discovers her husband was faithless and was visiting his mistress when he fell into the swamp. Once she realises this Katherine does her best to make up to Elnora for all the loveless years.

At time the story reminded me somewhat of Anne of Green Gables - in both books we have a humourless dour woman softened and changed by the love of their daughter.  I re-read this story on a whim last week when I was tidying my shelves and picked it up. It seemed to suit my mood at the time and I loved it all over again.  (It is available for your Kindle at 99p - a bargain).

The Governess by Peggy Chambers. I recently tracked down a newer copy of htis than the one I possessed which I have had since the sixties. It is a Penguin book and cost me 4 shillings which gives you an idea of how long I have had it. The pages were brown and falling out and so I went on the internet and found another copy which I now have.

The title is self explanatory. Isabel Dennison is alone in the world and has to earn her living and the only profession open to her was that of a Governess. She has a post with the Staveley family, seven children of varying ages, and hopes to stay with them for a long time and secure her immediate future. Mrs Stavely just wants her children to follow the convential route of minimum teaching and the daughters to marry well and the sons to live a society life. But they have different ideas and encouraged by their governess and her teaching look for more fulfilling lives.

A thoroughly enjoyable book. It was published by the Peacock section of Penguin, then a brand for junior books, but I have read it several times as an adult and it is beautifully written and I found I read it right through again just as I did the first time.  I have no idea who Peggy Chambers is and have not managed to find out anything about her so if anyone out there has any information I would be delighted to hear. This seems to be her only fiction book.

OK so another re-read now. Queen Alexandra by David Duff. Quite some time since a biography was written about the consort of Edward VII. I have the impression that she is viewed as of little interest and just regarded as a beautiful woman of little brain but this is not the case. Dealing with a husband such as hers certainly tested her mental strength and her character. 

I am currently reading Inside the Royal Wardrobe, a dress history of Queen Alexandra by Kate Strasdin. This is quite a read and I am taking it slowly but I thought it a good idea to have a popular history about her to hand to read in tandem.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading it - David Duff wrote many books on Queen Victoria and Albert back in the sixties and seventies and I read them all so it was good to renew happy memories.

Oh dear I have loads more to write about but think I will have to split this post into two parts else it will be interminable.  I will be back with more.  Two new Golden Age reprints to write about and some Camilleri and lots of D E Stevenson.  Nothing hugely intellectual but all immensely enjoyable.

Au reservoir.

Enid Blyton - not a nice lady

It is always a bit of a shock when you find that an author who you loved and thought was simply wonderful, turns out to be not a nice person at all. I used to read every single Enid Blyton book I could lay my hands on as a child (I used to avoid the Secret Seven though,yuk) and I well remember a beautifully illustrated edition of the Magic Farawy Tree as a birthday present and my joy at its receipt. I was a member of the Sunshine club, or whatever it was called, and greeted each new Famous Five and Adventure story with delight.

Years later I read an article about her and I was shocked to find that she was not the lovable adorable child loving person I had imagined her to be.  This was brought home to me even more forcibly when I recently read The Real Enid Blyton by Nadia Cohen.  I have reviewed this biography and it is featured on the latest edition of Shiny New Books. Here is the link so do nip across and read it here and I would love to receive comments on the blog when you have read it.

Odd how we always expect our favourite writers to be nice, sweet people. I mean why should they be? They are human after all and subject to being as nasty as anybody. Just because they write does not mean they are exempt from the usual human failures. 

A few years ago I read Clare Tomalin's biography of Charles Dickens, a superb work about one of my favourite writers.  The impression one receives of him is a jolly, laughing, wonderfully happy man, who loves children, invented Christmas and is a general all round good bloke. But I was shocked to read of the manner in which he treated his wife. So cruel and unfeeling and telling lies about her to justify his position (nothing new under the sun) so that he could retain the adoration of the public.  Awful but I suppose one forgives somebody who creates characters such as David Copperfield, Tiny Tim and Little Nell. We shouldn't but we do.

And if we only read authors we liked we would be in trouble.

And to take it further one of my favourite composers is Wagner and we all know he is hardly full of sweetness and light....

D E Stevenson

In my younger days I worked in the library system and spent quite a few years at a Carnegie designed library in Highgate. It was an interesting old building and was directly opposite Highgate Cemetary and with a Russian Delegation down the road. I had some interesting times during my sojourn...

While I was there I noticed that a lot of books by Dorothy Whipple and D E Stevenson were borrowed by the slightly older readers who loved these authors - such 'nice' books was their cry. I turned up my nose. Well, years later I read all the books of Whipple when they were gradually all published by Perspehone Books. 'Nice' is not the right word for these wonderful books dissecting human nature and discussing infedility and abusive marriage.  However, when I read D E Stevenson the word that comes to mind IS nice.

I do not mean this in a denigrating way.  I really enjoy reading them and there are over forty if you can track them all down. Many of them are now being issued for the Kindle and in the last week or so I have read about five. The Mrs Tim books are delightful, though there are times when I think the shade of E M Delafield Diary of a Provincial Lady looms large. I reviewed one of these some years ago when Bloomsbury issued Mrs Tim of the Regiment, link here, and I note that I said exactly the same thing then.

I always say that when reading books written in an earlier age, one should not get cross about use of languagw and mores of the time they were written.  Language which, quite frankly, can appear offensive or racist at times cannot be condemned as it reflects the prevailing attitude. Having said that I do find it slightly difficult to tolerate Mrs Tim. It is clear that a recurring character in the books, Major Morley, is madly in love with her and yet she seems totally oblivious of this and, in fact, when she hears a rumour from an acquaintance that it is 'well know that Tony Morley is in love with a married woman' she dismisses it with the comment that he would never do that.   When she is in difficulties she tends to weep and turn to a man to sort things out though it is clear she is perfectly capable in other spheres. Odd that I find this more annoying than anything else! 

I have also read Spring Magic which tells the story of Frances who has never been away from home after looking after  an invalid aunt but who finally breaks away. She goes to a small village in Scotland because she saw a picture of it in a paper and liked the look of it. As good a reason as any I think. It is set at the start of the Second World War and she meets up with some officer's wives who are travelling there as their regiment is to be stationed in that part of the world. Through them and getting to know their husbands, friends and soldiers her horizon is broadened and, naturally, she finds love. It is charmingly written and I enjoyed it all. Some of her books are too light at times but this had a bit of grit in it.

Smouldering Fire I simply cannot recommend. I found the Scottish feyness laid on with a heavy hand and the upright and noble laird intolerable. It also ends with a murder and the way it is shrugged off is ludicrous.

Dorothy Emily Stevenson was born on November 18, 1892.  Stevenson’s father, David Alan Stevenson, used to work as a lighthouse engineer and was related to Robert Louis Stevenson as a first cousin.Dorothy was born in Edinburgh, Scotland and was educated by a governess as her parents did not want her to go to school.. She had developed a great deal of interest in writing when she was a child and had started writing from the age of eight. It seems her parents, who sound a right pair,  did not approve of it. As a result, she was forced to keep her hobby of writing a secret to herself.  They also refused to allow her to go to University so I wonder what they made of her turning into a published and popular author. Once she got going she produced a book a year.

Good for her.

Alexander McCall Smith writes the introduction to the new Kindle editions. He agrees that her books are easy, and there is a certain sameness to them but they still have enormous appeal. He says that 'the novels bring pleasure and remind us of a world, and of a country, that has changed out of all recognition. And, as that world becomes more unhappy and divided, the attraction of authors such as Stevenson, perhaps becomes stronger'

He is right.

 

Mary Seacole - Time for her to be remembered

Everyone has heard of Florence Nightingale the ‘lady with the lamp’ who took her company of nurses out to the Crimea during the war after hearing of the appalling conditions wounded soldiers were enduring.

There have been films, books and programmes and all the stories, myths, legends movies and tv programmes focused on this person, another has been forgotten. This is Mary Jane Seacole.

Mary Jane was a British Jamaican business woman and ‘nurse’ who set up what was called the British Hotel behind the lines during the Crimean War. She described it a ‘mess table and comfortable quarters for sick and convalescent officers’ and provided help for wounded servicemen on the battlefield. She was posthumously awarded the Jamaican Order of Merit in 1991 and, in 1994, was voted the greatest Black Briton.

Seacole applied to the War Office for permission to join the British nurses being sent out to Crimea which was refused. So she raised the funds to travel independently and set up the hotel with a business partner Thomas Day. After the war she was declared bankrupt and faced destitution but because of her popularity and affection among servicemen they raised money for her.

After her death she was largely forgotten but today is celebrated as a woman who made a success of her career despite experiencing racial prejudice.  She wrote a biography Wonderful adventures of Mrs Seacole in Many Lands, published in 1857 and is one of the earliest biographies of a mixed race woman. It should be mentioned that some aspects of its accuracy have been questioned by supporters of Nightingale who were also not happy at a statue of her being erected at St Thomas Hospital in 2016. It seems many of them view her as a charlatan whose fame is entirely due to clinging onto Florence Nightingale’s coat tails.

It is clear that Mary Seacole is a wonderful subject for a biographer and Helen Rappaport, the historian and writer who has long held an admiration for this subject and a desire to write about her, is now planning such a book.

Helen Rappaport is perhaps best known for her book on Victoria and Albert, a Magnificent Obsession and her wonderful trilogy about the Romanov family, Ekaterinburg, The Three Sisters and the Race to Save the Romanovs.   She now feels it is time for a change of direction and her next project will be a book on the life of Mary Seacole.

Helen has decided to call this book  In search of Mary Seacole: The Making of a Cultural Icon and though Seacole is well known in the UK, she is an unfamiliar figure in other parts of the world.  The USA is a case in point because, as Helen says ‘I know from past experience that the US market likes titles that really spell out the context’

She is currently working on this conundrum before the book is submitted for that market and this is where I would ask for help from Random Readers many of whom live in the US.  Helen is asking for suggestions and feedback in other countries on how well known, or not, Mary Seacole is in your part of the world and what kind of title would sell a book about her to you.

The Romanovs and Queen Victoria need no introduction and their names will guarantee sales and interest all over the world, but Mary Seacole is a story that Helen really wants to tell. She has amassed a huge amount of research material and has been waiting to tell her story since 2003.

So Random Readers can you help with your thoughts and suggestions?  I know that Helen would really appreciate it and I would be interested to see what you think as well.  Helen is a favourite biographer and historian of mine and I have reviewed her books here on Random Jottings over the years.

I would love to review her book on Mary Seacole as well....

Random Rant - and yes it is the BBC again

Many of you lovely readers sent me New Year wishes and said 'You will still rant won't you?'.  Well, yes of course I will and here is the first one of 2019. And it is the BBC - again.

For years I have been a fervent supporter of the Beeb. The programmes they produced, the wonderful literary dramatisations, superb David Attenborough presentations, the Proms, Wimbledon etc etc. But no more.  They have become a bloated, biased behemoth with an arrogance and a sense of entitlement that never fails to amaze me,

The latest Take my Breath away moment came when I read this week's edition of the Radio Times. I have taken this for years and continue to do so as it not only gives you all the programmes set out clearly and concisely, both TV and radio, but there are excellent articles from reviewers and writers and I always look forward to its arrival. I used to sit down with a biro and go through marking up all the programmes I wanted to watch/listen to and each page was well marked. A tad anal I agree but I wanted to make sure I did not miss anything.

This week there is an article by Raymond Snoddy who is described as a 'journalist and media writer' in which he posits that the free TV licence for the over -75s should be scrapped. This was introduced by Gordon Brown's government in 2000. Cameron then tried to get the BBC to take over the immediate responsibility for this in 2015. The Government backed down after a huge row but only until 2020 when the current administration says it 'wants and expects the BBC to continue this important concession"

This is not going down well with Auntie. They say the bill will cost them £745million and they cannot afford it. They say they would have to close services that the public value.

Well I am sorry and apologise for my language. These figures may well be true, I do not know, but my immediate reaction was Bollocks.  The BBC is funded by US, yes US people, the plebs who are ignored by the BBC and treated as if we were morons.  It is a payment through the licence fee that we cannot avoid. It is, in effect, a tax, a levy and you have no choice in the matter. If you do not pay your licence fee you are likely to have a visit from men carrying violin cases and dressed in black on your door step.

The BBC do not have to worry about funding, advertisers or ratings. They just sit back and the money rolls in and now they are complaining about having to fund the free licence fee for their mature viewers who, over the years, have probably paid them millions.  Yes, I agree there are rich pensioners around who do not need this bonus, just as there are those who do not need the Heating Allowance each winter that is paid out by the Government, but for many the licence fee is a tax they cannot afford and which can never be avoided. When I reached the age of 60 I stopped paying National Insurance and my pay packet (I continued working for a few years) increased in a delightful way.  But this tax never ends. 

I have written to the BBC on a few occasions when I have been really annoyed about something. You cannot do it on a regular basis else you will be filed under Persistant Pains in the Arse and your letters will be ignored. I wrote what I thought was a cogent reasoned letter to Tony Hall, the Director General of the BBC, about the over voices and continuity announcers that bounce in at the end of every programme before you have even had time to catch your breath, no matter how poignant the subject matter might have been. On BBC4 double episodes of a Scandi or European serial are shown and at the end of the first one somebody will carol cheerfully DON'T GO AWAY the second episode is coming up. Well, I bloody know that thank you very much and I am watching it so I AM NOT GOING AWAY YOU STUPID PERSON (I do not say stupid person but worse but leave that to your imaginaiton).

So as Tony hall was a former head of the Royal Opera House I wrote a letter regarding this and, in order to appeal to his operatic sensibilities, suggested that he might find it annoying if, at the end of Aida when the lovers are being entombed and Amneris is singing and it all ends quietly and the curtain falls, a voice suddenly boomed out DON'T FORGET NEXT WEEK IT IS LA TRAVIATA.

Back came a reply from a minion. He never saw the letter and the response received stated that 'my complaint was not considered of sufficient interest to take further'. Yep. True. Not making it up.

Now I don't bother.

But here is the rub. I get the Radio Times and go through it and you know what I watch each week on the BBC. One hour, Yes one hour. That is on a Monday evening when I watch Only Connect and University Challenge.   When the Proms start I will watch the ones they deign to broadcast. I simply cannot understand why more of these concerts are now shown. They are a BBC institution after all. But we cannot have too much Posh stuff on the TV. Those plebs don not watch rubbish like that and the ratings would go down.

So what do I watch? Sky mostly and now Eurosport. I love tennis. Wimbledon is the only tennis the BBC show with the odd bits and pieces throughout the year. They say it is one of their Crown Jewels and they will never let it go to a commercial channel. They said that about cricket as well which vanished off Free to Air just after we had won the Ashes in a stunning series which had the nation riveted and since then cricket has rapidly declined in popularity. I pay a sub every month to Sky for their basic package, movies and sports and extra for Eurosport.  Yes it is expensive but the point here is that I choose to do so. If I don't want to pay it, I don't and I give up access to what I want to watch.

I could go on and on about bias in reporting, the profligate spending of the management, the high salaries to people I think are overpaid (though I admit this is a personal viewpoint. If you like Gary Linekar well fine, I forgive you). The move up to Salford some years back was eye wateringly expensive and now the latest - read below

A BBC project to rebuild the set of EastEnders is expected to cost £27 million more than planned, sparking concerns over licence fee payers' value for money.

Reconstruction of the soap’s set is part of wider improvement works at BBC Elstree which are set to cost the public broadcaster £86 million in total.

The completion date is now two and a half years late.

I am not saying another word....

Random Tidy

Many of my regular Random Readers will know that I am not a lover of housework. Indeed, my motto is "Housework won't kill you but why take the chance?" a concept I have followed for years. Now I do not want you to think I live in squalor because I don't. I hate a dirty sink and a nasty bathroom as well as the next person, but a speck of dust never bothered me and heaps of books and magazines and other detritus certainly doesn't either. I like a bit of clutter, it makes me feel warm and cosy and possessive. It is MY clutter. I love it.

A couple of years ago I had new bookshelves in my living room. I designed them and a local carpenter built them for me. They are wonderful. When I returned from an Australian trip (they were done while I was away) and I saw them I was struck all of a heap and just sat and drooled. I made them deep to allow for future double stacking. Well that time has arrived and at the start of this year I decided I really needed to sort them out.  So over two days I tidied up, I shelved, I moved books and yes, I actually decided to get rid of some. These were books I had had for some time because (a) I thought I might read them or (b) thought I might read them again.  When I asked myself whether (a) or (b) was likely and the honest answer was no, out they went.   I ended up getting rid of about 100 books and staggered along to the charity shop with bulging carrier bags.  Now my shelves are neat and tidy and all in order and I am much happier. I don't mind other things being a mess but I do like my books tidy.

Since I mentioned that I have done this I have received tweets and requests for photos of the same and so here they are.  I have my Bronte shelves, Dickens shelves, Wharton shelves etc etc and they are now all tidy and together.

Later on last week I found myself sorting out my food cupboards in the kitchen as well. I know not why, a sudden impulse came over me and I got stuck in. A bit shamemaking finding fondant icing that should have been chucked out in 2016 amongst others and loads of stuff got thrown in the bin. Everything is now in neat containers and storage jars (picked up some lovely Hornsea ones in a charity shop a week ago) and all was gemutlich.

But then I looked at my cutlery drawers. and realised they were in a mess too and sorted those out. I also treated myself to some new stainless steel cutlery as my other stuff was a jumble of different designs and a bit of a mish mash.

And then FINALLY I found myself doing a Marie Kondo on my scarf drawer and rolling them all up neatly and they are now all colour co-ordinated.

I began to panic slightly and wondered if this mania for tidiness was going to continue, but I am pleased to report Dear Readers in case you were worrying, that as suddenly as the feeling came over me so it has departed.

I can now relax.

For another two years anyway...