Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren't

Three books have coloured my view of French literature, all set texts for study. They each feature a miserable woman, living a depressing life and turning to adultery as an escape: Marguerite Duras's Moderato Cantabile and its metaphorical magnolia flowers is a book I never, ever want to read again; Emile Zola's seedy Thérèse Raquin, saved only by its Parisian setting; and worst of all, Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary and its intensely annoying eponymous protagonist.

Not my idea of fun

Will Self's My Idea of Fun had been sitting on my shelf for about 20 years. I'd started it, didn't warm to the first few pages, so set it aside for another few years and tried again.

Reader, I finished it, but it wasn't my idea of fun.

A remarkable escape from slavery

I was surprised to discover within one branch of my family's history, a chemist-druggist who travelled to America in 1862, leaving his wife behind, to join the Unionists of the American Civil War. He remained in the USA after the war ended and became a naturalised citizen. What on earth drove him to do that? Here's an hypothesis: perhaps he'd come across Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom, the remarkable story of how two slaves escaped their bondage and gained their freedom.

Jimmy's Angels

Image: Sarah Jones, license CC BY-SA 2.0

I'm watching Leah Williamson lift the UEFA 2022 trophy and I'm not ashamed to say that tears are running down my cheeks. Forty-five years ago a few friends and I experienced our own success in the Beautiful Game, a much smaller one admittedly, but nonetheless a victory.

It was Monday morning, March 1977. English, maths, double German. My favourite subjects. Not such a bad way to start the week.

The Yachtsman's Ale

A little ditty I wrote to mark the return of the Monaco Yacht Show tomorrow. It's inspired by AA Milne's The King's Breakfast.

The Yachtsman told
the Captain, and
the Captain told
the Cabin-boy:
"Buy some ale and cheddar cheese
before we set to sea."
The Captain asked
the Cabin-boy,
the Cabin-boy
said, "Aye aye Skip.
I'll get it chop-chop from the shop,
that's just beyond the quay."

The Cabin-boy
he hurried off.
He went and asked
the Merchant,
"Are your shelves stocked up
with beer and cheese made in GB?"
The Merchant said
"Oh dear me no,
you're out of luck,
we're out of stock,
and since the Brexit vote
we're selling lager and French Brie."

The Cabin-boy
said, "Bollocks!" and
reported to
the Captain.
He cleared his throat, suggested,
"Skipper, wouldn't you agree,
that creamy cheese
and ice cold beer
would go down
much, much better
while we cruise from port to port
around the Mediterranean Sea?"

The Captain said

"Hmmm!" and he
went to see
the Yachtsman
"You know you wanted ale and cheese
before we set to sea?
I've heard it said
that soft french cheese
and continental
lager
would be easier on the stomach
while we're sailing to Capri."

The Yachtsman said,
"You what?" and then
the Yachtsman yelled
"Don't give me that!"
The Yachtsman swore, "You f*cker!
Now I'm going to count to three.
Cheddar cheese and
ale I say,
here, I say
and now, okay?
Or find another job and
get no ref-er-ence from me!"

The Captain said,
"Right ho, Sir!"
and went to tell
the Cabin-boy
who hurried to the shop
and went down on bended knee.
The Merchant winked
"I know a man
who knows a man
who might have ale
that costs two-hundred euros
and some cheese for that times three."

A wad of notes
changed hands.
Goods were packed
and dispatched pronto.
The Yachstman said, "At last!" and then
he rubbed his hands with glee.
"Nothing," he said
as he levered off the bottle top,
"Nothing," he said
as he cut himself a chunk of cheese,
"Nothing," he repeated
to no-one in particular,
"Beats cheddar cheese and British ale
when setting out to sea."

More stuff

• Cheese photo by J.P.Lon licensed under GNU Free Documentation License
• Cheddar cheese on wikipedia
• AA Milne on wikipedia

Vimto, Gonks, and Wayfinders. I remember them

I opened Mean Time, Carol Ann Duffy's 1993 collection of poetry, and poured myself a glass of wine. My cheeks started to glow, my head became lighter, my shoulders dropped, and everything in the world was fine. I began to feel sentimental at the thought of happy times past. Was it the wine or the poetry?

Nostalgia suffuses Mean Time, especially the first poem in the collection, The Captain of the 1964 Top of the Form Team. It speaks directly to baby boomers, those who were at school in the 60s and 70s. The references tap on your heart with a hoppety beat; pop music, general knowledge, Vimto, Gonks, and Tuf Wayfinders shoes. What a great start to a great collection.

Definitely, absolutely and without a doubt, 'my sort of book'

Some of the books I read for Book Club are really not my sort of thing. I like to think I read them with good grace, and I really do try to find the best in them whilst admitting that I'm not the target readership for that sort of thing. Well, Claire Keegan's Small Things Like These is definitely, absolutely and without a doubt, my sort of book.