A Son of the Rock

You may have noticed on my sidebar I am reading a book with the above title.

It is my latest review book for ParSec.

Written by Andrew H Murray, another writer new to me though it seems he has published four previous novels, from its blurb it may be intended to be humorous.

I assume the review will appear in ParSec 17.

I was so sad to hear yesterday of the death of Bill Oddie, comedian, bird watcher and naturalist.

It was as a comedian I first knew of him, through his contributions to the BBC radio show  (on the then Home Service for its first series, then the Light Programme and its successor Radio 2) I’m Sorry, I’ll Read That Again, which I have mentioned before. It’s a shame there’s no stand-alone version of The Angus Prune Tune available for inclusion here. (Its lyric is given here, though.)

Then of course he went on to become one third of The Goodies.

His interest in birds was then parlayed into appearances on various nature programmes.

His life was, however, affected by bipolar disorder, not diagnosed till fairly late on.

William Edgar (Bill) Oddie: 7/7/1941 – 25/7/2026. So it goes.

Parsonage from garden:-

Model of original building; inside Brontë Parsonage Museum:-

Patrick Brontë’s study:-

Dining room:-

Curate’s room:-

Passage to kitchen:-

Kitchen:-

Stairs:-

This was a return trip to Haworth.

Main Street, Haworth, looking down the hill. Taken by the Black Bull, Branwell Brontë’s favourite watering hole. In this photo the Brontës’ home at the Parsonage is behind and to the right:-

Further down Main Street:-

Looking back up from further down. This really shows the street’s steepness:-

Graveyard at Haworth Church, Parsonage in background.

It was the packed nature of the graveyard that led to the high degree of disease in the Victorian town, the highest in England. Water from heavy rainfall would flow down from the graves under/beside the church and down Main Street carrying germs to the populace. Eventually it was decided to plant trees and space out graves to help prevent this:-

Dolphin, 2000, 121 p.

After her father died in an accident Roshana Kemal’s family – mother and younger brother Jino – lives in a caravan in the grounds of the factory where her mother works. At night Roshana has strange dreams involving The Shadowman and a jackal named Shivalu.

All too soon, in Roshana’s eyes, her mother remarries; to a plump businessman called Rajah, making good in the India of the twenty-first century. Even though the family is now much more comfortably off – all Rajah’s business friends show signs of enjoying life – Roshana resents the disruption to her life and the betrayal of her father it represents.

Her friend at school, Jeevamani Anjumbandare, frequently regales Roshana with tales of her sister Smita’s latest boyfriends. This seemingly inconsequential detail has plot ramifications.

There is a slight disconnect between the resolute realism of the depiction of Roshana’s everyday existence and interactions with her friends and the undercurrent of menace in her dreams, aspects of which can pop into her daily life. Menace appears soon enough, though, when Jino is abducted from outside a shop into which Roshana had gone to make a purchase.

Partly it is her dreams which lead Roshana to the discovery of where Jino has been taken.

True to its YA milieu the jeopardy in Spiritfeather is not over the top. A solid, straightforward read through which Greenland’s professionalism as a writer shines.

Pedant’s corner:- hiccough (it isn’t a cough; ‘hiccup’,) “in Roshana’ picture” (Roshana’s picture,) Anjumbandane (Anjumbandare.)

Not Feargal Sharkey’s biggest solo hit (that would be his number one A Good Heart) but memorable for all that.

Feargal Sharkey: You Little Thief

Cassell, 1975, 589 p, including 2p Map of mediæval Northern France and the Low Countries.

This is the sixth and last of Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles, following on from The Ringed Castle. Each chapter is preceded by an epigraph in French and there are copious quotations/song lyrics in French throughout.

Among other incidental historical goings-on such as the French capture of Calais from the English, the French war against the Spanish (in both of which Lymond has a guiding role,) and the wedding of Mary Queen of Scots to the Dauphin, the main plot concerns the unravelling of Lymond’s seemingly uncertain parentage, an unravelling performed in the main by Philippa Somerville, whom Lymond married in The Ringed Castle to protect her honour, a union which remains unconsummated and from which Lymond is desirous of an annulment (as, to be fair, is Philippa.) The reasons for this desire are complicated and not entirely voluntary and obstacles continue to put in its way but both contract promises to future marriage, in Lymond’s case to Catherine d’Albon, daughter of the Maréchale de St André, in Philippa’s to Austin Grey.

Lymond is neither ashamed nor guarded about his past amours – he has a son, Kuzum, by the deceased Oonagh O’Dwyer; a former lover, Guzel, left behind in Russia, and in this book he beds the Maréchale (or, rather, she beds him) before the proposal to her daughter. When Catherine asks if she’s agreed to marry a libertine she gets the reply, “‘Everyone marries libertines,’ Lymond said. ‘But not everyone knows it beforehand.’”

A minor sub-episode reveals the young Scottish Queen, under the influence of her de Guise uncles and prospective father-in-law, King Henri II, secretly agreeing that if she died childless the throne of Scotland should pass to France. This does not go down well with delegation of Scottish nobles sent to witness Mary’s wedding, who are obliged to keep their knowledge of the pact secret but Lymond goes so far as to warn Mary that such an outcome would meet with all but universal opposition back home.

Also contributing to the proceedings, helpful in relieving Lymond of a burden of sickness as well as in the resolution of the parenting issue, is one Nostradamus.

While the level of research and historical detail are impressive and incident is never far away once again Dunnett’s writing and dialogue lacks clarity.

Pedant’s corner:- hiccoughing/hiccough (it’s not a cough; hiccuping/hiccup,) “Daedalus’ honeycomb” (Daedalus’s,) palinquin (palanquin.) “After Russia, campaigning in France, would be like” (that second comma is needless,) “the aesthetic figure one would have thought from his reputation” (‘ascetic’ makes more sense in context,) Luxembourg (sometimes here spelled Luxemburg, which may have been a rendering of the usage of the viewpoint character of the moment,) “the Vidame de Chartres’ voice” (the final ‘s’ in Chartres is not voiced so its possessive is certainly Chartres’s,) “like Crassus’ lamprey” (Crassus’s,) “staunch the bleeding” (stanch,) alambic (usually spelled ‘alembic’,) “his language than had not been moderate” (his language then had not,) a missing comma before a piece of direct speech, “there had been nothing demanded of Philippa which needed intrude on this relationship” (which need intrude; or, which needed to intrude.) “The pavilion of the Duke de Guise and that of his brother d’Aumale were empty” (The pavilions,) “was tinging the cloth” (tingeing; tinging is something bells do.) “One of the Count of Egmont’s foraging parties had acquired half a dozen wagons of grain and were occupying the village”  (One … was occupying,) “tell the prayers” (they were musicians, not supplicants: ‘tell the players’,) “a Brazilian dancer” (I wondered if Brazil was known as such in 1558 but the term is apparently from around 1506,) a missing full stop.

And so now it’s Kevin Keegan who has left us.

I knew of course of his cancer diagnosis, revealed earlier this year, but hadn’t thought it would progress so quickly.

He was a footballer who dedicated himself to his craft and made the most of his opportunities.

He never made much of an impact at a World Cup for the simple reason that England teams of his era were pretty so-so – often failing to qualify – and his only brush with the tournament came at a time when he was recovering from injury and therefore not at his best.

His achievements on the pitch with Liverpool, SV Hamburg (Hamburger SV) and Newcastle speak for themselves. His transformation of Hamburg’s fortunes propelled him to the Ballon d’Or not once, but twice. Off the field he successfully helped save Newcastle from relegation to the third tier before gaining them promotion to the first and then almost, almost, winning the English title. He repeated that promotion feat with Manchester City.

While his “Love it!” rant at Alex Ferguson apparently sparks most people’s reflections my main memory of Kevin was of his fisticuffs with Billy Bremner at a Charity Shield game in 1974, an incident which seemed at odds with his usual behaviour (though not, perhaps, Billy’s.)

Joseph Kevin Keegan: 14/2/1951 – 20/7/2026. So it goes.

Most letter cases in print works were untidy as the letters would be thrown in. The workers knew where they ought to go and worked on memory. This is a cleaned up example:-

Letter cases, printing blocks etc:-

Smail’s used to print the local newspaper the St Ronan’s Standard. This is a printing block of a front cover:-

Lithograph stones:-

A press:-

Chicago press:-

Heidelberg press:-

Wharfedale press. As I recall this was Smail’s first three-colour printing press:-

The conceit of a visit to Smail’s is that you are starting a printing apprenticeship. Apprentice Card cover:-

Inside of card:-

My apprentice piece:-

So sad to hear of the death of Garry Sobers, one of, if not the, best cricketer(s) of my lifetime.

He broke the record number of runs for a Test innings the first time he scored a century – 365 not out against Pakistan in Kingston in 1958, still the highest maiden test score of 100 or over – and was the first batsman to hit six sixes off one over playing for Northamptonshire against Glamorgan. He was also a fine spin and fast-medium bowler along with being a fine fielder, taking many catches off the bowling of Lance Gibbs and had a good record as captain of the West Indies.

Instantly recognisable with his trademark upturned shirt collar, he played with an elegance and grace.

No less a judge than Richie Benaud described Sobers as the greatest all-round cricketer the world has seen.

Garfield St Aubrun (Garry) Sobers:  28/7/1936 – 17/72026. So it goes.