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.

Robert Smail’s Printing Works, Innerleithen, now overseen by the National Trust for Scotland is a treasure trove of printing memorabilia and artefacts. When the Trust took the premises over there was a record and sample of every single print job the works had ever produced along with all their historical printing presses.

Desk as it was left:-

Shelves and ledgers:-

Stock:-

Photos. The Yellow Pages are for 1985, the year that Smail’s was handed over:-

Printing Room:-

Reverse view:-

Originally any machinery in Smail’s was driven by this paddle wheel utilising water from a local stream:-

Paper stock:-

Guillotine. This was a late addition to Smail’s inventory of equipment; bought due to safety regulations:-

Everyman’s Library, 1991, 150 p, plus 22p Introduction by Malcolm Bradbury, 2 p Select Bibliography and 9 p Chronology. First published 1925.

I had had this on my tbr pile for years without ever getting round to it. I might still not have had it not been on both the Guardian’s list of 100 Best Novels, where it was no 11, and also in the readers’ list (16 [equal]).

It’s a bit of an odd experience to read a book held in such regard: especially if you’ve seen a film made from it (in my case the one starring Robert Redford.) In this instance it was also dispiriting. Few, if any, of the characters have any redeeming features.

Gatsby, born Jimmy Gatz, is blinded to just about all else – especially caution – by his obsession with Daisy Buchanan, who is herself narcissistic, superficial and, strange as that may seem given his bootlegging activities, actually unworthy of him. Her diffidence makes her more of an absence in the book than an active participant. Even her crucial contribution to the story, the driving of the car whose fatal encounter precipitates the denouement, occurs outwith the direct narrative. Her husband Tom is nothing but a bully, a racist and white supremacist, subscriber to the great replacement theory (yes in the1920s,) who sees racial intermarriage as the end of civilisation and treats his mistress Myrtle Wilson with casual violence. Myrtle’s husband George is merely a catspaw.

Daisy’s friend Jordan Baker, and our narrator Nick Carraway’s sometime girlfriend (a relationship always somewhat tenuous,) seems to be present only for purposes of information dumping.

Nothing much is revealed of Carraway himself, a very un-USian protagonist in that he affects little in the story and only reacts to what is around him. (That last is not a criticism, by the way; they also serve.)

There is a curious statement in, “Americans, while willing, even eager, to be serfs, have always been obstinate about being peasantry.”

I note that a door marked, ‘The Swastika Holding Company’ reads now a little differently than it would have done in 1925.

I wouldn’t rate this anywhere near my top 100 reads. It may be it is as much – perhaps more – to be noted for its highlighting of the vacuousness and indifference bordering on callousness of the monied during what was called the Jazz Age as for any literary merit. But then the monied are vacuous and indifferent in any age, you only have to witness our own, where callousness seems endemic.

Sensitivity note: ‘kike’, ‘three modish negroes, two bucks and a girl’, ‘a small flat-nosed Jew’, ‘a lovely Jewess’.

Pedant’s corner:- “‘you’d of thought,’ ‘he’d of got me’ and ‘appendicitus’” (spoken by Mrs Wilson or her sister, so possibly an attempt to render a lack of education: ‘you’d’ve thought,’ he’d’ve got me,’ ‘appendicitis’,) “had reached a crescendo” (a crescendo is the rise, not its peak,) caravansary (caravanserai.)

Radiohead’s highest chart placing; no 3 in 1997.

Radiohead: Paranoid Android

Victoria Park, Innerleithen, is the location of the home ground of Vale of Leithen FC, currently of the Third Division of the East of Scotland League. The ground is at the edge of Victoria Park.

This is a ground where I have watched a match even though the mighty Sons of the Rock haven’t played Vale of Leithen FC in my memory. It was a warm-up for the World Cup of 1966. The France squad had a training base nearby so a game was arranged against the local side who played in Scotland strips for the occasion. I forget the score. Suffice to say France won easily.

My grandparents used to live in the town and we used to visit in the summer holidays so were able to take in the game.

Entrance to the ground:-

It’s a lovely location surrounded by hills:-

Local amateur side Leithen Rovers, have their changing rooms at the edge of the main park area. I assume they play their games on a pitch in the park:-

Inside St Andrew’s Church in Corbridge are two memorials to the men of Corbridge Parish who died in the World Wars.

Great War plaque:-

Second World War Roll of Honour:-

In addition to these there is in the lychgate of the church a plaque commemorating the Great War dead. The plaque is covered in perspex hence reflections:-

The Vicar’s Pele is a building which stands in the grounds surrounding St Andrew’s Church. It was once the vicarage for the church but now houses a pub!

St Andrew’s Church (stitch of two photos):-

Inside the church was an art installation by Keith Roberts MRSS, named Caporetto after the Great War battle also known as the Twelfth Battle of the Isonzo.

“Caporetto” installation information:-

Vintage, 1992, 236 p.

I suspect that Carter actually enjoyed writing this book, which fizzes with energy and sly humour and at times tips into magical realism. Its title is based on the old saw that a wise child knows its father. Narrated by Dora, one of the twin sister dance act known as the Chance Girls. She and twin (Leo)Nora are daughters, on the wrong side of the blanket, of theatrical great Melchior Hazard, who unfortunately did not acknowledge them as his. That burden was taken on, though, by his nomadic brother Peregrine.

The convoluted nature of the family relationships here – the girls were brought up by the woman they know as Grandma (even though she wasn’t) and told their mother died shortly after their birth in Grandma’s house – is further complicated by the fact that living with them is the disabled former wife of Melchior, Lady (in her own right) Atalanta Hazard, known to the now 75 year-old twins as Wheelchair.

There is a measure of smoke and mirrors to proceedings, reflecting theatrical illusion. The novel is steeped in theatrical and stage lore, with Shakespearian references abounding. A trip to Hollywood illustrates the excess of the early film industry with a climactic scene perhaps owing a little something to slapstick comedy. The contrast between Melchior’s status as a grand old man of legitimate theatre and the lower brow nature of the sisters’ dance career highlights the disparity between their own legal status and that of their half-sisters,  acknowledged by Melchior, born in wedlock, though possibly not sired by him.

At its core, though, is Dora’s longing to belong, her search for a figure to fill in for the father who disowned her.

Dora’s vice may be irritating to some what with all the theatrical allusions, irreverent asides and references to lost cultural staples.

But along the way she has some more serious thoughts. “Let’s not call it a tragedy. A broken heart is never a tragedy. Only untimely death is a tragedy. And war.”

Much later we have this exchange with her sister.

“‘It’s every woman’s tragedy,’ said Nora, ‘that, after a certain age, she looks like a female impersonator.’”

‘What’s every man’s tragedy, then?’ I wanted to know.

‘That he doesn’t, Oscar,’ she said.”

She also tells us that, in story telling, “If you get little details right, people will believe anything,” (true in life as well perhaps?) and vouchsafes that, “Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.”

This was Carter’s last novel, written after her diagnosis of lung cancer. In the circumstances it is something to be wondered at that, while touching on seriousness, overall it has such a consistent lightness of tone.

Pedant’s corner:- “she’s showed her all” (intended I’ve no doubt – the book’s background is show business after all – but it ought to be ‘shown’,) “to whit” (it’s ‘to wit’,) forbad (forbade,) “Nora said, he was young enough” (that comma alters the sense,) “Epps’ cocoa” (was that a proprietary brand. Whatever it ought to be ‘Epps’s’,) a musical revue called What You Will, later rendered variously as “What? You Will?”, “What! You Will?”, “What! You Will!” and “What You Will!”, “than sang” (then sang,) “oblivious of” (it’s oblivious to,) “legs akimbo” (how you can put your feet on your hips is beyond me,) slax (slacks, spelled so to indicate lack of care or attention,) “never forgave a grudge” (a malapropism for forgot?) “Peter Jones’ store” (Jones’s.) “Nora sunk in thought” (sank.)