Holiday Book Bag 2024 Part 4

Posted on by Steve Higgins

As usual I always take a number of books with me to read when I’m on holiday. There is nothing better than having a long pleasant read in the sun interrupted only by visits to the pool. This year we only had a swimming pool for just over a week and even then there wasn’t much sun but I still managed to get in some reading. Anyway, time to open up my book bag and see what’s in there.

The Dark Side of Camelot by Seymour Hersh

This was a book which I read a long time ago and thought it was ready for a re-read. It is essentially a book which tries to shatter the image of the long dead President Kennedy. It’s an exercise in character assassination and talks exclusively about JFK’s numerous faults without any balancing stories about what he actually did well.

The Bay of Pigs was a great disaster for Kennedy. He inherited the invasion plans from the Eisenhower administration in which Vice President Nixon was a prime mover. Nixon felt that an invasion would boost his chances in the election contest against Kennedy but the CIA seemed to be relying on the assassination of Castro to kick off the invasion but that planned murder, for whatever reason, never happened.

JFK told the CIA that US forces would not be assisting in the operation but it turned out that the CIA was relying on exactly that, intervention by US forces. The invasion was a disaster and Kennedy privately blamed the CIA who he felt were trying to force his hand in committing American forces. Hersh of course, blames Kennedy.

The most shocking element of the book probably comes from interviews with four former secret servicemen who tell numerous stories of JFK’s aides, Dave Powers and Kenny O’Donnell, bringing in call girls and prostitutes to service the President whenever his wife Jackie wasn’t around. The White House pool seems to have been a particular favourite of Kennedy’s, not for a relaxing swim but for naked skinny dipping and sex with various women, some of whom were White House secretaries.

Throw into the mix father Joe Kennedy’s booze smuggling activities and relentless spending to get his son elected and the author paints a pretty dark picture of the Kennedy White House. Still, as I said earlier, this book is a one sided view. It’s worth reading more about JFK before you make your mind up.

Ten Days to Destiny by John Costello

I’ve always been interested in the Rudolf Hess mystery. Why did Hess fly to England? Why are the Hess files sealed for so long? What was the real story? This was a book about the mystery or so I thought. Actually it’s about the various peace initiatives that were made even while Churchill, the new prime minister, had vowed to fight on and which eventually culminate in Hess arriving in the UK in the latter part of the book.

After the declaration of war in 1939 the government had to bring in Churchill who had long warned about the Nazi menace. Later, when the government realised that a national government was needed, comprising all the main parties, the opposition, the labour party led by Clement Attlee, refused to serve under Neville Chamberlain who they believed had actually caused the crisis by his policy of appeasement. Chamberlain wanted Lord Halifax to take over as prime minister and even put the question to Churchill, asking him would the country be willing to accept a leader in the Lords rather than the Commons. Churchill declined to answer and of course it was later that Chamberlain recommended Churchill to the King.

The author seems to think that part of the deal with Churchill was that Chamberlain should stay in the government and also still retain the leadership of the Conservative party. He even seems to think that Chamberlain had plans to return to number 10 Downing street at a later date. However, Chamberlain died of cancer not long afterwards.

Various others though, in particular Lord Halifax, seemed to be putting out peace feelers to representatives of Hitler who wanted to turn his attention to the Soviet Union rather than fight with the UK. Various people seemed to be trying to negotiate including Mussolini and the Pope. The flight of Hess seems to have come about because of letters intercepted by MI5 from Hess to the Duke of Devonshire. MI5 sent fake replies to Hess which encouraged him to come to the UK for unofficial talks.

Overall this was an interesting book but not not an easy one to read.

Bill Clinton: Mastering the Presidency by Nigel Hamilton

This book was the sequel to another book about Bill Clinton. The first one dealt with Clinton’s early life and his election to the presidency; this one takes us through his first four years as president. The author takes us through the years of the Clinton White House and documents the issues like Troopergate; when the former Governor Clinton’s State Troopers revealed the comings and goings of Bill’s various mistresses, as well as the disaster of his healthcare reform work which he entrusted to his wife Hillary. The public clearly weren’t keen on Clinton’s ‘co-president’ – his wife, and their healthcare proposals were rejected by Congress. The mid term elections were another disaster for Clinton and the Democrats and the book goes on to show how Clinton turned the final two years of his first term presidency around and was able to win a second term.

Unlike the book above, this one was a very easy read and each chapter comes in easily digestible bite size sections.

Encore Provence by Peter Mayle

This is the second follow up to the wonderful A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle. The first follow up was Toujours Provence and neither seem to me to have captured the essential warmth of the first book. This one, just like Toujours is a series of unconnected essays about life in France. It’s a pleasant enough read but not a patch on the original.

Seems Like a Nice Boy by Mike Maylon.

This is a short biography of Larry Grayson the comedian and one time host of the BBCs Generation Game. I’ve always kind of liked Larry and his camp performances. He was an old style entertainer who found fame in later life after years of summer seasons and working men’s clubs. In a lot of ways his act was similar to the stand up comedy of today; it was a chatty, observational style of comedy that concerned his many creations such as Everard and Slack Alice.

Many have speculated about his true sexuality but it’s clear that Larry enjoyed being labelled as camp rather than gay. The main relationship in his life was with his sister who became a mother figure to him when his adoptive mother died. The two lived next door to each other for many years in later life.

Larry’s career seemed to end when he stepped down from The Generation Game, assuming the BBC would find him some other TV vehicle. They never did. Larry died in 1994.

All in all, an enjoyable read with some interesting insights into the world of entertainment.

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Motorhome Living

Posted on by Steve Higgins

Once again Liz and I are pottering about France in our small motorhome. I thought that this week I’d give you, my readers, a quick update on where we are and what we are doing.

As usual we have been travelling around the Loire. We really do love this area but the one annoying element is that in the Loire, the locals rarely venture out for an evening meal. Many times, Liz, the navigator in our travelling partnership, has spotted an excellent parking area not far from a highly rated restaurant and what do we find? The restaurant is closed.

Sometimes, that isn’t the end of the world. One of the great things about being in a motorhome is that we do have provisions in the fridge and the cupboards and I really do love it when we stop by the side of the road and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. If we happen to pass by a boulangerie or a supermarket we might pick up some bread or croissants for breakfast and the whole combination; croissants, teas, and a lovely picnic area is frankly, wonderful.

Time for something completely irrelevant: This morning I woke up with a really annoying song in my head. The whole tune was there but I just couldn’t make out the words. It was something catchy, something about dancing and something from the 1980s. Was it Dancing Queen from Abba? No.

Anyway, back to motor home life. One thing about restaurants in the Loire, as I said earlier, is that they will always let you down. One place that we know is always open is a restaurant called L’Escale. The owner always welcomes us and even asks us to park in the staff area where he knows we won’t be woken early in the morning.

Anyway, twice this holiday we have arrived at L’Escale and both times they were closed! We weren’t happy. Anyhow, on one of those occasions we drove on and supported by the motorhome app Park4Night, we found a wonderful parking spot by a French post office. There was a designated area for motorhomes and over by the corner of the car park was a river flowing through the town. Just by the river was a small wall and so we popped our small gas barbecue on the wall, set up a couple of chairs and barbecued a couple of burgers with some quickly made salad. It was lovely. There were quite a few French passers by who all wished us ‘bon appetit’. Yes, that was a nice evening.

Back to that song. Let’s Dance by David Bowie? No, I don’t think so. Where had that song even come from? It’s quite a few weeks since we have been to our local pub quiz which has an extensive music round. No, the song wasn’t a hangover from that, I was certain.

Over here in France I tend not to listen to the radio. In the UK I feel that I am very much an ‘automatic’ driver. That is to say I tend to drive on autopilot while my conscious mind thinks about things like blogs and what to write about next. Here in France when I’m driving on the other side of the road, I can’t let my mind wander like that. I actually think that here in France, I’m a better driver than in the UK just because I really concentrate, I really think about my driving. In the UK, most of the time, especially on familiar roads, I am mostly on autopilot.

I often wonder whether I could actually give up my home and live in a motorhome. I’m not so sure. Our motorhome is a small one based on a Ford Transit cab and chassis. It has a fixed bed, a small kitchen area and an even smaller bathroom. The bathroom can be made into a shower are area although we have only used it once and that was when we drove south through France and into Spain.

The cooker has only three gas rings and the main one has just lately declined to work properly. Most of the time when we eat we are outside in the sun with our small gas barbecue. Take a quick look at this short video from 2022, when we came back to France after the Covid epidemic.

A few years ago the film that won the Oscar for best film was Nomadland. It’s about a woman who has lost her job and decides to go on the road in her motorhome or RV as they call it in the USA, to look for work. She finds various jobs with companies like Amazon who allow their workers to park and live in their RVs. Being a temporary job the film’s heroine, Fern, has to move on in search of another job. She meets various other nomads at a desert rendezvous where she picks up various skills about how to live on the road. At the end of the film, she returns home to dispose of her other belongings that have been kept in a storage unit. Then she goes back to her life on the road.

It’s an interesting film told in a sort of slow documentary style and to answer my own question, no, I don’t think I could live in a van permanently. I like my creature comforts too much and being a pretty big fellow, the smallness of our motorhome sometimes grates on me.

Just to finish off that fairly irrelevant question about music I mentioned earlier. I tried harder and harder to pick up some words from that tune and eventually, after some serious mental exercising, I came up with a lyric from the song which was we can dance. Yes, the song was The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. It was a UK hit in 1984 when I was at the peak of building up my vinyl singles collection. Happy days!

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More Sun Lounger Thoughts (Part 11)

Posted on by Steve Higgins

Once again, Liz and I are travelling across France in our little motorhome, looking for restaurants to eat at and lakes to swim in. The weather hasn’t been great but at least it hasn’t been cold, although a little less cloud and a little more sun would have been nice.

We don’t tend to do a great deal on holiday apart from swimming, eating and reading and despite the overall lack of sunshine I’ve still managed to do a little sun lounging. Here are one or two thoughts that came to me as I relaxed.

French Supermarkets.

What on earth happens in France at supermarket checkouts? In the UK they seem to move along at a fair pace but in France, when the shopping has been scanned there is a sort of lull while the customers seem to take forever to pay. Many seem to pay by cheque which is surprising as I can’t even remember the last time I wrote a cheque but here in France, the customer pulls out his cheque book, spends forever writing it out and eventually they move on. For us British, it’s a quick tap of the card and the payment goes through and that’s it.

Kebabs.

One day when we were travelling along we ended up at a kebab takeaway which are very few and far between in France. We were probably heading for one of our favourite restaurants which of course, this being France, was closed. Restaurants here seem to close for staff holidays which means the entire establishment is shut unlike similar places in the UK which stagger their staff holidays. Strange!

Anyway, back to the kebab shop. We ordered our kebabs and frites and then the manager invited us to sit down on the couch and turned on the tv. Wait a minute, this was a fast food emporium,wasn’t it? Sorry, I forgot the French don’t do fast food. Slow food yes but not fast food. We watched most of the French news bulletin while the kebab man presumably peeled some spuds, dropped them in the frying pan and then sorted out the kebab meat. I asked if he had any chilli sauce but that seemed to confuse him. Sauce piquant I ventured? Ah, he did have some samurai sauce which seemed to sound pretty hot. It wasn’t but it was pretty nice.

Space Travel 2024.

While I curled up one night and surfed the internet I happened to read about the new Boeing Starliner, the latest in a series of new spacecraft which have been produced to replace the space shuttle. The Starliner reached the orbiting international space station but there were a few issues with the thrusters and so the spacecraft was returned to Earth without its crew. They were on a mission lasting eight days but will now be stuck up in space until February.

Returning without the two crew members was a safety precaution and although the craft landed without any issues a few of the thrusters did fail so it was better to be safe than sorry. The crew will return on another spacecraft, the Space X ship but what I found really odd was that the crew’s Starliner space suits are not compatible with the Space X spacecraft.

The two spacecraft are of course made by different companies but even so I thought that this particular issue was addressed during the Apollo program. If you have ever seen the movie Apollo 13 you will know that a small explosion on the service module meant that the crew had to move into the lunar excursion vehicle in order to conserve power and oxygen in the command module.

The lunar module and the command module were made by different manufacturers and many of the systems were not compatible and engineers on the ground had to work out how to make the two craft function together by rigging up temporary connections. Those procedures were then radioed up to Apollo 13 for the three man crew to set up. One item that had to be put together was something to clear the carbon dioxide out of the air. You would think that after all that, NASA would make sure that there were universal fittings between spacecraft, especially in the vital area of space suits.

Reading.

Life at the Top by John Braine.

This is a follow up to Room at the Top, one of the original kitchen sink dramas about a council house boy determined to make it to the top. In the first book, Joe Lampton seems to have made good. He has married the daughter of one of the area’s top businessmen, Councillor Brown. To do so he had no choice but to dump his lover, a married woman much older than himself, who then got drunk and was killed in a car accident.

Ten years later Joe is not that happy. He works for his father-in-law who has bought the couple a new house, all in Joe’s wife’s name of course. They have two children but Joe is bored and fed up.

He becomes a councillor just to satisfy the father-in-law but is shocked to find that his wife has been having an affair with the husband of his wife’s friend. That spurs him on to have his own affair and as you can imagine, it all ends in tears.

This novel, unlike its predecessor, reads a little like a soap opera and I found myself having little interest in whether Joe stays with his wife or leaves her or any of the goings on either at the council or in Joe’s home.

Verdict: 5/10

Anyway, that’s enough random thoughts for now, time for a swim!

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Becoming Joe Biden

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It was a Saturday afternoon, July 20th when I really thought about becoming Joe Biden. It started out as me just wondering about the man himself, 81 and wanting to embark upon another four years as president. 81? Bloody hell, relax man, leave it to some younger guy I thought.

Me, I’m only 42 but even I think about taking things easier, especially after that fall from my bike the other day. I do a lot of cycling. I do a short run every evening after work and at the weekends I take a good run over the cycle track through the local woods but this one occasion I decided to go out on a Wednesday, all because Paula my wife had gone out to some curry night and left me alone. Well, I cycled round the woodland track and a tree branch caught in the spokes of my wheel and tipped me right over onto the deck. I took a bit of a whack to the head and I’ve bruised my left thigh but other than that I’m ok. Good job I was wearing a helmet.

Anyway, back to Joe Biden. In case you didn’t know, he’s president of the USA. Theoretically the most powerful man in the world and as I lay back on the settee I wondered if, not only what would it be like to be Joe Biden but also if I could actually be Joe Biden. You know, become him, actually beam myself, my spirit, my being into his body and actually become Joe Biden.

I hope I haven’t lost you there. I know it’s a mad crazy concept but for some reason I thought that somehow, I could actually do it. Maybe it was that whack to the head but lying back on the couch on that sunny Saturday afternoon I set about doing it, actually projecting my persona into the body of President Biden. What would it be like I wondered?

So after a while I opened my eyes and to my great surprise, there I was in the oval office. It was actually more circular than oval. The carpet was a pale blue and the presidential seal was there. I was sitting behind my desk and I was tired despite waking up from a very comfortable nap. An assistant came in and she asked if there was anything that I wanted. I said yes, a cup of tea and a slice of buttered toast.

The assistant, a young woman in a dark business suit looked at me oddly. ‘What was that Mr President’ she asked.

“Tea and a slice of buttered toast if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all Mr President,” she said.

She went out and a man came in. He had a list of stuff he was reading, a sort of itinerary but I wasn’t really listening. Instead, I was thinking about what I could do on my first day as the president. After a little thought I decided that I would really like a helicopter ride. After all, the president does have a helicopter.

“I’d like a trip in the helicopter” I said.

“Mr President?”

“Yes, could you arrange that? We do have a helicopter, don’t we?”

“Well you are scheduled to be going off to Camp David this afternoon, in Marine One.”

“Marine One?”

“The presidential helicopter.”

“Of course. What time are we going?”

“Three pm Mr President.”

“Three pm. Fine. Good work.”

President Joe Biden poses for his official portrait Wednesday, March 3, 2021, in the Library of the White House. (Official White House Photo by Adam Schultz)

About this same time back in a small village in Lancashire in northern England, Joe Biden, the real Joe Biden had woken up from a nap in the oval office to find himself in my body, the body of Simon Harkness, a civil servant aged 42 who worked for the ministry of transport.

Joe was naturally a little confused at first, I mean there he was, the president sitting in the Oval Office, he takes a nap and finds himself in Lancashire, England. I mean, he was bound to be confused, wasn’t he?

Joe was on the couch and jumped to his feet. His surroundings were strange but not only that, he felt fitter and  stronger than he had felt for a very long time. He didn’t realise it at the time but he was an 81 year old man suddenly thrust into the body of a 42 year old. The difference was just amazing and apart from a little pain in his left thigh and what he later learned was some severe bruising, he actually felt fitter than he had felt for years.

Just then his, I mean my, wife entered the scene. She was due to go off to visit her sister and she came in chattering about the cheese sandwich she had made me and the left over casserole that only needed reheating in the microwave later.

“Who are you?” asked Joe/me.

“What?” said Paula.

Back in Washington I was getting ready to board Marine One, the presidential helicopter and I was rather enjoying it. A great many military men were saluting me and I was of course saluting back, I was the commander in chief after all.

We were all seated and ready to go.

“OK what are we waiting for?” I asked.

One of the officers looked a little pale and answered, “The First Lady, sir.”

The first lady? Of course, Biden’s wife. Now what was her name? Jill, I think.

After a while a woman came aboard and sat down and I realised it was her, Joe’s wife. She looked a little younger than Joe and soon we were buckled up and ready for take off.

In Lancashire Joe had quietly informed my wife that in fact he was Joe Biden, president of the USA and he was wondering what had happened.

“Is this something to do with that silly blog that you write Simon?”

Joe looked a little confused and before he could answer Paula told him about the sandwich and if he was eating it in the lounge to make sure he didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

“By the way, I’ve left you a cup of tea on the kitchen table. I’m off now. Don’t forget you’re playing darts at the pub at 6.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any coffee,” said Joe.

“Don’t be silly. You know we don’t drink coffee in this house.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and was gone. Joe walked through into the kitchen and took a bite of the sandwich. It was good but a corned beef on rye would have been better.

Over at Camp David I was trying to think about something I could do to help out in the world. Maybe I could call Mr Netanyahu and sort something out about Gaza. Then there was the war in the Ukraine. Was it worth calling Putin and trying to make him see sense? The thing was they had one of those really huge HD TV screens over at Camp David and I settled down to watch some US TV.

Some aide wanted to talk about the re-election campaign and I mentioned that it was a shame that in such a huge and diverse nation the best candidates were two old men who were both past it. What America needed was a younger candidate, someone like, well that woman who’s the vice president. What was her name, Camel something?

That was when Joe’s team finally seemed to be behind me. After all I told them, I’m 81, it’s time for someone new to take over, some one like, what was that woman’s name? The very next day, Sunday, we made the announcement.

Back in the UK I’m not sure how Joe managed to make it along to the pub but he turned up anyway.

The guys all welcomed him and they were asking about his fall off the bike and when he came out and told them straight, he was actually Joe Biden, well they were all a little taken aback.

“Pint of Two Hoots Simon,” called Pete, the landlord.

“Two Hoots?”

“Yes, real ale, you were knocking quite a few pints of it back last Sunday.”

“I was?”

“Go on,” said someone,“Get it down yer neck.”

“The boys say that it’s your round so that’ll be twelve pound fifty Simon,” said the barman.

“Er, I don’t think I have my wallet,” said Joe.

“Bloody hell,” said one of the lads. “Come out without his wallet!”

“Could I open up a tab. I’ll see that the White House pays the bill.”

“The bloody White House” someone else called and soon they were all laughing together.

It was round about then when I thought it might be time to get back home. It had been nice meeting Jill and a lot of other people whose names I can’t really remember so I went into a quiet corner and closed my eyes and soon there I was, back in the pub. The guys were still laughing about me leaving my wallet at home but Pete was happy for me to come in the next day and pay my tab.

I didn’t do very well at the darts. I had a slight headache so after a while I wandered off back home.

Later, I told Paula about the whole thing, about how I became Joe Biden and went to the White House but she brushed it all off saying it was something to do with that knock on the head and that I had probably dreamt it all. Even so, on the news the next day I heard that Joe Biden had decided not to run in the election and he had endorsed Kamala Harris, his vice president.

I wasn’t surprised.

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Me or the Cat

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I’m not a great cat fan. Don’t get me wrong, they are pleasant enough but I’m allergic to cats and I found out the hard way by living with two. They were both different characters; one was JJ named after a racing driver I thought was going to be one of the all time greats, JJ Lehto. Never heard of him? Well that’s probably because he didn’t get to be one of the all times greats after all which perhaps shows that I don’t know as much about F1 racing as I thought I did.

JJ the cat was a lady who liked to be boss of the catwalk. Any other local cat who dared to walk along the wall at the back of our property was soon either chased off or JJ would just plonk herself down in the other cat’s way and just dare him or her to come this way. Sometimes that led to a tense staring off competition which usually led to the other cat going home a different way.

Our other cat Sam was a very laid back fellow. He liked to spend the day up in the rafters of the garage roof, so much so that I had to fit a cat flap on the garage door so he could come and go. Sam was fond of his breakfast though and so many times he would wake me in a morning by giving me a friendly massage on my chest with his paws, usually on a day when I had a lie in. That would not only wake me up but also set me off sneezing. One day I told the wife I couldn’t live with our feline friends anymore, it was either me or the cats, one of us had to go. She chose to keep the cats.

Back then we lived in a place called Newton-le-Willows. A nice enough friendly place I thought but it was a black cat that caused the end of our neighbourhood harmony.

Okay, here’s how it started; My neighbour was a guy called Tony and he and his wife were going on holiday and he asked me to look after his cat Blackie. It needed to be fed once a day, in the morning, for a week. OK, not a big deal and it put me right where I wanted to be with my neighbour: him owing me a big favour so ‘no problem’ I told him.

Day1

I’m up and showered and all ready for work and so I nip into next door’s and sort out the cat food. Tony has shown me where it’s all kept, which bowl to use and so on. I sort it all out, set it down on the mat and who is there waiting and purring? Not one but two cats. I thought there was only supposed to be one so do I do two bowls? No, he specified the cat food and showed me the bowl (the one bowl) so OK it’s sharing time for the cats and I’m off to work.

I jump in my van and I’m off and as I drive away there are the cats giving me a little catty wave from the kitchen window. Happy days.

Day 2

I mention sort of randomly as I’m off to work that there were two cats in next door’s house and my wife (the one that later chose the cats over me) says, ‘What!’ in a big sort of screamy, scary way and I’m thinking, ‘here we go, what have I done?’ The thing is there is only one cat living next door so I’m tasked to throw out the intruder cat and just to feed the main cat. So, in I go and I don’t really know which is the proper cat and which is the cheeky intruder cat. Neither of them seemed to respond to the name ‘Blackie’ so sod it I thought. Cat food sorted -I’m off.

Once again as I drive off there are the two cats happily washing themselves in the kitchen window and as I passed by a revolutionary thought occurred to me. One of the cats was actually a black cat so it could be (sound of penny dropping) that he was Blackie and the other cat, the ginger cat was the cat interloper.

Day 3

Feeling a little bit like Sherlock Holmes and armed with this new deduction about ‘Blackie’ I popped into next door and chucked out ‘Ginger’, sorted out the cat food and then left for work. Was I dreaming or did I really see the two cats once again at the kitchen window? Did Ginger have a sort of ‘you’ll have to do better than that’ look on his face? Surely not!

Day 4

According to my (former) wife it was a major criminal offence to have a strange cat enter your neighbours’ house and scoff half the cat food, so once again in next doors, I put out the cat food and then chucked out the ginger cat. I did think about locking the cat flap but feeling this could have repercussions in case Blackie wanted to exit the property I left it open. Driving off as usual I spied the two cats smiling happily from the kitchen window engaged in their morning feline ritual of washing themselves, only this time they seemed to have been joined by a third cat! Christ, I thought, I hope the neighbours get back soon before a cat colony starts up in their house!

Days 5 6 and 7

Pretty similar to the previous days so lets fast forward to . . .

Day 8

Our neighbours returned from their break in foreign climes. I wasn’t sure about mentioning the intruding cat but what the heck! I told them anyway and they said not to bother, ‘that cat comes in all the time anyway. We’re sure its owners don’t feed it properly.’

Day 9

I was outside washing my van and had a chat with my neighbour Elaine, the lady who ran our neighbourhood watch group. I told her about the cat caper thinking it was a pretty funny story but she seemed rather shocked by it all. Well, humour wasn’t one of her strong points I thought as she marched off to see Stella, another neighbour from further up the avenue who I have to admit I wasn’t too fond off. As the afternoon wore on I noticed Stella storm past me and knock on next door’s and have something of a minor row with the occupants. She stormed off fuming and gave me a pretty black look when I offered a cheery “afternoon!”

Day 9, later.

Tony gave me something of a black look too and didn’t respond to my friendly wave. I did wonder if this was vaguely connected to the cat saga. No, surely not I thought. Later, Tony’s wife came round and told me through a veil of tears that Stella had knocked on their door and accused her and Tony of being ‘A pair of f**king catnappers!‘ It turned out that Stella owned the ginger cat and Tony’s wife wanted to know why I had even mentioned it to Stella. Well, I don’t even really know Stella I said, the only person I mentioned it to was Elaine. “What!’ fumed Tony’s wife. (Wish I could remember her name!) The next thing you know she storms across the road, bangs on the door and appears to be having it out with Elaine. I couldn’t hear what was said but there was a lot of finger pointing, some at my house, some at Blackie wandering innocently along the avenue, some at her house and some, in fact quite a lot now I think of it, at Stella’s house.

Day 10

A chance encounter at Tesco’s with Elaine. I’m scooting through the store, not really looking where I’m going as shopping is not high on my list of favourite activities and as I scoot along I’m throwing bread and milk and all sorts of stuff in my trolley when who should I bump into but Elaine.

“It wasn’t my fu**ing fault you know!” she said.

“That’s OK,” I told her, “I never look where I’m going with a shopping trolley!”

“I meant about the cat!” Elaine gave me a mean look and was gone, never to speak to me again.

Good job I didn’t mention that the third cat I saw in next door’s was hers!

2024

As usual we’re off to France this week so I have to admit that this was an old post that I’ve updated so what other cat stories could I throw in to finish off?  Well, the most famous cat in the UK must be Larry the Cat. Larry the Cat you might be asking? Who the heck is that? Well Larry is the chief mouser at number 10 Downing Street. He has been at that famous address since 2011 so in fact he has been there longer than quite a few Prime Ministers including David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer. Not bad going for a cat, Larry.

Anyway that’s enough blogging for now. What’s on the TV? Well, there’s always that TV classic over on Talking Pictures TV; Batman with Adam West as the Caped Crusader and Burt Ward as the Boy Wonder. Which villain is threatening them this week? The Joker? The Riddler?

Hope it’s Catwoman.

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Remembering Stirling Moss

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I began to follow F1 way back in the late 1960’s. I’m not sure what first attracted me to the sport. I liked cars and back then I subscribed to a free magazine from Corgi, the makers of die cast model cars. They used to send me out a little monthly magazine which was nothing more than an advertising pamphlet and one of those thin missives was dedicated to model F1 cars. As well as reading about model cars I started to find out more about the actual cars and drivers of the time. It was probably 1969 when the cars first flirted with aerodynamics and later in 1970 the grids began to look very colourful as outside advertisers brought their brand colours to the sport.

Yardley sponsored the BRM team and John Player Tobacco sponsored the Lotus cars, even to the extent of naming the cars the John Player Specials. I also started to learn more about the history of the sport. Who was Juan Manuel Fangio, the guy who had won an incredible 5 world championships? Well he was an Argentinian driver who once drove for Mercedes in the 1950’s. His team mate back then was an Englishman named Stirling Moss. What had happened to him I wondered?

Moss was born in September 1928. His parents were amateur racing drivers. His father competed in the 1924 Indianapolis 500 and his mother competed in Hillclimb events. Even his sister Pat Moss became a rally driver so motorsport seems to have been in his blood.

His father got him his first car at the age of 9 and he drove it around the fields near his boyhood home, Long White Cloud House, on the banks of the river Thames.

Moss’s first racing car was a Cooper 500 which he bought using winnings from competing in horse racing events. He was good in the saddle as well as behind the wheel.

His first major international race victory came at the RAC Tourist Trophy in Northern Island driving a Jaguar XK120. That was the beginning of an incredible career in which Moss won 212 of the 529 races he entered including 16 Grands Prix, the most ever won by an English driver until that record was equalled by Nigel Mansell.

Moss came close to winning the world championship although he never quite managed it, becoming known as the greatest driver never to become world champion.

In 1953, Alfred Neubauer, the famous Mercedes team manager, was impressed by Moss. He made it clear he was willing to sign up the Englishman but wanted to see what he could achieve in more competitive machinery. He suggested Moss buy a Maserati 250F for 1954. Moss did so and was impressive; at the Italian Grand Prix that year Moss beat world champions Ascari and Fangio to the lead and only gave it up when his engine failed. Neubauer duly signed Moss for the 1955 season when he would be teamed with Fangio.

The mangled steering wheel from Moss’s crash.

Fangio and Moss worked well together and although it was Fangio who won another world championship Moss beat him at his home race, the British Grand Prix. The race was held that year at Aintree. The racetrack was in the grounds of the famous horse racing course and in fact used the same grandstands as the horse racing event. For the rest of his life, Moss questioned Fangio as to whether he, Moss, had actually won or had Fangio gifted him the win. Fangio always maintained that Moss was better than him on that day and won on his own merit.

In 1955 Fangio won his third championship and retired some years later having won 5, a feat unmatched until the modern era when Schumacher and later Lewis Hamilton upped the record to 7 titles.

By this time in 1955 Moss was a household name, probably as famous as Lewis Hamilton is today. In 1955 he also won the famous Italian race the Mille Miglia with Dennis Jenkinson as his navigator. Jenkinson was a journalist for Motor Sport magazine and famously signed himself off on his racing articles as DSJ. A few years later the classic race was discontinued after numerous fatal accidents during the race.

In 1962, Moss was competing in a Lotus at the Goodwood circuit. He came off the road and crashed.  He was trapped in his car for three quarters of an hour while various people tried to free him from his mangled car. He had sustained a shattered eye socket but more serious was a severe impact to the right side of his brain and this sent him into a coma. Moss was driving for Rob Walker at the time who was in France. Once he heard the news, Rob and his wife drove back to the UK, their radio tuned into the BBC Home Service which issued hourly updates on Stirling’s condition.

Moss had moments of lucidity but didn’t fully wake up for 38 days. In the excellent biography by Robert Edwards, the author describes Moss’s presence at the hospital in Colchester as ‘something of a sensation’. The switchboard was jammed with callers enquiring after Moss. Even Frank Sinatra called for information. The accident occurred on the 23rd April, 1962. Moss would not leave hospital until July that year.

Over a year later on Wednesday May 1st 1963 he drove a racing car again. It was a Lotus 19 sports car. He put in respectable lap times but the brain injury had resulted in subtle consequences. Moss reported that driving was for him now a disjointed, disconnected experience. Nothing flowed and now he had to think about what to do when before, all the aspects of driving fast would come naturally to him. He said this to a journalist about his decision to retire;

It was an easy decision to take at the time, because it was the only decision to take. I had to think. I had to give orders to myself -here I’ll brake, here I must change down and so on. And another thing: I used to be able to look at the rev counter without taking my eyes off the road -not only that but I could see the rev counter and a friend waving to me all at the same time. I’d lost that, that had gone.

He was by then divorced from his second wife and he was still a celebrity so he settled down at his impressive home at 46 Shepherd Street in London’s Mayfair. Moss had bought the vacant bombed out lot after the second world war and designed what was to him the perfect house. He retained an architect, a female architect to translate his ideas into reality. A spiral staircase takes one up to the first floor where there is a large sitting room and a smaller ‘snug’ and also an office. Upstairs again is a large kitchen and dining area and going up again there is the master bedroom where there are wardrobes with motorised shutters. He had remote controlled garage doors which were pretty amazing for 1962 when the house was built and also a descending table where Stirling could send a meal down from the kitchen to the dining room. He did love gadgets.

Just recently I saw an advert on the TV for a tap which could deliver hot, boiling or cold water at the touch of a button; Moss had one in 1962.

He married for the third and final time in 1980. He worked as a commentator on US TV and in public relations. He became involved in historic car racing but finally gave up competitive driving when he was 81.

He died in 2020 aged 90 after a long illness.

I’ve saved my favourite Moss story till the end. At a memorial service for Stirling this year, 2024, Jackie Stewart revealed that after winning his third world championship he was stopped by the police for speeding. Stewart was pretty famous himself by then. He had been called the world’s first superstar racing driver but as he wound down his window the police officer looked at him and said ‘who do you think you are, Stirling Moss?’

All the information and pictures in this post are from the excellent book by Robert Edwards, Stirling Moss; The Authorised Biography.

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More Back Pain Stories

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I’ve been suffering lately with a lot of back pain and I thought I might as well have a bit of a moan here and just get things off my chest. I’ve had a little mild back pain for a long while. I don’t mind that, I really don’t. I’m retired so I’m officially old so it’s only right to expect a little pain. I can’t run anymore; in fact, I can’t even remember the last time I ran. Maybe it was for a bus or something, I don’t really know but it’s certainly not something I can do now.

The very first time I had back trouble was back in the 1990’s. You won’t believe it but this is what happened. I was in the bathroom cleaning my teeth and when I went to put my toothbrush back on the holder I dropped it on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and then something happened. I don’t know what it was but I couldn’t get up again and ended having to hobble back to the bedroom. I was off work for a long time. Nothing seemed to help and someone suggested I see a chiropractor, one of those people who manipulate your bones.

This particular lady did a lot of work on my back and towards the end of the treatment she slid her arm under my back and then popped a pillow on my chest. My first thought was that she was going to suffocate me with the pillow. I know the two of us hadn’t really gelled but suffocating me, that was a bit extreme. Anyway, she urged me to shut my eyes and relax and then did exactly what I wasn’t expecting, she jumped on me and my back made a very loud cracking sound.

I didn’t feel any great improvement but not long afterwards I was able to go back to work. Fast forward to earlier this year. We had jetted off to the island of Lanzarote for some winter sun and warmth. The flight over there was pretty comfortable but the flight back was five hours of pain (the aircraft was delayed for an hour on the runway) going from slightly uncomfortable to highly painful. I’m sure that is what has set me off on the present trend of back pain.

A few weeks ago, Liz and I were in one of our favourite eateries, Olivers. We were dining there before going over to the Victoria pub to watch a band that we really like, The Boogie Brothers. The meal was excellent as usual and when I heard Angela, the boss lady of the restaurant behind me, I twisted round to ask for the bill and that’s when I realised that I had made a big mistake. Something had happened in my back. It wasn’t a crack or a twang. There was no moment of something giving way but my back began to hurt, so much so I could hardly walk. I staggered out of the restaurant looking and feeling like a complete cripple. I never made it to the concert, I had to call a friend and ask him to drive me home.

That was certainly a low point, not just the pain but the embarrassment of staggering out of one of my favourite eateries. Hope the owners didn’t think I was drunk.

Here’s another thing about back pain, how it affects your decision making process. The other day we were in Ego, another favourite eatery. I happened to pull my phone out of my pocket and a handkerchief slipped out at the same time. What could I do? Well, in the old days, my younger days, I’d just bend down and pick up the handkerchief. Easy! Today, it isn’t so square cut. Firstly, I can’t bend down, I just can’t reach it but the more I try I will just attract a lot of attention. What is that old guy up to? If it was a tissue, a paper hanky I would probably just leave it there. A proper hanky though and I would want to retrieve it, especially if I happened to have a runny nose. I could try and spear it with a knife or fork or I could kick it over to where Liz could grab it, assuming she wouldn’t mind picking up my slightly grubby hanky. Yes, we old guys have to make decisions like this all the time.

Finally, despite having little faith in some of our medical professionals I decided to try for an appointment at the doctors. I got in to see the practice physio and he seemed to take a little more interest in me this time. He actually decided to have a look at my back and to actually probe it with his fingers looking for the sore spots. As things happened, I was feeling pretty good that day and though I was a little sore, no amount of pressing could find any painful areas although they were there, I assured him.

He sent me off for an X ray, the results of which apparently take two weeks to get over to the surgery. Perhaps over in the X ray department they haven’t yet heard of email.

In the meantime I decided to take up an offer of acupuncture from Liz’s daughter, Zoë. Acupuncture works like this; the body is made up of two energies, the yin and the yang and acupuncture tries to balance the energies out, so healing whatever ails you. Those energies flow through meridians or pathways in the body which can be accessed and balanced by inserting tiny needles.

I lay down on the special bed in Zoë’s clinic and she chatted away quietly as she slipped in the needles. Some slipped in painlessly, others actually hurt which apparently is a good sign as those are the spots that will really help.

Later I felt better, again there was no ‘I’m cured’ moment but I did feel that my back had eased a little.

Another thing that interests me about my situation is that like a lot of people these days I look for solutions on the internet. As most things in cyberspace are connected especially by those cheeky little things called cookies, most of the adverts that I see online now seem to be about amazing cures for back pain. Everywhere I go I seem to be bombarded by items like the new miracle formula capsules that have enabled some old guy to take long walks again or some amazing potion that has not only enabled some arthritic old biddy to get out of bed but also to walk to the shops again, pain free!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like I said earlier, I don’t mind a little pain. It’s only to be expected when you’re getting older but I’m not yet daft enough to expect a miracle cure.

Still, how much were those miracle cure pills again?

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Another Blog Writing Day

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It’s always good to pick up my iPad and see that my scheduled post has been successfully posted but the next task is to start thinking about a new one for next week. What can I write about? Has anything interesting happened to me? Have I read a great book or watched something good on TV? No? Well, that’s me up the creek without a paddle then.

Just lately I’ve haven’t been much of an early riser. I wake up late on a Saturday morning, visit the bathroom and then make some tea and take it back to the bedroom for Liz and myself.

Next I’ll open a new page on my laptop and just start writing about anything that comes into my head. After about ten minutes and I see the page is still blank I think that perhaps the best course is just to do what I usually do this time in a morning which is to check my emails. 500 deletions later I’m back to that blank page again. Perhaps I could write about my emails? Nah, I’ve done that already.

My next move will be to drink my tea and perhaps see what Liz has tuned the TV into. This being Saturday it will usually be Saturday Kitchen. Perhaps I could write a foodie post? Nah, done that a few times already. After drinking my tea and surfing through my social media I reckon I’m ready for some breakfast, to eat rather than to write about.

Time for a wash and a shave and then I get dressed and see what is on offer for breakfast. It’s a little late so we decide to go for a bacon and egg butty. Excellent. While we eat that we crank up an episode of the TV words and numbers game Countdown to get our brains working. Countdown? Could I write about that? Well, I could give it a few lines anyway.

Countdown was the first show to be broadcast on what was then UK’s new terrestrial TV channel 4 back in 1982. It is a fairly simple format with two contestants who have to make words out of 9 random letters, the winner being the one with the longest word. They also have to choose 6 numbers and then use those to make a number chosen randomly.

Back in 1982, the show was presented by Richard Whiteley with Carol Vorderman supervising the letters and numbers stuff. Richard Whiteley continued to host the show until his death in 2005. After that various people have presented the show including Des Lynam and Anne Robinson but the current host is Colin Murray. Carol Vorderman left in 2008 and her role was taken over by Rachel Riley. Also on the current show is Suzie Dent in charge of dictionary corner along with a celebrity guest. The show is currently the longest running game show on UK TV.

Personally, I am no good at Countdown whatsoever which puts me off trying to become a contestant. Liz is pretty good but sadly has no desire to be on the show. However, if she cannot get the random number, we usually have the TV on pause until she does. I then tend to say things like ‘you’re disqualified’ which can sometimes elicit a verbal reaction and so then I usually leave the room to make more tea.

Tea, now there’s a thing. Could I write about tea? Come to think of it, I have mentioned tea a few times but it’s hardly a subject for a blog post. Here are a few comments on the subject that kicked off a past holiday post;

Even on holiday in wonderful warm Lanzarote I’m a man who needs a cup of tea, and by tea, I mean hot tea. Just think of all the workers in far off India who have worked to grow and cultivate tea leaves and package it and send it off to people like me. I wouldn’t dream of insulting those people by drinking a cup of lukewarm or even cold tea. Liz however doesn’t mind cold tea but after chatting further I found our earlier experiences have shaped our attitude to tea. She, whilst at school, worked in a café and usually found that she was so busy that she had little time to drink her cuppa and generally picked it up when it was cold.

Once, many years ago, I had a cigarette vending round. I visited pubs in Merseyside, serviced their ciggy machines, filled them with cigarettes and took away the cash. A lot of the time I was in a hurry to get going to the next site. Even so, I would never turn down a cuppa and so many times I would have to drink a steaming hot cup of tea quickly so I could move on. The faster I worked, the earlier I finished and I very soon developed the knack of drinking hot tea,

Maybe I could build that up into an entire tea related blog post but would that interest any of my readers? I’m not so sure. Come to think of it, they mention tea in one of my favourite episodes of Columbo. Columbo is hot on the trail of Robert Culp who murders a man in the lobby of a cinema and he entices him there by putting subliminal cuts into a film which make him go in search of a cool drink. Anyway, while Columbo is chatting to the projectionist he mentions he is thirsty and the projectionist offered Columbo some tea, some iced tea!

Iced tea? Jesus, what planet is this guy on? Who drinks iced tea? That is a crime against tea. Dear me. Anyway, it’s time for a break. It’s a sunny day so Liz and I pop outside and settle down on the patio with our tea. (Our hot tea.) We’re creatures of habit so we always tend to kick off a session on the patio with a sudoku puzzle. Sudokus are little number games invented by those wily Japanese and once again, it keeps our brains active while we drink our tea. Most of the time Liz will beat me but the thing is, even while I’m trying to solve that sudoku I’ll be trying to think of something to write so that’s my excuse for Liz winning. If I really worked at those little number games, really worked at them, well, then it might be a different story.

After a quick sudoku session I pick up my book for a relaxing read in the sun. I’ve currently got a few books on the go. One is about the flight of Rudolph Hess and his mystery flight to the UK in 1940 and the other is about the JFK assassination. If I were ever to appear on TV’s Mastermind I would probably choose the JFK assassination as my specialist subject:

What is the grassy knoll?

It is an area of Deally Plaza in Dallas where it has been theorised that a frontal shot was fired at the president.

Who is Lee Harvey Oswald?

He is the alleged assassin of JFK.

Who was Alek Hidell?

That was an alias used by Oswald.

What is the magic bullet?

It was a bullet fired from the Texas School Depository that supposedly hit the president and then exited his body and then hit John Connally.

Who was John Connally?

He was the governor of Texas riding ahead of JFK in the presidential limousine.

Who shot Lee Oswald?

Jack Ruby.

I can imagine doing pretty well there but then going to pieces in the general knowledge round. Having said that there is a general knowledge round in the weekly quiz we attend at the Lord Derby pub in St Annes and we tend to do reasonably well.

If the weather stays warm we might stay outside for a barbecue and these days rather than getting the coals ready, lighting them three or four times before they finally get going and getting my favourite shorts covered in coal dust and grease, we nowadays use our little portable gas barbecue. Perhaps I could write a barbecue post? Well, I could probably write a barbecue section of perhaps another foodie post but an entire barbecue post? Probably not.

While I’m on the subject of barbecuing I think it’s important to share these two universal facts regarding a traditional coal barbecue;

One. Always watch your barbecue because if you don’t it will burn itself out before you’ve had a chance to set the table and serve the salad.

Two. Never watch a barbecue because if you do it will just take ages and ages to get going and just when it finally reaches optimum cooking temperature well, it’ll probably be time for bed, which is why we now use our trusty gas barby.

Liz and I tend to start off with a big salad including a large portion of Liz’s home made coleslaw and then munch our way through a selection of sausages, kebabs, burgers and steaks all washed down with some imported red wine which we select from French supermarkets on our annual travels.

I do love a barbecue from the first satisfying hiss as the steak hits the hot metal of the barbecue to the final mouthful of burger and the last glass of red wine. As the sun goes down it’s time to clear up and go back inside for some evening TV. Should I do a little work on that blog post?

Nah, there’s always tomorrow.

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Elections and Questionable People

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I don’t usually write topical posts simply because I’m a rather slow and measured writer. Some might even call me lazy. I write a blog post then I re-write it. I add things and take away things. I leave post drafts to simmer and mature and then I fine tune them and the process usually takes quite a few weeks so writing something topical is generally out of the question. This post which I actually thought was pretty topical is therefore only reasonably topical, at least it was when I wrote it, so round about now, when you the reader finally gets to see it, it’s probably not that topical after all.  Now we’ve got that clear, here we go.

I’ve always been interested in politics and the recent election in the UK was really fascinating. It was clear the public were ready for change although I personally thought that the Conservative party would win again but with a much reduced majority. That of course shows just how much I know because the Conservatives were actually crushed with the Labour party winning a huge majority putting Sir Keir Starmer into number 10 Downing Street potentially for the next five years. Rishi Sunak apologised to the nation saying that he and his party hadn’t delivered on their promises and promptly resigned as head of the party. Why leaders seem to be so quick to resign these days after an election defeat, I really don’t know but a new leader has yet to be appointed and as I write this Rish Sunak is the new leader of the opposition. Who will be the new Conservative leader, well I wonder if Liz Truss will run again? Sorry but she lost her seat in the election. Penny Mordant perhaps? Nah, she lost her seat too.

It was interesting to watch the first Prime Minister’s questions with both Mr Starmer and Mr Sunak in their new roles. At one point Starmer referred to Sunak as Prime Minister before checking himself. Old habits die hard of course. PM’s question time was very reserved and polite with MPs and Ministers congratulating each other on their appointments and so on. Eventually though, those questions and debates must invariably get tougher.

After the election there was the usual round of what went wrong from the Conservatives. Various explanations were put forward but not one, certainly to my way of thinking, were the actual reasons the Government had been kicked out. My feelings were that perhaps the public were fed up with all the various changes of Prime Minister, all of which were not voted on by the public. Of course, that’s not the way our system works, we don’t vote in the Prime Minister, just the party that takes office. Maybe also, the public were just a little cheesed off with the way the Government acted during the Covid pandemic as the Government made various rules for us; we couldn’t go out, we couldn’t meet with family and friends and had to self-isolate but that didn’t stop various Government officials flaunting the rules as well as parties going on at 10 Downing St which meant that Boris Johnson was ultimately forced to resign. Surely that was the main reason people did not vote Conservative this time round.

An election is also coming up soon in the USA. President Biden has been criticised after a debate with Donald Trump during which he was clearly stumbling over words and phrases and looked at one point as though he was going to nod off. The guy is 81 though, perhaps he was ready for his evening nap. Since then, the big news is that he has decided to withdraw as a candidate in the election and is endorsing his Vice President to stand in his place, Kamila Harris.

Other news in the US election was the attempted assassination of Donald Trump. The assassin’s bullet grazed his ear and Trump survived, much to the delight of his fans. Since then, the head of the Secret Service has resigned after criticism of her agency’s protection of the former President.

The very last time a sitting president decided not to run again was when Lyndon Johnson decided not to run in 1968. Johnson wanted to create a great society for the American people but his administration was completely caught up in the Vietnam war. In one of 1968’s first primaries, anti-war candidate Eugene McCarthy featured well against Johnson, prompting LBJ’s arch enemy Robert Kennedy to enter the contest. Johnson withdrew and Kennedy was assassinated by Sirhan Sirhan. The democratic candidate eventually turned out to be LBJ’s Vice President, Hubert Humphrey. I don’t think Humphrey even entered any primaries so how he eventually won the nomination I really don’t know. Either way he ran but was ultimately soundly defeated by Richard Nixon.

If you follow the US election on television news like me, you might tend to think that there are only two candidates in this election, Harris and Trump but there are other candidates too, very few of which are ever mentioned by the TV networks. I mentioned above that Robert Kennedy was assassinated in 1968 but in 2024, his son, Robert Kennedy Junior, is also a candidate. He is running as an Independent as well as other candidates put forward by minor political parties. Do Kennedy and the other Independents have any sort of a chance in the election? For most the answer is no but for Kennedy, a member of America’s most famous political family, I reckon he must have at least an outside shot at the big prize especially for those disenchanted with the two big contenders.

One of the things that led me to writing about politics was that I’ve just finished a book by John Simpson called Strange Places, Questionable People. It’s a sort of autobiography although very little of his personal life seeps through into the pages as it’s more about his life with the BBC than about his personal life. He began working for the BBC in the 1960s at BBC radio and one of his first political encounters was with Harold Wilson. Simpson cornered the PM on a railway station, pushed his microphone forward only for Wilson to punch him in the stomach. He goes on to talk about many other encounters, happily non-violent encounters with other Prime Ministers like John Major and Margaret Thatcher.

Some of his reporting from various war-torn places like Bosnia, Kabul and Iraq are pretty hair raising. He was in South Africa to cover the election of Nelson Mandela and was in Moscow to see the coup that overpowered Gorbachev and the rise of Boris Yeltsin.

My favourite story in the book was about Boris Yeltsin during the arrest of Mikhail Gorbachev. There were many in the communist party who did not like the new reforms and decided to take action. Gorbachev was at his dacha when the coup occurred. Back in Moscow, Boris Yeltsin stood on a tank to defend the new freedoms of Russia and Simpson interviewed Eduard Shevardnadze, Gorbachev’s foreign minister. Shevardnadze went in to Moscow’s White House to see Yeltsin and when he came out Simpson asked him for a comment. Shevardnadze responded by saying Yeltsin had told him he would ‘stay here to the end. Until the last drop of blood in my body.’.

Later when the Soviet Union had disintegrated and Shevardnadze had become the President of Georgia, Simpson once again interviewed him and mentioned that moment in Moscow. Shevardnadze thought for a moment and then revealed that Yeltsin was actually unconscious with an empty bottle of vodka lying beside him. But what about that stuff you said Yeltsin had told you asked Simpson?

‘What could I have done,’ said Shevardnadze, ‘what would have happened if I had said Yeltsin’s too drunk to talk?’

Interestingly, back then one of Yeltsin’s lieutenants was a young former KGB man called Putin. Wonder what happened to him?

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Film Connections (Part 5)

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It’s time for another post in which I try to put together a few golden age cinema stories connected by a thin, sometimes very thin, connecting link. Today I’m going to start with Olivia de Havilland.

Olivia de Havilland was one of the great film stars of Hollywood’s golden age. Amazingly she died only fairly recently in 2004 having lived to be 104 years old. She appeared in eight classic films with fellow star Errol Flynn, including The Adventures of Robin Hood in which she played Maid Marian to Flynn’s Robin Hood. Flynn claimed in later years to have been in love with Olivia but nothing ever happened between the couple, or so they both said.

In my favourite Hollywood book Bring on the Empty Horses, David Niven paints an excellent portrait of Flynn. You always knew where you were with Errol, wrote Niven -he always let you down.

Flynn hailed from Tasmania, an island state of Australia. In Australia he became involved in a film production called In the Wake of the Bounty, a documentary film about the mutiny on the Bounty that featured reconstructions with Flynn as Fletcher Christian. After this he made his way to the UK where he became an actor and spent many years in repertory in Northampton. He was fired from Northampton rep but was spotted by producer Irving Asher and given a part in a film made at Teddington Studios in 1934. The film was Murder in Monte Carlo which has since been lost but apparently Asher, who worked for Warner Brothers, sent word to Hollywood recommending Flynn for a contract. After a successful screen test Flynn was given the starring role in the swashbuckling adventure, Captain Blood, after Robert Donat turned down the role. The film was a great success and made stars of Flynn and co-star Olivia de Havilland.

Olivia began living in Paris in the 1950s but continued acting not only in films but also on television and on the stage. She received numerous awards and she and her sister are the only siblings ever to both receive Academy Awards.

Olivia’s sister was Joan Fontaine and the two had a famous feud or falling out which seemed to consume most of their lives. Olivia seems to have ‘blanked’ Joan when Joan won an Oscar for her role in ‘Suspicion’ in 1942. They seemed to become friendly for a while until they differed about looking after their elderly mother.

My favourite of Joan’s films and perhaps her most well known was Rebecca, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Joan played the part of a shy young girl who falls for Maxim de Winter, played by Laurence Olivier.

Rebecca was filmed in 1940 and was Hitchcock’s first Hollywood film. In Monte Carlo a shy young girl played by Fontaine encounters English gentleman Maxim de Winter and thinks he is about to jump off a cliff. Later the two fall for each other and marry but the new Mrs de Winter -her actual name is never revealed- seems to feel Maxim’s love for Rebecca, his late wife, is overshadowing her life. It’s a great film and one of Hitchcock’s best. Olivier apparently wanted his wife, Vivien Leigh, to play the part which Hitchcock ultimately gave to Joan.

Vivien Leigh was the surprise choice to play Scarlett O’Hara in the film version of Gone with the Wind. The film was a major film adaptation of the book by Margaret Mitchell which had been a huge success and producer David O Selznick bought the film rights. Production was delayed for a long while as Selznick was determined to get Clark Gable for the part of the roguish Rhett Butler. Another delay was a distribution deal with MGM which couldn’t be finalised until Selznick’s then current deal with United Artists had expired. Selznick used the delay to promote a huge search for an actress to play the part of Scarlett O’Hara, the spoilt daughter of a plantation owner in the deep south of America. He eventually chose Vivien who was in the USA visiting her husband who of course was filming Rebecca.

Clark Gable was known as the ‘King of Hollywood’ and in 1935 he made a film with Loretta Young called The Call of the Wild. During the production, Young became pregnant with Gable’s child. Their daughter Judy Lewis was born on November 6th 1935. Loretta hid her pregnancy and gave birth in secret and then later arranged to ‘adopt’ the child. Judy never knew the circumstances of her birth although it was an open secret to many in Hollywood. When she finally learned of the rumours, she confronted her mother who admitted she and Gable were her biological parents.,

In 1939 Gable married Carole Lombard. She was a great star particularly in the screwball comedies of the day and Gable adored her. They met while making the film No Man of her Own in 1932 but nothing romantic happened until they met again at a Hollywood party in 1936. Gable was separated from his then wife Ria Langham but still married. Eventually she agreed to a divorce and Gable was free to marry Lombard.

When World War II began, Carole travelled to Indiana to a war bond rally where she raised over 2 million dollars for the American war effort. She and her colleagues were due to return to Los Angeles by train but decided to take a faster option and fly. The flight crew of the aircraft were thought to have been in difficulty crossing the mountains surrounding Las Vegas as safety beacons had been turned off in case Japanese bombers tried to enter the area. The aircraft crashed into the mountains and all on board were killed. Gable was devastated. Afterwards he joined the US Air Force and saw action over Germany as a gunner.

In 1960 Gable began work on his final film, The Misfits. The screenplay had been written for Marilyn Monroe by her husband, playwright Arthur Miller. She was not happy playing a character called Roslyn who she felt was based too much on herself. She and Miller were at the end of their marriage and their deteriorating relationship caused tensions on the set. Miller was stressed as he was doing multiple rewrites. Monroe was frequently late or didn’t turn up for work or didn’t know her lines while Gable, the complete professional was on time and word perfect every day. Director John Huston had to hold all the differing elements together but the film was finally completed. It was the final film for both Monroe and Gable. He died some weeks after filming completed aged only 59 and despite having two other marriages after Lombard, was laid to rest beside her.

Another star of The Misfits was Montgomery Clift. He was also a ‘method’ actor and along with Marlon Brando and James Dean was one of the three great method actors of the 50s and 60s. I have always thought that his first film was The Search, a film made in bombed out post WWII Berlin in which Clift played a US army soldier who helps a refugee boy find his mother. Clift gave such a natural performance that director Fred Zinnemann was asked where did he find a soldier that could act so well?

Clift’s actual first film was one of my personal favourites, Red River with John Wayne, a western about an epic cattle drive across the US. The Search, despite being filmed later was actually released first.

Clift became great friends with Elizabeth Taylor and the two made many films together. In 1956 while filming Raintree County, Clift was involved in a terrible car crash in which he suffered severe injuries to his face, particularly the left side. Taylor comforted Clift in the wreck of his car while they waited for the emergency services. Clift returned to complete Raintree County after taking two months off to recuperate from plastic surgery.

Montgomery Clift was a homosexual in a time when such things were covered up by Hollywood and his sexuality was not mentioned in public until Elizabeth Taylor spoke about it in a speech in 2000.

After the success of The Search, Paramount offered Clift a major contract which he accepted and the first film he made for the company was The Heiress directed by William Wyler.

Bringing us full circle, Clift’s co-star in The Heiress was Olivia de Havilland.

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