Author Archives: Steve Higgins

Music and Me

Posted on by Steve Higgins

This week was a landmark for me in my little life. No, I’m not talking about my 70th birthday, I’m talking about saying goodbye to my vinyl record collection. Collecting is perhaps a very British trait and over the years I’ve had friends who collected aircraft numbers, railway locomotive numbers and even bus numbers. As someone who once worked in the passenger transport industry, I’ve also collected books about buses and many other things but my collection history probably started with music.

Way back in 1972 my brother and I received a joint Christmas present. It was a stereo record player and the first record I ever bought was a collection of film and TV themes by John Barry. The title track was from the TV series The Persuaders which starred Tony Curtis and a pre 007 Roger Moore as two unlikely crime fighters brought together by a retired judge.

At the time I wasn’t a great music fan but my brother and I were soon tuning in to Top of The Pops, the iconic BBC TV show, and began buying 45 rpm singles.

The very first single I ever bought was actually two singles, both reduced to 24p each as they were no longer in the charts. Banks of the Ohio and What is Life, both sung by Olivia Newton John.

In the summer holidays we were glued to Radio One when they announced the new chart placings on a Tuesday afternoon on the Johnnie Walker show. I’m not sure if Johnnie played the entire chart or perhaps just the top 10 but on a Sunday afternoon there was a repeat of the entire top 20 although I can’t remember which DJ was manning the turntables.

A long time ago I bought some software for digitising my music. It was quite a laborious process. The record player was plugged into my computer and the record had to be played all the way through. Then further software eliminated the hisses and clicks before the resulting track could be burned to a disc or saved as an mp3 file and used with an mp3 player.

I did that with only a few of my more obscure records because pretty much everything else I had on vinyl was now available as a CD and in later years easily downloadable. Few of today’s younger music fans will have a substantial physical collection of recorded music like I have.

In the 1980s, at the height of my music buying years, I began to buy 12 inch singles which were usually a slightly extended version of the original single. I also began to collect picture discs which were singles with a photo or image embedded in the vinyl. My favourite was a single by Alexi Sayle called Hello John, Got a New Motor. The disc was in the shape of a Ford Cortina with Sayle himself spreadeagled over the bonnet.

For quite a number of years those records have been gathering dust in the back room of the house and I thought that perhaps now is the time for them to go.

I messaged a company that advertises on Facebook offering to buy music collections. They messaged me back wanting photos and after numerous long conversations they decided against travelling up north and buying my collection.

Anyway, in St Annes a new vinyl music shop has appeared and after a good look through my records the owner offered me £100 for probably less than a quarter of my collection. I was hoping he was going to take the whole lot off me but he mentioned another new shop not far away which buys and sells records, models, antiques and all sorts of things. The owner and I negotiated for quite a while but eventually I took £120 for the rest of my collection. I felt as though I had parted with a large chunk of my life for a measly £220 but what could I do? Put the records back in my spare room just to gather dust? Hopefully somewhere out there are some music fans who will buy and enjoy the records I used to love.

My record collection was mostly made up of singles although there were a few albums in there like my Elton John collection including Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, complete with all the original booklets that came with the album. Back in the seventies I loved Elton’s music but in the 1980s either Elton changed or maybe it was me but I lost interest in his later music. Years later I picked up Made in England which I’ve always thought was more like his older work.

Back in the 80s I was a great fan of Madonna and a particular favourite was Into The Groove which was the theme from the movie Desperately Seeking Susan in which Madonna herself had a small part. I must have had all Madonna’s 80s hits on 45 rpm discs. According to Dale who bought most of my vinyl collection, Madonna’s records are pretty popular with young people today.

Going way further back to the 1970s my old friend Steve and I used to spend our Saturday nights in Manchester in a bar called the Playground. The DJ there, who just to make things confusing was also called Steve, used to begin his Saturday night session with Love’s Theme by Barry White’s backing band Love Unlimited. Back then I was always telling Steve about a singer called Steve (yet another one). This particular Steve was Steve Harley and his group Cockney Rebel. Steve, the friend not the DJ or the singer, he wasn’t keen on Steve Harley at all until one day when I asked him if he had heard that Harley had reformed his band and they had an entirely different sound as well as a new single. One night at the Playground I asked Steve, the DJ, if he had Steve (Harley’s) new single and he had. He played it and Steve, the friend, thought it was so brilliant it would be a new number one.

It was a number one, a big hit and Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) was the only number one (I think) that Steve (Harley) ever had.

Still in the 1970s a performer who made his name back then was David Essex. He played the lead in the stage musical Godspell and then went on to star in the film That’ll be the Day. I remember seeing his album in a record shop and thinking what a cool dude he looked in his white suit. The album was ‘Rock On’ and the single of the same name went to number 3 in the UK charts in 1973.

The next year David released one of my all-time favourite tracks Gonna make you a Star which went all the way up to number 1. He also appeared on my favourite double album ever, Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds and went on to star in the musical ‘Evita’. In 2011, he joined the cast of TV soap ‘EastEnders’.

When I saw David Essex singing Rock On wearing a white suit on Top of the Pops for the first time, I thought he was the epitome of seventies cool and it occurred to me that one way to transform my gangling self-conscious self into something better might be to get that very same white suit. I couldn’t afford a suit at the time so I settled for a jacket, a white jacket, and I well remember admiring myself in the mirror before my first Saturday night out wearing it, sometime back in 1973.

The first problem I encountered with the jacket came on the bus into town. I sat on the back seat and in those days, the back seats of our local buses were a little notorious for being dusty and grimy as they were over the engine and absorbed all the engine fumes. Also there were people who put their feet up on the seats leaving marks to which people like me (the twerp in the white jacket) were highly susceptible. Another thing is that all my life I have been cursed with being clumsy and once I had met up with my friends I somehow managed to spill beer all down my sleeve. Anyway, the night went on, more or less successfully. I certainly remember having a good time although the white jacket failed in its primary function; that of attracting gorgeous girls. Later on we stopped at the kebab shop and somehow a sizeable portion of chilli sauce managed to attach itself to my jacket. Rather than feeling like David Essex, I felt a little like Alec Guinness in the film The Man In The White Suit, wanting to get away from everyone! I never wore the stained jacket again and it lingered sadly in the back of my wardrobe smelling of kebab, chilli sauce, beer and diesel fumes until my Mum, on a major clean up splurge, decided to throw it out.

Of course, it could have been worse: I could have gone out wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a red jacket and tried to look like James Dean! (Actually, that was another night!)

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The Shape of Water

Posted on by Steve Higgins

What’s the most underrated movie you’ve ever watched?

It was an Oscar winner but sadly it was dull with a very odd story line. Not my cup of tea at all.

A Place in The Sun

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It’s nice to be back home in the UK after a month away in France. In France the late summer weather was wonderful and warm and back in England it looked for a while as if we had brought that lovely weather back with us. A few days later though, the temperature dropped and it began to rain and suddenly England was back to its usual default mode: cold and wet.

I’ve often wondered if I could survive away from England, if I could successfully move to somewhere like France for instance. Moving abroad is a bit of a pipe dream for me although I do subscribe to a number of French property pages and Liz and I have visited some potential homes but so far I haven’t found one that I have really wanted to buy.

We looked at a really attractive house near the village of Champagne-Mouton while we were away. It was a little on the small side but certainly big enough for me. It had two bedrooms although the second one was only accessible through the first one. Outside was a delightful garden area and the owners -they were both English- had put together an outside bar area where they entertained friends and neighbours.

Across the road was a barn where the couple had a large freezer and a washing machine. Their old lounge suite was in there and it was clear the man of the house used it as a man-cave. Next to the barn was a huge garden area and a short walk away was another outside area full of fruit trees and vines and where they grew various vegetables. That sort of layout with a garden across the road or even a short walk away is typical of French country properties. A few years ago we viewed a property near to the village of Mouliherne which also had land across the road and as much as I liked that place it was just too far away from civilisation.

There are numerous properties for sale in the French countryside and most of them are really cheap compared to property in the UK. There is a saying though in the property business which is location, location, location and that’s the thing. Once you find a place close to shops, bars and restaurants, all three of which -especially the last two- are high on my list, then prices begin to go up. Perhaps I’ll find a place one day, perhaps not. Until then we’ll carry on renting our favourite place in the village of Parçay les Pins and touring about in our little motorhome.

Why would I want to move to France? Well as I get older I find I really want somewhere warmer to live. I hate the cold, really hate the cold with a passion so I want to live somewhere warmer. France of course is not universally warm, except further south and even there I suppose they must have cooler weather in the winter. I do like the relaxed lifestyle of rural France and I like the food. In particular I like the multiple courses and especially the cheese course. In France we tend to look for routiers or routiers style restaurants. These restaurants are primarily for truck drivers but I’ve noticed lately that more and more of the general public are using them.

We found a new routier this year, it was called Le Maison Blanc. We were able to park in the car park for the night alongside the wagons and for a mere 35 euros for two we had a bottle of wine each (rosé for me, red for Liz) and a bottle of water. Over on the buffet starter table there were cold meats, pâtés and salads and on one side was a section with crushed ice with a choice of prawns, snails, crab and oysters and on the other side was a warm section offering slices of pizza and different pastries. On Thursdays the restaurant has a steak night. Liz had a steak but for me I’ve never really been keen on the way the French cook steaks. They do it with the minimal amount of cooking which is not quite enough for me. Anyway, normally at a routiers there is a choice of about three or four main dishes. Here at Le Maison Blanche the mains, apart from the steak, consists of a hot buffet. I think we visited about three times while we were in the area and I went for the meatballs and pasta one night and on another I had Bolognese with frites. On the third visit I had a mixture of everything and ate far too much.

In the main the French prefer a big lunch to a large evening meal. Perhaps things are different in the cities like Paris but out in the country that seems to be the norm. In the town we used to visit a few years ago, Doué la Fontaine, you can be hard pushed to get a restaurant seat on Saturday lunchtime but on Saturday evenings, in the few places that are open, most of the diners are English tourists.

The pool at our rented gite in France

What would I do in France? Well I suppose my day would be pretty much like a day when I stay in our rented gite. I usually wake round about 9:30 to 10 and drag myself up to make a brew. We always bring a good supply of tea bags but now I think about it, are tea bags available in French supermarkets? Well I’ve never actually looked but I suppose they must be. Well, I hope so otherwise I’d have to take steps to secure a supply of tea bags from friends in the UK. (I can see myself having to send out urgent messages. Tea bag supplies low. Please send urgent PG Tips!)

Usually we’ll have a cup of tea in bed while we check our messages and emails then it’s time for a wash (no point in having a shower as I’ll soon be in the pool). We usually bring supplies of bacon for breakfast but when we’ve used that up or just fancy a change, I’m pretty partial to eggs on toast but a favourite breakfast dish when we’re in France is a bacon omelette. It goes pretty well with a French baguette which is good when you can’t get hold of a medium Warburton’s loaf. (Not usually available in France.)

You can of course get UK style sliced bread in France but it isn’t particularly nice and seems designed to last for ages making me think it’s full of preservatives. It’s ok toasted but that’s about it. Most of the time we’ll just fall in with the French and buy a baguette.

Anyway that brings me to around 12 and it’s time to get out there to the pool and do my first ten laps. After that Liz and I will usually compete against each other to solve a sudoku. I don’t like to admit it but she usually wins. Then we’ll spend the afternoon reading and swimming which is altogether very relaxing. Of course to continue this lifestyle when living in France I’d have to buy a house with a pool or at least a house with space to build a pool.

Various things on the barbecue, Liz’s salad and of course, a glass of wine.

Later on we start to think about food and round about 6pm it’s probably time for me to decant some wine and get the barbecue set up. We have a small portable gas barbecue which when it comes down to it is really more of a grill but it’s really handy and cooks the food pretty well. If I lived in France, I reckon I’d be wanting a proper barbecue, you know, one with real coals. I do like a proper barbecue.

Anyway, we’d be eating pretty healthily, Liz makes a fabulous salad and although we drink a lot of red wine over there, red wine is supposed to be good for you. Later on when our steak, burgers and sausages have been eaten and everything has been cleaned up, it’s rather nice to sit out on the porch and take in the night sky. Out in the country where there is little light pollution, the night sky is a great vista of stars. I reckon that living out in France I’d be doing quite a lot of sitting out on the porch, with a glass of something naturally.

So, I could deal with the two possible issues, the tea and the bread situation. A bigger problem might be getting to grips with the French language but I’ve noticed in places like Parçay les Pins there is a pretty close knit English community so I’m sure I’d get help there and it’s always easier to learn a language when you’re actually in the place where that language is spoken.

The only real problem would be if I happened to want a donner kebab on a Saturday night when the nearest takeaway is 20 miles away and they don’t deliver.

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The Big Seven Zero

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It was my birthday last week and it was time for me to enter a new decade in my life. Yes, I’m now in my seventies and I’m not sure how I really feel about it. Anyway I thought I’d have a quick look back at some other milestones in my life just to get things in perspective.

On my 40th birthday, my partner at the time had arranged for me to have a helicopter flight. If I remember correctly it took place at Barton Aerodrome, not far from Manchester’s Trafford Centre. The helicopter was similar to one of those in one of my favourite childhood TV shows, Whirlybirds. It had a big glass bubble cockpit which had no doors, you just entered through an opening in the sides of the bubble.

There were only two passenger seats in the aircraft and there were actually quite a few people waiting to be taken up. As I watched the first trip go up, a young lad was called forward to fly next and as most people were in twos they asked for another singleton to go up next. That of course was me.

The helicopter landed and we ran forward with our heads down towards the helicopter. It was a little bit like the opening sequence of the TV show MASH except that instead of removing wounded soldiers, we were quickly strapped inside the passenger seats. The young lad went next to the pilot and I sat by the entrance opening. The helicopter lifted up and did a few circuits of the airfield including a tight right turn in which I felt that if my seat belt were to come undone, I would plummet out of the cockpit to my death. Anyway, I survived and after about 15 minutes we were back on the ground and the support staff were quickly helping us out and strapping in the next passengers.

When I became 50, I had just met Liz and she took me for a weekend to Barrow where we stayed at a really lovely bed and breakfast place in Barrow at a place called Roa Island.

For my 60th Liz and I had a weekend in Southport, a place I’ve always loved. It has all my favourite things, great bars and restaurants and lots of bookshops.  Then we returned home to spend my actual birthday at Ego in Lytham, another of our favourite restaurants.

The problem with being 70 is that my own image of a seventy-year-old is not really compatible with how I actually feel. Inside of course I don’t feel like 70 at all. To be honest, I haven’t actually changed much inside since I was about 19. I think I was about 19 when I became a bus conductor which was an occupation that forced me to confront my crippling shyness. Even today, 50 years later, I’m a quiet man lacking confidence in social situations. I’ve developed ways of dealing with shyness but sometimes I find myself feeling just how I was all those years ago.

Some time ago, and I can’t remember when it was, I went from looking forward to my birthdays to not being interested in them at all. In fact, I even think I’ve gone a little the other way. I don’t hate my birthdays but they worry me as with each one I just get older and older.

I’ve had 70 birthdays now which is quite a considerable number and one thing is certain, I won’t get another 70.

A few years ago I took my birthday off Facebook, I’m not sure why, perhaps I just don’t want people to know I’m so ancient. Perhaps inwardly I’m ashamed of being old but either way, Liz posted birthday wishes on Facebook which meant that removing my birthday was a pretty pointless exercise so I put it back on again.

Some time ago Liz and I joined a social group call Meetup. It’s a way of meeting new people and going to new social occasions. Members who are hosts will organise a night out at a restaurant for instance and anyone who is interested will put their names down to attend. You meet new people, have a bit of a natter and at the very least, have a nice meal.

For my birthday Liz asked Sophie, our local Meetup organiser, to arrange for a night out at a local restaurant called Tiggis and I have to say I was really surprised to find that thirty people attended instead of the six or so I was expecting.

Quite a few people mentioned that it was hard to believe I am actually 70. I suppose when it comes down to it, I’m not in bad shape for my age. Okay my neck gives me a lot of pain as well as my lower back. I can’t stand for long periods but I am alive and breathing. My vision is good and I can walk a fair distance.

Of course, those people who thought I was looking good are seeing me after a month in France where I was swimming or walking every day as well as having a pretty good tan so just lately, I’m looking my absolute best.

My father passed away when he was 72. All his working life he cycled to work and he was a much fitter man than me. I sometimes wonder if I’ll last until 72 but then as Liz reminded me the other day, my mother lived on until she was 93. I reckon I’ll be happy to settle for somewhere in between.

A few years ago, Pete, one of our favourite taxi drivers, got himself a new taxi. He used to have a traditional black hackney cab. Lots of room and easy to get into. The other month he picked us up driving a car which I first thought was a Range Rover. It’s not a Range Rover and the crazy thing is that on the outside it looks pretty big but on the inside it’s actually really small and the last time we used Pete I actually hurt my back trying to squeeze in. Sorry Pete but we’ll be calling someone else next time.

Of course, getting old isn’t all bad news. I’ve got a free bus pass which is quite handy. I can’t say I use it a great deal but travelling on the bus is much more comfortable than Pete’s taxi. (Sorry Pete) Also I am now eligible for those pensioners’ meal deals you sometimes see in pubs.

Number 23 anyone?

Not so long ago we went for Sunday lunch and I noticed the sign for the senior citizens’ meal which was almost half the normal price. Well, I thought, I’ll have some of that. We got in the queue for the carvery and the server handed me my plate. I handed him my ticket; he looked at it then took my plate back and gave me a half size one. Whoa, what’s this about I asked? It turned out that was the reason for the cheap price, it’s a smaller meal for us old age pensioners. That’s all very well but so far, despite being old, I’ve still got the same size stomach and I’ve still got a good appetite. Anyway, the server gave me a really funny look when he saw me going back to my table with this small plate piled about a foot high with roast potatoes, Yorkshire pud, mash, carrots and sprouts.

Here’s one final birthday story to finish. Mike, the DJ at our local pub quiz always calls out a birthday boy or girl for special attention. Last year I thought great, he’s forgotten about me but then when I went to look at the picture round who was that at number 23 staring back at me? Yep, it was old picture of me downloaded from Facebook.

Not many people got a point for that one but the team next to us thought it was a young Roger Moore. Yes, I can see the resemblance . .

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Book Bag Summer 2026

Posted on by Steve Higgins

Books are one of the great loves of my life and when I go on holiday, one of the delights of lying under a warm sun on my sun bed is a good undisturbed read.  I read a lot at home but some books, as we all know, are just made for a really long, uninterrupted read.

I’ve just returned from a holiday in France and I thought I might share the contents of my ‘book bag’ with you. I’m a really big second hand book buyer and I buy my books from many sources. Second hand book shops, car boot sales, charity shops and of course, the internet. Even the occasional book comes my way as a gift. Anyway, without further ado, here are my holiday books:

Death in the Clouds; A Hercule Poirot Mystery by Agatha Christie

I do like a good crime read and for a long while I’ve been wanting to try a book by a writer who is the acknowledged master (or mistress) of the crime mystery genre, Agatha Christie. Agatha wrote over 66 detective novels as well as numerous short stories and created the famous detectives, Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. I picked this book up ages ago at a second hand book shop and recently found it filed away in a box of books unread. Perfect for a holiday read I thought.

The murder happens on board a flight from Le Bourget to Croydon. A woman is found dead just prior to landing and Hercule Poirot travelling on the same flight sees that she has been murdered, possibly from a poisoned dart. A further investigation finds a blowpipe hidden on the aircraft so clearly the culprit must have been one of the passengers, but who?

This was a short read but a very entertaining one and very well thought out and put together. The author introduces her cast of characters, all passengers on the fatal flight and scatters various clues throughout the book. Once the flight arrives in England Poirot begins his investigations alongside Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard and an officer of the French Sûreté but of course it is Poirot who ultimately unmasks the murderer.

I was pleasantly surprised to find this was a short but highly enjoyable read. I must look out for more of Agatha’s books.

Death of a Village: A Hamish Macbeth Mystery by MC Beaton

Some time ago I set myself the task of reading all the Hamish Macbeth books written by author MC Beaton. I haven’t read one for a while and I thought this would be a good opportunity to read another. Quite a lot happens in this story, the 18th in the series. Hamish as usual has to solve various issues but of course needs to avoid promotion so he can stay in his beloved village of Lochdubh. He has to deal with a husband beating wife, an old people’s home that seems to be murdering its residents and an entire village that seems to be behaving oddly. Nice to see a little more personal stuff thrown in about Hamish. He’s still pining for his old girlfriend who is about to marry someone else but at least he seems friendly enough with reporter Elspeth although romance doesn’t seem to be blossoming for the couple yet.

As usual, an entertaining read but the main story about the village was a little bit farfetched.

Eve’s Hollywood by Eve Babitz

I ordered this from an online bookshop after reading another of Eve’s books Slow Days, Fast Company. Eve was born and bred in Hollywood and worked as a writer and artist. She designed album covers for a while and wrote essays and articles that were published in magazines like the Village Voice, Cosmopolitan and Esquire.

I picked up this book because I mistakenly thought the title referred to Hollywood as the centre of American film making rather than the place where Eve grew up. The book is actually a series of essays and thoughts about her life growing up and living in Hollywood both as a child and as an adult. Eve talks about the people she meets and gets involved with. The book is really a sort of wandering stream of thoughts going off in various directions and although parts of it are interesting, for the most part I just wanted to get to the end. I read another review of this book on Goodreads and the reviewer said that reading Eve’s Hollywood was like hopping along the stepping stones of Babitz’ memories and not stopping until you reach dry land. I couldn’t agree more.

The sure sign of a book that fails to keep my attention is when I pick up another book and begin to read that one instead.

Sorry Eve but this just didn’t do it for me. It was a bit of an up and down read with passages that were really fascinating and others that just couldn’t get me interested.

American Prince: A Memoir by Tony Curtis

This was a little more in my line. I am a great fan of film and cinema and especially Hollywood. This is Tony Curtis’ own account of how he made it as a film star in Hollywood and it was interesting reading. Curtis clearly loved the film business and being a part of it and he seems to have especially loved his fame and success. The other thing he loves is women and to a certain extent this is a sort of voyeuristic journey through Hollywood and the stars (and non stars) that he has loved and bedded. One particular woman he married after being captivated by her beautiful breasts so I can’t say I was surprised when that one didn’t work out.

Tony spends a lot of time detailing his relationship with Marilyn Monroe, seeming to imply they were in love or at least close to being in love but their careers gave them little time for relationships. Later when the two made Some Like it Hot Together Tony goes to great lengths to explain his famous remark that kissing Marilyn was like ‘kissing Hitler’. Apparently, so he says, it was a sarcastic response to some crew member asking what was it like to kiss Marilyn. Obviously, so he says, it was great so he sarcastically responded with the Hitler comment.

Well I’m sure I’ve seen him years ago on TV actually denying he ever said it. Anyway, it was a good read and I loved hearing his stories about Sinatra, Kirk Douglas, Janet Leigh (wife number 1) Monroe and many more.

In the 1970s Tony was determined to keep working and making money and so when the film work dried up he appeared in the TV show The Persuaders with Roger Moore. He didn’t get on well with Joan Collins who starred in one of the episodes but Moore became a great friend. What is really interesting about Tony Curtis’ body of work is that even though he has given great performances in classic films like Some Like it Hot, Spartacus, and The Sweet Smell of Success, he has also appeared in some really poor features.

Anyway, his ethic seems to have been to keep working no matter what and even if the film was poor, he gave his absolute best.

Verdict: A great read even though Tony comes over as being obsessed with women but then again, it’s his story, and he certainly doesn’t seem to have been short of them.

What have you been reading this summer?

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A Writer on Holiday

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It’s always great to get away from things and to take a break. Writers though just cannot stop writing even on holiday. Well at least I can’t. I’m currently on holiday in a motorhome in France so how do I mix relaxation with writing? Let’s see if I can successfully answer that. Here we go.

Morning.

It takes me a while to get used to sleeping in our motorhome. It’s only small and there is a little dip in the bed just at the point of my lower back which has given me some backache in the past but lately I’ve learnt to either avoid it or just live with it. Another issue that affects our sleep is the way the van is parked and parking properly is very important. A tilt to the left and Liz will be rolling over and crowding me. Over to the right and I’ll be crowding her. A slight tilt forward and we tend to slide off our pillows and down the bed. If we have to have a tilt it’s better to tilt back toward our pillows but we do have chocks which we can slip under the wheels to level us up. My place on the bed is over by the window and there is no way out for me except by climbing over Liz so one of my rules is to not have beer prior to going to bed. Otherwise I’ll be waking in the night wanting to wee and struggling to get out.

On holiday I find myself waking up pretty early. I’m not totally comfortable sleeping in the motorhome but I usually wake up with my head full of various thoughts for either a blog post or a short story. I tend to lie there and get those thoughts in some sort of order before dragging myself up.

I’m usually the first one up so I’ll shuffle over to the small bathroom for a wash and a shave.

Despite being late September it’s still very warm in the Loire so in a morning I can handle a wash in cold water but when the warm weather comes to a close I’m less inclined to do that. I can switch on the water heater but usually I just put a pan of water on the hob.

Despite the bathroom being small, actually very small, there is a basin, toilet and even a shower in there. To shower it’s important to switch on the water heater first, pull round the panels that keep the water away from the toilet and basin and then switch on the water. In a motorhome I’m always aware that there isn’t an endless supply of water so a good idea is to apply shower gel liberally to the body, switch on the water and get washed as quickly as possible using as little water as you can.

Note to self: Don’t drop the soap as it’s pretty difficult to bend down and pick it up in these cramped conditions.

Shower over, towel yourself down, get dressed and get the kettle on before hanging your towel out in the sun on the bike carrier to the rear of the van.

Next I’ll check my emails while the van chef, Liz, gets herself ready too.

I’m a big lover of breakfast, in fact I’m even tempted to say it’s my favourite meal of the day and I love a standard English breakfast. Bacon, sausage, black pudding, mushrooms, tomatoes and eggs, preferably poached, served with toast. That can be a little difficult on the cramped three ring stove in the van so lately we’ve been having a bacon omelette with some French bread. I’ll either walk to a bakery if there is one nearby or we usually have some bread in our little freezer which always keeps pretty well and defrosts quickly in the sun.

Noon

Another option is to not have breakfast at all but to save ourselves for lunch. In France there are many places that serve a cheap lunchtime menu which will consist of a buffet starter, a simple main meal, a cheese course and a dessert.

We found an excellent restaurant near to Parçay-les-Pins called the Restaurant De La Gare, the Station Restaurant. The buffet starter is always my favourite and I fill my plate with pâté, cold meats, coleslaw and various salad items. A basket of French bread will appear and is usually topped up when it gets low. Vin de table is provided as well as some chilled water and a large bottle of cider. Not bad for 15 euros each!

OK, breakfast (or lunch) over it’s time to grab my laptop and tap out in rough form my ideas for this week’s blog post. Sometimes I can’t be bothered to drag my laptop out of its safe place in the boot so I’ll just write notes in my notebook. The notes you can see here in the photo are typical notes for a one of my Film Connections posts.

We will usually be parked in an aire in France and these special parking places, reserved for motorhomes, tend to have all the necessary things we might need. A very important thing is a place to empty the van toilet. It’s not a pleasant task but I tend to empty it whenever we get the opportunity. A lot of French aires have a water tap to help you rinse your toilet cassette but many require a token, a jeton that is usually available from nearby local shops although there are many aire de camping cars that are completely free.

The van navigator (Liz) will usually have perused google maps for a plan d’eau, a French swimming lake and we’ll be off to find it. We usually factor in a stop for some French bread and some more French cheese as well as a box of wine. This year is probably the first in which we haven’t really been interested in cheese, having said that I’ve still enjoyed the cheese course in a restaurant.

It’s important of course to keep a check on our fuel. We usually fill up with diesel at French supermarkets as they tend to be cheaper than the usual petrol stations, however we were chatting with a couple of English people in a restaurant one evening who told us that ‘TotalEnergies’ petrol stations were considerably cheaper than the supermarkets. It seems that they are under the control of the French government and they are keeping prices lower, approximately 20p a litre for diesel, but consequently most of them had run out and those that hadn’t had long queues.

Our fridge and cooker are powered by LPG, liquid petroleum gas and we always keep a look out for stations that provide gas. The big problem when we first came to France was finding a petrol station with LPG. There didn’t seem to be any until eventually, we realised that in France it’s called GPL! Duh!

Swimming

Over the years we have made a note of our favourite places to stop. A typical camping spot we prefer will have a swimming lake and a parking place for camping cars, (that’s what they call motorhomes in France) and at this time of the year they usually won’t be too busy.

The locals usually arrive around 12 noon with picnic baskets for lunch and few might have a pre lunch swim. I’ve noticed that this year the water levels in many lakes have been low due to the hot summer and in one particular lake we visited the water was only a couple of feet deep.

At another lake we watched a couple of fishermen dip their rods in the water and wait patiently for the fish to bite. We read our books, competed against each other to finish that day’s sudoku and then it’s time for a dip.

Later on we need to find somewhere to stop for the night. Usually, we will stay by the lake or if we are trying to make our way to somewhere in particular, we might get a few miles under our belt before stopping again.

The sun going down after a day by a plan d’eau

Evening

When evening comes we will have sorted out a place to stay the night. I usually get out our little gas barbecue and we will cook some sausages, burgers and maybe a steak to have with our salad. A glass of red wine is always good to wash the food down with and after clearing up I’ll go back to what I’ve written earlier and develop it a little and tidy it up.

I happened to notice something on the internet this week about Ian Fleming and the way he used to work at his holiday home in Jamaica. He was up at 7:30, had breakfast and then at 10am he began writing. He aimed for 1500 words before going for a swim at about 12:15. Later in the day at about 5pm he would write some more, put the pages in a folder and it was time for a drink. Perhaps that is what I need to do, plan my day like Ian Fleming’s day. Then again, I think I prefer things my way!

This year one of our stops was at La Meilleraie-Tillay. It’s a place we have stopped at before and one of the great things about it is that there is a toilet block with hot water. Sounds pretty normal doesn’t it but believe me, when you have not washed with hot water for a week, having a wash and shave in hot water is wonderful.

In the park next to the motorhome aire, a circus had set up, the Zanatteli circus and one night as we sat outside in the twilight we got chatting to Rico, the circus clown. He told us that he was the latest in six generations of his family that were circus people. After that first meeting Rico came to see us every night and told us stories of the circus. Despite a huge array of vehicles and equipment, there were only five people in the circus; him, his wife, his two sons and a daughter. The two sons were jugglers and acrobats. The daughter did some acrobatics too. Rico was the clown and his wife ran the box office, gave out tickets, sold refreshments in the intervals and also acted as a scene arranger. We attended their first afternoon performance before moving on to pastures new.

We usually relax in the evenings with a book but a problem this year with our leisure battery meant that our lights faded very early. If I’ve got a good internet signal I’ll transfer this week’s blog to wordpress then access it on my iPad and refine it a little more before passing it to my proofreader Liz for a final check up. Then I’ll add the graphics, pictures and videos and everything is ready for my publishing deadline of 10am on Saturday.

The next problem is what shall I write about next week?

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Breakdowns and Books

Posted on by Steve Higgins

This might be the point in my French trip where I blog about the books I’m reading while I’m away. The thing that has really given me a problem is the breakdown of our lovely motorhome. How has that affected my reading? Well, let me explain.

We arrived in France at the end of August. The weather in the Loire was lovely and the only cloud on our horizon was that our favourite gite in France, a lovely villa which we regularly rent, was booked on the exact week we wanted it.

What we tend to do is potter about and explore various places in our motorhome and then spend a week, even a few weeks at the aforementioned villa in the village of Parçay les Pins.

The unexpected booking at the villa meant that after exiting our ferry we headed straight to Parçay les Pins for a week, actually a very hot week, of sun lounging, swimming and reading.

On only our second day there we decided to take a trip out to one of our favourite restaurants, restaurant La Gare. The place is only open at lunchtimes but they have a lovely buffet starter consisting of various meats and patés and a huge selection of salads. Then there is the main course, the fromage course and the final dessert, all served with a basket of fresh bread, chilled water, red wine and cider.

As I’m the nominated driver I always go for the low alcohol cider which is really tasty. After paying the paltry 30 euros for this feast for two it’s back to the villa for a rest in the sun.

On this occasion when we were only perhaps a mile from home our trusty ford transit motorhome conked out. It would not restart but happily, there was breakdown cover attached to the insurance. Within an hour our rescuer arrived, spotted the fault which could only be remedied at the garage so the van was hitched up to the back of his wagon and we were driven back to the gîte.

On the positive side, if the holiday had gone to its original plan and we were touring France, we would have had no where to go as of course we were living in the van itself. As it was the driver dropped us off at our gîte where we had already unloaded a few boxes of wine and plenty of food.

As the day wore on, we discovered various things we could have done with.

I had only one change of clothes although to be fair, in the continuing summer heat all I was wearing was shorts and a t-shirt. We were a little short on water but I had already unpacked the barbecue so at least we could relax and eat. Big problem though was that I had not yet unloaded my collection of books and for a great reader like me, that was a disaster.

As it happens, we have a bag which we call the pool bag which we take out to the pool every day. In the bag we have our sudoku books, reading glasses, notebooks, water, swimming trunks and all sorts of things that we need by the pool. Happily, there was one book which I had already begun to read and that is where we can move on to the book part of this post.

Slow Horses by Mick Herron

This book was on a shelf in my late brother’s lounge and I picked it up when I went to clear his place out after his death. Despite all the praise and good reviews on the back cover, I really found it hard to read. It’s about a group of people who work for the UK intelligence service and all of them are either out of favour with the service or have fouled up in some way. They are all assigned to Slough House instead of the main HQ and they are all a bit fed up and disgruntled.

I found it rather slow reading and I was tempted to abandon it altogether but as one reviewer apparently thought the author was the ‘John le Carré of our generation’ (Le Carré’s books were rather slow moving too) I thought I’d carry on.

Anyway, the plot is about a group of right-wing activists who have kidnapped someone with the intention of chopping his head off on camera. Now it turns out, and I’m not 100% certain I’ve got this right, one of the kidnappers is actually an agent run by Jackson Lamb, the head of Slough House.

Later in the book the action kicks off not only with the kidnapped guy but also with some internal fireworks within the intelligence service.

I managed to get to the end but I found it slow and disjointed and I was forever flipping back because I couldn’t understand which character the author was talking about and who is this and who is that person. Anyway, perhaps I was a little stressed with our van breaking down but I wasn’t impressed although to be fair, everywhere I have looked online the book gets universally good reviews.

After reading that I was a little stuck for reading matter but after a quick sift through the bookcase at the gîte, I came up with this next read.

Predator by Patricia Cornwell

Author Patricia Cornwell first introduced Medical Examiner Kay Scarpetta in the book Postmortem originally published in 1990. The character is an Italian American. She is a perfectionist and workaholic and lives in a custom-built home where she cooks many Italian meals while she ponders her cases. She also, and perhaps this is me looking at the character from a UK perspective, seems to be overly obsessed with guns although on one occasion, having a gun under her pillow in the bedroom saves her life. In the first book Scarpetta has to deal with a series of murders and works with Benton Wesley from the FBI to create a profile of the murderer. The book also introduces DNA testing as a new technique and later Scarpetta hatches a plot to flush out the murderer. The murderer however, targets Scarpetta herself but is shot dead by policeman Pete Marino.

The books are fascinating reads and have been said to have influenced TV shows like CSI and other shows that use modern scientific techniques of detection and forensics. The first few editions are excellent reads but the later ones tend to stray into a bit of a fantasy area. Scarpetta has an affair with Benton Wesley who is murdered. In a later book he reappears, it seems he was not killed after all but was placed in a witness protection scheme for some reason. That seemed to me to be a little out of the ordinary but later things get really odd. Scarpetta’s niece Lucy appears in the first book as a ten-year-old but in later editions when she grows up, she becomes a computer wizard, and then joins the FBI where she has difficulties because she is gay. Later she develops an internet search engine and becomes a millionaire and creates her own super-secret investigation company called the Last Precinct. It’s all a little bit fantastic.

Anyway, getting on to Predator itself, this is the 14th book in the series and the name Predator is an acronym for a project which former FBI man Benton Wesley is running, in which he examines serial killers to try and find out why they kill. Former officer Marino is now an investigator for the organisation I mentioned above created by Scarpetta’s niece Lucy. Marino has now become some kind of biker wearing the sort of clothes I would associate with Hells’ Angel types. Despite him not being an actual police officer, he seems to throw his weight around a lot with actual police officers which I’m sure that in real life they would just not stand for. Anyway, the tension builds up nicely as the usual cast of characters close in on the murderers. Despite the book being rather gruesome in parts, the author brings the various story elements together really well. The end is rather odd though especially when Scarpetta is assaulted by one of murderers Benton is interviewing and the scene then cuts to Benton and Scarpetta driving away, the attack being sorted we are later told by the intervention of the security guards. The conclusion comes quickly afterwards almost as if the author had something better to do and wanted to quickly wrap up the book. Sadly this wasn’t one of Cornwell’s best.

Interestingly, both these book series (yes there are more books about Slough House) have both been made into TV series that belong to TV channels that I don’t have access to. Scarpetta is on Amazon and Slow Horses on Apple TV. There was a time when exciting new TV shows would have a run on some exclusive channel and then later finally end up on terrestrial TV.

Pity that doesn’t happen anymore.

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From Bond to the Bible: Memories of Manchester Cinemas

Posted on by Steve Higgins

Just recently I saw a short video on a social media site, I think it was Instagram, one of those sites where you are constantly scrolling along until you find something slightly interesting and then after a few minutes or even seconds, you carry on scrolling again. After a while you find that an hour of your life has been lost and it’s time to put your phone or tablet down and do something else.

On this occasion the video in question was one of Tom Hanks who was asked to name four pictures he saw at the cinema and to name the actual cinemas where he saw those films.

That short video has gone and I cannot remember the films Tom saw or the picture houses that he visited but well, that’s modern social media for you. You watch, you scroll and move on to something else. Anyway, here are four pictures I saw at the cinema.

The Greatest Story Ever Told

Once, many years ago back in the 1960s, my school friends and I were taken on a Christmas school trip to watch the film. We walked it as I remember in crocodile fashion from our junior school, Crossacres, down Wiggins Hill and into Gatley, a small nearby village that boasted a lovely old cinema, the Tatton. That trip to watch this film did more for me than any teacher or RE lesson had ever done before or since and although I cannot claim to be overtly religious, I am certainly not an atheist and my respect for the person of Jesus has never been greater.

The Greatest Story Ever Told was directed by George Stevens who made such classic films as Shane and James Dean’s last film Giant. Stevens was a director who worked the way I would work if I was a director. He shot a great deal of film then sat back, reviewed everything and put his film together one brushstroke – or film clip – at a time. He chose Max von Sydow to star as Jesus as he wanted a performer who was unknown to the general public.

Max was in a way an unusual choice to play Jesus; he was pale and blue eyed and had a faint Swedish accent. Even so, he played a good part, so much so that whenever I see another portrayal of Christ, I always mentally compare it to that of Max. As for being pale and blue eyed, I suppose it is inevitable that people everywhere will envisage their religious icons in their own terms.

He might have been better in choosing unknown actors for the other roles too because the many star appearances seem to stop the viewer in his or her tracks as we spot various top actors and actresses in minor roles.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

This is probably the most stand out Bond film of all time. Sean Connery was the first to play the role of James Bond 007 but eventually he tired of the part and moved on. The producers at Eon productions decided on an unknown actor to take over the Licence To Kill, George Lazenby, a former male model and star of the Big Fry chocolate bar TV ads. My brother and I were taken to see the film by our mother. This must have been 1969 and once again we saw the film at the Tatton cinema. The Tatton was a large cinema with a very grand façade and like many old cinemas there were the stalls downstairs and the balcony upstairs. If I’m not very much mistaken, the film was shown as a double bill with one of The Man From Uncle films which for me and my brother was a very exciting double bill.

Above you can see the Tatton as it is nowadays. No longer a cinema but a Co-op supermarket. How times change.

OHMSS was the very first Bond film I saw at the cinema and to me it was everything I had imagined it would be and what I liked about George Lazenby, the new 007, was that he looked pretty much as I had imagined Bond. He had the authentic ‘comma of black hair’ as Fleming had always described Bond having and not only that, Diana Rigg was probably my favourite Bond girl too.

The Bond films were not then a staple of UK TV but there was always a Bond documentary, usually on TV at Christmas time which built up, as it was supposed to do, the public interest in Bond. It certainly built up mine. There was one documentary I remember which showed the viewer how Ian Fleming suffered with back pain and was sent to recuperate at a rest home where they put him on a back stretching machine which he later incorporated into ‘Thunderball’. Aha, I thought, this is how writers think!

Around the World in Eighty Days

This was a wonderful film based on the book by Jules Verne. In the film David Niven stars as Phileas Fogg who, while playing cards at the Reform gentlemen’s club in London, enters into a wager than he can circumnavigate the globe in 80 days. Fogg bets £20,000, a huge sum back in 1872, that he will meet his gentleman friends back in the same club exactly 80 days later after traversing the globe.

The film then takes us on a tour of the globe with Fogg and his new manservant Passepartout played by Mexican actor and comedian Cantinflas.

The film was produced by Mike Todd and stars a mesmerising assortment of guest stars including Frank Sinatra, Noel Coward, John Gielgud, Charles Boyer, Ronald Colman, George Raft, Marlene Deitrich and numerous others. The production was a tour de force by Mike Todd who sadly was later killed in a plane crash in 1958.

The film was released in 1956, the year I was born so I certainly didn’t see it at the time. It was re-released in 1968 which was probably when I saw it at the cinema, again with my mother and brother. We saw it at the Gaumont cinema on Oxford Road in Manchester and I’m pretty sure we bought a very lavish programme with pictures and information about the film.

The Gaumont opened on 21st October 1935 with Robert Donat in The Thirty-Nine Steps. It was a beautiful cinema. There were 1,300 seats in the stalls and 1,000 in the circle, all with good sightlines. There was a Wurlitzer organ which was considered one of the best instruments in the UK which was later moved to the Granada Studios, cared for by the Lancastrian Theatre Organ Trust.

The exterior on Oxford Road was in the Italian Renaissance style and the entrance was dominated by one of the largest neon displays in the city. The Gaumont name alone was four feet high and below this there was a triple bordered panel which could take up to 12 rows of 18 inch letters in red neon announcing the attractions.

When the cinema closed it was turned into a nightclub. First it became Romanoffs and then later Rotters. Rotters closed in 1990 and the building was sadly demolished to make way for a multi storey car park. Why anyone would even attempt to drive into Manchester city centre in 2026 I really don’t know so how long that car park will last is anybody’s guess.

Henry V

I really don’t know much about the plays of William Shakespeare. Despite taking English Literature at school, we never studied Shakespeare, but then again I left school at 16 clutching my 4 O’ levels. Anyway, in later life I began to read some of the Bard’s plays and my first real introduction was the 1989 film by Kenneth Branagh. It’s a really wonderful film with some great supporting players including Paul Scofield, Derek Jacobi, Ian Holm and Emma Thompson. I saw it at the Odeon in Manchester where I saw many other films over the years. I think my mother took myself and my brother to see The Sound of Music there and my brother and I went there to see numerous films. I think I had my very first kebab at a fast-food place next door.

The Odeon all closed up in 2013

The Odeon opened as the Paramount in 1930. It was a massive venue seating nearly 3000 people. It eventually became a seven-screen cinema but closed in 2004. The building sat empty until 2017 when it was demolished.

Those are my four films. The Odeon and the Gaumont have both been demolished and the Tatton is now a supermarket although despite being extensively remodelled, the developers kept the old façade of the cinema. At least those four films are still going strong and finding new audiences on the TV screen.

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Bellringers, Breakdowns and A Buffet Lunch

Posted on by Steve Higgins

The time has come round once again for Liz and me to bumble along in our little motorhome and take in the sights and sounds of la belle France.

Sometimes you make a big mistake and don’t realise it until months later. Many weeks ago we checked our diaries and searched through ferry websites looking for the best deal to travel over to France but it was only a few days prior to departure that we realised we had booked to travel on the August bank holiday. Well, how bad could it be? Really?

Things didn’t seem too bad as we motored down the M55, but then we hit the M6 and the nightmare began. All the way down south we encountered delays, accidents and roadworks. We were due to arrive at the friendly Jolly Boatman pub, where we had arranged to park for the night after some food and a few beers. We had anticipated arriving at about 5, giving us a good two hours to settle down and relax with a cup of tea before cleaning ourselves up and dining at seven.

A few days earlier I had begun to think that I should have booked an earlier slot and that perhaps 7pm was a little late. As it happened, we pulled up, had a quick wash and were out just in time to take our seats for that 7pm reservation.

After a lovely meal and a few pints of some excellent Cornish pale ale, we turned in for the night, secure in the knowledge that we weren’t too far away from the ferry terminal at Portsmouth.

Leaving Portsmouth behind

Cue another nightmare journey of roadworks and crashes but we managed to get to Portsmouth on time. It was a lovely voyage and we had booked a great cabin for the trip. The only problem was that even though we docked in Caen on time (10pm), French customs took so very long that it was well past 11pm when we were finally able to get onto the French highways and look for our pre‑arranged parking spot — a quiet car park just by a lovely old church.

One of the problems of parking by a French church is that during the night the church bells will be ringing the hours. I was awoken very early with the bells ringing for 6am. Later — I’m not sure what time it was — the bells rang again, with the local bellringers going through an impressive résumé of their bell‑ringing talents. Note to self: think again when parking near a church.

The queue for customs control

The next day we drove south through the French countryside and finally arrived at our rented gîte in the lovely village of Parcay‑les‑Pins. Normally, we would tour around in our motorhome, stopping at various places for a week or so and then arrive at the villa. This time, however, the gîte’s availability forced us to spend time at the villa first and then tour later.

On day two of our visit we decided to drop in for lunch at the Restaurant de la Gare, a short drive away. We settled in for a buffet starter and a main course of haché, a local dish of minced beef and potatoes served with bread, wine, water and cider. As the nominated driver I tend to drink the cider, which is very low alcohol. I finished with a cheese board and a dessert of île flottante.

Not long after leaving the restaurant we were travelling along a quiet lane on our way back to the gîte when the engine shuddered and stopped. The sun was burning down and there we were, stuck on a country lane where I had just managed to limp over to a grass verge. There was nothing to do but check our insurance — which happily included breakdown cover — and wait to be rescued.

Our stricken van by the roadside

We received various texts and on one occasion, a map which showed the location of the recovery driver relative to our position but after a closer look, our position on the map didn’t really match up with our actual location. I was rather worried but then an English couple stopped to ask if we were okay. It so happened they were the owners of a local bar in our village that we have not visited for a while — perhaps it’s time for another visit just to thank them for their welfare check.

I was thinking that perhaps we should call the recovery company to check on the driver’s location when our rescuer arrived. He quickly saw the fault which he said could be rectified, but the van would have to be taken to the local garage. He dropped us off at our gîte and we grabbed various things out of the van but it was only as he drove away that we remembered several other items: my books and a change of clothes. Liz’s sun bed and a whole raft of other things. Luckily, the contents of our fridge and various boxes of wine and other alcoholic delights had already been transferred to the gîte as well as our little gas barbecue.

I reckon we might just survive after all!

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Whatever Happened to the DVD?

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I still have a DVD collection. Not a particularly impressive one and certainly not one that would make me a fortune on Antiques Roadshow in thirty years’ time but there’s something I like about having a shelf full of films I can actually hold in my hand. These days, of course, you can watch pretty much anything without owning a physical copy. When there are so many new TV channels around and everything can either be downloaded, streamed or watched on catch-up TV, what is even the point of a DVD? They just take up room, fill up cupboards and shelves and generally get in the way.

To a certain extent I sort of agree with that, for instance, if you miss a film on the BBC, you can always go to BBC iPlayer and watch it there. On the other hand, I read somewhere on the internet that DVDs are making a comeback.

Sometimes, when there is absolutely nothing on TV worth watching, I’ll have a scan through my DVD shelf and choose something to watch. These days I get bored pretty easily, so I might watch an hour of something, go to make a cup of tea and find that something interesting has popped up — a documentary or an old TV show — and I’ll save the DVD for later (my DVD player actually remembers where you stopped the disc). Then I’ll settle down with my cuppa, watch the old TV show and finish the DVD later.

Interestingly, last night that exact situation occurred. I was watching an old favourite, the Errol Flynn version of Robin Hood, paused the disc to make a cuppa and up popped that old TV show, Man in a Suitcase. (I had set a reminder for it earlier after a quick browse through the on-screen TV guide).

Man in a Suitcase was a series made by Lew Grade’s ITC production company. It’s about a former CIA agent called McGill who was either sacked or forced to resign from the CIA and now makes his living as a private investigator in the UK. Presumably there is an episode that explains all this but I’m not sure I ever remember seeing it. Richard Bradford played McGill in a brooding, laid-back James Dean sort of style.

I had really been looking forward to watching Man in a Suitcase but after about twenty minutes — or probably less — I realised it wasn’t my cup of tea and went back to my film.

Some time ago I was looking up at my Woody Allen DVD collection of about twelve discs and thought I really needed to pick up some of his other films. Sleeper is a great comedy about Miles Monroe, played by Woody of course, a health-food store owner who gets cryogenically frozen in 1973 and wakes up two hundred years in the future. I searched eBay for a copy and found one, although the cheapest was just under £6. A number of Woody Allen DVD bundles came up for a similar price but sadly none of them had Sleeper. Anyway, for £5.20 I bought a collection of five of Woody’s films. Two I already had: the wonderful Manhattan and Bananas, although my copy of the latter was one of those free newspaper DVD versions, so it was good to get a “proper” copy with all the correct packaging. (Yes, I know, I’m a bit weird like that).

I put the first DVD in and got it set up ready to go. Then I sorted out a cup of tea with the mandatory ham sandwich and chocolate digestive and I was ready to press play. After about twenty minutes of Love and Death I was a little underwhelmed and thought, OK, I’ll save that for another day. In went Zelig, which is a sort of spoof documentary. Again, it wasn’t great but I managed to watch it right through to the end. The best thing about it was the way they made a lot of new footage actually look like real documentary film from the 1930s or 40s, whichever decade it was supposed to be set in. Great visual quality Woody, but Zelig was a little lacking in content.

Time for another cuppa and in goes Shadows and Fog. I gave that one fifteen minutes but it wasn’t doing it for me, so it was out with that one and in went Bananas. Just then though, a documentary series popped up on the Yesterday channel: Canal Boat Diaries. It’s a diary of a young man, Robbie Cummings, who journeys along the UK’s canals in his narrowboat. It’s largely self-filmed, although I suspect that at various points he is joined by another cameraman and a drone pilot, because various shots are incorporated from overhead and of him tootling off into the distance on his boat. I may be wrong and perhaps after that last shot he then had to reverse back, pick up his camera and tripod and start off again. When I used to make little YouTube films about our motorhome trips to France, I found myself doing similar things. It can be a little frustrating but sometimes you just need that shot.

Nothing much happens in Canal Boat Diaries but it’s a glimpse of a gentle, relaxing existence, chugging along at 4 mph through various towns. Robbie parks up here and there, makes dinner on his little stove and stops to stock up on supplies and to fuel up, as well as to explore. A few years ago, Liz and I looked at hiring a narrowboat for a weekend but the costs were really shocking. Perhaps we’ll have to try again later in the year when the holiday season has finished and things get (hopefully) cheaper.

Back to Bananas, which is one of my favourite Woody Allen films and it’s a long while since I’ve seen it. The film opens with the shooting of the President of San Marcos, shown as if it were a sporting event, with actual American TV sports commentator Howard Cosell presenting the action. Woody plays Fielding Mellish, who is a product tester and in one of the first sequences he is testing an office set-up with built-in exercise items. It’s actually a lot of fun but later he opens the door to a market researcher played by Louise Lasser, in real life Woody’s former wife. Woody later travels to San Marcos to impress her. Sylvester Stallone makes his film debut as a thug who Woody encounters on an underground train.

I love Bananas, especially the end where Howard Cosell commentates on Woody and Louise’s wedding night. One thing I found disappointing though, is that there are never any extras on a Woody Allen DVD. No interesting ‘making-of’ documentaries or commentary tracks by Woody, which I think are always an interesting addition to a DVD.

If I were to rewind a few years, I used to spend a lot of time in Manchester city centre, browsing music shops for CDs and DVDs. My favourite store was the huge HMV in Manchester city centre. They used to have an in-store DJ who was a really friendly girl, very approachable and very into her music. I always used to go and chat to her and she recommended all sorts of albums to me.

After looking through the CDs I’d pop up to the DVD section and spend more time there. I remember going in one day to find the in-store DJ had been replaced by a radio version: someone, presumably at head office in London, who was broadcasting music to all the HMV stores. Later, in 2013, the store closed down completely after more than twenty years on the same site. Browsing records and videos in HMV and then popping into my favourite bookshops before settling down in some back-street pub for a drink — ah, those were the days. I probably bought the larger part of my Woody Allen DVD collection there. Or was it eBay? Certainly the buying power of the internet may well have played a part in HMV’s demise.

Anyway, where will I find a copy of Sleeper? Ah well, back to eBay again.

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