Seven decades of reading and I still have many years of books ahead

I think I might have mentioned, occasionally, my passion for books.

It’s been a passion for more than 70 years and it doesn’t matter what they are, fiction or fact, I simply don’t care.

What I do care about is holding the real deal in my hands.

Obviously as a tiny tot it would have been one or other of my parents reading me a bedtime story, quite possibly a tale of little Noddy, and his friend Big Ears.

Once I was old enough to read “real books” I was voracious. If it was within reach then I would take it and read it.

I remember books about a young boy called Just William and another called Jennings (he went to a private school) which may have belonged to my brother. I also remember raiding my sister’s little library and reading books about Cherry Ames (nurse – probationer, sister, army nurse and any nursing role you can think of) or the Little Women series about the March family.

By now I was equipped with the key to the guarded safety deposit of books – the local library, which was at the top of our road.

One thing I did realise was that there were boys’ books and girl’s books.

Somehow I did not care. To me a book is a book.

It’s been the same ever since and I don’t care if it’s written by a man or a woman, all I want is a good read.

I’ll introduce you to some of my favourite books here and hope you will enjoy them as much as I have.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant

I was going to pretend that today was St David’s Day. That would at least be a definite time to get back into the swing of things and tell my readers (I know some of you are out there) what delights lie ahead.

Instead I suddenly find myself in the middle of March with stories unwritten; tales not told; books not read; and seeds not sown. Oh, and a birthday looming.

In fact the birthday has loomed so much that it is here, today.

This is just a trailer for what is to come.

Now I am back in action there’ll be trips back to the 70s; general chat about life as it hits me day to day; a bit of politics (what did you expect? but you’ll get a warning); bits and bobs of general chat; a gardening; and books, of course, lots of books, old and new.

I hope you will stay with me.

PS: watch out for my meeting with a brilliant English-born Irish actor.

Who created who?

When the world was young it was a ball floating in space covered with water which boiled and bubbled as its core grew hotter and hotter until a hole ⁹cracked open and lava erupted before falling back into the waters.

Then the core spewed up more lava until that which fell back into the waters rose above the surface and created land.

In the depths molecules came together and created new shapes which grew into a variety of forms and some came out of the water and onto the land where some stayed at the edge of the land and some spread out.

Those that spread included some that put down roots and provided shelter for those that continued to wander upon the face of the world.

Gradually they changed form and some slithered on their bellies and some went on all fours. Then there were those that raised themselves on two legs and walked upright.

Then an arm reached out and pointed a finger and thus man created god.

NHS kicks off 2026 with vigour

The NHS is still coming under fire, except that nowadays the public are being persuaded to join in the attack.

The persuasion not only comes courtesy of the Tories and Farage’s mob, but also from the Labour government under Starmer.

Naturally the majority of the mass media have joined in the attacks and if you believed the garbage they spew out you would be looking out for endless queues of ambulances, while doctors and nurses check their bodily functions and give them blood transfusions in the back of the vehicles.

In truth the NHS, which has been trying to recover from Covid since 2020, has come on in leaps and bounds.

It doesn’t seem long since we were told we couldn’t expect an appointment with a doctor for at least two weeks.

Yet on the last Monday of December, the 29th, I rang my surgery and was given an appointment on the same day.

The doctor wanted a check made on me at the local hospital. It was a 14-day referral and if I hadn’t heard from them by 12th of January I was to call the surgery and they would chase it up.

The hospital called on 2nd January and I was offered an appointment for Friday, 9th January.

Now that is what my Cornish ancestors would call “a proper job”

Do you see yourself through a glass darkly – or do you go through the looking glass?

Who do you see when you pass a mirror?

Do you know the visage you see?

You know it is you but the only times you see yourself are when you look in a mirror, or, when someone shows you a photograph of you.

But is the “you” that you see the same as the “you” that others see?

Sometimes I look in a mirror and see my father looking back at me. I know he is not really there but people often say that I look like him. Am I just trying to see the likeness to remind me I am a chip off the old block.

What about when I see my mother looking back at me? Do I really look like her as well?

Almost certainly.

If, instead of looking at myself now and a picture of my father at the same age, I compared a picture of myself at 18 and one of my father at the same age I would see him in me, I would also see my mother in a picture of her taken at that age.

One thing that goes against this is how you see your partner now as opposed to the person you saw when you first met them.

I see the beauty I met and married all those decades ago. Her eyes are bright and shining, her hair like silken strands, her lips soft and tasty.

Do our eyes see what is really there or do we see what we want to see?

When I was One-and-Twenty

By A E Housman

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.


This poem is from Housman’s A Shropshire Lad, one of my favourite collections as my son David is a Shropshire Lad having been born in Gobowen, just over the border from my beloved Wales.

Flat pack: a right old faradiddle or is it really just as easy as pie?

We tend to think of flat pack furniture – or Ready to Assemble (RTA) – as having been invented in the middle of the last century, and probably created by Scandinavian designers.

In fact campaign furniture was very common in the 18th and 19th centuries with the British Armed Forces, officers only, which could pack down quickly into easily transportable pieces.

Campaign furniture was used by an even earlier general who travelled extensively with his army – Julius Caesar. The Roman army was renowned for its ability to create a properly defended camp after a day’s march and to pack it all up the following morning to be ready to march again.

This is even more amazing when you realise Caesar’s tent would be lined with costly hangings, furnished with chairs and tables and even a bed.

Over the millennia campaign furniture went through many changes and by the 19th century furniture makers began to use the idea for domestic furniture which could be packed flat to be sent to the customer and also stripped down to save space when moving house.

By the mid-20th century more manufacturers began to make flat packed domestic furniture but although high-end companies maintained quality there were those further down the chain who were not quite so thorough and customers often found screwholes misaligned and components not cut to exact measurements.

As you can imagine this led to frustration and despair for the poor customer who would have been told the furniture could be “assembled in minutes with just the aid of a screwdriver”.

Four hours later the piece might finally be put together – but only with the aid of a screwdriver – and a hammer, a saw and various other tools (if you happen to own such items).

Over the years – and there have been a lot of them – I have only bought flat packed furniture three times and appear to have struck lucky every time.

The first was in the late 70s when we needed a dining set suited to a somewhat compact dining area. We settled for a refectory style table, monks bench and simple backless bench.

When it arrived I managed to assemble it in about an hour and a half and we used it for our meal that night.

The whole set used a combination of wooden pegs, wooden turnlocks and a a few screws. A screwdriver and a mallet, to knock in the pegs, and that was it. It was just as easy to disassemble for moving, which was just as well because since then it has travelled around the UK and halfway around the world.

The next flat pack was bought in Australia and consisted of an armoire and two bedside set of drawers. These were a little bit more fiddly to assemble with drawers to put together, handles to attach, hinges and slide in drawer backs and sides.

These items took longer to assemble and as well as a couple of different size scans and a rubber mallet I had to use a bit of glue to strengthen some of the joints, which meant the items could not be easily dismantled for transport.

We still have the armoire and two bedside drawer units.

The third item was a wardrobe with mirrored sliding doors.

This was in some ways easier in that it had less screws and no handles. The problem lay in the weight of the mirrored doors and trying to get them into the right tracks, top and bottom.

This is the one item that is no longer with us as when we moved it was to a property nearby and we managed a DIY removal but the wardrobe was just too big and heavy.

So there we have it. Three examples of flat pack furniture and no major problems even though so many people throw up their hands in despair and have even been the butt of comedians’ jokes. In fact sitcoms on tv frequently spend most of an episode with the stars trying to put together a simple piece of flat pack furniture.

You may be wondering why I have chosen an experience going back decades.

It is because this weekend I have been assembling another flat pack table which consisted of over 20 wooden parts plus five bolts, four nuts and four washers and almost 40 screws.

How big was it?

About four feet high and eight inches square.

Yes, it’s a bird table and it took as long to Assemble as the refractory dining set for four people.

Penblwyddd Hapus – and wishing you all a very Happy New Year

I know it’s been almost a year but 2025 has been quite a rollercoaster ride. Here’s hoping that 2026 will be smoother with more ups than downs.

I will be offering plenty more on the story of my life. I seem to remember we were in Anglesey in 1977 when things took a bit of a turn and I will pick up on that year in the next few days.

Literature, prose and poetry, will hopefully take a big upturn. The poetry will spread across the centuries and if any of you feel you have a poem, either your own or a favourite of yours,, let me know and it could be featured.

On the literature front I will be looking at some of my favourite books from many decades of reading as well as new works if they happen to tickle my fancy.

I will also be looking at television programmes, dramas or documentaries. It could be brand-new material or even something I recall from my childhood or teens – films, plays, music, really anything that draws my attention.

There will be politics, of course, but you only need to pop in to that section if you really want to. The viewpoint will be personal and comments will be welcome but I do ask that you keep your language moderate, and hate speech is definitely banned.

It looks like a busy year ahead and I hope you will all be with me this time next year, along with any more friends we make along the way.

HALFWAY DOWN

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead."

AA Milne





Binge on the oldies if you want to escape modern TV dross

The television these days is full of quiz shows, reality shows, entrepreneurs trying to get cash from business tycoons, and gladiatorial battles – with plenty of padding.

Dramas, of which there are precious few, have a new series each year lasting about six to eight episodes, and then it’ll be at least 12 months before you see them again.î8

Over the past few months our life has involved a lot of visits to hospitals which can be very tiring and we have been going through box sets of dramas from the 80s and 90s.

It is amazing how many people you recognise in these old shows who have since become stars in their own right. At the same time there are stars who can be seen in their swansong.

Just lately we have been watching Dalziel and Pascoe with the excellent Warren Clarke (Clockwork Orange).

The cast included Tony Booth (Alf Garnett’s scouse git of a son-in-law) who was initially a suspect in the death of his sister, but was later murdered.

Also in this episode we saw Norman Wisdom, a true king of comedy, but in this show there was no comedy but pathos aplenty.

Even when he is playing the frenetic Norman Pitkin we still love him but when his character slows down we see the pathos behind the clown’s face.

He is recognised by his peers as an actor of merit and there was a moment when Warren Clarke was talking to Norman who allowed his mask of pathos to slip and show the caring man beneath.

As they walked away Warren put his arm across Norman’s shoulders and you suddenly realise that many well-established actors still recognised the virtues of the little man behind the clown’s mask.