Bath's Big Ed

I just called to say..hang on, no I didn't

2012-01-25T07:51:00.000-08:00

Please tell me I am not the only person who has done this.

Please.

On Tuesday I had a message on my answer machine from a well-known local lady talking about a story she wanted us to publish.

She spoke in her usual chatty, friendly style so when I called her back (also speaking to an answering machine) I had the same relatively upbeat, jocular tone.

All was going well until my sign off when instead of saying ‘goodbye’, ‘see you later’ or ‘I look forward to hearing from you’, I found myself saying ‘love you’.

In a slightly high-pitched voice.

I was aghast.

What on earth could I do to explain why I had wrongly said this without further deepening my overwhelming embarrassment?

Well I tried to salvage things by immediately re-dialling the number and telling the innocent answering machine that I was sorry, I obviously didn’t mean what I’d said (ie. don’t panic!) and if it made the lady feel any better I was now dying of acute embarrassment.

Luckily the charming woman in question saw the funny side and I’m sure will tease me mercilessly for some time to come but it did occur to me that this isn’t the first time I’ve said the wrong thing to someone. Indeed I recall when I was at college getting something off a milkman and also telling him I loved him as well. His look of bemusement was priceless.

On relating the details of my verbal faux pas to some work colleagues I was also reminded by one of something I’m sure we’ve all done before in our tender years when we inadvertently called a teacher ‘mum’ or ‘dad’. The problem with something like that is that once it’s out it sticks. And, as we know, children have a remarkable memory for juicy mistakes like that which surpasses any memory for useful things like maths or English.

But I am afraid my putting the proverbial foot in it doesn’t end there. Oh no. I have done that awful thing of asking a lady when her baby was due (when she wasn’t pregnant) and I’ve also been guilty (and I can’t be alone in this either, surely?) in complimenting new parents on their lovely-looking son only to be subtly pointed in the direction of the pink dress their ‘son’ was wearing.

The problem with all these awkward situations is that trying to get out of them can sometimes make things so much worse.

I remember when I was a young reporter we had a switchboard operator who would put calls through to you so quickly and efficiently it caught you off guard.

On one occasion she said that a certain person was calling and I said to her “oh no, not that idiot again”. But, sadly, my switchboard operator had already gone on to another call. There then followed a long, telling pause before a slow, drawn out voice said “Yes I’m afraid it is me – that idiot again.”

I tried desperately to get out of that one but we both knew the truth – he knew I thought he was an idiot and he also knew I was one for trying to pretend I didn’t mean it.

Oh well, next to that perhaps ‘love you’ doesn’t sound so bad after all.

Great cinema is antidote to miserable January

2012-01-23T02:38:00.000-08:00

I think it’s fair to say that the middle of January is not traditionally known as one of the best loved parts of the calendar.

The Christmas festivities have long since gone – as sadly for some have their new year’s resolutions – the weather is invariably pretty grim and the bills for the aforementioned yuletide celebrations are now hitting the mat.

With a heavy clunk.

Clearly therefore this time of the year does have something of an image problem.

However, there is one area of life where January really is a fantastic month – and that is in the cinema where the film world traditionally releases a glut of great movies.

The reason for this has nothing to do with those charming people at film studios trying to put smiles on our miserable January faces and everything to do with the fact that we are now in the awards season. As such it is vital for BAFTAs, Oscars et al to have the big films showing at this time to capture the imagination of those who hand out the gongs.

So, this week I have been to see two of the much hyped new releases which have set the year off to such a fine start for filmgoers and it was pleasing to see that both had significant local connections.

First up on Saturday I went to see Steven Spielberg’s latest epic, War Horse. I’m a big fan of Mr Spielberg. and although I don’t think this is quite the masterpiece others have claimed, it certainly has many things to recommend it – not least the many scenes featuring the lovely Wiltshire village of Castle Combe.

This village has always been a genuine local gem and to see it used so well on the screen was a joy. It may also be a joy for local people to play ‘spot the face’ too because as you will have seen in the Chronicle previously, dozens of local people were involved as extras. I personally was thrilled to see a friend of my daughter’s on a couple of occasions which meant she actually had more screen time than some of the horses.

For an entirely different experience, on Tuesday night I joined two colleagues at the Little Theatre to watch the bio-pic of Margaret Thatcher, The Iron Lady.

Between the three of us we covered a wide spectrum of opinion about Mrs T but I would urge everyone (whether they think she was the greatest Prime Minister of our time or the worst) to go and see this movie, not least for the extraordinary way Meryl Streep portrays the title role.

It’s a political movie at times of course but it’s actually more of a film about a woman in her latter years suffering from dementia and reflecting on her life – a life that just happened to involve running a country for over a decade. And the local link? Look out for Anthony Head who is a superb Geoffrey Howe, bringing out the inner turmoil of this quiet ex-chancellor.

Two top films down already then – and I’ve still got the fun of catching movies like The Artist and The Decendants to come soon too.

So if January is getting you down then the message is simple. Get out, buy a cinema ticket and then say a hearty thank you for the fact that this is the film awards season.

Footnote - since I wrote this peice I have indeed had a chance to add The Artist to my January entertainment salvation. It's funny, genuinely original, bright, breezy and full of life. Rather like The War Horse I am not 100 per cnet convinced it yet deserves 'masterpiece' status as some have suggested but it is still a fine piece of work. And the dog in it is truly AMAZING.

Clothes maketh the man wince

2012-01-16T07:51:00.000-08:00

They say that “clothes maketh the man”. And if that is the case then clothes madeth me look rather foolish on Monday.

For when I arrived at work and as I settled down at my desk I realised something was not quite right.

I had a black jacket on but when I looked down I realised that my trousers were of a totally different colour – a lightish grey.

Yes, I had managed to put on a different part from two different suits and although I don’t think anyone else noticed (or at least I don’t think so but there may have been titters I didn’t hear), I did feel very self-conscious and for the rest of the day it was shirt sleeves all round. And even when I left I just had my jacket over my arm.

I suppose this is something that can happen to a lot of people but it was only when I thought of it later I realised that it wasn’t the first time that I’d made a mistake in the wardrobe department.

It is said that some people when it comes to dancing have two left feet. Well, on one occasion when I went to the gym so did I.

In a rush to pick up my kit for a gym assessment, I inadvertently grabbed two different trainers – both of which were for the same foot. I had no choice but to carry on because I had a pre-booked session with a trainer but I can tell you I would not recommend this to anyone and I think it is quite a “feat” that my squeezed tootsies managed to survive the session at all.

However, I must confess, there is one thing worse than forgetting the right clothes – and that is forgetting clothes altogether.

I can still vividly recall the time I decided to go swimming during a lunch break (all of this is making me sound very healthy, don’t you think?) and I duly turned up at the swimming pool, went into my changing cubicle, took off all of my clothes off and realised that I’d not brought any trunks. Or a towel.

I had picked up my work bag rather than my gym bag and so I was left naked in a cubicle where I realised, for the first time, that when you go red from embarrassment, it’s not just on your face . . .

So, I then faced the humiliating walk past an attendant who had seen me five minutes before getting ready to undress in a cubicle and then past a receptionist who also looked at me very strangely and must have thought “that was the quickest swim in history” – and also the only one not to have made someone’s hair wet.

It all goes to show, I guess, that how we look truly can affect how we feel and although it doesn’t matter a jot in the grand scheme of things if I had the wrong jacket on or two left trainers (OK, I admit it would have mattered a bit if I’d attempted to go skinny-dipping in a public pool), it does prove that what we wear affects our minds as well as our bodies.

Oh, and here’s a final thought about clothes. Considering many of us shop at the same shops and probably have very similar tastes, don’t you find it amazing as you walk round the streets to see how very few people ever truly look the same? Just look around and see what I mean – but perhaps not if you are reading this in North Korea.

Have you resolved to stick to your resolutions?

2012-01-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

There is a very good chance that many of you reading this today will have made New Year’s resolutions.

And, sadly, I suspect that some of you will have already broken them.

The annual January 1 ritual of resolving to improve our lives is as much a part of the festive holiday as turkey and the countdown to Big Ben. It is thought as many as three-quarters of us will have seriously sat down and thought about the resolutions we should make this year and the vast majority of us will have had every intention of sticking with them.

The statistics for successfully staying with such resolutions are not great, to be honest, but that shouldn’t put people off. And if you’ve already slipped away from your resolution, bear in mind that January 1 is only one day of the year and you can resolve to put your life back on track at any time.

The reason perhaps most people do fail with their resolutions is because they are, perhaps inevitably, quite negative and unrealistic.

If you’ve resolved to give up chocolate for example but you’re an ardent choccie-lover, then I fear that such a resolution may cause you so much pain it will fall the first time you walk past Hotel Chocolat. And the same goes if you like the odd tipple or two. If you suddenly go all 1920s America and impose a prohibition on yourself it may be doomed to end in a St Valentine’s Day massacre of the drinks cabinet.

The best resolutions are probably not to cut out but to cut down, and so if you resolve to do that then you may have a better chance of success.

Surprisingly perhaps when I did some research about the most popular resolutions although the obvious ones were in there – to quit smoking, to lose weight and to get fit etc – the number one choice was something which all of us can aspire to. It was “to enjoy life more”.

For this resolution to be number one was something of a shock to me but it does make you realise that a lot of us feel we’re not living the life we should and although it is quite hard to define the success of this particular resolution, to have it as a goal is something which I’m sure we can all relate to.

Personally I’m actually one of the 25 per cent of people this year who didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions - mainly I think because I’ve had too many ill-fated 12 month gym memberships start in January to make me realise I should think about the timing of these things more.

However, I do know of lots of people who have set themselves New Year goals and aims and I wish them all well because if they do manage to achieve them, then they will actually go towards succeeding in that “enjoy life more” ambition too.

Of course, the cynics may say there is no point in doing any of this and may even subscribe to the quote I heard once that “a New Year’s resolution is something that goes in one year – and out the other”.

But for one week at least, let’s try not to share such cynicism. Let’s all, instead, resolve to support those with resolutions and if we, or others, can’t sustain or maintain the more tricky ones we have set ourselves, let’s at least try and just enjoy life that little bit more.

How Downton, Eastenders and Great Expectations soaped-up Christmas

2012-01-03T00:41:00.000-08:00

I suspect like many of you, I had plenty of “smellies” in my Christmas stocking this year. But the soaps that made the biggest impact on me were on the TV screen rather than in the bathroom cabinet.

For over Christmas I managed to watch only three full set of TV programmes (Downtown Abbey, Great Expectations and EastEnders) but amazingly I managed to enjoy them all thoroughly. And what linked all three – dare I say it – was that they were all soap operas of sorts, even though I am sure such a term would be a shock to Carson the butler or the wonderful Mr Charles Dickens.

OK, I accept putting our greatest storyteller in the same bracket as the people who write Neighbours is somewhat controversial. But, if what defines a soap is an ongoing dramatic series full of interlinking characters and many often intricately-plotted different storylines then it could be argued that Charles Dickens is the grand-daddy of all soap writers.

His earliest novels were all written via monthly installments and he understood all about leaving the reader wanting more. And that is why I am sure that he would have loved the fact that as the credits rolled after the first episode of Great Expectations on Tuesday we were all really desperate to see part two.

What larks Pip old chap, what larks...

But, before we even had the chance to enjoy seeing the ever loveable Joe Gargery, the ghostly Miss Havisham or Ray Winstone rolling in the mud as an especially grimy Magwitch, the Christmas period had given us a double-dose of soapy delight at Albert Square and Downton Abbey.

EastEnders is one of my not-so-guilty pleasures – a show I can go months without watching but can then get ridiculously absorbed when a good story line comes along. And this year we had a humdinger.

It concerned a psychopathic doctor, a lighter, a house full of people and boxes of dodgy fireworks. It went off with a predictable bang and as with every great OTT soap story you were left wondering who was alive, who was dead and when the next episode was on.

And what a great news week for the Walford Gazette too.

For an altogether calmer but no less enjoyable experience the two-hour trip to the middle-class soap world of Downton Abbey was a journey well worth taking.

This beautifully crafted series has swiftly knitted itself into the national consciousness and its Christmas Day special was an absolute triumph from the start to the “for-goodness-sake-Matthew-just-

flipping- ask-her-to-marry-you-will-you?” finale.

Sure, the programme does sometimes leave you with more questions than answers – i.e. in this one just who did Sybil upset not to be featured at all? – but this Upstairs Downstairs for the 21st-century generation has all the class and style of Maggie Smith’s Dowager. I suspect it is here to stay – as I hope is that nice Mr Bates for I can’t stand seeing the saintly Anna upset.

So thank you to Dickens, Downton and the dodgy doctor for our festive TV fun. It was the year where the soaps truly cleaned up.

It's A Wonderful Life when you can get to hear the real Zuzu!!!!

2011-12-21T05:56:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday morning, driving into work, I got very excited when I heard someone being interviewed on the radio.

While many other people were probably tuning into other stations and getting exercised about the death of the Korean leader or the euro crisis, I was instead immersed in an interview with a woman whose name I didn’t even know but who has just happened to play a small but highly significant role in a cultural phenomenon which has always had a big impact on me.

For yes, I was listening to the voice of Zuzu.

You know –- Zuzu.

Zuzu of “Zuzu’s petals” fame?

Come on you must know!

If you are still wondering what on earth I am prattling on about (and fear not, I get that a lot) Zuzu was the name of one of the children in the ultimate Christmas film. It is mine and many other people’s favourite movie of all time – it is, of course, the truly magnificent It’s A Wonderful Life.

I got to hear the voice of the legend that is Zuzu – real name Karolyn Grimes – when she was talking to Nicky Campbell on Radio Five Live.

The ever-entertaining Mr Campbell is a man who has effortlessly interviewed world leaders, royals and stars of stage and screen and yet for once he seemed genuinely star struck and somewhat humbled. For he knew as I did that this was Zuzu – the one who said “every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings”.

And I shared his sense of awe.

It isn’t hard to see why this film means so much to so many and why it will have millions weeping into their Christmas puds as it is shown again over the festive period (it is also at the Little Theatre in Bath on Christmas Eve). It is just one of those remarkable films where once it gets you, you stay ‘got’.

I remember seeing it for the first time on a cold, wet Saturday afternoon when I was just keen to watch anything and it appeared unheralded on the BBC2 schedules. As I sat open-mouthed in admiration it became, from that day forth, (and it is about 30 years now) my number one film.

I watch it at least once a year and if I ever want to remind myself what a softie I am I will just watch the last 15 minutes again and blub like a Gazza. Frankly, if you don’t cry watching It’s A Wonderful Life it is not because there is anything wrong with the movie – it is because there is something wrong with you.

As Zuzu and Nicky Campbell pointed out this beautiful fantasy piece has a timeless quality. It features a man in financial problems (2011 – check) being screwed over by an evil banker (2011– check) who is only bought back from the brink by a loveable angel (2011 – err, not quite).

The thing that ‘saves’ him is to see what life would have been like if he had never been born and I can guarantee there isn’t a single person who will have watched this film who won’t have asked themselves that same question afterwards.

It’s life Jim, but not as we know it.

So I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas but if you do need a lift then just say hello to Zuzu and her petals again. Atta boy Clarence.

Feeling 'Christmassy'? No, well sing a carol . . .

2011-12-14T10:23:00.000-08:00

Are you feeling ‘Christmassy’ yet?

This is a question that people often ask each other throughout December and it is usually, in my experience, asked by people who feel somewhat nervous that they aren’t yet in the ‘zone’ that leads up to December 25 and want reassurances others aren’t too.

I must admit I didn’t feel ‘Christmassy’ at all this year until – and I can almost name the exact time – about 6.40pm last Thursday, December 8. That was when I first heard the line ‘Away in a manger, no crib for a bed’ being lustily sung at the Chronicle/Rotary Club of Bath’s annual carol service at the abbey.

And it ‘got’ me.

For those who were around last Thursday night you will remember it was a horrible, cold, wet and miserable evening.

If ever there was a reason to not attend an event in the city centre on an evening, Mother Nature had provided the perfect one and it could have been entirely understandable if the abbey was half-empty for the proceedings.

But it wasn’t. Oh no.

There wasn’t a seat spare to be found and the abbey was packed to the rafters because people know that this annual city centre carol service is the one that can actually kick off Christmas for Bath people – and it certainly did for me.

The key to its success I think is revisiting much-loved carols in a communal atmosphere. There is something about Christmas carols that really seems to move people – whether they are regular church-goers or just those who attend such places for weddings or the odd funeral.

Our love for carols probably goes back to the fun of doing school nativity plays – a Christmas tradition that, if anything, seems to be getting stronger. Next week’s Chronicle will feature no fewer than 24 pages worth of pictures of such nativities and all will reveal the sheer joy that young people have in taking part in this special event at this time of the year. And no decent nativity is complete without a carol or two. There are many new ones these days –- and probably a lot of them are rather funkier than the ‘old faves’ – but the traditional tunes are still as popular as ever and just as nearly everyone still knows the Lord’s Prayer, everyone also seems to know what follows the words ‘the cattles are lowing’. . .

These tunes are just something in our consciousness now and you don’t have to be remotely religious to know that carols can touch the parts other spiritual songs can’t.

Of course, for many people the impact of even some of the ‘top of the pops’ in carol terms has been diluted by the fact they seem to be on a permanent loop in the shops at this festive time. You go from Noddy Holder in one shop to Hark The Herald in another and both, after a while, can get equally annoying.

But, put in the right context – and there is no possible better context than the Bath Abbey on a December evening – carols can truly touch the heart, lift the spirits and can really make people stop and think amidst all the other Christmas chaos around them about what is the actual ‘reason for the season’.

Christmassy? Yep, I am now.

The great fun of TV adverts - Sky plus-ed to death?

2011-12-12T09:46:00.000-08:00

Last week I had the pleasure of introducing – for its first ever big screen outing – the DVD film Bath The Way We Were which uses the Chronicle’s archive to back up a series of films which give a whistle-

stop tour of the city’s history.

The screening took place at the Little Theatre, in Bath, and its manager, Martin Jennings-Wright, came up with a wonderful idea of getting everyone into the nostalgic mood for the film by showing some long-forgotten TV adverts from the 1960s.

These ads were both a joy to behold – and something of a revelation. We saw Tony Blair’s father-in-law encouraging us to look smart by buying from ‘Temple man’, we saw Lulu (who I swear looks younger now than she did then), encouraging us to wear a particularly natty pair of shoes and we also saw a very detailed advert extolling the virtues of a new bra which showed a woman dancing and saying ‘when things get moving you need to stay in control!’

It’s fair to say they don’t make them like that any more.

The TV advert has been a staple form of entertainment since television began and the sheer quality of many of our favourites over the past few decades have surely led us all, at some stage, to say the phrase ‘the ads are better than the programmes’.

Sadly, however, I do fear that the art of a great TV advert is being missed by a whole new generation and that’s because of that marvellous invention we call Sky +.

Nowadays many people hardly ever watch a television programme ‘live’, they simply record it on their magic digi box and watch it at a more convenient time. And what happens as a result? They merely zap through those ad breaks and I think miss out on telling snap shots of our culture – let alone finding out about new products.

Of course you’d expect someone in my profession to promote the importance of advertising – and this I do – but I genuinely feel adverts can also bring their own unique pleasures. Think of the remarkable Guinness adverts which saw horses appearing out of the sea, think of Melanie Sykes asking if you would like “a flake with that” and think also of how tempted you were to buy R Whites after encountering the ‘secret lemonade drinker’.

Of course the odd ad still does get through and into the public consciousness. Think gorillas playing drums to a Phil Collins backing track or (if you must), those now hideously over-exposed meerkats. But, by and large, I fear the great days of communal TV advert enjoyment may have past. And if you see Sid, tell him . . .

Oh, one final point before you move onto the next programme.

The best and most artistic ads you see at this time of year concern perfumes and after shaves. There are some beautifully crafted mini-epics extolling the virtues of French-sounding fragrances urging us to buy into a glamorous image.

But surely, the only thing that matters is how these products actually smell? So, therefore, maybe the next invention we need for TV ads to come alive is smelly-vision television.

It’s not to be sniffed at.

I am sorry Gary Lineker for my Movember mistake

2011-12-07T00:45:00.001-08:00

This appeared in the Bath Chronicle on December 1 - the day 'Movember' ended

I feel I owe an apology to Gary Lineker.

Ok, I know the splendid Mr Lineker will have no idea that I’ve apologised to him but I still feel I needed to publically get it off my chest.

And it’s all because of that curious but rather wonderful invention we call Movember.

Years ago, someone told me that Gary Lineker, he of Spurs, England and Match Of The Day fame, was incapable of growing a moustache or beard. I was told (and probably tellingly I can’t for the life of me remember who by) that he couldn’t grow any facial hair at all and that is why his chin always looked as smooth as a billiard ball when he was on the telly.

And I have told loads of people this 'odd fact you may not know about a celebrity' ever since.

So, when Movember began and someone suggested I tried growing a tash, I said I thought I would look ridiculous and said ‘no’. I also added that I actually wished I could be like that nice Mr Lineker and not have to even bother with dragging a naked blade over my face every morning.

So imagine how much egg yolk I felt on my still clean shaven face, as I watched Mr Lineker join in the Movember campaign and go on to grow more facial hair in a few weeks than I think I could muster in six months.

Gary's Gillette-avoiding month is/was of course all for a good cause – as it is with all the other people who have signed up for the Movember initiative.

If you aren’t aware, the idea of the Movember campaign is to get people to grow taches to raise funds to highlight male health problems – particularly sensitive cancers such as prostate and testicular. Men aren’t very good at talking about their health but when it comes to those difficult bits “down there” we find it even more uncomfortable.

So the Movember campaign aims to raise money to fight these cancers – and just as importantly get us talking about them as well. And that is why you will have seen many people sporting uncharacteristic facial growth during last month.

Of course, this situation does lead you into somewhat tricky situations.

At the Bath Chronicle business breakfast last week there were two particularly hairy ‘mos’ on offer but I had to gingerly ask both people if they were sporting them for the cause or not. If of course I got it wrong it it would be the equivalent of saying were they were wearing their lip adornment for a bet when it may well have been a prized permanent feature. And it could also lead to the sort of embrassment to be found by asking a slightly overweight lady when the baby was due...

The truth is moustaches definitely suit some people better than others and I have to confess I haven’t got involved in Movember because I’m convinced I would fall into the “others” category. I suspect I would look like some bad 1970s German porn actor with a wispy bit of blond fluff on top of my lip.

Of course, the whole point is it shouldn’t matter what you look like. It’s all about raising funds and awareness – and so I hereby offer my column/blog as part of that awareness campaign and salute all those braver souls than me who have collectively raised more than £50 million in recent years as a result of throwing away their razors.

Today, December 1, should see all those unwanted taches disappear but let’s hope, however, that debate about the male issues involved does not end.

We owe it to all the ‘mo’ wearers to keep talking – and I particularly owe it to Gary “The Tache” Lineker.

Center Parcs - a Center of excellence 12 months a year?

2011-12-01T08:52:00.001-08:00

This is a travel piece about a trip to see if our local Center Parcs really can deliver in the winter as well as the summer...it appeared in both The Bath Chronicle and Somerset Standard - the Longleat resort's two local papers.

As we all know, the British weather is an unpredictable beast. In recent years especially we have seen all sorts of bizarre weather patterns and hardly a month goes by without some bright-eyed forecaster telling us excitedly that we have just seen the hottest/coldest/wettest/ strangest month since (and here comes that legendary phrase....) ‘records began’.

And yet, despite the unpredictability we privately cherish, one thing has remained absolute in people’s minds – if you want to holiday in Britain you had better do it in the summer. Or, at a push, at least the spring or maybe a bit of autumn. But holiday in the UK in winter? Forget it.

For Center Parcs, however, that is one concept they have never accepted.

And so when they first hit our unsuspecting shores some 24 years ago, one of their keenest philosophies was that they would aim to provide holidays and breaks of the highest quality 365 days a year. July and August are big months for them of course but unlike our beloved seaside resorts so indeed are January and February. It’s an all-year round holiday offering and, luckily for us, we have one of them at Longleat, right on our doorstep.

I have been to the parks before but always in those summer months so when I got the chance to spend a weekend at Longleat to sample Center Parcs outside of the cricket season I enthusiastically took it. So many people have said to me that the Center Parcs experience truly comes into its own when the nights draw in and having now experienced a November weekend there I can fully see what they mean.

I made the ‘huge’ journey down the A36 (told you we were lucky!) mainly to see how Center Parcs embraces the Christmas period, which comes in the shape of their 2011 all-new Winter Wonderland. It is a six week celebration of snow, lights and Santa and is designed to make everyone feel in the mood for the big day while not detracting from all the other traditional, amazing attractions on offer at the site.

The Winter Wonderland this year includes everything from an outdoor ice skating rink, a sumptuous festive firework display and a woodland Santa visiting experience to a host of different practical activities including a chance to design Christmas gifts and baubles and even a cracker making workshop.

But just as importantly to my eyes is that the whole woodland site is given a lovely slice of fairy dust too and there are an array of beautiful, simple Christmas lights shining throughout and one or two elegant and expertly put together displays dotted around. Throw in Longleat’s own panto and Christmas activities at a lot of the restaurants and main attractions and you have a real feel for the whole festive period. And, as you would always expect with Center Parcs, there isn’t a hint of tackiness or overt cashing-in – it is all there to enjoy if you want it but if you are more of a fan of Ebenezer than Rudolph then you can simply enjoy the rest of your break without ever feeling you are an enforced extra in a Christmas TV commercial.

So, the Winter Wonderland clearly hits the mark but what about the park itself? Does it ‘work’ as well when the sun is a somewhat rarer visitor and can you truly have as much fun in the middle of November as the middle of the summer holidays?

Well, if my visit is anything to go by I say a hearty yes. To me the sheer beauty of Center Parcs has always been that you can do as much or as little as you want and yet you always return feeling you have been well looked after and been given a myriad of opportunities to stretch yourself and try a wide amount of different activities.

And the calendar has no impact on any of that.

As ever I was enormously impressed with two things that can make or break any holiday – the quality of the accommodation and the staff. Center Parcs treats each of its woodland lodges like hotel rooms rather than traditional holiday camp chalets or caravans and our lodge was scrupulously clean and had everything we needed to spend our break in comfort.

And the staff? Once again I was so impressed with everyone we encountered who showed professionalism and care at every turn - and considerable passion for their areas of expertise. As just one example we dined on the Saturday night at the impressive Grand Cafe where we all enjoyed great food in a lovely atmosphere. But what impressed us just as much was that our server (Phil) on seeing that one of our party wasn’t eating and hearing he had heartburn immediately came up with his own private solution/concoction that took away the problem in seconds.

It was thoughtful and kind and exhibited the qualities we saw in so many of the staff we met over the weekend, many of course who are local to our patch and hopefully may see this as a result.

The Grand Cafe was a splendid place to eat and there are plenty of other top choices too (we particularly enjoyed our trip to Oretga’s for a sangria-led feast to remember) but as with everything at Center Parcs you can spend as much or as little as you want.

It is entirely possible to have a totally self-catered weekend (an on-site supermarket helps) and although Center Parcs isn’t cheap – and I mean that in every sense of the phrase – it is possible to enjoy so much it has to offer without breaking the bank.

If you don’t want to sign up for the bewildering choice of activities/sports you can spend time enjoying the amazing free indoor water world – still the beating heart and soul of the whole park for many – or just wander or cycle around the site and revel in the fresh air, the many lovely trees and all the other beautiful natural attractions that only a park in such a glorious forest setting can offer.

At Center Parcs if you love nature then the best things in life truly are free.

However, if you do have a bit of extra money to spend there are so many amazing ways to spend it and I would recommend you think of booking them well before you arrive as seasoned visitors do.

My partner and I had three hours of total relaxation in the glorious Aqua Santa, a place to leave your problems at the door and just unwind at a spectacularly peaceful pace. There are plenty of top quality treatments on offer for that extra investment and my partner tried one of them – an unforgettable Facial Decleor Aroma Expert Facial. She left feeling a million dollars – without thankfully having spent that sum to feel that good.

If all that sounds too relaxed for you then fear not – Center Parcs has a massive list of indoor and outdoor sporting activities to try and once again the fact that so many of them are under cover means that even if that famed bad weather does its worse then Center Parcs can cope and can still provide you with a schedule of high-energy activities that would impress Action Man.

But you don’t have to just take my word about how good our local 365-day-a-year holiday truly is – the proof of the pudding (Christmas or otherwise) is when you eat up the numbers.

Center Parcs has had a particularly good year by all accounts and occupancy in these winter months is as high as any other times of year. And that is because with their well thought out range of activities, great eateries, superb settings and top quality accommodation choices, Center Parcs has pulled off that unique thing for a British holiday resort – it has created a weather-proof break.

So yes, Longleat may currently be enjoying a Winter Wonderland but as far as I can see it is a wonderland whenever you go.

Twelve months of the year this truly is a Center of excellence.

A 'typical' week in a newsroom? Hardly.

2011-12-01T08:45:00.001-08:00

This originally appeared in my Bath Chronicle column on November 24 after a crazy week in the office....

On Monday night, November 21, I had the pleasure of talking to the Weston Local History Society on the subject of the local and national media – past, present and future. It was, hopefully, an informative evening for everyone but there was one point when I was literally lost for words. And that was when one of the members asked me to describe ‘a typical day’ in the life of an editor or a newsroom.

The reason I couldn’t answer immediately is that I realised there is no such thing as a typical day and although we are governed by strict deadlines, what happens between the end of one week’s paper and the publication of the following weeks is totally unpredictable.

And this week has really proved the point.

I was away for a few days last week, only popping back into the office in advance of the Christmas light switch on. I therefore expected that on Monday all the talk would be about John Cleese and the Christmas extravaganza but by the time I came in again the agenda had moved and we have gone on to have a truly remarkable week in the newsroom which really reiterates why the best jobs are those where you never quite know what is going to happen next.

For a starter, we were very short staffed due to holidays and sickness. We all assured ourselves we could cope – and cope we somehow have – but what we weren’t expecting was the astonishing amount of important news stories that had flowed into the office for our small team to deal with.

As hopefully you will may seen in the paper of November 24, it was a big week locally filled with both tragedy (the story of the soldier David Boyce killed in Afghanistan and the sad story of the woman who died at a Bath petrol station) but also with triumph in the shape of the light switch on which brought the whole community together – as did the moving march through our city by the servicemen returning from the Middle East. Throw in the fact that we had some fascinating news about expansions to two of our biggest supermarkets, an RUH fire, the build up to Bath City’s big FA Cup match and so many other stories that put the whole team on full alert and that really was a week where I can feel even more proud than usual of the small but dedicated team who do everything they can to give you the best possible newspaper, website and Twitter updates.

Of course, we can only produce the news service we do by the fantastic support we receive from you all as our readers and this gives me one of those rare chances to say thank you for that. We care passionately about our community and because you also care passionately about how your community is represented this ‘teamwork’ means we can hopefully always rise to the occasion on weeks like the one we have just seen.

I was out talking again on Friday, November 25, this time to a group of students at Kingswood School about journalism. And one of the points I made to them is that this is a job where you never quite know what is going to happen next and that is why it is so hard to answer the question ‘what is your typical day’.

And next week? I have no idea.

John Cleese is a comedy legend. Discuss.

2011-11-28T09:57:00.001-08:00

This originally appeared in the Batrh Chronicle on November 17 - the night John Cleese switched on the Bath Christmas Lights

Tonight, thousands of people will line the streets of Bath to see the comedy legend that is John Cleese officially kick off Christmas in the city at the lights switch-on.

It is easy to throw around the word “legend” but I think the instantly-recognisable Mr Cleese deserves the term because he has genuinely touched everybody’s funny bone at some point in his career. And with comedy being every bit as subjective as music and art, that is no mean feat.

For many of us, of course, Mr Cleese will always be the tall spindly-legged one from the greatest comedy team ever assembled – Monty Python. Legions of teenagers have discovered Python and made a lifelong pact with them, and few groups of men of a certain age cannot do verbatim impressions of pet shop owners selling parrots, Yorkshiremen explaining how tough their lives were or people trying to stay optimistic while being, ahem, crucified.

And yet not everyone got it. No siree. For every Python devotee you can always find a nay-sayer, a non-believer for whom the knights that say Ni were just, well, silly (which, of course they were, which is the whole point). But silly without being funny. And from my experience (limited I grant you but stick with this) most of them were female. Monty Python is, I believe, predominantly a male manuscript of funny. And if you don’t agree with me I will hit you with a big fish while standing next to a canal.

So, to some heretics Monty Python wasn’t a feast of hilarity, so Mr Cleese & Co couldn’t be “comedy legends”. But then came Basil Fawlty. Trying to find someone who didn’t find that funny should be as hard as finding someone who thought a rat was a hamster or a chef who is fresh out of Waldorfs. Often voted the best sitcom of all time and repeated as often as the weather forecast, Fawlty Towers made our light switch-er-on-er a national treasure.

Our man’s status as a comedy legend was therefore sealed in that Torquay hotel reception – but if you are still not convinced then I give you the films. Aside from Python’s big screen outings (which are their best work anyway) I offer you the twin peaks of A Fish Called Wanda and Clockwise, two beautifully crafted, expertly written movies that were both funny and intelligent – something sadly which is often mutually exclusive.

Among all that – and I haven’t even mentioned the books, tours, film cameos or, er, AA adverts – there is something for everyone and that is why I feel we have something quite unusual in front of us tonight – a man that has probably made every single one of us laugh at different times. And how many other people, past or present, can we truly say that about?

Of course, I am sure none of this debate about his status means a fig to Mr C and he is just happy that he can still make people smile. But in a world where none of us seems to agree on anything, to have someone do their bit for Bath who is so universally admired and respected and whose work will be making people laugh when we have all sang our last Always Look On The Bright Side of Life chorus, should give us all a warm feeling, no matter what the temperature is tonight.

So what is the new 'is the new'?????

2011-11-28T09:53:00.001-08:00

This originally appeared in the Bath Chronicle on November 17

I’m sure we are all aware of that strange but now well-worn cliche where people describe something as being the ‘new’ something else.

We’ve all heard phrases such as ‘brown is the new black’ and ‘staying in is the new going out’ and just a quick check on the internet revealed other such curious uses of the term such as ‘green is the new red’, ‘Bono is the new Pope’ and ‘climate change is the new fat’.

No, I don’t get them either.

However, as readers of this column/blog will know, I’m not worried about rehashing cliched phrases so I’m going to give you two more ‘is the new’ phrases to add to your library.

The first is one I heard on the radio recently when the boss of Marks & Spencers was talking about his company’s latest financial results. He said that their range of meals for two had done particularly well because “Saturday night is the new Sunday lunch”.

His argument is that as society has changed and the traditional Sunday lunch where all the family gather around a table has become less of a permanent fixture, many such communal eating gatherings are now on a sofa on a Saturday night as we consume The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing along with our chicken and steak.

And I think he may have a point. The Sunday lunch ritual was once as clearly defined in my grandparents’ household as a religious observation and the idea of my nan, for example, not having a highly traditional roast with the family around at almost exactly the same time every single week was as unheard of as, well, an X Factor without someone saying “this means everything to me . . .”

So is Saturday night the new Sunday? Not quite I think. But perhaps not far off.

However, I am prepared to offer you my own ‘is the new’ based on my reflections of last week. And that is that in the UK now Hallowe’en is the new Bonfire Night.

When I was growing up, the anticipation for November 5 was enormous. Everybody talked about where they would be – be it at a major organised event such as the excellent one at The Rec at the weekend or in the back garden with a few sparklers – and Guy Fawkes night was a big, big occasion. Hallowe’en? A side show ignored by all but real witches I imagined.

Now, however, the tables are turned. I can’t remember a quieter build up to November 5 than this year (although it was with some gratitude that we didn’t have to hear people setting off fireworks for weeks before the big day). OK, the night itself still seemed lively enough but compared to November 5s of old it felt as if the flame was going out.

And yet look at Hallowe’en now. For weeks supermarkets had been selling all kinds of ghoulish outfits and large packets of mini chocolates for us to distribute to trick or treaters and you get the impression youngsters have really circled October 31 as their big autumn date now with good old November 5 as a mere dessert on the menu.

Ah well let’s just hope some things never change. Let’s hope no one says something ‘is the new Christmas’ and also that no one ever claims that anywhere ‘is the new Bath’.

Jim fixed it so none of us knew him - but we all knew his work

2011-11-04T01:33:00.000-07:00

It is said that everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news that Princess Diana had died. In fact, I suspect that all of you who are reading this, just had that image flash into your mind. And depending on your musical taste and age, I imagine the same could be said for some about hearing of the demise of John Lennon, Elvis Presley or Michael Jackson. Some deaths, especially when they’re cruelly premature, are as defining a memory as that person’s life.

In years to come, however, I suspect not everyone will be able to instantly recall the moment they heard that Sir Jimmy Savile had passed away. I was in the car heading to Bath and although I immediately stopped and rang my partner to tell her, I didn’t give it too much more thought at the time.

Strangely, however, as a I read various tributes over the ensuing days, I started to think more about Mr Savile because I realised that he was one of those very rare creatures that we all thought we knew but none of us really did. At all.

The legendary DJ was a remarkable self-publicist and for many decades his face and his catch phrases were engrained on the public’s consciousness. We all thought we knew exactly what ‘good old Jim’ was like but the reality is none of us really had a clue.

And that’s what makes him such an intriguing personality – in death as well as in life.

As I read some of the things he did during his 84 years, it reminded me a lot of my favourite character in my favourite film – George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life. In that movie George is given a chance to see what life would have been like if he had never been born and it was truly astonishing for him to realise (and for us to realise in our own lives through him) just how many people we touch during our relatively brief time on earth.

Jimmy Savile’s life touched thousands of people. Yes, he ‘fixed it’ for lots of youngsters to meet their heroes in his long-running show and yes, we will always remember his Top Of The Pops appearances and his radio work but his real ‘work’ will surely be that through his actions he helped to raise an estimated £40 million for Stoke Mandeville Hospital.

He used the fame he knew he had to publicise the causes he supported and to raise as much money as possible. And if it meant at times that his bizarre behaviour and outlandish look made us all secretly mock him, he didn’t mind as long as we were still putting our hands in our pockets as we did so.

Jimmy Savile was a genuine one-off, a genuine British eccentric. A man who did so much caring work yet claimed to have no emotions and no close friends and someone who kept all his mother’s clothes after she died and had them dry cleaned annually. He was an odd character in every sense of the phrase but a character he was nevertheless and if you ever doubt that he deserves to be remembered, I suggest you pay a visit to Stoke Mandeville Hospital and see what one eccentric can actually achieve.

Oh and can I ask people not to make Jimmy Savile jokes now? That means you and you and you.

Sign up to my (pointless) epetition

2011-10-31T02:09:00.000-07:00

Today, ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to join me in helping to change Government policy.

No, I’m not standing for election but I have just submitted an e-petition to the Government and if 99,999 of you join me, its contents could be debated in Parliament.

And the subject of my e-petition?

To abolish e-petitions.

The reason for this stems from last Monday’s vote about the EU referendum. I don’t have a view on the referendum one way or another to be honest but I do have a view that we were conned that we could get ‘our causes’ properly debated.

The reason there was a vote at all is because the Government (rather naively) said that if 100,000 people could sign an e-petition on any subject, it may end up debated in the House of Commons.

And so it duly happened on Monday as we saw 81 Conservative MP’s – including our own Jacob Rees-Mogg – rebelling against their Government and voting for a referendum. It didn’t mean the vote was won, of course, but if nothing else it gave Mr Rees-Mogg a possibly one-off chance to be associated with Che Gueveara and James Dean as a modern day rebel.

The serious point behind this, however, is that it proves that the Government doesn’t really want to debate the subjects of your e-petitions. 100,000 plus people asked for a referendum vote, 80 Tory MP’s risked their own careers to support the venture but the three main parties all stamped on it. A vote of success for e-petitions? A genuine act of democracy?

Neither of the above.

The truth is the whole e-petitions concept is nonsense. It isn’t about encouraging democracy, it is paying lip-service to it and I wonder at the end of the whole five years of this Parliament just how many of these on-line petitions will actually change policy.

I suspect it will be somewhere between none and zero.

After the vote I went onto the e-petition site and found a mind-boggling 426 pages of them. There were dozens of pages where just one solitary person had signed the petition – including one calling for financial help for spectacle wearers, one calling for a tax on bad rap music and one, from a no doubt frustrated 16-year-old, calling on the Government to scrap algebra from GCSE Maths.

As well as these slightly more, ahem, fringey ideas, there were literally hundreds of others about more serious issues, any of which I believe with a big viral campaign could actually generate 100,000 signatures if there was enough will. It’s all a pointless exercise.

It’s pseudo-democracy.

So, I decided to do something about it. Last Wednesday morning I sent my own e-petition off to the Government entitled ‘Call to stop pointless e-petitions’. It took all of about five minutes to fill in and I’ve now submitted it to the Cabinet Office and will await to see if it is taken up.

Frankly, I’m not completely convinced it will be but if it is it only takes one more person to agree with me and I will already double the tally of that algebra chap.

If you would like to support mine or any other e-petition can I suggest you head for http://www.epetitions.direct.gov.uk/. And remember – together we can (not) change things.

STOP PRESS - Since putting this article in the Chron last Thursday (and having at least two whole people promise to sign up in a positive avalanche of support) I have heard that the Government won't accept my petition asd its aims wwer enot clear enough. Yep, I guess something called 'Call to stop pointless e-petitions’ is pretty misleading!!!!

An interview with Adam Ant - king of the anthill

2011-10-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

(This is a longer, more in-depth version of my interview with Adam Ant than the ones that appeared in both the Bath Chronicle and Somerset Standard and Guardian on Thursday, October 27).

Adam Ant is definitely a man who has experienced the true highs and lows associated with the entertainment industry.

In the early 1980s he was probably the biggest and most instantly-recognised pop star in the country with his singles regularly racing to the top of the charts and his fashion copied by thousands of wannabee youngsters. In addition his picture adorned the walls of millions of teenage bedrooms and his videos were as eagerly awaited as the next James Bond film.

The creator of Ant Music was truly at the top of the ant hill.

Life was good.

And, although the initial Smash Hits inspired satuaration coverage inevitably calmed down as he left his Ants behind and went under his own steam, he continued to make exciting, evocative music and seemed comfortable in his new skin as a respected solo artist.

Then, however, it all went terribly wrong.

As the pressures of trying to live up to the commercial demands of his industry took their toll, he sunk deeper and deeper into an over-riding depression and ended up being sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

It was a terrible time for the former King of the Wild Frontier but thankfully those dark days are now behind him and he is now back, stronger, happier and healthier than ever before and on Thursday November 10th he kicks off a major nation-wide tour with a warm up show at the Cheese & Grain Frome on Thursday, November 10 before he hits Bristol the following evening.

And back on stage is where Adam knows he belongs.

“To me it’s all about the audience - getting out there and playing your hour and a half. It’s great you know.

"I play all the catalogue, dropping in a couple of new tracks from the next album and up to now I’ve been spending time just trying to get those songs right. They’ve all been created in the studio and are difficult songs to perform live. But I’ve got a great band so that’s really all I can hope for.”

Adam knows that he will never be able to escape his musical past – and nor does he want to. So, yes, the show he’ll be putting on will include some of the hits that defined a generation but there will also be lots more challenging tracks and previously unheard ones from his new solo work due out at the start of 2012.

“I’m going to put on the sort of show I would want to see if I was going to see someone that I liked. There will be stuff from my 'growing up' period with early stuff and B sides, latter solo songs and some new material. The hardest thing is actually leaving songs out - we’ve got so many songs now that we could literally play a three hour set if we wanted to.”

Adam’s enthusiasm for music seems as insatiable as ever but he says he feels more focused now than ever because he has total control.

Not only will he be doing the song writing and leading his band but his next album will come out on his own label - to which he has already signed some kindred spirit acts. His aim, he says, is to create something different from the manufactured pop that he sees around him.

“I think the music scene’s bit wide open at the moment, a bit soft. I’m trying as much as I can to show it is all about the song writing and the music - something you can’t get from the charts now because of the karaoke-based kind of mediocrity put up by the likes of Simon Cowell.

"When the current music industry predominantly is run by one person who doesn’t really adjust very well you’re in trouble. There’s not many brave bands out there at the moment who are willing to take a risk."

Although it is the music that drives him, Adam knows that he is as well-known in recent years for his off stage troubles as for the great singles and albums that defined him.

He says he has become something of a poster boy for the subject of mental illness but having experienced a decade of treatment and anti-depressants he says he feels he has a duty to do so to try and inform and educate people.

“With any success there’s always a price to pay. I was 20 when I first started selling albums which was kind of signing your life away. Then they had me on magazine covers, doing several singles plus one album and two tours a year so by the time I took time out to act I was quite relieved to get away from it all.

"I feel a lot of my illness was just down to exhaustion and I ended up not knowing where I wanted to go creatively. You have to be quite fit to produce creatively - you can’t be like a robot. That’s one rule that’s changed now in that I’ve learned to do things at my own pace and say 'no' . That's good.

"This whole area is a subject that comes up in every interview now and I feel duty bound to explain that mental health is not a disease, it’s an illness and it’s a curable one. I’ve finally managed to encourage a couple of high profile friends of mine in the business to try and stage a major television debate on a prime channel at a good viewing time for the public to actually watch and realise that it’s not the end of your life, it’s not a taboo and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

Adam has clearly thought about the issue deeply and he said although he can understand why celebrities suffer from these problems, he thinks it shouldn’t take away from 'ordinary' people who are also going through it.

“I think the problem with lots of celebrities when they’ve done too many drugs or are completely messed up they can go to the Priory and claim bi-polar and that is something I don’t have a lot of sympathy for. I’m more concerned with mums and kids at school suffering either as a result of what’s going on at home or too much examination pressure.

“It seems easier for some people to put those in trouble on the couch with Jeremy Kyle and fill them with a gut full of anti-depressants which turn you into a zombie anyway. Anti-depressants are important in an emergency but they don’t wean people off them and it becomes their lifestyle and that ain’t right.”

Despite everything he’s gone through, Adam now feels he’s in a fantastic position and simply can’t wait to hit the road again – and hopefully see his new album connect with his now very wide-ranging audience.

“I didn’t become a man until I had my daughter and suddenly things got a lot more serious. I see myself as very fortunate now. I’m as healthy as you can be and that is important as you need a lot of physical and emotional stamina to go on stage and have 30 songs in your head and perform them differently every night. But I love it”

Adam Ant is clearly a man on a mission. He wants to entertain and excite his audience as much as ever and the fact that he’s managed to overcome some huge hurdles in his personal life will only make all those that come to watch him at Frome and elsewhere appreciate even more the man who really put the music into Ant Music.

Doors for the Frome show oepn at 7.30pm and under 14s must be accompanied by an adult.

Tickets cost £26.50 in advance or £30 on the door.

To book tickets call the Cheese and Grain box office on 01373 455420.

Sam Holliday

A (tv) licence to kill your patience

2011-10-20T00:52:00.000-07:00

It has often been said that I’m not the easiest person to get a hold of.

As I am often flitting in and out of my office or attending meetings and events (and I’m certainly not one of those people who has their mobile phone surgically attached to his body) I have been told that getting hold of me can be difficult at times. But, compared to one leading agency I’ve encountered this week, I’m as easy to contact as if I stood in Milsom Street with a sandwich board reading ‘Here I am, come and talk to me.’

I’m in the process of helping with a house move which has involved contacting all kinds of different people to change direct debits, addresses etc. etc. By and large it has been a successful, comfortable venture – until that is I came up against the seemingly humble TV Licensing people.

The first thing I did to try and make changes was to look up the TV Licensing agency on the internet to find a telephone number to call them. However, this was my first mistake.

If you want to find a number may I suggest that you don’t go on their website because no matter how hard I looked I could not find one. And no, none of the questions I wanted could be answered by their “sample questions” (i.e. the-save-us-having-to-talk-to-you-section) and I didn’t want to be engaged in an email exchange. All I wanted was to speak to a normal, functioning human being.

With the website alone you had no chance.

So, I Googled ‘TV Licensing phone number’ and was directed to three different companies that all wanted to charge me quite a lot of money to talk to them. Eventually, I did track down a free (?) number because someone who was obviously equally frustrated had asked one of those online questions sites how to do it and so I rang this number and hoped this would be the end of the problem.

As if.

I had committed the cardinal sin of not having my TV licence number to hand and so therefore every time I tried to get through the Berlin Wall of recorded messages before I got within touching distance of an actual homosapien I was met by a very nice voice informing me that they “didn’t understand what I wanted to do”. I stood my ground for seemingly ages before eventually being redirected to another set of options, which in turn led to another set of options and then a final set of options before I finally got to speak to, yes, a human being.

Sorted? Well, no.

This gentleman, although very helpful, couldn’t do what I needed over the phone and suggested I went to the website instead (no!!!) or wrote a letter.

So later in the day having finally unearthed my TV license I caved in and went back on the oh-so-helpful website again and despite all my hopes that this would be the end of the story, the site kept informing me that amidst all the information I had correctly keyed in there had been a mistake. I then retried loads of times before eventually being informed I could do no more as my application was now in process. So no mistake then at my end after all - but as I wrote this I still don't know if the simple changes I needed to make have gone through. Result? Utter frustration.

What all this told me (apart from the fact that the TV Licensing’s cuddly ads about how easy it is to sign up to enjoy the Beeb is funnier than most of their comedy output) is that you really cannot beat the simple system of ringing someone up and talking to them directly. Virtually all the other agencies/utilities I’ve dealt with do it – why can’t they all realise it is the only way?

Oh well, I suppose I could just try living without a TV and radio. But how on earth could I ring to tell the licensing people I wanted out?

Blogs - people really do read them you know.

2011-10-17T06:04:00.000-07:00

Like I suspect many of you, I enthusiastically kept a teenage diary outlining all the details about my life, my loves (or to be honest lack of them) and my record collection.

I would ramble away in my diary for hours at a time, safe in the knowledge that no one else would ever read what I had committed to paper. The day my diary actually died was when I showed my girlfriend at the time what I’d written, and realised at that point on that I could never be truly honest again because I may have to tailor my thoughts to any future possible readers.

Nowadays, however, I suspect most people don’t bother with a pen and paper diary, they blog online instead. Blogs, of course, are very public which seems to fly in the face of the privacy of a diary but as there are millions of them out there, you probably feel quite safe that the only people who are going to find your material are those that you are happy to share it with.

Or so I thought.

At the end of 2008 I set up this blog which I called Bath’s Big Ed mainly as a way for me to collate my weekly Chronicle articles in one place in cyberspace. I initially told a few people about what I was doing (many of whom probably dipped in once and never returned) and I’ve also advertised it a couple of times in my weekly paper column but, by and large, I always thought that my blog was something mainly for me but I would be happy if a few people occasionally stumbled on it.

However, a couple of weeks ago I had a shock.

My blog providers – Blogspot – have now come up with a great new system to monitor your web traffic and I can only express my amazement that in the less than three years or so I’ve been committing things to my blog, it has been viewed 10,400 times.

Now in the grand scheme of things (and when I think of how many people read our paper for example), that’s not a huge number but I’m still genuinely stunned that so many people have found their way to the blog – however inadvertently.

The amazement continued when I saw where the audience was from. More than 4,500 viewings came from this country but that immediately told me that nearly 6,000 didn’t, which is crazy when you think most of the things I write about are focused on the Bath area. The most popular countries after the UK are the US and Germany but then comes three countries about which I’ve never written a word – India, Ukraine and Russia.

Odder still, further delving into my blog stats showed that in the last week alone two viewings were from Iran and one from Finland. Eh?

What this means oh reader (whether you’re in-print in Bathwick or online in Bangladesh) is contrary to what you may think people do read blogs – even with millions of them out there.

As a tip, the really well-read pieces seem to be those that have strong key words so if you do have a blog and want to increase your readership in either Burnley or Borneo, then that is the area to concentrate on.

One thing’s for certain - I really am glad I didn’t blog my teenage diary. For those of you who do/did – beware!

The Leaders' speeches - you have to walk the walk as well as talk the talk

2011-10-06T01:32:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday afternoon our esteemed Prime Minister stood up to make what was possibly his most eagerly-anticipated and listened to speech of the year – the leader’s address to his party.

The annual spectacle of our party leaders making these keynote speeches has long been among the most talked about political events on the calendar. And, as someone with a fascination for all things politics, I’ve spent more time than I dare to admit over the years watching, absorbing and analysing the speeches of the bosses of our three main parties.

We are told (and of course it is right) that politics should be more about principles than personalities but the truth is in a modern media-obsessed world, it is how people say things as much as what they say which has impact on a population largely bored with the whole political arena.

Get it right and you can truly change people’s perceptions of you and your party – get it wrong and you have 12 months to regret it.

A truly great political speech can, of course, stay in the mind for years after. I can still remember the dramatic moment when Neil Kinnock almost began the path that would lead to New Labour by taking on Militant in an exhilarating speech. I can recall vividly the moment David Steele told his Liberal colleagues to go away and start preparing for Government (and at the time it seemed like an entirely credible thing to say). And I can also remember the famous moment when Margaret Thatcher told a delighted audience that she was “not for turning”. All great, defining moments in great, defining speeches.

And, of course, there are the not-so-great-moments. I can still recall feeling a certain amount of sadness for the decent but over-promoted Iain Duncan Smith when he told us not to underestimate the quiet man. In reality we were absolutely right to do so. I also still wince when I think of the awkward embarrassment of Gordon Brown’s attempted jokes (remember the cracker about him being more interested in the Arctic Circle than the Arctic Monkeys?), and who can forget Tony Blair’s “sweatgate” speech when virtually everything he said was almost literally drowned out because he sweated so much it looked like his shirt was still in a washing machine.

To be fair though, Blair was a man who really could deliver a leader’s speech and, whether you liked him or his policies or not, you could see that he became a master of his lectern craft. I also rather liked John Major’s understated but eloquent approach to his big speech and Paddy Ashdown used to bring a smile to my face because he came over as a man with passion and principle – but humour too.

And what of the current lot? Well I think David Cameron is a very good, impressive speaker (although I doubt this week's speech will be in an all times great list) and I thought his Coalition deputy Nick Clegg, not always the most accomplished behind the mic, gave one of his better speeches this year as he sought to calm some of the nervousness among the faithful.

As for Labour, I do think that their leader Ed Miliband still has some work to do. I can’t help feeling Labour got the wrong brother – they wanted Noel and ended up with Liam. What’s the story – electoral non-glory?

Of course, as I say this isn’t (and shouldn’t be) a beauty competition, but the truth is the public now want the “complete package” in a leader. Sadly these days they have to walk the walk as well as talk the talk...

So, are you Downton or Spooks?

2011-09-29T02:29:00.000-07:00

In days gone by, facing a ‘TV schedule clash’ was a very serious business.

If there were two television shows you desperately wanted to see (and Betamax video recorders hadn’t been invented let alone Sky+), then you simply had to miss one of the programmes. It would often cause fury and debate within the national press as people let off steam about those horrible, faceless TV schedulers who had so little respect for people’s viewing habits. How dare they!

Of course, nowadays this shouldn’t happen. Most people have ways of recording two or even three shows at the same time and many people almost ignore the TV schedules now and record shows to watch when they actually want to.

Even so, there is still something about watching a programme at the same time as you know others are watching it, particularly if you know it will be the subject of the office, school or bus stop conversation the following day.

In recent years that particular ‘what to watch’ battle has been fought mainly with Strictly Come Dancing and X Factor – the big Saturday night battleground –- but now those pesky schedulers have done it again by plotting two of the most engaging modern TV dramas up against one another in the normally genteel 9pm Sunday slot.

For, as you will have seen from debates in the press and on the radio, we are still capable of getting angry when two highly-watchable shows go out at the same time and that is certainly what is happening at the moment with the battle between the modern day Upstairs Downstairs – Downton Abbey – and that wonderful spy feast Spooks.

Although both shows have been criticised for not being completely accurate in terms of the scope of the areas they cover, what unites them both is they are just great fun and real ‘talkabout’ TV.

Downton is glossy, colourful, bright and expensive to look at (all of which makes it something of a surprise that it is on ITV) while Spooks has been a genuine televisual feast for many years now and has made us all feel safer in our beds knowing that Harry is protecting us from all those nasty people in the world.

On the surface these two shows are very different but they have attracted similar audiences – and hence people who are angry about the scheduling – because they share the qualities of good writing, good production values, good acting and good story telling.

We may have more television channels than we’ve ever had but that doesn’t necessarily mean we have more quality – both of these shows are exactly that and that’s why we care about them both.

So far in the great battle I’ve gone for watching Downton ‘live’ and Spooks the night after but as the latter was utterly brilliant this week, I may be tested again when Sunday night arrives.

Of colurse nowadays TV is not something many of us watch all the time as we may have done in the past but what this shows is we still do make an effort to watch or record things that interest us. We have all become television schedulers now – and you could argue we’re better at doing it than those whose actual job it is.

Fighting against The Vinyl Countdown

2011-09-22T02:27:00.000-07:00

There is nothing more annoying than middle-aged people (OK, men) grumpily saying that things were better in the past and citing boring examples to back up the point. And, so, if you truly believe that, then I’m afraid you may need to start reading another column quickly.

For, although I still don’t believe I’m middle-aged (47? I’m only just getting started!) I fell back into that Grumpy Old Men nostalgic trap again at the weekend when, while clearing out an attic, I laid my hands again on the glories of my vinyl record collection.

Yes, despite the fact that I haven’t had a record player for at least 15 years, I have kept the absolute cream of my vinyl record collection which is covered in dust but also, crucially, smothered in happy memories.

Encouragingly, while once you were considered a dinosaur for even talking about vinyl, the format has had something of a comeback. Thanks to DJs on the dance scene particularly, young people no longer look totally bewildered when you talk about ‘records’ in that way they do when you wax lyrical about Tiswas or Aztec bars.

Indeed, you may be heartened to hear that vinyl is regarded as being on the rise. Last year in America an improved tally of nearly three million shiny bits of plastic were sold. This may sound impressive until you realise that this is in comparison to 325 million album sales via a CD or digital format.

Still a way to go then!

As someone with a large CD collection and a healthy enthusiasm for digital music, I’m not going to pretend I don’t see the huge advantage of both formats but I truly believe that vinyl was just so much more, well, fun.

Vinyl looked, smelt and felt different. There was nothing better than carrying home a 12 inch record, placing it on the turntable and then reading the sleeve notes and lyrics that were in more than the three point font size on today’s functional but unlovable CDs.

Last week I revelled again in those delicious big gatefold double albums like The Clash's London Calling and marvelled again about the wide variety of coloured vinyl, picture discs and even odd shaped records that I never got round to throwing out. My precious unthrowawayable Stranglers vinyl collection alone is littered with such items (a burger shaped disc for instance!) and all theoe multi-coloured joys seem ironic considering this is a band famous for just one colour - black, the true home of vinyl.

But it wasn't just the look of records that made them superior to today's formats. What vinyl also gave you was a greater understanding of the rhythm of an album and the mechanics of putting it together. One of the sad things about CDs is that they take away any concept of a ‘side A’ or ‘side B’. Among the joys of vinyl was hearing how an artist mixed and matched the songs so each ‘side’ felt complete and had the right opening and closing tracks.

You may be surprised to learn that the best-selling vinyl album in America last year was Abbey Road by The Beatles. In a way that does make perfect sense because that is a classic example of how well put together a record can be. Side two had a seamless quality that made it so different to side one. On CD you just don’t ‘get’ that as much.

But, perhaps most importantly to me, I really think vinyl (far more than CD and far, far more than digital) acts as a wonderful calendar of your life.

As I picked up a particular album last week I could almost instantly remember where I was when I bought it, how old I was and what was going on in my life. In future if all we ever do is download from the computer the ‘where’ in that equation is instantly forgotten.

A grumpy old man? Maybe. But vinyl was better wasn’t it?

Empty Nest Syndrome begins..

2011-09-18T05:35:00.000-07:00

To have one child leave home in a week might seem unfortunate. To have two looks pretty careless.

But that’s the situation I have faced this week as my two (and only) children both headed off to university – a situation faced by hundreds of local parents over the next couple of weeks who will be waving their hankies as their beloved youngsters head off to a brave new world.

On Thursday, I hurtled up the M5 to take ‘Child A’ off to Liverpool. A long day was then followed by an even longer one on Friday when I had a day full of meetings at work and then on Saturday it was back on to that pesky M5 again to take ‘Child B’ to Derby.

Although I’m immensely proud of them both and pleased they got positions in a very competitive year for university places, I was also very well aware that the moment I started to begin the whole 750 miles of back and forth travelling I would begin to suffer the first pangs of the phenomenon known as “empty nest syndrome”. This is traditionally only usually associated with mothers but a report recently showed that many fathers can also get hit by this dramatic change to their lifestyle. And I am under no illusions that if only ten per cent of dads suffer from it, I will be that one in ten.

The reality is as we all know from being parents – or even from being children of course – your relationship with your offspring changes all the time. Now, at this age, I’ve got into a wonderfully comfortable relationship with both my children where they are friends as much as family members and the thought of losing two of my best friends as well as my two closest family members over a 48-hour period seems pretty depressing.

Of course people tell me it’s not as bad as in the old days as we can communicate so much better now by texts, mobile phones and lovely inventions like Skype. But the truth is – and I have to admit to being exactly this type of person when I was a student – when you’re away and your life starts to become so much more involved with new-found friends and new-found towns, talking to the folks back home does not necessarily become priority numero uno.

The temptation to constantly text and email may initially be quite strong on my part but I suspect it is a temptation I will have to resist because the one thing above all that university is supposed to give is independence – and if you don’t give your children independence when they go to university, when can you?

But, of course, that won’t stop me worrying. Will they eat enough? Will they make friends? Will they like their accommodation? Will they like their new city? Will they like their university? Will they be able to survive on their limited budget? And, how come I’ll probably be spending more money on them when they’re in another county than now when they’re just in another room?

The truth is I guess we never stop worrying about kids whether they’re five, 15, 25 or, dare I say it, 55 or 75. It is what we are programmed to do but I can’t help thinking that to have two of them leave at the same time is probably too much for one doting dad to cope with.

Ah well it is only three years.

Pass the hankie.

It's the end of the holidays....

2011-09-18T05:34:00.001-07:00

Bath, and I am sure Britain as a whole, felt a bit like the passenger pick-up point outside Bristol Airport this week.

I was there on Tuesday night picking up my daughter and three of her friends who had just come back from ‘Costa Del Nightclub’ after a week-long break which I prayed was nothing like The Inbetweeners Movie.

All four of them were in very good spirits on the night – but many other people I saw clearly weren’t. For while I was waiting for the dancing queens to return, I looked at the faces of other people who had arrived back in the UK, saw them staring out bleakly at the driving rain and high winds and felt their pain. They looked brown – but browned-off.

That sense of disappointment is, I suspect, how a lot of other people felt this week as we all collectively realised that the holiday summer season was now well and truly over. And if we did need reminding, what better, crueller symbol could there have been than the clouds opening and pouring down on those poor youngsters trundling back to school for the new term earlier in the week.

Wimbledon? A lifetime ago.

The best thing about having a holiday is not only the event itself but the anticipation of it so, conversely, the worst is actually coming back and waiting at that pick-up point knowing that the party is over for a while at least.In the office this week, for example, it was the first time for more weeks that I can remember that most of the team were back at their desks. But it was also noticeable that as and when people returned from their breaks, one of the first things many started to do was to think about the next one.

Holiday forms were filled in, calendars stared at and people started counting how many days they had left from their allocation. And that is amongst a bunch of people who by and large love their work – I can’t help wondering how much tougher PHB (my newly-invented Post Holiday Blues) is for those for whom every work day is a virtual trial.

Of course people will always say that they don’t get enough time off but the reality is Britain is actually not bad in terms of its annual holiday allowance. Most people in the UK are allowed a total of around 33 days off including Bank Holidays which is, on the downside, somewhat less than countries such as Brazil, France and Russia which all pip the 40 mark. However, spare a thought for countries such as China and Singapore, which only get in the 20s and even more so, perhaps surprisingly, for the USA where 15 days is the average holiday with a few Bank Holidays thrown in. And worse still, pity our poor old Canadian friends who get only ten statutory days off plus nine public holidays. Imagine those bleak Canadian faces at the pick-up point in airports in Toronto and Vancouver . . .

Ah well holidays over – what’s next? Why, we have Christmas to look forward to now of course. Pass the travel brochures. Quick.

Mark Kermode - is there a Good Doctor in the house?

2011-09-07T09:08:00.001-07:00

One of Britain’s most outspoken, entertaining and best-loved film critics will make a welcome return to Bath on Monday night to talk about his passion for everything to do with the cinema.

Mark Kermode – known to his legions of fans as ‘The Good Doctor’ – has become, for many people, the first port of call about whether a film should or shouldn’t be seen as a result particularly of his highly-popular Friday afternoon Radio 5 Live show with Simon Mayo. The show recently celebrated its tenth anniversary and such is its popularity that the station devoted a whole series of programmes to mark the occasion.

On Monday night, however, Kermode will abandon the studio and take centre stage at the Little Theatre in Bath to talk about his latest book – The Good, The Bad And The Multiplex. And, although he’s famous for his never-ending stream of comments and conversation, it is a night where the audience are very much going to be part of the proceedings…

“What I do is talk for 45 minutes about stuff in the book in a free form way and then I do 45 minutes of questions which is always different every night.

“For me that’s the best part of the evening, the bit I enjoy most. People always raise stuff that’s interesting and that is an extension of the radio show which is very much dialogue between us and the listeners. I would say something, they would reply, email and tweet – it’s all a very interactive thing which I like. So in a way, when we’re doing the radio show it’s kind of like doing it in front of an audience anyway.

“Doing it on stage people just ask you questions directly, people are very up front, people ask very interesting questions, they’re happy to take to task and say you’re wrong about this, you’re right about that and that’s what I enjoy most. The first 45 minutes is meant to be entertaining, it’s not just me standing up and moaning, but I like the second half even better.”

Kermode’s Bath show is part of an 18 date tour around the country talking about his book. He did a similar set of dates to promote his previous book – It’s Only A Movie – which also saw him appear at the Little Theatre and he said that even though he thought he thought he knew what sort of questions people would ask him he was nearly always surprised.

“The funny thing is you think you can anticipate it more than you can – but the truth is you don’t know what’s coming,” he said.

“At first I found that quite worrying, quite a scary thing but then it became very exciting.

“One person might say ‘I saw a Swedish movie in 1975 and the only thing I remember is that it had a bloke who had a bat – what was the movie?’ I would have no idea of course so I might ask ‘does anyone else have an idea’ and a bloke in the audience might pop up and say ‘I know, I seen that – it’s called A Bloke With A Bat’. That’s what happens. I really like it now; you genuinely don’t know where the questions come from. People argue with you and question you – and I like that”.

Kermode’s forthright views on the cinema are well known and loved by his followers and he’s particularly famous for his occasional on-air rants. If you ever want to see examples, just try and look up his rant about the Pirates Of The Caribbean or Sex In The City 2 to see him in full critical flow.

However, he is not just interested in what actually appears on the silver screen – he is passionate about every aspect of the industry he loves. For instance, he is touring mainly at small independent cinemas – he says he really liked The Little last time he visited – and that is why bigger, multiplex cinemas are something he may not instinctively feel as comfortable with.

So, is he against them?

“The idea that I’m against multiplexes in general is like saying I’m against supermarkets,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with them in principle, it’s what happens in them and around them.

“Here’s an analogy. If you live in a small village, which I do, and you have a small grocers selling organic veg and along comes a supermarket, well you think great if I want to get my processed food there it’s open until 11pm at night and I can get Air Miles but I can also get my veg at the same time. All very well but anyone who lives in the village knows that if starts competing with the village shops it will put it out of business.

“On the one hand with the multiplexes they’re for many people they are the only thing. Multiplexes over the last ten years particularly due to the 3D revolution have started to treat cinema performances like they’re not real performances. You don’t need a projectionist – you just press go.

“The cinema auditorium has gone from being a place that was close to the theatre in terms of the way in which people would treat the films, properly projected, properly manned auditoriums, watched by an audience who were respectful of the movie into basically a big front room with a video screen and that’s not cinema.

“I keep saying that multiplexes keep firing their projectionists because they don’t need them anymore but it is so sorry to see a big building which doesn’t have a projectionist but does have a confectionery counter. That’s not a cinema – it’s a sweet shop.”

Considering ‘The Good Doctor’ is such an authority on film and has to see so many for his weekly show with Simon Mayo, he admits to having been on a summer detox where he was determined to try and free his mind. He thinks this will be a good thing in the long term.

“The only two things I saw when I was off was Mr Popper’s Penguins which I saw at a nice cinema in Truro and then Super 8 and I’m going to see Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes on Thursday. I literally had four weeks out of the loop so I could detox, I had finished writing the book and the book had gone to the printers. We’d gone through all the tenth anniversary celebrations with Radio 5 and I just needed a break so I just literally spent the four weeks watching nothing other than those two films I mentioned.”

So, if you want to try and catch Kermode out on Monday night then you have a golden opportunity by asking about films that came out in the summer. But be careful – this is a man who famously gives as good as he gets. And you can bet he now knows all about that 1975 Swedish film of the bloke with a bat…

One thing, however, is certain. If you can get a ticket for the Little on Monday or pick up The Good, The Bad And The Multiplex, then you are in for a roller coaster ride of entertainment that will probably be far better than the vast majority of films you will actually see this year. And oh yes it will certainly be better than the awful Sex In The City 2.

How I faced the Tebbit test when Bath faced Tamworth

2011-08-31T09:27:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, in Bath, I was asked by two different people, if I was struggling with the ‘Tebbit test’.

For those who don’t remember, former Tory hard-liner Norman Tebbit said that all those people who move to a new country should, in effect, support their adopted home in sporting terms as a sign of commitment to their host nation.

I always thought that this was hokum as I have friends and relatives in countries such as Australia and America who love their new abodes but are still fiercely pro-British. And so if they are allowed to ‘fail’ the test why can’t those people coming into the UK?

However, the question of split loyalties was what I still faced in a sporting sense on Saturday when the wonders of football saw me attend a match featuring the team of my adopted community, Bath City, against the team from my home town who I have followed for decades – Tamworth FC.

It has been said that men are more likely to change their wives than their football teams but I’ve always believed that when you arrive in a new area you should at least try and support the local clubs – without, crucially, abandoning your original ones.

It meant that on arriving here I immediately became a Bath Rugby follower (although that is easy as I didn’t have a rugby club before) and I duly adopted Bath City as my local football team.

But, on Saturday, as Bath ran out against Tamworth, I realised that you can’t change your heart and although I stayed as neutral as possible throughout and cheered chances at both ends, I knew that ultimately you can’t ever leave your true sporting love.

What I also realised – as I’ve always passionately believed – is that football at non-league level really is a joy and I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Twerton Park as much for the camaraderie and fun amongst both sets of supporters as for the action on the pitch.

As someone who began his association with non-league football by selling programmes at Tamworth FC’s ground and then spending more than a decade reporting both home and away on the club for my old local paper, I had the pleasure of travelling all around the country and meeting so many people whose main passion for their home town was manifested in their local football team.

The grounds weren’t always beautiful (and the football certainly wasn’t) but there is a real spirit about grassroots sport that makes all the shenanigans of the multi-millionaires in the Premiership seem like a different, and far less pleasant, world.

So, my overriding thoughts about Saturday’s game were all positive. I realised how much I liked and admired Bath City and their fans and I realised again that, once the seed of love for a team is planted inside you, that love never dies. As the chant goes Tamworth FC 'I'll love you til I die...'

You’ll notice, incidentally, that I haven’t mentioned the score of Saturday’s game and that is because I genuinely think I was the only person in the ground who didn’t care who won. Put simply, I just didn’t want either side to lose.

So did I fail the Tebbit test? Possibly.

But did I remember again how much I love non-league football? Definitely.

A-level and clearing stress - and that's just for the parents

2011-08-25T02:23:00.000-07:00

Today, Thursday, August 25, hundreds of thousands of children will be receiving their GCSE results and I truly hope it is a triumphant day for as many of them as possible.

And what I also hope is that even though some people may be disappointed with their results, they don’t feel quite so stressed as many of us did last Thursday when those A-level results became public.

If using the word ‘us’ seems puzzling when you know that I am, ahem, 30 years older than the average A-level student, then that is because, as many thousands of other people will testify, getting GCSE results (and even more so A-level ones) can be just as stressful for the hapless parents as for the youngsters themselves.

Allow me to explain my story as I’m sure it is one that was mirrored throughout the UK last week.

As I mentioned in my column/blog last time, my son picked up his A-level results this time last week. He would have preferred to do a traditional gap year but despite the powerful arguments against worrying about the increase in tuition fees next year, he just didn’t want to face the extra debt. So, if he got his grades then he was going away next month.

Simple.

Or so it should have been.

For, sadly for him, although he got very good results, he missed out by just a single grade for his chosen course and it meant last Thursday was about as stressful a day as he has yet had to deal with in his tender years as we entered the minefield known as 'clearing' .

The problem was there were thousands of people like him who wanted to try and apply for one of those clearing (i.e. 'spare') places available - far, far more than ever before because of that tuition fee angst - and every single one of these students needed to get advice about alternative courses from the same UCAS website.

But as the demand was unprecedented the site duly crashed. Big time.

For many anxiety-ridden hours no-one could get on the site and thousands of youngsters around the country – some of whom of course were also trying to deal with the disappointment of not getting their first choice – had to battle with both their emotions and their computers to try and find a solution.

In the end, he got a solution thanks to older technology (The Daily Telegraph listing available courses and then the use of the humble telephone) and he found a great alternative course. I then watched relieved as I saw the wounds of earlier gave way to a new excitement about a different course in a different part of the country.

But of course the stress didn’t end there. On being told he had his place he was then told there was no accommodation left so we then had another scramble to find somewhere for him to live which is always, in my opinion, a fairly important part of student life.

By Saturday it was all tied up and I took him on a seven-hour round trip to see his new university for the first time and sort out his accommodation. It was a stressful, hectic but triumphant few days.

So, I say congratulations to all our successful students and give advance warning to all parents of 17-year-olds. Take the day off on the Thursday of the A-level results next year because you just might need it.

Oh and have whiskey handy.

Is old the new young? What is the 'golden age'?

2011-08-24T04:18:00.000-07:00

What is the best age to be? What truly is the ‘golden age’ of life?

In the past, I suspect, this would be a question where most people may have come up with roughly the same answer – the optimum age to be would probably be your late teens/early twenties when you are at your fittest and strongest and you have your whole, exciting adult life ahead of you.

But, nowadays I’m not so sure people would say the same because the things that we do at different ages are changing all the time – and so are our attitudes to the numbers on our birth certificate.

In the Bath Chronicle of August 18 alone we featured the remarkable George Harding who, at 75 years of age, has climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, hiked along the Great Wall of China and ran the London Marathon in recent years. And a couple of pages on we featured the brave Hattie Minch who did her first-ever sky-dive at the tender age of just 83.

In years gone by such feats from the older members of the community would never have been considered and it backs up a new perception concerning age that, as Marie Dressler said, “it’s not how old you are – but how you are old”.

And what about the other end of the scale – those apparently golden years of 18-plus? Is it really that great these days?

On August 18, my son who was 18 just a month ago, nervously collected his A-level results which will have a huge impact on his future. In truth he would have preferred to go to university next year when he felt more ready to cope, but because of the change in the tuition fee structure, he decided to apply ahead of his preferred time to avoid the huge debts he would otherwise take on.

He was stressed and not sure he was ready – but he didn’t feel he had much of a choice. And let’s face it, he’s one of the lucky ones to even have a possible choice. I wouldn’t defend any of those involved in the rioting and looting last week for a second, but there is no doubt that there are thousands of young people in this country who don’t feel they have the opportunities available to others and see very little to cheer them on the horizon. To them, youth doesn’t seem so golden at all.

If I think back (and it isn’t that long, honest) to when I was in those envied years things were very different. I got on to the college course that I wanted without any of the hassle that today’s students face – and with a full grant to help. When I started work I was quickly able to buy a four-bedroom terraced house with a 100 per cent mortgage for just £23,000 which meant I had a foot on the housing ladder and a genuine stake in my community. Now, people would need £23,000 as an absolute minimum deposit and it’s no wonder we’ve created what has been called the ‘Y’ generation – young people who ask ‘why’ should they bother saving for unattainable mortgages, why not just live life to the full in the meantime and see what happens next?

So for those people bemoaning their lost youth then maybe, just maybe, the situation has shifted now and the real golden years are now 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 and above. Has ‘old’ actually become the new young?

After all, getting older is now seen by many as a blessing, not a curse. Billie Burke said “age is something that doesn’t matter – unless you are a cheese”, while Garson Kaning said “youth is the gift of nature but age is a work of art”. And while we’re in a quoting mood here’s another couple that might help you to feel better about whatever age you are. Jack Benny said “age is strictly a case of mind over matter – if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter”, while Charles Shultz optimistically said “just remember, once you’re over the hill you begin to pick up speed”.

Perhaps most poignantly of all, a nod of appreciation to the unknown writer who said: “Do not regret growing older, it is a privilege denied to many.” Exactly.

The golden years? They may just be the years you still have to come. No matter what age you are now.

A letter from America - or how I came to love the States

2011-08-11T07:59:00.001-07:00

I love this country. Always have, always will. And in light of the extraordinary events this week expressing a love for Great Britain is probably something not many people will be doing today.

However (and in light of the last few days this has never seemed more apt to say) we all know that Britain is not perfect.

No country is, of course, but most have something to offer and that is why travelling abroad is such a wonderful thing. It gives you a great insight into other cultures and helps you to reflect on your own nation and maybe question some of the things we take for granted.

I have just returned from a memorable holiday in the USA and it has had a profound effect on me and my attitude to both our nations.

I was staying with my partner's lovely family in Michigan - not exactly a tourist magnet state - and it gave me a chance to see America as it really is. And I have to say, I came away very impressed.

I suppose like many British and European people I have had a love/hate relationship with the United States. Perhaps more accurately in my case, I used to think that I hated it but now I love it. And the reason for my Saul on the Road to Texas conversion was that I actually went there and shattered some of the myths I had always held dear.

My early anti-Americanism came from being a pseudo-rebellious teenager who was happy to ignore the fact that many of my cultural icons were based stateside (Bruce Springsteen, Woody Allen, the Ramones and Marlon Brando for instances) to harbour the belief that the Americans were basically not a force for good. Indeed, in my old band days (long live The Classified Ads) I even penned the lyrics of an anti-US song with a somewhat ironic title of Brilliant America and I was happy in my safe European home to feel rather superior to our former colonial cousins.

However, having now visited the States three times, I do wonder about what really caused my anti-Americanism because there is so much that is surprising and illuminating about the way they live that I think we could learn from.

For a start, I now really do believe we live in what I can only call 'rip-off Britain'.

Having spent a couple of weeks in American supermarkets and small independent stores, I found countless, depressing examples of how we pay so much more for the same goods as the Americans for reasons that are hard to fathom.

It is not only petrol - which is way cheaper but for which there may be green arguments to say this is not a good thing - but practically everything else on the shelves including brands we know and love which are less expensive and often better quality over there.

All I can ask is - why?

And if you think costs on the high street are cheaper, you should look at the houses on the high street as well. American house prices were always much cheaper than British ones but that gap has widened incredibly because the recent economic crash has virtually halved the value of most US homes. As such the sheer size and quality of a house you could buy for a reasonable sum where we stayed was bewildering. I would estimate you could buy a house in our piece of Michigan for a third of the price of what you would pay in most parts of the UK for a property of similar size.

Another pleasant surprise in the parts of America I was lucky enough to visit was how remarkably clean everything seemed compared to some British cities.

Bath is far cleaner than most places - and I hope the Chronicle's anti-litter campaign last year helped the cause - but in the US towns and cities I visited everything seemed spotless compared to the UK. Public toilets, for example, were by and large incredibly clean and it was a jolt to the system to return to England and use the airport loo to see how different they were from the ones I'd encountered across the pond.

Another intriguing thing was how well-mannered people seemed to be. The Brits have a reputation for being very polite and courteous but in the American stores and particularly the restaurants, the level of attention was as good as anywhere you'd find in the world. People genuinely seemed keen to talk to you, help you and serve you and no matter how complicated your food order, they seemed to take it all in their stride. That was truly refreshing.

As well as being impressed by some of these things, I was also shocked at a few aspects of American life. On one especially memorable evening, my partner's niece, Shae, drove us home from an event on a two hour journey. That is hardly shocking until you realise that she is only 15 years old! Yes, you can drive at that tender age in this part of Michigan but this comes with some interesting restrictions - there must be adults in the car, you can't have more than a couple of teenagers with you and there is a curfew as to when you can drive. It is an intriguing concept and all a far cry from the UK where a 15-year-old driver is a joy rider . . .

Of course as I said in my introduction, no country is perfect and there is certain aspects of American life which didn't appeal. I wasn't keen on the gun culture and seeing the rows of magazines about which weapon you can by for your home 'protection'. And I also found a lot of Americans talked rather too much about people's race and racial background for my liking. In addition many people seemed self-obsessed with the US and had only stereotypical views of other nations. But I shouldn't complain about that last thing. After all I did the same about the Americans - before I went here.

But that apart, my overall impression is that we can learn a lot from our American friends and we are far closer to them than we sometimes care to admit.

The only real sadness I feel this week is that having spent my time praising the UK to our hosts, they will have seen the images of Britain this week and may well wonder if I had been telling the whole truth.

I think I saw the real America while I was away. I just hope they realise they're NOT seeing the real Great Britain this week.

Brilliant America? Not quite. But not far off.

Howdy partners.

A delightful DVD dip into Bath's history

2011-08-11T07:54:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle of August 4

As you may have seen in these pages in recent weeks, a new DVD about Bath's history has been released.

Using the words from the Chronicle's archives as its soundtrack, it features some fascinating photos and remarkable cine film to provide an interesting whistle-stop tour through many of Bath's modern historical events.

I was intrigued watching many of the stories unfold and I was particularly absorbed by the stunning and moving footage of what happened to the city during Hitler's aerial bombardment here. The full colour footage of the wrecked streets of Bath really brought the stories I've read about in our pages to life and I truly felt some of the pain that the city still feels to this day about those tumultuous days of 1942.

I was similarly absorbed by some of the other excellent film footage of a far more peaceful time - the 1960s.

The DVD includes some lovely film around the city in those early days of the supposedly swinging '60s when life actually seemed far less hurried and chaotic than it appears today.
The camera takes us all around some of the streets and areas that we love but what genuinely amazed me was not only how few cars were on the road but also the places where people were allowed to park.

You can practically play a game of 'spot the place where you wouldn't get a ticket today' and, trust me, there aren't many.

What this footage showed was why the subject of transport in and around Bath has been such a hot topic ever since the first automobile hit the Bath streets - and yes, that is featured in the DVD too.

I have no doubt that in those days when the 1960s film was being made, there were letters to this paper about the terrible state of the traffic and yet the roads then seemed about as busy as they would be at 3am in the middle of the week now. The frightening thing is if we've gone from that to what we now see in less than a generation, just how much more clogged up could our roads become in years to come? So if you ever want to understand why people get so het up about transport and transport schemes in this city, then this DVD gives you a real clue.

What is also nice about this new addition to Bath's historical archive is that although it clearly shows that much has changed in Bath over the years, we should be very proud that a lot of things remain untouched and unsullied.

Yes, we had the Sack of Bath but this film shows the city still looks and feels much as it did in years gone by and although there will be times when you will watch the DVD and wish that some things hadn't changed at all I suspect, like me, the number of things that look reassuringly familiar will also gladden your heart.

The film is called Bath The Way We Were.

Are you ready yet for Olympic jamboree?

2011-08-11T03:49:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, July 28.

Today, is July 28, 2011 and I wonder if you have any idea what you may be doing on this exact date 12 months from now?

If you haven't a clue, then perhaps I can give you a few hints?

You could, for example, be at Eton watching rowing. You could also be at Lord's Cricket Ground watching . . . . no, not cricket but archery. Or if you're so inclined, you could be at Horse Guards Parade in London watching beach volleyball.

For yes, whether you like it or not, this time next year all the hype will be at its peak and we will all be engulfed in a full day of action at the start of the London Olympics.

The sheer variety of those sports mentioned above are, to me, what really makes the Olympics so special. If none of those three appeals, then on the same day you could indulge in a spot of fencing, judo, cycling, tennis, boxing, equestrian, gymnastics, volleyball, handball, football, weightlifting, table tennis or swimming. And that's all in just one day.

Lovely.

It's only when I actually looked at that typical day schedule that I realised just how excited I am about the Olympics hitting our turf.

I've always loved the feast of sport that occurs every four years and I love it as much for what it represents as the sport itself. We say that the world is a divided and divisive place but by and large all of this is forgotten when the world comes together for this remarkable jamboree.
Of course, the problems of the world don't go away and the tensions between countries are never far from the surface - whether they are friendly local rivalries or something far more sinister - but over the course of a few weeks it is who wins a running race rather than who wins the arms race that becomes most important to us all.

So I, like many of you who probably also missed out on tickets, will be there next July 28 staring at a TV screen watching sports I don't watch more than once in every four years and cheering on the Brits whether they are handballers (do we even have a team?) gymnasts, boxers or even beach volleyballers - a sport, I hasten to add, that I like purely for the high volleyball content.

And if you are one of those who feels horrified at the thought of your TV screens being dominated by all these weird and wonderful sports for a few weeks then regard this column as doing you a favour. It gives you fully 12 months to book your holiday to run away from it all.

But be warned. I suspect, you won't be able to go anywhere in the world where London 2012 won't be visible. Like death and taxes the Olympics will be impossible to escape from.

Yes, even the handball.

You're hired Tom - but I doubt I would be

2011-08-11T03:44:00.000-07:00

This originally appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, July 21, the week after former Bath student Tom Pellereau won the Apprentice...

Like I'm sure a lot of people with Bath connections, I let out a hearty cheer on Sunday night when one of our own scooped the The Apprentice title.

Tom Pellereau, a former University of Bath graduate, defied all the speculation to win the top prize and become a business partner with the enigmatic Lord Sugar.

The combination of Tom's brains and inventiveness with the 'good' Lord's famed business acumen should make for a winning partnership and it is certain we'll be hearing a lot more from our former graduate in the years to come.

But it wasn't only because of his local connections that I'm sure many people were pleased Tom had won the contest.

In among the usual collection of ego-driven, cliche-ridden candidates, Tom stood out as being a decent and honourable chap who, unlike some of his fellow colleagues, probably wasn't prepared to sell his granny and all her possessions to win. He had a steel that he revealed when needed and never lost his dignity en route. So well done to our Bath grad.

One of the things I like about The Apprentice is that it is the one (and I think only) television programme that truly unites our editorial office. Even people who would normally rather put the proverbial pin in their eyes than admit to liking reality TV seem to really warm to The Apprentice and it is for that reason I've long regarded it as the middle class Big Brother. It is reality TV for those who don't like reality TV.

In our office if you come into work on a Thursday morning the first thing you do is pick up a copy of this excellent newspaper (of course) and the second thing you do is discuss the previous night's Apprentice You can feel like a bit of a social pariah if you missed the edition and there seems to even be a pecking order in terms of your credibility about whether you watched the follow up You're Fired programme as well. Your kudos goes up if you watched The Apprentice but dips slightly if you didn't watch Dara O Briain's excellent sister act show. It's just that kind of television programme - you have to watch it with the same commitment as the candidates.

Inevitably perhaps, because it is a show we all seem to like and talk about at our office, you do wonder if you and your colleagues and friends would do well in it.

Personally, I have to admit, I don't think I'd be a very good candidate. I like to think I have a few ideas, I can work well as a team member and will happily project manage, but I'm not sure if I would really score with some of the practical tasks that are required. In saying that, however, I am pretty certain that unlike in the programme this year, I would know that the concept of popcorn being the new biscuit is ludicrous, that the French do indeed love their children and that you don't impress people who love their pooches by urging them that they want to give their pet a food called Every Dog.

So I'll stick to watching, I think. After all, if I don't I might not be allowed in the office of a Thursday.

We can't defend the News of the World - but we must defend press freedom

2011-07-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

This has truly been a momentous week for the country as a whole as it has been forced to examine – possibly for the first time – the inner workings of the national press and its curious relationship with people in power.
The extraordinary events of the last 10 days, which culminated in the shock closure of the biggest-selling English language newspaper in the world, has had a profound effect on the whole country. And of course particularly on all of those of us who work in the media.
To hear that a 168-year-old institution like the News of the World was to close down forever was like hearing that as of tomorrow Manchester United or Heinz baked beans wouldn't exist. Some institutions just seemed too big to not always be with us.
But, then again, no institution could survive the onslaught the News of the World had last week.
Can I stress straight away that there is absolutely no defence for what some members of staff of the NOTW did a few years ago. It seems harsh that many of the very good journalists who worked on the paper until last Saturday lost their jobs because of the sins of their fathers but the public mood was so strong that the paper simply could not survive.
Some national journalists, I believe, got into the mode, a few years ago, of believing that the public wanted certain stories so badly that they didn't mind how they were sourced. These people conned themselves that the readers probably felt the end justified just about any means.
However, what we now know is that the public does have a distinct dividing line in their mind – and the News Of The World truly, and unforgivably, crossed it. It signed its own death warrant as a result.
In saying all that, however, I think it's only right that a word of caution is brought into this whole, dramatic debate.
In the midst of all the understandable anger that has been created over the past couple of weeks, we must be careful that we don't allow vigilantism to grow against the whole concept of journalism – and especially investigative journalism.
By the very nature of their jobs journalists sometimes have to use all their wit and wiles to dig away and uncover important stories, and if we allow the current hysteria to stop them doing so, then we could be on a very dangerous path indeed. One that could threaten the precious and prized notion of a free press.
As a powerful example, a couple of years ago a newspaper paid significant money to receive documents it shouldn't by rights have had, which led to a fundamental change in modern British life. I'm referring here not to a red top like the News of the World but to the paper of the establishment – The Daily Telegraph.
It took the enormous risk of paying for material from a 'mole' that revealed the true abuse of expenses by our elected Members of Parliament.
Was it legitimate for the paper to have the files it had? I can't answer that – but what I can say is the Telegraph did an enormous service to the public as a whole by exposing this story.
And, to be fair to the New of the World, (not a phrase you've seen much this week), its final edition spoke of the 250 people who are currently behind bars because of some of the legitimate exposés it did.
Journalism may never be the same again and although for local papers like us nothing has changed – we have always adhered to the strictest legal and moral codes – we must be vigilant that politicians do not use this as the opportunity many have long craved to reduce the freedom of our press to uncover wrongdoing and wrongdoers.
The News of the World did a terrible thing and has paid the ultimate price.
But it is vital that investigative journalism is not another victim of their reckless, criminal activity.
So let us use this opportunity to have a better, cleaner, more honest press – but not one whose freedom is undermined.
A free press is one of the most visible proofs that we live in a free society. We must fight for it.
Sam Holliday

Not all newspapers should be in the dock . . .

2011-07-12T00:35:00.000-07:00

This is the leader I did for the Bath Chronicle on July 12 - before we knew the News Of The World was to close

This has not been an easy week for anyone involved in newspapers or the written press.

The terrible revelations about the extent of the phone hacking carried out by the News of The World has left all of us in the press feeling a sort of collective guilt.

Of course we, at the Chronicle may be a million miles away from the 'red-tops' in terms of the way we approach news - and indeed the way we get our stories - but we are all part of the same profession.

As such, when one of us lets the side down we know our industry as a whole can start to look very bad in the eyes of the public.

But, just as one rogue policeman doesn't mean a whole police force is corrupt or one bad teacher means an entire school has failed, it feels only fair, as the attacks on our profession mount, to at least ask that people don't tar all newspapers with the same brush.

As Alaistair Campbell pointed out on the radio on Tuesday night Britain has some of the best and the worst press in the world and we hope that local papers such as the Chronicle are seen very much in the former category due to our absolute commitment to our communities.

Our hopes for this were raised this week by a Newspaper Society survey which showed that the local press remains the most trusted of all media - ahead of television and well ahead of our national colleagues. We have earned this position, we believe, by trying to provide an independent news service week in, week out that fully reflects and celebrates local life.

While national newspapers have political or social biases, we have none - our only bias is towards our readers and their concerns. We believe our papers are built on the basis of mutual respect and trust between ourselves and our readers.

However, we are not complacent and we are always keen to hear from you about how we can improve because we are conscious of the fact that you set us very high standards.

It is our privilege to try and match your standards. Why? Because this is your newspaper.

School Proms? Nah, they'll never catch on . ..

2011-07-12T00:31:00.000-07:00

As with every parent of teenage children these days I have had to become acquainted in recent years with something that seemed totally alien to my own school experience - the prom.

When I was growing up the prom was just some impossibly glamorous American concept where impossibly glamorous young Americans attended a glittering event which was a million miles away from the end of school disco some of us can vaguely remember.

As such when the proms first started to appear in this country I think, like probably a lot of people, I was somewhat cynical about them. And I was pretty adamant that they would be just a passing fad.

But how wrong I was.

Over the past couple of years I have seen my own children go to proms at the end of their fifth form and sixth form (or in 'new money' Years 11 and 13) and we are all now surely familiar with the sight of hundreds of local teenagers dressing up for these big nights out.

My two children certainly approached their proms somewhat differently. My daughter planned hers seemingly months ahead and everything had to be right - the dress, the hair, the method of arrival. It was like a military operation - which seems quite apt as people have been known to turn up to these things in tanks (where on earth did they find them)?

By way of a comparison, my son informed me at the end of last week that he had a Year 13 prom he was going to - and it was in 48 hours. There then followed a dramatic scramble in Bath and beyond to try and find a suit for him. You would think this wouldn't be so hard but it seems every school in Bath and Wiltshire is having proms at the moment and every cheap and cheerful suit was already snapped up by sensible people who probably gave their parents more than a day's notice.

Eventually I did find one - literally the last one in the shop hiding behind many bigger sizes - and my son was suitably suited and booted and ready for his prom night.

The fact that it took place on what I ironically would call a school night means I had a bleary-eyed trip to work the following day after picking him up late but I didn't mind because I know he had a great time. And considering the last time we had been out together he had been practically rolling in Glastonbury mud, he didn't half look smart.

Of course, as I eluded to earlier, this is all light years away from when I hung up my chalk board.

I do have that vague memory of that end of school disco but it is so vague it may just be an implanted memory because it would be sad to admit my school days had ended in a whimper rather than a bang.

To be fair though, discos when you are 16 or 18 were pretty stressful affairs. If I was offered the top prize in this week's Euro millions if I revisited the agonising, humiliating moments of the 'last dance at a teenage disco', I would seriously have to think about it. What an ordeal of tension and unfulfilled ambition that could be!

I dare say that similar agonies happened at all our local proms this week but at least most young people faced them after a good meal and in a nice dress or suit.

And life always seems better after being in a tank.

Glastonbury was muddy marvellous

2011-07-12T00:28:00.001-07:00

Whenever anyone goes on holiday - even if it is to the most culturally exciting place - the first question most people are asked on their return is: "so what was the weather like?"

You may have just seen all the Seven Wonders of the World but to some of your friends and colleagues this will matter far less than the deepness of your tan.

And so it is with Glastonbury.

It may be the world's biggest music festival and it may create a city built on sound for a whole weekend but for many people who go , it is the weather conditions - and most particularly that mud - that people really want to talk to them about afterwards.

And yes I also want to talk here about those weather conditions. And that is because I think the extremes that I saw at the weekend spoke volumes about Glastonbury - but also volumes about Britain as a whole.

And all of it good.

Those playfully extreme conditions meant that on Friday we were virtually sinking into the muddy mire but by Sunday it was a case of how could we avoid getting burnt to a crisp.

The best thing of all from that perspective is that it meant all the stall holders selling their wares at the event benefited - Mr Wellie man was in his element on Friday and much of Saturday but by Sunday Mr Sunglasses and Miss Sun Cream had smiles on their faces too as the conditions changed more dramatically than the music on the ever eclectic stages.

Having only been to Glastonbury twice, I had never experienced the serious mud before and I had privately thought it was all a bit exaggerated. It is not. It felt at times as though you were walking through quicksand and for every one solid(ish) step forward, there were two or three where you risked life, limb and wellie by plunging your foot on to a potentially watery grave.

And yet, despite the fact that this was all hard work, nobody moaned. We may all have been wet, muddy and a bit miserable at times, but the general spirit and almost gallows humour was a joy to behold. In true Glastonbury (and British) style the feeling was we had come here to party - we were all-in-it-together and we might as well just enjoy it.

It was quite inspiring to see.

And that all-in-it-together concept really was true. I was lucky enough to spend some time around the hospitality area but Glastonbury doesn't pander to anyone and I guarantee the mud in and around that area was as thick and as unappetising as anywhere else. I expect you would have to be Bono or Beyonce to have avoided all this - for 200,000 of the rest of us it was a genuine communal experience.

By the time the sun finally did emerge - and its first appearance on Saturday was greeted with roars, most of the bands would have been happy with - it felt as though a collective cloud had literally been lifted off us and from then on it was just fun in the sun.

So, yes it was all a big mud bath and it did rain far too much.

But it was still muddy marvellous.

Handing out my 'Glasto's

2011-07-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

Long after the mud stains have disappeared from the clothes, tents and bodies of nearly 200,000 Glastonbury revellers, it is the quality of the music that will give people the best barometer of how good this year's fun in the (sometimes) sun really was.

There is no doubt that those bizarre weather conditions will still be fresh in the mind of the many people back in their homes and offices this week after their trek to Pilton, but at the end of the day it's the music that counts.

So, how good was it?

To answer that, I hereby present the Bath Chronicle 'Glastos' – my awards for the good, the bad and I suppose the muddy of the whole weekend …

Best performance: It has to be the queen of r 'n' b, Beyonce. The beauty of Glastonbury is that you go and see acts you would never dream of buying tickets for but something compelled me to watch Beyonce even though she's a million miles away from my own musical taste.
And I'm so glad I did.
She looked and sounded stunning and her stage show, her superb all-female band and just the general feel and quality of her performance put her in a difference league to everything else over the weekend.
And, despite the fact that she's been showered with awards and played many, many high profile concerts/events, there was a real sincerity about the way she talked about how happy she was to be there. She made you believe in her and her music. It was some show.

Best song: Fix You by Coldplay. This was an incredibly moving and beautifully staged moment at the end of Coldplay's stylish set where they had dared to play new, first-time material alongside the obvious crowd pleasers. Fix You is an amazingly emotional song and Chris Martin rung every note of passion out of it in a towering performance of the song. The delicious Viva La Vida wasn't far behind either. People were still collectively singing that an hour after Coldplay had left the arena which says it all.

The great but maybe not so great as expected award: U2. I'd secretly believed that U2 would absolutely take the festival by storm and my expectations for them were probably, therefore, unrealistically high.
They certainly turned in a strong and powerful set and it was wonderful to hear a classic old track like Out Of Control in among the hits but maybe because the rain was driving down throughout their performance and the mud was rising to the top of the wellies, the audience just didn't react in quite the ecstatic way I was expecting. And I think U2 sensed that.
It was a great show, don't get me wrong, but I had privately thought U2 would simply rip the place apart and no-one would be talking about any other set. It didn't quite work out that way sadly.

Unexpected treat: I would give this to a band called Two Door Cinema Club. They may have one of the silliest names in music but like many people I was totally wowed by their performance early on Friday morning on The Pyramid Stage. They were simply excellent.

Worst kept secret: Every year two special 'secret' guests appear on The Park Stage which is something of a hike from the main Pyramid arena. It is, therefore, rather a gamble about whether it's worth it. This year the 'secret' performance was announced on NME and everywhere else a few hours before and because it was Radiohead, thousands of people (like me) decided to walk through a sea of mud to see them.
I say 'see them' but the truth is the vast majority of us didn't get to do so because so many people wanted to see the, ahem, secret' show. Not only did I not see them but I couldn't hear them either when I eventually got there because the sound was so terrible. Not fun.

Worst rumour: All day on Sunday people were saying that Beyonce would be joined on stage by everyone from Jay-Z and Kanye West to Destiny's Child and President Obama. In the end none of it was true – the only one to appear somewhat pointlessly was Tricky. Distinctly under-whelming.
The 'has he really played that many gigs?' award: BB King. According to the literature, BB – who played a lovely, luxurious Friday afternoon set, has played 15,000 gigs in his career. He may be older than God but I still think that might be something of an exaggeration because even if he had played a concert every single day for the past 40 years, it still wouldn't be enough. Of course if you have seen all 15,000, then I'd be delighted to hear from you….

Nicest tribute: The normally excellent Gaslight Anthem, who were somewhat hampered by a poor sound on Saturday lunchtime, still deserve major credit for coming on stage to the sax solo from the Springsteen song Jungleland. This was the finest recorded moment by Clarence Clemons who sadly lost his life last week. Poignant.

Best Mel Brooks lookalike award: Paul Simon. After a somewhat mixed set – his African-inspired tunes were certainly better than some of his other rather too laid-back solo work – the thing I will remember most about seeing Mr Simon is how much he now looks like the man behind Blazing Saddles. Are they perhaps related?

Best Fight: The beauty of Glastonbury is even with that many people in the crowd, signs of aggression are as rare as unicorns. And yet who needs crowd trouble when you have Plan B? They finished their punchy set with a punchy finale as they staged a mock fight which was a bit livelier than it might have been. Arrest those men, GreenPolice!

Most irritatingly overused name award: Alan. People always lose each other at Glastonbury and you can often hear people shouting for their friends.
Every time someone did this at the weekend it was hijacked by everyone else shouting for Alan, which after initially being very funny, after the 50th time, made you want to smack the first Alan you met.

So, there you have it, my first 'Glastos' to celebrate a great Glasto. It was an event I thoroughly enjoyed not least because, for once, I think all three headliners deserved their elevated slots. After this tickets for the next Glastonbury (2013) will be as eagerly sought after as Alan.
Sam Holliday

My interview with John Cleese about Bath, his tour and sausages.

2011-06-29T05:14:00.000-07:00

This interview originally appearted in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, June 16

There are many reasons why people say they love Bath and choose to make their home here.

The architecture, the history, the sense of community and the sheer variety of the city's cultural offering all feature highly when you ask people what brought them here.

For Monty Python legend John Cleese - who is about to embark on a five night stint at the Theatre Royal - many of the factors already mentioned come into play. But so too do sausages. Or at least a particular shop that sells them.

"One of the things I love about Bath is that although it isn't a very big city, it has some wonderful shops, " he enthuses

"You go into a store like Jolly's and you see people who've been doing the job for 30 years and really know their stuff and take care and attention with everything that they do. And then you look at the shop like The Sausage Shop and realise that it's a masterpiece of its kind. There can'tbe better one like it in England and I love it. You also have a jewellers like Mallory's which is such a classy, impressive place but is still very friendly. A shop like that in London would be really snotty but not here in Bath. These places are run and staffed by the Somerset people that I've grown up with and feel at home with and I really love being here as a result," he said.

It is not, of course, only the lure of shopping that has brought the 71-year-old star to the city. He has fallen in love with jeweller Jenny Wade and together they have a home on Royal Crescent. It is near the Royal Crescent hotel - a world famous hotel and one which is a million miles away from the now equally famous Fawlty Towers which bought Mr Cleese such rich comedy pickings in the 1970s.

Cleese says he currently only lives in the city for up to three months of the year for tax reasons. That is because he is currently towards the end of paying nearly $20 million in alimony to his American ex-wife and there are complicated and costly tax implications in altering his current arrangements. It is the reason why he unashamedly calls his one-man show The Alimony Tour as the proceeds will help him to pay off his huge cross-Atlantic debt.

"I do talk about my divorce in the show and the money I need to raise and that is why it was originally called The Alimony Tour. I think there's certain elements of relationships that must remain confidential but there are a lot of things that all people can relate to which is why I am happy to talk about it.

"I still need to pay $4.5 million to my ex-wife and I have to think about that a lot which is a shame because money is not and never has been my main motivation. To be honest if I was asked what is my favourite thing to do it is definitely writing. The only problem is there is not much money in it which is why I have to do all the other things such as touring, doing shows and travelling around. Still I am very busy and at the age of 71 I can't really complain."

Despite the fact that the winter cold is very much a turn off for the actor, he will definitely be in Bath on November 17 to switch on the Christmas lights as exclusively revealed in the Chronicle last week. It was an offer he said he couldn't refuse because despite those wintery shivers he said the Christmas he enjoyed in the city last year was second to none.

"I am delighted to have been asked to switch on the Christmas lights and I know this has become a very big thing for the city. I had the best Christmas I'd ever had in Bath last year thanks to Jenny and her family. They went out of their way to make sure I had a great time - and I did. So I am really looking forward to the switch on and having the chance to meet more local people," he said.

Switching on the lights will be the latest opportunity for Cleese to show his obvious public affection for his new British home. But what else - apart from those sausages of course - is it that appeals to the comedian about Bath?

"I love Bath because it feels familiar and comfortable and the people here are warm, friendly and open. They do take an interest in you which is nice but they are not too intrusive with it.
They're always polite when they recognise you and I feel comfortable with that as opposed to having people come over thrusting their hands at you and demanding a handshake. When that happens 20 times a day - especially if you are in the middle of a conversation - that is very intrusive. In Bath it doesn't seem to be like that - people just seem to be a lot more respectful."

It is because of all these reasons that Cleese is so pleased to end his tour at the Theatre Royal with five consecutive nights from Tuesday June 28 to Saturday July 2. So what can Bath people expect on those nights?

"The show starts off with a couple of minutes about the alimony and then moves into some autobiographical stuff before going through my career. It obviously focuses on the points that people remember most such as Monty Python, Fawlty Towers and A Fish Called Wanda but I also enjoy talking about some of the lesser known things that have happened in my career and the people I have been lucky enough to work with. The audiences have seemed to really enjoy it all so far which is very encouraging."

For a man who has been part of some of great comedy ensembles to be actually performing as a soloist could have been daunting. But over the years he has started to really enjoy the challenge and the fact that he is always warmly received is the best killer of nerves that he knows.

"I have worked in teams a lot so when I first started just doing one man shows it was quite difficult, especially as I wasn't sure how people would react to me. Now I feel far more confident because in a sense the audience has pre-selected themselves. They wouldn't want to come and buy tickets to see me unless they were interested in what I had to do so I always receive a good reaction when I come onto the stage and that sets things off to a fine start."

Although there are plenty more international one-man shows to come Cleese had always planned to finish the tour in Bath and the appeal of the Theatre Royal is not just that he can walk home from the show afterwards but that it is, for him, a perfect venue. Along with his former Python colleagues, Cleese has appeared in some huge shows but given a choice between appearing at a packed stadium or in a small theatre there is no question which one Weston-Super-Mare's most famous export prefers.

"I'm really looking forward to playing at the Theatre Royal because it's the kind of intimate theatre which I really enjoy. I couldn't imagine ever doing a large scale arena with my solo show because I like to have contact with all the audience and some of the best shows on my current tour have been to the smallest capacity venues.

"Eddie Izzard is a friend of mine and he told me how much he loves playing those stadium shows but I can't imagine going out in front of 10,000 people and having the same kind of impact as I hopefully can have in a place such as the Theatre Royal. That is why I'm going to do the official DVD of the tour in Bath because I wanted to record it in a venue that suits the show. I am already looking forward to it."

Tickets for the Theatre Royal show are now available and selling fast but if you aren't lucky enough to catch one of those nights then don't forget Cleese will be on stage in Milsom Street for the Christmas lights switch event on November 17. Oh, and before then you can probably also catch him in The Sausage Shop at some point.

Off to Glasto - but no longer as a 'virgin'

2011-06-29T05:07:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, June 23 - the day before Glastonbury.

This weekend I am off again to indulge in Somerset's biggest annaul party - the Glastonbury Festival.

I say 'again' because this will be my third annual trek which means I can now, thankfully, shake off the much sneered at 'Glasto virgin' tag while not yet, sadly, being able to join the league of those oh-so-cocky 'Glasto veterans'.

However, ex-virgin as I may be, from the feedback I received from writing about my pre-Glastonbury fears over the past couple of years I know there is likely to be the odd first-timer reading this now.

They will be looking for reassurance that they have made the right decision to risk life, limb and dodgy toilets for the sake of a bit of music played out in a farmyard.

Well, if that is you and you are looking forlornly at your camping gear and constantly checking the dreary weather forecast, then can I just say, 'relax'.

You are about to have a ball.

A muddy ball perhaps - but a ball nevertheless.

However, I still do know where those fears are coming from.

I remember as a camping first-timer - let alone a Glasto one - sharing my anxieties a few days before my first Glastonbury two years ago. I was convinced that I was the wrong age (40something) and, well, the wrong type of person (don't ask) to lie around in a field of mud no matter how much I was tempted by the music.

But, lo and behold, on my first visit I soon realised Glasto's greatest asset - it's total freedom. This means there is simply no such thing as a 'wrong' person for this party. And that is because:

It is impossible to be too old.

It is impossible to be too young.

It is impossible to wear the wrong thing.

No one cares a fig what you look like, where you are from or what you do.

No one cares a fig for anything other than having a good time.

The toilets are excellent.

And only one of those is a lie.

Of course, for all of us going down the no doubt jammed roads towards Pilton it is the music which is the greatest magnet of all and the festival has really pulled out the stops this year to get some top-class performers on the bill.

But, and I can't stress this enough, what will make the trip for so many of us is that Glastonbury is about so much more than what comes out of those speakers. Someone once told me you could enjoy Glastonbury without even seeing a band - I would not have believed it before but I do now because this is a multi-faceted event which provides a unique bonding experience for virgins, veterans, et al.

Oh, and if you are a first-timer and you are really worried about those legendary Glastonbury toilets, then bear this in mind. If you don't like one loo then there are no fewer than 3,224 others to try. Fear not.

So, on with the wellies.

And on with the show.

Yes you CAN write that book. Ask Moira.

2011-06-29T05:03:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursdsay, June 16.

It is often said that there is a book in everyone. That is probably right - but what is said less often is that in most cases it is a bad book. Just because everyone could potentially write a book doesn't mean that everyone should.

Despite that, there is no doubt that many of us dream of one day walking into a local bookstore and seeing our name on the front of a fiction or non-fiction bestseller. It must be one of the most commonly daydreamed ambitions we all share.

And that is why it is always a joy when you see someone's dream realised - and tonight in Bath I will get a chance to do just that.

When Moira Young first joined us here at The Bath Chronicle as a PA we all immediately warmed to her. Witty, intelligent and full of ideas she added a real spark to the room and it wasn't long before she said that, happy as she was to be working part-time for us, her real energy and passion was devoted to writing good quality children's fiction.

She told me she already had a good story in her mind and thankfully her tale was slowly coming to fruition on the page as well.

Over the weeks, Moira revealed more and more about her potential book and I could usually tell by her mood how it was going. She poured a lot of herself into it and agonised when it didn't seem to be going as she hoped. This book clearly meant a lot to her and she was determined to get it right.

Well, she did.

And how!

For as you may have read in theses pages previously, when Moira put her work of teen fiction 'out there' it created a virtual stampede from publishers.

It was snapped up for release in a number of countries and the fact that, in an almost unprecedented way, the legendary film director Ridley Scott said he wanted to buy the film rights for this (an as then unpublished work by an unknown author) only accelerated the general excitement for the work.

Now it is finally out and tonight Moira will find herself in Waterstone's here in her hometown Bath, signing copies. Lovely.

I am thrilled for Moira and I hope she goes on to huge success but I hope her tale also enthuses and excites lots of other people that if you do have a dream you should pursue it.

That applies to everything, of course, but I am particularly addressing all of those who think they have that book in them.

I am certain that applies to so many people, including many who have never admitted it to another soul.

Of course, not everyone can have their books published and indeed not everyone will get remotely near finishing the books they may start with great enthusiasm.

But some people will - and some people will get published.

And if you don't believe me then ask Moira. Ask her tonight at around 6.30pm when she is signing copies of Blood Red Road at Waterstone's.

Every epic journey requires that first step and every book requires that first word.

So what are you waiting for?

Write away.

Right away.

The joy of being a talent judge. An unbiased one of course.

2011-06-29T04:58:00.001-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, June 9.

Talent. It's such a small word but it is one as we have seen both locally and nationally recently which is incredibly subjective.

There is no scientific method of defining if one person is more talented than another and that is why anything that constitutes a talent show brings with it potential controversy and debate aplenty. That should be all part of the fun of course - although not everyone sees it that way as I will explain .. .

I have been lucky enough to have helped judge two talent competitions in recent weeks - Komedia's Bath's Top Talent contest and last Thursday's Song For Bath finale and both interestingly were in the same week as the Britain's Got Talent finale which itself filled acres of newsprint.

What united the verdict in all three competitions is that not everyone agreed with the end result. And that is fine. How boring would it be if we had?

Take the wonderful Song For Bath contest for instance.

I was one of a panel of judges that helped select the superb winner, The Golden City by Charlie Groves. It was one of ten songs in the final, all of which I think could easily have won. But after a totally fair and independent judging process we emerged with a victor and felt confident we had hit on a real, deserving winner.

However, by Monday morning our website featured a handful of critical comments from people querying the result.

The word "fix" was used because a couple of the judges had connections with the winner. The fact that between the judging panel we probably had connections with most of the losers as well seems to have been overlooked. Someone knew someone who had won - so it must be a fix surely?

Well, no.

The winner won because he had written the best song. And as such I think it is a shame that people who didn't agree with the verdict just could not accept that not everyone can have the same opinion.

As I've mentioned before in this column, due to the nature of my job as editor I have judged many kinds of events and contests and you may be surprised at how often genuinely arrived-at decisions are later queried or moaned about .

I can fully understand the disappointment of people that don't win who think they should - our newspaper has been up for some awards we didn't win and I have probably mumbled a few criticisms myself - but I always think that if you are happy enough to accept the plaudits of victory, you should be prepared to deal with the probably more frequent examples of defeat too. It's called life.

So I want to end this on a more positive note because the two local talent competitions I've helped judged recently have both been of a fantastic standard and they have proved that yes, Bath has got talent in all shapes and sizes. I've seen choirs, jugglers, comedians, rock acts and singers of all ages and it has been enormous fun to watch.

And, having sat through several tortuous hours of the Britain's Got Talent programme last week, I think we have got more genuine talent here than virtually anywhere else.

Or, perhaps, I am just biased?

How I nearly fell out love with football...

2011-06-01T07:00:00.001-07:00

There are not many things in my life which are cast-iron certainties but one of them is that I love football. Always have, always will.

Or, so I thought . . .

For, as the last ball of the season was kicked this week I realised just how much the past football season had actually passed me by and I wondered if I was alone among my fellow footil fans in feeling this.

The reason I think that this has been a season that I will happily forget almost instantly is that although I still regard this as the sport of sports and a truly beautiful game, the occasional ugliness it produces has really put me off.

For this, I don’t blame the teams that I follow myself – Nottingham Forest, Tamworth FC and now Bath City if you’re asking – but the game on a much broader level. It has totally tested my patience this year.

I think it was the World Cup that first started to dent my usually never-ending love affair. Like so many of my generation who are too young to truly appreciate what 1966 meant, I have had my hopes and dreams smashed and shattered so often by our national football team that I am amazed why I still keep believing.

So, at least year’s World Cup even though I wasn’t as wildly optimistic as in previous tournaments, I still harboured the secret belief that England could go against 40 years of evidence and win the big pot. The fact that they didn’t wasn’t really that much of a surprise but the way half-hearted multi-millionaires timidly screwed up my dreams in a ball and kicked them into the South African sun left quite a mark on me.

I watched our final German capitulation in the sun at Glastonbury and a quiet voice said in my ear me “never again. It’s not worth it”.

As the season duly began my enthusiasm returned a little bit – particularly watching the ultimate David’s (Blackpool) taking on the obvious Goliath’s – but then the world’s stage intervened again and the appalling way that England’s genuine and honest bid to host the 2018 World Cup was dismissed for all kinds of reasons (none of them footballing) made my enthusiasm sink again.

To see Prince William, David Cameron and David Beckham smiled at by people who then stabbed them in the back made me think that football was sinking. And this week’s Stalin-esque ‘one man one vote’ reappointment of the always disgraced candidate in the election for FIFA President hardly helped. Football? Pah!

But......

Just as I was beginning to think that my love affair with football was going to struggle to ever reach its previous heights, I saw two things this week that reminded me why I loved it in the first place.

I was sad to see a British club lose in the Champions League final on Saturday (and that is being honest, I am no stereotypical 'anti United' bore) but I felt nothing but admiration and respect for the Barcelona team that beat them. They truly played beautiful, inspiring football. Now THAT is what I call football I thought. And then on Monday the somewhat more humble Swansea – who also try to play football the right way – became our ‘new Blackpool’ and proved that unlikely dreams can come true in this splendidly infuriating game. Hallelujah.

So, England’s multi-million pound flops, FIFA and Sepp Blatter you nearly did it.
You nearly made me fall out of love with football.
But you failed.

Roll on next season.

Learn how to Skype or write a sitcom? Why not!

2011-06-01T06:38:00.000-07:00

Learning, we are told, should be a lifetime experience. It should not end when we finally kick off the chalk dust from school or throw the graduation cap into the air. We should, instead, aim to be learning new skills for the rest of our lives.

Crucially, those skills do not always have to be career-enhancing, they can also be life-enhancing and that is why we need educational establishments that have got the nerve and imagination to give us opportunities to learn those things we may not even imagine can be taught.

And that is why I would recommend you all to take up a bit of light reading this weekend and get a copy of the Love 2 Learn prospectus which has just been released by the City of Bath College.

In this fascinating book you can find full details of the very serious courses that can help to grow (or change) your career including accounting, building, electrical engineering, plumbing, teaching et al. But, beyond that, there are hundreds of other courses which will fire your imagination and give you an opportunity to indulge an interest or a passion alongside like-minded individuals.

For, in a commendably bold move, our innovative college has invited many local enthusiasts to teach courses in subjects that go beyond the traditional academic scope. Fancy learning how to get started on Facebook? There’s a course for that. Want to learn about helping your baby to sleep or understand- ing the terrible two’s? Yes there are courses for that. Or how about learning what it’s like to be a member of an air cabin crew, how to drum, how to Skype, how to lip-read, how to cook the perfect mousse, how to taste whiskey (and no that’s not as obvious as it seems!) or even (and I have to confess this really appeals to me) how to write a TV sitcom.

Yes, courses in all of these and more are now available at the college and before people start screaming (and sadly one or two already did on our website when we told them about this story), this isn’t costing us the taxpayers a penny. For all the leisure courses you have to pay to be on them – and they will only happen if enough people subscribe. Simple.

Personally, I think this whole concept is laudable because we all want to learn new things and meet like-minded souls and colleges should be there to provide a service to the whole community. And this is certainly what Bath is attempting to do via this exciting and dazzlingly varied new programme.

Not convinced? OK, I urge you all to pick up a copy of the book and I would almost defy you not to find something that would interest you. There are courses that last just for a few hours right through to vocational ones that last several years but there really does seem to be something for everyone – including, and perhaps most importantly of all, those people who may well have thought that school and/or college had nothing more to offer them and couldn’t really teach them anything new.

Right, I’m off to fill in my application form. I look forward to joining my fellow would-be sitcom writers on March 10, 2012.

A sensible reason to do a crazy thing - climbing Kilimanjaro

2011-05-18T07:55:00.001-07:00

Every so often a charity comes along that really captures the imagination and far exceeds its original ambitions.

Live Aid was a classic example of a cause that raised millions of pounds – as well as a great deal of awareness – and now the Help For Heroes charity has done exactly the same.

I was reminded of the remarkable impact of this charity on Tuesday morning when The Bath Chronicle business breakfast featured Chris Kane, a solicitor from Withy King, who explained how he and 40 other people (the majority of whom are from Bath) will soon be heading to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro.

Chris had been recruited to the trek by Bath Rugby favourite David Barnes and it was clear that the motivation to support Help For Heroes was one that has really spurred him on.

The reason Help For Heroes has been such a phenomenal success – and phenomenal is not too big a word as it has raised nearly £100m in just under four years – is that the charity has no interest in the rights or wrongs of wars and conflicts but cares passionately about the young men and women who are sent away, in our name, to take part in battles and often come back seriously injured.

The Government does do a lot to help, of course, but to give these people the first class treatment they truly deserve requires vast sums of extra money – and the public has seen that and responded.

Chris spoke very eloquently about the charity and its work but, as so often happens, it was the power of the images he showed in a special film which really told the story. We saw young men – some of whom looked barely old enough to vote – bravely coming to terms with losing limbs or being scarred for life.

These physical images were easy to convey but what the film also highlighted was the huge psychological damage conflicts can produce. This was a fact most vividly brought home when Chris revealed that more servicemen and women who fought in the Falklands have committed suicide since that conflict than died in the war itself.

Help for Heroes was set up by South West couple Bryn and Emma Parry to help every one of our returning serviceman, and so each time someone puts a pound in a box it can help make those folk realise their sacrifice was not in vain.

So I wish Chris, David and all the rest of their team every success on their epic journey which begins a fortnight today in the heat of Tanzania.

For all of them it will be a life-changing experience and I hope they take comfort from the fact that it could also be a life-changing – and possibly life-saving – experience for many of the servicemen and women their superb efforts will support.

Find our more about the climb at http://www.axawealthclimb.co.uk/, follow its progress on Twitter (@axawealthclimb), or sponsor Chris at www.bmycharity.com/ kilimanjaroJune2011.

In praise of Bath's civilised politicians

2011-05-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

Politics, as we all know, is just like sport.

It is incredibly tribal and relies on warring teams battling it out, putting the boot in and arguing over every decision before one team emerges victorious and the others complain, sulk and blame everyone else but themselves.

So there really is no difference between sport and politics is there?

Well, nationally perhaps that is the case. But, I think, not so in Bath.

For, during the election, I think I saw evidence that Bath really is an example of how you can have a very civilised, mature political debate.

I joined the Chronicle team at the count for the B&NES election for an entertaining evening that didn’t end until around 5am and I was very impressed by what I saw and heard especially as I have been to some pretty lively counts over the years and seen some extraordinary sights. My favourite was when I was in the Midlands seeing a newly-elected lady screaming at her husband “you promised me I would lose!” after she had been unexpectedly elected for a deeply-unwanted four-year term because of a shift in national public opinion. It was a moment that amused many of us – particularly those who knew she wouldn’t be our councillor.

Last Thursday night, however, in the surprisingly calm confines of the Guildhall, there was no such hysterics – just a very dignified finale to what has been, for the most part, a very dignified election campaign.The reason I think we saw this was because all the parties emerged with something.

The national pundits had said that the Tory/Lib Dem parties would lose thousands of seats as voters took their revenge on the Coalition. In B&NES, however, the script hadn’t been read and you could argue (as I’m about to try to do) that nobody really lost.

Despite having apparently unpopular policies to do with transport and Culverhay, the Conservatives suffered only a minor reverse and many of their candidates increased their own personal votes. Labour did well also to have a candidate in every seat in Bath – which is not fertile ground for them – and they had respectable results in most wards. And the Greens also shone – taking third place in some areas and proving they are a genuine force to be reckoned with locally.So if the Tories, Labour and the Greens had reasons to be cheerful, then even more so did the independent voice (well done to June Player on her spectacular victory) and especially the Bath Lib Dems.

On a night where, particularly in the north, the Lib Dems seemed about as popular as Al Qaeda, in Bath they produced a result that had the phrase “bucking the trend” stamped all over it. Their performance as a party – and that of several individual councillors who greatly increased their vote – was remarkable in the national context and must have given the beleaguered Nick Clegg some comfort on a night when he had precious little else to cheer.

Of course, not everybody really won – someone has to run the council after all – but I think Bath itself did because this was a real war but with very little blood spilt.

Civilised. That’s what it was.

Why I'm glad cassettes are still in the mix

2011-05-04T08:40:00.000-07:00

In these days of major technological advancements – where it seems yesterday’s new invention can be obsolete by tomorrow – it was very refreshing to hear that the recordings of Friday’s Royal Wedding service will be available in a number of formats. Including, to my delight, the humble cassette.

Aah, the cassette. What lovely memories many of us, of a certain age, have of that small plastic box in its C30, C60 or C90 formats which opened up a world of possibilities for those who loved their music.

The truth is the cassette was never able to compete with its much stronger rival for purchased music – the lovely big vinyl record – but it really came into its own as a way of allowing people to create their own music and their own “albums”.

Of course, now we live in a digital arena where people can create all kinds of playlists on and off line and where the i-Pod can provide unlimited opportunities for opening up your musical collection, but just a few short years ago the cassette was the only game in town. And oh how we loved it as a result.

My earliest memory of the joy of taping was when my older sister received one of those small cassette recorders as a present. Initially the excitement was being able to use the portable microphone to hear your own voice played back (as an aside, has anybody ever thought their recorded voice sounds like the one that comes out of your mouth?). But once that novelty had passed, you saw that the real strength of the cassette recorder was to be able to tape music.

I’m sure there are whole generations of people, like me, who sat and listened to the radio – particularly the run down of the Top 20 on a Sunday evening – with their finger poised over the pause button ready to just record the songs that you particularly liked. It was never an exact science – the cunning radio DJs at the time knew exactly what we were doing and would talk over the intros to stop us pinching their precious wares – but it was a real thrill to record music from the radio and capture the tunes for free.

This then developed into creating (and I suspect I’m talking more to the male reader of a certain age) what we all lovingly called “the mix tape”. This is when you plundered your album collection and picked out tracks that fitted a certain mood and put them on to a tape that could be called upon for a particular circumstance.

You could have your “I’m angry with the world and need something loud” tape, your “I’m feeling reflective and need some nice songs” collection and, of course, (and this is what the cassette was really invented for) your “love tape”. This would be for songs when you were falling in (or out) of love during that bizarre teenage period and of course it could be the tape you even gave to your partner to show the depth of your feelings.

So, I’m delighted that the cassette lives on still – and I hope this Royal Wedding “love tape” will be one that will be cherished almost as much as the ones we did ourselves.

Prince will party like it's...1981!

2011-04-28T01:33:00.000-07:00

I am sure we all occasionally experience that rather drowsy ‘half and half’ early morning feeling when you think you are awake but you are not actually 100 per cent sure that your wakefulness is not just part of a strange dream.

I had this experience on Tuesday morning when part of my brain was telling me I was awake but the other half was saying “OK, if you are awake then how come the news is being read by Angela Rippon and the sports bulletin by Dickie Davies from World Of Sport?”.

The moment, however, I heard that the legendary Mr Davies was talking about Arsene Wenger rather than Big Daddy I realised that it was the radio which was going mad – and not me.

For yes, Radio 5 Live was having a 1981 day complete with 1981 presenters as part of its pre- royal wedding celebrations.

This rather odd idea was evidence to me that after a somewhat muted early public reaction, the excitement levels for tomorrow’s royal wedding have really started to rise over the past week or so.As the big day has got ever closer so the level of interest in the event has grown and it all now points to being a spectacular day which will be enjoyed by millions – possibly even billions – across the globe.

In some ways I think the rather under whelmed early reaction to the day was all quite understandable. A couple of the so-called ‘fairy tale’ royal weddings in the 1980s didn’t exactly, ahem, have a happy ending and the fact that we live in challenging economic times has also made some people a little wary of celebrating such an expensive public event.

However, I hope that at 11am tomorrow, all of those doubts will be put aside and the nation will come together as one to enjoy watching the sort of spectacle which Britain does do better than anyone else.

Of course despite the radio’s best efforts, 2011 feels like a very different time to when Charles and Diana stepped out onto the balcony. There doesn’t seem to be as much bunting around and if my mind serves me well, I’m pretty certain the shops had far more royal pre-wedding memorabilia in those dim distant days than it does now. As I recall there wasn’t a house in Britain that didn’t have a tea towel or a mug bearing the faces of the happy couple but such items seem far less prevalent today.

That doesn’t mean, however, that tomorrow won’t capture the imagination. Even a few people of my acquaintance who have feigned total disinterest admit they are quite interested to see what ‘Kate’ may be wearing or which celebrity appears at Westminster Abbey. As such, I think watching the royal wedding will be a bit like watching Big Brother or reading The Sun –- far more people will do it than will ever admit to it.

So, whether you’re having a street party, attending Bath’s Picnic In The Park, having friends around or just having a lazy morning in front of the TV, I hope you have a right royal day on Friday.

And of course best wishes go to the young couple – I truly hope that the rain will stay away from the man who will one day reign...

Judging talent contests and the odd buzz from being booed

2011-04-20T08:47:00.000-07:00

At about nine o’ clock on Thursday night there is a very good chance I might be getting booed.

This is because I will, once again, be one of the three judges at the latest round of Komedia’s Bath’s Top Talent competition which may have some teeny, weeny, relation to a certain TV contest which kicked off in dramatic style on Saturday evening.

The Bath’s Top Talent event is a fun and revealing contest which showcases the wide variety of musical and non musical talent in and around the city.

Along with Chronicle reporter Felicity Crump and the editor of Venue Magazine Joe Spurgeon, I helped to judge the previous round which saw me face-to-face with two very memorable drag dancers, a Frank Sinatra sound-a-like and several other very enjoyable acts. We were not judging in the way that the X Factor/Britain’s Got Talent judges do as the vote very much belongs to the audience but we were there to make comments and it was amazing (and a little bit frightening) how attentive people were to our words of apparent wisdom.

By and large we were able to say nice things about most people and received a smattering of polite applause on occasions. However, as we all know now from so many TV competitions about singing, dancing and entertainment, it is when you make slightly critical comments that people really start to vent their opinion.

And it is especially notable that if the booze is flowing, the boos will too.

The weird thing is – and maybe this is where Simon Cowell started to make his millions – that when you do get a boo it is actually quite an interesting (and not altogether unpleasant) feeling. I felt my fellow judge Miss Crump, for example, seemed to enjoy being booed rather too much but I can see where it can get almost addictive. After all, it is often said that it is better to be booed and vilified than ignored and some talent competition judges clearly adhere to this principle.

As such, these competitions have become the new pantomimes – and the big bad wolf villains are the likes of Simon Cowell, Craig Revel Horwood and Jason Gardiner.

I can’t help feeling it is all a far cry from the first talent competition I remember watching on TV – Opportunity Knocks. Fronted by a man who, in hindsight, was more than a little bit strange (Hughie Green), this was a show that was light years away from texts and internet voting and where careers could rise or fall on how loud the audience clapped, thanks to that highly-unscientific “clapometer”.

The change started to occur when the ultra-cuddly Derek That’s My Dog Hobson (above) fronted New Faces and we had our first experience of judges saying negative things about artists. I seem to recall there was a national outcry at times about things Tony Hatch said but as we kept tuning in just to be offended the seed of a great idea was planted. X Factor, Britain’s Got Talent, Strictly Come Dancing et al were later to watch that seed (the “controversial judges wind up audience for sport” seed), blossom into the most watched shows on TV.

So I really want to like everyone I see on Thursday night but if I don’t, please don’t boo me. Boo Fliss instead because she really likes it. Honest.

Insomnia - it kills your dreams. Literallly.

2011-04-13T09:40:00.000-07:00

Captain James T Kirk got it wrong you know.

He said that space was the final frontier, the place to “explore strange new worlds, seek out new life forms and new civilisations and to boldly go where no man has gone before” .

But it isn’t intergalactic space travel that you need to achieve all these goals, it is something far more humble – a solid night’s dream-laden sleep. No sci-fi writer in the world has yet managed to come up with story lines to match what your mind can produce when the imagination is set free during your sleeping hours.

You do indeed boldly go to places where you have never been and face scenarios you can never imagine.

It’s a mystical, magical world.

Sadly, however, for many people like me this dream world is often ruined by the appearance of a Klingon. And he’s called insomnia.

I have written about my occasional bursts of insomnia a couple of times in this blog/column over the years and it always produces letters or comments later because so many people suffer from this demoralising night time problem. A survey in America in 2002 said that as many as 58 per cent of adults in America experience symptoms of insomnia a few nights a week or more. That seems rather a high figure to me but anecdotally I know that a lot of people are just not getting as much sleep as they would like.

My insomnia – which I understand is called transient insomnia – is like a strange uncle who turns up unexpectedly at a do. He stays as long as he sees fit and then just goes. You don’t know why he decided to come but you suspect after he leaves that he will pop back again when you least expect it. He’s not your favourite uncle.

I’ve had a couple of bouts lately – the most recent on Tuesday night. I had no particular issues on my mind, no reasons to stop me going into dream land but not only did I not have 40 winks but I think I hardly had a single (tiddly) wink. People say that is impossible and you must sleep sometime but all I can say is that my digital clock and I became very well acquainted and if there were bursts of sleep, the clock must have stopped while I had them.

I tried all my usual methods to help me sleep – but to no avail. One I would heartily recommend to other sufferers which usually does the trick is to look at the time and if it is, say 11.15pm, then remember what you were doing at every quarter past the hour throughout the day. Normally I am asleep before I get to lunchtime. On Tuesday though even this fail-safe system, err, failed.

The problem with insomnia is that even as and when you get through the night you then carry it over to the following day. On Wednesday morning, as I write this, I still feel alert and ready for action (ish) but I won’t get home tonight until about 11pm because I’m chairing an election debate at St Martin’s Church. To anyone who was there can I, therefore, just say that if I did fall asleep, it was nothing to do with the politicians. Honest.

So to all those who are reading this who are fellow sufferers, you have my total sympathy. I just hope that tonight you can boldly go into your lovely dreamland and leave the Klingon well behind.

Glastonbury + Michael Eavis = Power + Principle

2011-04-06T09:08:00.000-07:00

As we now enter a local election campaign where the various parties will be debating about why their principles should earn them power, it was truly refreshing on Monday night to listen to a non-political man who has ‘the power’ but has never lost sight of the guiding principles that inspired him to want it.

Michael Eavis was the guest speaker at a packed Ustinov event organised by Creative Bath which brought together people from all around the city to pick up nuggets of wisdom from a truly remarkable individual.

Mr Eavis, who still regards himself as a farmer who just happens to run the Glastonbury Festival, was as self effacing and modest as ever – something which I suspect the vast majority of those like him named by Time magazine as among the 100 most influential people in the world do not share.

More than 40 years ago having been inspired by the big concert in Shepton Mallet, the Pilton farmer decided he would set up his own (at that stage) free festival event. It has of course now transformed into possibly the biggest festival in the world and it is one that artists clamber to play out of respect for its core beliefs as well as the prominence it gives them.

Mr Eavis spent far more time on the night talking about the pleasure it gives him to raise some £2 million every year for charity as a result of the festival than about the actual event itself. To him the festival is five glorious days in Somerset but it’s real lasting legacy will be the hundreds of thousands of people who will have been touched from Pilton to Peru by the money raised at the South West’s biggest party.

What was also inspiring to hear was that the 75-year-old absolutely loved what he did. Several times he described running the festival as a ‘buzz’ and he said that he thought he had the best job in the world and one which he had always treated with great respect.

But, of course, respect is a two-way street and it is because some of the most famous performers in the world believe in Mr Eavis’s vision of using music to bring people together to do good in the world that they are prepared to forgo their usual commercial rates.

As an example, he quoted the fact that Sir Paul McCartney played at Glastonbury for around a twentieth of what he could normally command at a big stadium event. People don’t do that unless they believe in you and believe in what you stand for–- and people rightly believe in Michael Eavis.

Above all, as he continually told us, he enjoys every minute.

It is no coincidence that when we went into our archive of photographs of him, every one of them saw him with a big smile.

He loves what he does, he loves the feeling the festival gives to people but most of all he loves the fact that long after the last chord has been played, people are benefiting from a festival that uses its power to prove its principles.

Searching for a new 'Song for Bath'

2011-04-06T09:03:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle of March 31

I have often waxed lyrical in this column/blog about the fact that Bath truly is a city of music.

No matter what tastes you have there is plenty of musical choice out there for you to enjoy.

And, just as importantly, it seems there are thousands of people in our community performing as well as listening. It is a city built on sound.

Even with that as a context, however, I can say that I have been truly staggered over the past few days as I have been listening to the entries for the first-ever Song For Bath competition which has shown what a remarkable collection of songwriters and musical storytellers we have in our community.

I am lucky enough to be one of the judges of this great competition and so a while ago I was handed (by the irrepressibly enthusiastic organiser Paddy Doyle), a box of CDs and a huge catalogue of music and lyrics of the near 100 entries from which to pick my favourites.

When it was set up those of us involved in the contest had no idea if it would take off and capture the local imagination and, indeed, in the early days it did look as though it may be a struggle to get the kind of numbers we needed to make this a viable musical battle.

Well, we need not have worried.

For as the deadline for entries got closer, they poured in and the result is a splendid collection of tunes covering everything from rock songs to choral and classical pieces. And just about everything in between. The idea is that my fellow judges and I (and they are all far more qualified than I am in this process) have now got to whittle down the entries to just ten for our grand final in June (more details of which will be announced shortly).

And it is not easy.

As we all know musical taste is very subjective so I've tried to bring other people into my selection process. But such is the diversity of songs that with other people's input the shortlist is now a very long list.

So, therefore, this weekend I will have to go back to the tunes again before making my final choices. My selections will be added to those submitted by the other judges in the hope that between us we can come up with a group of finalists we can all be happy with.

Overall, I have been genuinely impressed at the effort which people have put in to write and record these songs about our city which inspire both musically and lyrically.

The most important thing of all, however, is that I'm certain we ARE going to find a strong winner as there are plenty of golden nuggets amidst the collection. There are tunes I found myself whistling hours later and lyrics that quickly wrote themselves onto my brain.

A worthy Song for Bath is on those CDs. We just have to dig it out.

Online, offline, onwards and upwards.

2011-04-06T08:57:00.000-07:00

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle of March 24 On a recent Tuesday at about 2.30pm something dramatic happened in our office. Grown men exhibited panic. Frustration levels grew. The air was tense - the mood unpredictable. Why? Because, oh reader, the internet had been switched off. For reasons which (as usual) were unfathomable, none of us could get on to our own site (thisisbath), Google was as impossible to access as the mind of Colonel Gaddafi and, to misquote Frankie Howerd, it was a case of "Twitter Ye Not". That sense of minor shock and awe bought on by the loss of our online contact may sound a bit OTT but as the minutes passed into the hours on Tuesday and people got decidedly twitchy it brought home again just how much cyberspace has affected all our lives. As journalists the "interweb" is an essential tool for what we do but it goes much deeper for people like us than a mere resource. So much of our lives both personally and professionally have become entwined in the nether regions of the world wide web that it is only when it is taken away - as it was on Tuesday - that you see how hamstrung and rather bereft people can feel without it. You get the impression some people think life and communication didn't begin until a bright spark thought it would be an idea to link his computer to someone else's just a few short years ago. But it is worth remembering just how few years ago that was. YouTube may, for example, seem to have been around forever and with an estimated two billion videos being shown every day on the site you could believe it took decades to build up that clientele. But YouTube has only been an entity since February 2005 and it (quietly) hit the world at the same time as, for instance, Charles and Camilla announced they were to marry. And that doesn't seem that long ago at all does it? As for Facebook with its 600 million users, that only became available to us as members of the public in 2006 - the same year as Twitter began building up to its now 190 million users. In industry terms these are baby companies and yet they are the biggest, noisiest and most impact-full babies in history. The phenomenal speed in which these sites and the internet has taken over all our daily lives in such a short period of time is, truly, a source of amazement. Life will never be the same again now we have this astonishing technology and the only remaining question is just how much more of our lives will the all-embracing internet envelop. And yet . . . . Anyone watching Comic Relief on Friday night will have seen that for a world that can get so smug about its massive information technology advancements we are remarkably bad at simple things like keeping children from dying of starvation. So, while the world wide web may be developing at a pace the offline world, sadly, seems as slow to really change as it ever did . . .

Boy of boy - do I really do this???????

2011-03-16T11:05:00.000-07:00

It is always nice to get letters from people who read this column/blog.

And so I was extremely pleased to receive a lovely note from a Bathampton lady called Pam who said that she enjoyed this column and the other ones on the opinion page of the Chronicle . There was, however, a sting in the tail which I hope Pam won’t mind me sharing.

Her note said: “May I make a small request of you? In nearly every column you write there appears the words ‘boy oh boy’. A habit perhaps? What does it add to the general sense of what you write? Please could you erase it from your opinion page – I would really appreciate that”.

To be honest, I was a bit taken aback by this. I though I must have used the phrase once or twice – but do I really use it that often?

Sadly (for me) the answer was quickly at hand. The letter had been, ahem, ‘helpfully’ read out to the whole editorial team by our reporter Siobhan and immediately one or two of my colleagues checked our computerised archive to see if Pam was right and I was wrong.

To my amazement we found (and it’s a good job this isn’t a video column otherwise you would see my cheeks blazing red) that over the years the phrase ‘boy oh boy’ had emanated from my computer keys and into print no less than 15 times. And, pointedly (and perhaps this is why my new Bathampton friend decided to write) it had appeared every month for the past four.

Boy.
Oh.
Boy.

What made me flabbergasted is that this is not a phrase I thought I used very often but the printed words cannot lie (well, some of them can but that’s another story). I found I’d used it to write about everything from Monty Python to the BNP appearing on Question Time.

How utterly embarrassing.

I think, on reflection, I’ve probably latched on to phrases such as this in everyday life because – and I think I may be an exclusive editor’s club of one on this – I do not swear. Ever since my children were little (the best part of 20 years now), I have managed to avoid swearing which has perplexed many of those around me who find it utterly incredible.

I remember somebody once saying “but what on earth do you say if you hit your thumb with a hammer while hanging something up”? I just looked at them, equally bewildered, and said “ouch, of course”.

I suppose what this whole incident has done – apart from causing much merriment to my colleagues which is never a bad thing on a tense Wednesday deadline – is to prove that even when we may not notice it we can all slip into our own chosen phrases and words rather too easily.

I know, for example, that too many things in my world are ‘amazing’, ‘wonderful’ or ‘bizarre’ because they happen to be three of my favourite words. But, just as every English teacher has taught their pupils for decades about overusing the word ‘nice’ I think Pam has given me a timely reminder that the English language is a glorious, multi-faceted object of beauty and we should all try and use our own internal Thesaurus’s more often.

Bath at its best on Half Marathon Day

2011-03-16T11:03:00.000-07:00

This wa sprinted in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, March 10

OK, I admit it, I did have the best ‘seat’ in the house but boy oh boy, wasn’t Bath’s half marathon day a fantastic occasion?

As I said in last week’s column/blog, I had both the honour and the privilege last Sunday morning of starting the Bath Half Marathon and, standing on the gantry with my starter hooter on hand, I was able to really take in the magnificence and scope of this remarkable city event.

Even driving into the Bath before the start of the event, you could really sense that the streets were alive with anticipation. The whole town centre seemed to be buzzing and even though it was probably a degree or two colder than most people would like, there was an intoxicatingly warm and friendly atmosphere wherever you went.

As I took to the stage and looked down Great Pulteney Street, I can genuinely say it was an inspiring and moving sight. And it was the contrasts among the thousands of competitors which I really loved.

Right in front of me at the starting line I saw the eager elite runners all totally focused on their stopwatches and barely exchanging a word or a glance at a fellow competitors. And yet just a few minutes later, I was passed by camels, bananas, one or two remarkably under-dressed men and seemingly dozens of people running for a breast cancer awareness charity and wearing large inflatable boobs to make the very dramatic point.

As somebody that has followed sport all my life, I found this contrast to be really amazing. By and large in most sporting events you don’t get top class professionals taking part at the same event as people who are doing it for the sheer fun of the day but that’s what you get at a half marathon. As the elite runners team jerseys moved on, it was a joy to see so many people wearing t-shirts of every charity you can name – and some you probably can’t.

For, and this must never be forgotten, although a lot of people were quite legitimately running for themselves and for personal reasons, so many others were primarily hitting the streets to raise as much money as possible for the concerns that are dear to them. And that is why a staggering £1.4 million was raised last year alone for charity by those who took part in this outstanding community event.

Overall, I came away thinking that I’d truly seen Bath at its best. Apart from the thousands of local people taking part in the main event – and the 1,000+ involved in the lovely family fun run that went alongside – the streets throughout the city were littered with well-wishers urging people on and probably providing a vital boost to people as they hit the various ‘walls’ one would face over a 13 mile trek.

Of course, as I mentioned last week, it did make me wonder if I could do it. I’m not the fittest of individuals (something of an understatement there) and (creak, creak) I’m not as young as I was but then again I saw people whose size, age and general disposition made me realise if they can do it, then maybe, just maybe, I could too.

Taking part in the Bath Half Marathon - well, sort of

2011-03-05T03:06:00.000-08:00

As I have said in this blog before, I am touched and humbled at the number of things you get asked to do as the editor of a newspaper.

To have the role of the newspaper recognised is something for which all of us involved are extremely grateful as it shows that the community appreciates the commitment we have to local life.

As such, over my years as an editor I have had the privilege of judging everything from a dog competition to a beauty contest, from hosting political debates to rock concerts and from opening everything from a fete to an Oxfam shop. All of these things, crucially, have not been about me but about the papers I represent – and I never take any of these kind invitations for granted.

However, I think on Sunday, March 6, I will top the lot.

For I am honoured to have been asked to start Bath’s biggest community event of the year – the half marathon with anything up top 15,000 competitors.

As far as I can tell, this merely involves getting the race going and making the shortest speech of my editorial career (here’s a sneak preview of it, it is ‘Good luck everyone!’) but I am genuinely moved that the paper has been asked to be involved in this way.

It will be particularly pleasing for me as I know a lot of the people who are taking part, all of whom are doing so for a wide variety of excellent charities. Indeed, my two most senior colleagues on the Bath Chronicle editorial team – deputy editor Paul Wiltshire and chief sub/assistant editor Graham Holburn – will be among those lining up at the start of the race, probably wondering how I got to do the easy, cushy job while they have to do all the running.

The truth is, and it seems a terrible admission considering the role I’ve been asked to perform, running and me have never been great bedfellows. During my occasional “gym’ll fix it” periods I find I am pretty good on the rowing machines and other cardiovascular equipment but when it comes to the treadmills, I walk very well, but the moment I start to run something weird happens.

I stop.

Quite quickly.

I’m hoping therefore that from my position on Sunday I will be inspired to maybe see if I could get back on that running track again. I know so many people who have said that, like me, they never thought they could run but have then set themselves goals such as a half marathon and achieved it that it proves that no one should give up in this direction.

I’m sure Sunday will help to convince me that half marathons really are for everyone.

Of course, although I will know a number of people in the race I know that with so many others coming from outside the Chronicle circulation area, the vast majority won’t have a clue who that chap is setting them on their way. I fear, therefore, that as I am often compared to my “lookie-likies” that there will be people who will leave Bath thinking that the race had been started by Adrian Chiles, Boris Johnson or even Keith Chegwin.

So, I look forward to seeing a few of you on Sunday – I’ll be the one without the trainers.

The best of Brits - and based in Bath

2011-02-24T09:32:00.000-08:00

One of these is me, the other four are Stranglers

The best of Brits – based in Bath

At last week's Brits, many groups old and new were rewarded for their contributions to the country's important and highly-successful music scene.

But, once more, one band – who spend as much time in Bath as any other place so probably deserve to be called an honorary 'local' one now – were ignored yet again.

For, despite having more than 40 top 40 records in a near 40 year career The Stranglers were nowhere to be seen at the annual Brits love-in.

They are, however, very much likely to be seen in and around the city at the moment. For the two main songwriters of the iconic rock outfit – bass guitarist JJ Burnel and guitarist Baz Warne – are currently busy writing new material from a rented house in Bath while also rehearsing with the rest of the group in a nearby village in advance of their 'Black & Blue' tour.

The band have found the Bath area to be an inspiring place to conduct their activities and as Baz explained in a blog on the Stranglers' official website – http://www.stranglers.net/ – the city is a good place as any to get up to all things 'strangled'.

"It's a lovely place and very conducive to work which is just as well because we have masses to do," he explained.

"Bath is a great place to drink and eat and the view of the city from the top of the hill where we are is breathtaking. I even went to the rugby too – not my thing but a great day out."

The band have centred themselves in Bath to be close to their long-time base at a farm near Norton St Philip where they are now putting the finishing touches to their set for another lengthy British tour which includes a visit to Bristol's O2 Academy on Thursday, March 24.

Speaking to the Chronicle JJ, the only member of the band to play every single concert in their long history, said that he and his fellow Stranglers had lost none of their enthusiasm despite the fact that they are now in their 37th year as a hardworking outfit.

Indeed, the band have no actual 'product' to sell on this tour – they are simply doing it because they love to play live and they are enjoying seeing their audience grow in both size and enthusiasm.

"I still see The Stranglers as being on a mission," he said.

"I think you get the audience you deserve – and we've got a great audience. If people have filtered through all the prejudice and negative speaking about The Stranglers in the past and still want to come and see us, even though we're never on the TV or the radio these days, then that says an awful lot about those people.

"We love playing live and I want people to see that and leave a venue thinking 'that was awesome'."

The Stranglers' history has been one of massive ups and sometimes spectacular downs but even the fact that they are not as commercially successful now as in their heyday when they had huge top ten hits like Golden Brown, Peaches and No More Heroes, is actually regarded in a positive light as JJ explained …

"I don't want The Stranglers to be dictated to by the commercial big cats. Of course there's a commercial element to what we do but I think more now about The Stranglers' legacy which helps to keep us focused and interested.

"It's great that we no longer have to be rushed into making new records to please a record label – it means we can exercise quality control and only release material when we are really happy with it".

As a result of this belief in only releasing new music when the band think it is good enough (rather than the market demanding it), the band have already said that they won't release a new studio album until 2012. Several new songs were written in Bath last year and the vast majority have already been ruthlessly discarded as not being up to the required standard.

Now, newer, stronger material has been written and, somewhat unusually for the band, they intend to incorporate some of it on their forthcoming live shows.

"It will be interesting putting together our set list for this new tour, '' said JJ.

"This is not just a 'greatest hits tour' although there will be a few of those songs in there because they're important to the people who come along. What we also want to do though is play some of our older material that we haven't been able to do in the past for various technical reasons and also drop in some new songs to gauge the audience reaction.

"It's great for us having so much material to choose from. We can really enthuse ourselves sorting out a set from all our material – it prevents a bunch of old geezers like us from going stale".

Baz is also looking forward to giving fans a chance to hear new songs they have never encountered before. He says: "It's an oft-forgotten process, playing new songs before they're recorded, and we're keen to develop some of the stuff in the good old fashioned way by road testing it. It keeps you on your toes".

The excitement the band still clearly feel about getting on the road again is perhaps remarkable considering how long they have been together.

The three original remaining members of the band – JJ, keyboard player Dave Greenfield and drummer Jet Black – have been together since the early 1970s and even the 'new kid on the block', Baz, has now sailed past his ten year anniversary. So, after all that time, do they ever get fed up with each other?

"It never happens,'' said JJ. "Baz and I have built up a really good song writing partnership and we enjoy each other's company socially. The whole vibe of the band is so much better now – Jet is so funny and Dave's a lovely guy – and we get on really well and I think it does show on stage.

"It's all really good – akin to how it was in the old days".

To book tickets visit http://www.o2academybristol.co.uk/ .

Loving reading - and loving Henry VIII!

2011-02-24T09:25:00.000-08:00

Over the next couple of weeks Bath is due to go book crazy. And, as an unashamed bookworm I, for one, absolutely love it.

Next Thursday, for instance, there will there be a huge amount of events in schools and beyond to celebrate World Book Day. But before then, from Saturday onwards, the city will be awash with authors and book lovers galore as the Bath Literature Festival begins eight days of lively, varied events.

This year, as well as seeing lots of top class writers mooching around you will also see literally dozens of Bath Chronicle reviewers as well. A couple of months ago we put an appeal in our paper for people to review one of the many events and we were deluged by would-be reviewers who will all be toodling along on our, and your, behalf to give the people’s view of LitFest 2011.

I too will be among the ‘team’ and I’m due to kick off my reviewing stint at the first official event – Dr David Starkey’s talk about Henry VIII on Saturday morning at the Central United Reformed church.Dr Starkey is well known for his TV history but it is his study of old Henry which has given him his most talked about shows. And that is because we, as a nation, are utterly fascinated by Henry VIII.

There have been dozens of monarchs between old Harry and our current queen but none have captured the imagination as much as the portly man who when faced with two of his wives whom he really couldn’t stand was able to shout “off with their heads”. So keen are we on everything Tudor that I can remember one academic complaining that the only things that children are taught about in school in history these days are the two H’s – Henry and Hitler.

As an example, only a few weeks ago the book club we have here in the office focused on another writer who specialises in Mr Six Wives, – Phillipa Gregory. We looked at her book The Other Boleyn Girl which is about the intriguing love triangle between Anne Boleyn, her sister Mary and the King himself. Having already seen the very entertaining film – partly filmed near the village of Holt at Great Chalfield – I was intrigued to read the book and like all of my fellow club members I thoroughly enjoyed it. But we still spent as long talking about Henry and the women that almost literally threw themselves in front of his broad canvas as the book itself.

So I’m very much looking forward to Dr Starkey’s speech on Saturday morning just as much as I’m sure many of you are for the wide variety of other shows that make up this year’s Bath Literature Festival.We are indeed very fortunate to be able to live in a city that has so many festivals and I believe the literature one – and its excellent junior version the Bath Children’s Literature Festival – is particularly important as a way of reminding people that you can really delve into the imagination and learn so much about life, the universe and everything without ever switching on a computer.

Look out in the next two Chronicle’s to see our army of reviewers’ opinions on the big shows and, if all else fails, just curl up with a good book this weekend.

We built this city (Bath) on rock and roll....

2011-02-17T03:20:00.000-08:00

As regular readers of this blog will know, I am, to put it mildly, something of a fan of modern music.

For much of my tender 46 years I’ve loved listening to music and attending live concerts and in many ways my love of rock music (in most of its shades) has been one of the most consistent, grounding facts of my life.

And that is why I was particularly thrilled this week to see the formation of a new group – Bath Music Plus – whose intention is to try to put the city on the rock map once again by bringing a number of high-profile concerts to The Forum and beyond.

The first announcement – that Queen guitarist Brian May is to appear at the venue and also that the much-loved Bootleg Beatles are to play an open air free concert on the day of the Royal Wedding – are an intriguing first course for what we hope will be a sumptuous banquet of music that will put Bath back in the minds of those who promote major rock and pop events.

As the organisers have said, this is the city that has already hosted bands such as The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Who and Led Zeppelin and so why shouldn’t we once again start thinking big in terms of which acts we can bring to the city in the future?

That is not to say however that since those early ’70s halcyon days at The Pavilion that we haven’t had some great shows in the city, and if you doubt that then can I suggest you head to the website of our precious Moles to see who they have put on in recent years.

Massive indie rock groups such as Radiohead, The Cure, The Smiths, The Killers, James and Snow Patrol have all successfully trod the boards at Moles and probably the biggest commercial band of the ’90s, Oasis, also did one of their formative gigs there (receiving the princely sum of £150 for doing so I am led to believe).

And, for those who saw The Brits on Tuesday and wondered who this band were called Mumford & Sons who won the best album of the year award, well, you could have caught them at Moles not too long ago when they were first developing their now famous set.

With The Pavilion still putting on interesting concerts and Komedia also being able to stage decent size rock/jazz bands, all that we’ve really been missing locally is that slightly bigger venue for those who are probably beyond the audience base that Moles can handle but are not yet up to O2 status. And The Forum is a perfect venue to bridge this gap.

It is a lovely central venue where you can watch music in comfortable surroundings and is close enough to the bus and train links to ensure it can attract those from outside the city as well as music-hungry locals.

Therefore I really wish Bath Music Plus every success in attracting the sort of acts who can remind the wider rock and pop scene that Bath is a place that can cope with everything from Mozart to Motorhead.Bath is a great city of music. This is an opportunity to show the world it is open to all possible genres.

Rock on Bath.

Up the Brits! Up the English! Up the EU?

2011-02-17T03:16:00.000-08:00

This appeared in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, February 10

Last week as I got ready to watch the annual war we call “The England versus Wales rugby fixture” I had another attack of my national identity crisis.

As I watched the build-up and saw the Welsh team and fans steadily getting themselves into a frenzy about facing the “old enemy”, I suddenly asked myself “hey, aren’t; these my fellow compatriots?”

For no, I am not Welsh – but I am British and yet here were my fellow Brits choking back the tears at the thought of trying to batter us, their fellow Britons. For yes, we are forced at events like this to ask ourselves once again – are we British or are we nglish/Scottish/Welsh/Northern Irish? And the answer appears to be – whatever suits us at the time.

As a rather naughty example, I am afraid I have a terrible problem with “our” tennis hero Andy Murray. Try as I might I just can’t find anything about the guy that inspires me to, err, like him. I don’t know what it is – perhaps it’s his charmless arrogance, the way that in the final of the Australian Open he looked as though he had thrown on his scruffy five-a-side football kit instead of a decent tennis outfit, or the fact that when he smiles it looks like an ironic gesture – but he just seems as warm and loveable as six-day-old Ready Brek. And yet he is a “Brit” so I should support him, yes? Well , up to a very simple point. As my colleagues have heard all too often (my sports editor even had a ‘sweep’ about how long it would take me to mention it when he lost the last final) when Andy Murray wins he is “Britain’s Andy Murray”. And when he loses he is “Scotland’s Andy Murray”. Silly, I know but I can’t help it. I mean, would it kill him to smile?

My national identity confusion isn’t helped by the fact that at times “our” team wears the red and white flag and at others it’s the Union Jack. Thus my English pride is very strong in sports such as football, rugby and cricket where “my” team is called England and comes all wrapped up with motifs of bulldogs, roses and lions. (Incidentally, all that “three lions on a shirt” stuff – why on earth does an African lion represent the land of my (English) fathers? Does the Tanzania footy team have a grey squirrel on its tops? I think not).

And yet, come the Olympic Games, my English flag goes back in the drawer and out comes the Union Jack. In that event, I don’t care if the athlete is from Belfast, Birmingham, Cardiff or Clyde – I love them all equally. For they are Brits representing Britain. And I am Brit cheering on Britain – England no longer matters.

But of course it doesn’t end there. Every two years even the most fierce UKIP-ite can suddenly becomes pro-European when our continent takes on the USA at the Ryder Cup. The Union Jack goes out of the window and it is bonjour to the blue European one. Our allegiance is changed again.

Ah well, let us just hope one day we can discover intelligent life on another planet and we can all join forces to support a World Team.

I’d still probably back an alien against Andy Murray though.

Stat's the way...I don't like it

2011-02-02T07:03:00.000-08:00

This may sound a little bit weird coming from someone in the communication business but I really am suffering from information overload at the moment.

There is just so much stuff out there to deal with and the difficult job seems to be deciding what you do need to know about – and what you don’t.

Take this week. As you will have seen in every newspaper we have become a nation of crime-spotters this week. For, on Tuesday, the police launched a website where you can see exactly how many crimes have occurred in your street, estate, village or town. The idea provoked such interest that the website received 75,000 hits a minute and the computers nearly blew up as a result. It was like the Take That tour all over again.

But, I don’t really understand why we need to know all this stuff. Sure, in the newspapers I work for we like to report on trends and it’s important to know, roughly speaking, if you live in a benign area or Beruit. But to take it down to the detail of how many crimes are actually on your street without any real context as to their seriousness will just leave us all convinced that the crime situation is far, far worse than it really is.

I checked the post code for example for my very pleasant area and discovered that in December there were no robberies (hoorah!) but quite a lot of examples of anti-social behaviour. I haven’t seen any, hadn’t heard about any but now I am worried that I’ve accidentally moved to The Bronx. So what was the point of all that palaver then?

It’s the same with school league tables. Yes we report them in our titles because some parents do like to study the figures but the fact that ‘School A’ does better at maths than ‘School B’ doesn’t mean that School B is a worse place to send your child. The ‘A-C passes’ say nothing about the friendliness of the teachers, the standard of the school meals or the levels of bullying and yet in the era where ‘info is king’ the stats are all what some people really care about.

And nowadays as well as finding stats about local crime and local school tables, you can, with just a few clicks of the mouse, find out whether you live in an area where people drink a lot, whether your neighbours exercise enough, how old you might be when you die if you stay there etc. etc. etc ad nauseaum. Why? And why should we care?

Oh and, it’s also worth noting that as you trawl the internet to find out the answers to these and other questions, that there are lies, damned lies and internet statistics. For instance I just ‘self-Googled’ and was delighted to see that the phrase ‘Sam Holliday’ yielded 935,000 results. I suddenly thought I was far more important and well known than I could ever have dreamed of – until I saw the third entry which referred to the fact that ‘I’ was apparently a former director of Stability Studies at the US Army War College.

Ah well I at least got the top two spots in 'my' list – but something tells me I won’t have got the 900,000th . . .

Cleese, Python, Marmite - and Selwyn Froggitt

2011-02-01T03:56:00.001-08:00

The news that one of Bath’s newest residents – John Cleese – is to have a five-night stint at the Theatre Royal as part of his 'Alimony Tour' is a real joy for all those local fans of this remarkable and enduring character.

For many people, John Cleese will be remembered mainly as the amazing Basil Fawlty but for still more – and I suspect mainly male people of a certain age – he will be forever truly immortalised because he was one of the leading lights of the fantastic Monty Python team.

Monty Python as an entity is something which truly divides people in the way so often ascribed to Marmite – ie, you either love it or hate it. The Pythons were alternative comedy before alternative comedy actually existed and, like 'alt-com' it had the had the ability to have one person in convulsions of laughter as they sat next to another whose face looked like granite.

Put simply with Python, you either got it or you didn’t. But if you got it, you usually really did get it. Indeed, it was once almost regarded for example as the 11th Commandment that: “It is written that where several sixth form boys are gathered together, at some point one of the number will beginneth the Four Yorkshiremen or Dead Parrot sketches and behold the others wouldst duly complete it.”

I certainly fitted into that bill and it is ironic that as a teenager I saw the Python team as being a real “kick in the establishment’s wotsits”, when in reality most of the team’s back- grounds actually made them the establishment.

Tally ho to the revolution!

Looking at it all again, you can see that some of the Python’s early TV work was, shall we say, “patchy” and is now a bit dated but when they were good, boy oh boy, were they good. In some ways you could argue that their best work was confined to the big screen – the films The Holy Grail and Life of Brian are quite simply two of the funniest ever made – but even their sometimes confused and confusing TV series produced dozens of classic moments which, as aforementioned, livened up many a dreary sixth form or office.

And still, I can vouch, they still do now - only last week I re-acquainted colleagues to Arthur Two Sheds Jackson and Eddie Baby. Both are very silly - but both are beautifully so.

And to be fair, although some of their comedy is a tad dated, the vast majority has lasted the test of time well – and not everything can claim to be the same. In the 1970s you may have laughed hysterically at On The Buses, Mind Your Language or Man About The House, but try watching them now on the ‘UK-Any-Old- Hoary-Programme-You Can Find’ station and I suspect you will laugh far more at the fashion and the moustaches than any of the “jokes”. And, if you are unlucky enough to come across Oh No, It’s Selwyn Froggitt, that is what you should shout when you see it in the schedule rather than watch it.

So, as Mr Cleese, who we’re all very proud to have as a citizen of this city, steps on to the boards in the spring, it will be a good way for us all to learn more about the man behind some of the best comedy creations of the last 40-odd years.

You don’t have to ask what have the Pythons ever done for us because it’s all there in glorious colours on the DVD racks and so I hope the Theatre Royal is packed to salute the knight who says 'ni'. Oh, and don’t mention the war.

The end of a six year love affair

2011-01-19T09:05:00.000-08:00

Thursday, January 20, 2011, will be something of a sad one for me as I end a friendship that has served me well for around six years.

My loyal friend has been with me through thick and thin and through rain and shine during all that time and has hardly ever let me down.

He (or is it a she, I’ve never quite worked out) has literally been with me on my travels north, south, east and west and together we’ve made great discoveries, met lovely people and seen some wonderful sights.

It seems somewhat cruel therefore to end this beautiful relationship – but the time is right. And that’s because I have my eye on a new and even more attractive model.

For, yes, on Thursday my beloved car and I are to part. And, as it drives off into the sunset, I will have to make acquaintances with a new ‘stranger’ whose affections initially will be based purely on looks.

We all, I suspect, have a relationship of sorts with our cars and in many ways I guess it is entirely understandable. My car for instance has done just shy of 127,000 miles which, if I was to say I did an average of 40 miles an hour means I’ve spent some 3,175 hours in its company. Yes, I have spent fully 133 days behind that wheel. And that, I suspect, means I’ve spent more time with my four wheeled friend as with all of my two-legged ones.

To be honest, I shouldn’t get too sentimental because I am about as far away from being a typical ‘petrol head’ as most men are allowed to be. The choice of my new model saw me agonising more about the colour than the size of the engine and when asked about possible extras, I didn’t think of anything useful that might make the drive more smooth – I just asked about a DAB radio. Oh and a multi CD changer.

However, despite being the sort of car ignoramus that Jeremy Clarkson would look on with distaste (although to be fair I’m not alone – Mr C dislikes about the half the nation for different reasons it seems), when I get a car I’m very loyal to it. And even though I may not treat my ‘motor’ as well as I should, I do always have great affection for it.

Of course my ‘auto-love’ hardly compares with that of other people’s. Some folk treat their cars as almost extra members of the family – feeding them well with the best possible fuel, cleaning them so they always look their Sunday best and even popping them into what I call the junk room (but other people call ‘a garage’) so they don’t get cold at night. Touching really.

So as this new relationship begins I will try to be a bit more like that this time. I will aim to keep my new friend clean inside and out (if so, can someone explain why I chose white as the exterior colour?) and I will treat it with the respect it undoubtedly deserves. Indeed, I might even go as far as doing what some people do and actually give my new friend a name. Of course I really will have to work out its ‘sex’ first. Are cars male or female?

Answers on a postcard .. .

Every 'boss's fear - am I David Brent?

2011-01-13T01:24:00.000-08:00

When Ricky Gervais first leapt out of our unsuspecting TV screens and unveiled himself as the boss from hell – David Brent – I, like many others, began a comedy journey that has never ended.

I loved The Office from day one and to my own surprise maybe, just maybe, I now enjoy the witty and intelligent American version even more. It is quite simply a brilliant show – whichever side of the Atlantic you are watching it on.

And yet . . .

The issue for anyone who is a 'boss' at any level is that as you watch David Brent, while other people are howling with laughter, you are thinking “oh my Lord, I’ve said/done that myself”. The problem is, you see, I think that there is bit of Brent in everyone. And a lot of Brent in nearly every boss.

Personally, for example, I work in a tough industry but I believe it’s still possible to be quite a positive soul. And, in my experience, when you smile at the people you work with, you get far more out of them than when you scowl.

The trouble is that’s exactly what David Brent believes as well –- and the great joke is that he is totally self-deluded. So, you do worry.

This all came back to mind afresh this week because we were filmed by a group of students on a creative media studies course at Bath Spa University. They wanted to do a fly-on-the-wall documentary about how the Bath Chronicle is put together and we were delighted to help.

The problem is that it was a mock fly-on-the-wall documentary that was the basis for The Office too and in it Mr Brent and his excellent supporting cast of characters vied to look as good as possible as the cameras whirled. Therefore, as I sat being interviewed by my charming interrogator Ed, all the time I kept thinking “just don’t sound like David Brent”.

I thought I did OK (ish) until I noticed that I had a number of self-congratulatory awards that the paper has won on my wall and I kept thinking of the way in The Office DB kept highlighting some terrible award he’d won years before. It was just one example of how The Office was so brilliantly realised – it exposed all our clichés in a frighteningly well-realised way.

The whole Office phenomenon, however, has at least created a plethora of wonderful “Brent-isms” which can be easily found on the internet. The irony is that he never said most of them in the show but they all sound good enough that he should have done.

So, may I leave you with four Brent-esque slices of officespeak which will be worth dropping into conversation with colleagues today.

There may be no I in team but there’s a ‘ME’ if you look hard enough.

If you can keep your head when all around you have lost theirs, then you probably haven’t understood the seriousness of the situation.

Never do today that which will become someone else’s responsibility tomorrow.

A problem shared is a problem halved so is your problem really yours or just half of someone else’s?

Anyone fancy a Brent-like dance?

Miserable? Nah, I'm just suffering from jet lag!

2011-01-05T07:45:00.000-08:00

How are you feeling today? A bit fluey perhaps? A bit down? Or perhaps just totally out of sorts?

If the answer to any (or all) of those questions is “yes” then fear not.

For welcome to the life of the average January-hating Briton who has returned to work, school or college this week after what seemed like a gloriously long break.

Before “back-to-work-Tuesday” many people had probably spent the best part of two weeks waking up (probably later than normal) and immediately asking themselves two key questions: “what day is it?” and “am I at work today?”

For many in the caring professions or in retail the answer to the latter is just as likely to be “yes” as “no” but for millions of other people, the reality that holidays don’t go on forever hit really hard on Tuesday morning when their vile alarm clock sprung back into life. And even those of us who love our job or have, indeed, been in at times over the holidays, will have looked at that alarm with contempt.

So I’m delighted to say that I now have a scientific term to deal with the fact that dragging myself out of bed on Tuesday was as difficult as looking enthusiastic about four-day-old turkey. Apparently those of us who had to go back to work this week and have found it harder than normal are suffering from something called “social jet lag”. This term has been coined to describe the impact on our bodies of having to readjust after spending a couple of weeks going to bed later, getting up later, drinking more, eating more and often wallowing in the pleasure of doing very little.

Social jet lag, which would have hit most people by about 3pm on day one of the big return, apparently can have the effect of leaving people with indigestion, headache, clumsiness, fatigue and irritability. If that sounds like you then rejoice: you’re not a miserable old goat, you’ve just got jet lag. Hoorah!

Of course, not everyone was able to enjoy the “back-to-work-Tuesday- social-jet-lag-phenomenon”. For it seems that nearly two million people on the day never got out of bed at all due to the cold/flu/man flu (see previous blog!!!!!) which has struck so many people this year. For all of them, the social jet lag joy is still to come and just to make them feel even better there is a rumour of more snow. Yes, back-to-work-next-week-types, even if you can finally get out the bed, you might not be able to get out of the drive.

So, in the interests of trying to cheer people up as they face this short but still rather tricky week, I found by literally minutes of research that among the cures for the January blues, back-to-work- Tuesday feelings and social jet lag are to remember that most people feel the same, many have spent too much in the sales, plenty have hidden the scales and nearly all are already wistfully counting the days until their next holiday.

The only thing that did depress me a little from my extensive research into cheering everyone up was a quote from someone who said “the reality is, come February, most people are back in the swing of things”.

February? That seems an awful long way away. It kind of makes you want to go right back to bed.

So how are our Christmas traditions faring up??

2010-12-30T01:38:00.000-08:00

This time last year, in my Bath Chronicle column, I wrote about the fact that everything about Christmas revolves around the word “tradition”.

Thanks to the pagan god of tradition at this time of year we do things we don’t want to do, we eat things we don’t want to eat and we see people we don’t want to see. And we justify it all by saying “well, it’s Christmas…”.

And so, because I am at heart a traditional chap, I will do what I did in this column/blog last year and review afresh how well our “traditions” are holding up. So yes, I have created a new tradition. To use this column to review our traditions. In a traditional kind of way. So which tradition is safe? Which is under treat? And have those evil, food-of-the-devil sprouts survived another 12 months? Read on…

Christmas cards – As regular readers will know I was seriously worried about this tradition dying out a few weeks ago. My Christmas card intake had fallen as dramatically as Gordon Brown’s this year and I thought our obsession with “witty” emails full of dancing gnomes with colleagues’ faces on them might be killing this tradition off totally. But in the last week or so leading up to the big day I noticed far more cards flying around. Maybe the fact that many shops were selling them so cheap helped but the cards definitely rallied. Hang in there, cards! Tradition survival rating ** (but looked like a single star just a couple of weeks ago)

Christmas dinner – Still as popular as ever from what I can see despite the obvious drawbacks that:

a) turkeys take forever to cook/thaw/slaughter;

b) sprouts;

c) the average dinner has more calories than four bucket loads of lard;

d) most people prefer curries.

Something tells me this could be one of the last traditions to die out.

Tradition survival rating *****

Carol services/Nativity – I said last year these were doing remarkably well and I repeat that again. From the big high-profile services like the Chronicle’s own abbey service through to the smallest Nativity in the smallest primary school we have been belting out “no crib for a bed” and admiring four-year-olds playing the role of fifth shepherd from the left for many weeks. One thing though – whatever happened to door-to-door carol singers? They appear to have gone the same way as door-to-door encyclopaedia salesmen. Were they perchance related? Tradition survival rating ***** (but door to door singers just *)

Christmas presents – The ghost of Christmas present seems to be very much alive and expensive. This year’s big hit, apparently, was The Kindle where you get the chance to read a book on a tiny computer screen. Instead of, err, in a much cheaper, much better presented thing called “a book”. One thing that helped the bank-balance-killing-present-buying-frenzy this year is that many shops decided that they would have their Boxing Day sales in about November – and never stopped. That isn’t to say we won’t all have spent far too much and will be forced to hide from the postman when the credit card bills arrive but it does mean the tradition started all those years ago by three wise men on camels remains strong. Although, of course, that tradition hasn’t been totally kept up. After all, when was the last time you bought your auntie some myrrh?

Tradition survival rating ****

Santa – The old fella had another strong year. He appeared in so many places at so many times (magic isn’t it?) and then proceeded to have a cracking Christmas night by all accounts. Nowadays, you can track his movements online but knowing the fast pace he must have to do on December 25 I hope the speed cameras weren’t also monitoring him. Rumour has it he is now enjoying a well-earned break looking at his Kindle and thinking “how on earth is this better than a book?”

Tradition survival rating ****

Beating the Aussies to win the Ashes – A new tradition but what a fantastic one! Our woeful England football team were a national embarrassment in the summer but our cricketers have put a sporting smile on all our faces. Well done England. And, ahem, South Africa. Tradition survival rating: let’s hope it’s a *****

Christmas TV – Aaah. the biggie. For most people Christmas doesn’t start until you see the festive listings and there is no doubt that many people will have watched more TV over the past few days than they will for the next few weeks. By and large if my office is anything to go by the feeling was one of being “underwhelmed”.

However, there were some highlights.

Upstairs Downstairs was definitely one of them – a sumptuous, feel-good three-parter which looked and felt as good as you hoped it would. Populated by beautiful people in a beautiful setting, it was at times quite, well, beautiful and even though the plot had as many holes as Jim Royle’s vest it was still a triumph. Elsewhere the new David Walliams/Matt Lucas comedy Come Fly With Me had its funny moments, The Royle Family had real charm and the soaps had the usual cheery mixture of fights, break-ups and ludicrous plot lines. So no change there then. Perhaps the biggest festive treat came from an unexpected source – a series of short movies on Sky called Christmas Crackers where well-known comedians were given 15-minute shorts to tell semi-autobiographical stories about the festive period. Catherine Tate’s and Bath’s own Julia Davis were particularly good as was Stephen Fry’s charming recounting of a story he told at the Forum in Bath about the way he tried to get a young, vulnerable boy to take the rap for him for a sweet-buying infringement at his school. Lovely.

Tradition survival rating *** (Still important – but could do better)

Jesus – The reason for the season put in another decent shift this year. Attempts to totally marginalise him from the booze-gifts-and-family-rows frenzy didn’t quite succeed and He remains a key player at this time of year. And I never received a single “winterval” card either. Progress!

Tradition survival rating *****

This column looking at traditions – Well it is now in its second year – and it is going strong. Will it survive another 12 months? Will this become a tradition as strong as the Top of the Pops Special or as weak as the Russ Abbot Christmas Show? Only time will tell.

Tradition survival rating ** (one for each completed year)

Have a great new year folks and I hope whatever tradition you observe on December 31 is one you enjoy. Now where is my myrrh...

Samaritans - it's good to talk, it's better to listen

2010-12-30T01:28:00.000-08:00

This special feature appeared in the Bath Chronicle, The Somerset Standard and the Somerset Guardian on Thursday, December 23. It followed a visit I made to a recruitment night for the vital charity.....

Over the Christmas period, phone lines across the world will be buzzing.

People will be ringing their loved ones in far flung corners of the globe every second of every minute of every day.

But here in Bath there will be a number of other phone calls being made to.

On these calls, there won't be instant shrieks of delight as loved ones recognise each other's voices. For the two people talking here will be total strangers.

And for one party the call could truly be a matter of life and death.

Welcome to the world of the Samaritans - one of Britain's most remarkable, if unofficial, emergency services. And one for whom Christmas might, sadly, be among the busiest times of the year.

These calls the dedicated volunteers at the Bath and District Samaritans will be taking will be coming in from people for whom other people's festive happiness only exaggerates their own feelings of sadness, loneliness and low self-worth. These often lonely, confused and sometimes even suicidal people may desperately need someone to talk to and while all other certainties in their lives are challenged they can be assured their call to the Samaritans will be received by people who truly care.

I have long been interested in the work of the Samaritans for a number of reasons.
Primarily, I suspect, it is because two close members of my family committed suicide and various mental illness issues have arisen with others. I know that even as family members you don't always know the depths of people's personal anguishes and so it is a comfort to know that there is one group of trained volunteers who will always be there to provide a confidential, caring, listening ear.

It is for that reason that, after meeting a couple of the impressive people who make up the 100-strong Bath area branch of this famous group, I decided to attend one of the regular introduction evenings to see how one goes about becoming a volunteer and what indeed makes someone take up this role .

After all, it is one that gives them no money and certainly no 'glory' as Samaritans, like their clients, are often anonymous, and not even their nearest and dearest can be given an insight into their confidential dealings.

The local branch of the Samaritans has its base at a typical and unremarkable Bath town house in Newbridge. On arriving at one of the introductory evenings, I wondered whether I would be alone or, if I wasn't, just who would make up the rest of the potential recruits. What sort of person would want to become a Samaritan I wondered?

Well, the answer to that one is simple - anyone. I was both amazed and impressed that the small meeting room was full to bursting (around 20-25 people). The potential recruits were predominantly female (which I had suspected) but also predominantly younger (which I hadn't imagined). Considering the nature of the work, I thought the average would-be recruit would be in their 40s and 50s, people who had 'seen a bit of life' and who wanted to give something back, but there was every age from late teens to OAPS.

And that pleased me because it is a service for everyone so it is right that everyone is represented.

And what is that service?

During the course of an informative and non-pressured 90 minutes three or four volunteers (all of whom had Samaritan aliases in respect of the need for confidentiality) spoke about the work they did, the clients they spoke to (and sometimes met) and the path one needs to tread to become a member of this special group of people.

What became clear is that this is a serious business and so serious training is involved. If the first call you take as a new Samaritan is from someone considering taking their own life the last thing they need to hear is someone more panicked and frightened than they are so there is a long and strictly-observed training period before you ever get to that stage.

Potential recruits would need to be interviewed, to be paired up with mentors and initially to undergo two months of weekly sessions before they get within touching distance of the phones. It is a process designed to make sure of two things: one that the Samaritans is right for you, and secondly (and more importantly) that you are right for the Samaritans.

And it is clear it won't be for everyone. I was a bit surprised to learn that as a Samaritan you are not there to offer counselling or advice (although I was less surprised when I realised later a few months training does not make you a trained counsellor).

You also have to be non-judgmental, and you have to leave your personal, moral and religious beliefs firmly at the door. Despite its name, the Samaritans is a decidedly non-religious grouping and your views and your opinions are simply not important - it is all about the person on the other end of the line. It is the classic case that you have two ears and one mouth and that ratio is the way your phone call should be. Would-be amateur psychiatrists or well meaning evangelists are not needed - this is about people with the capacity to listen. And to care. And then to listen again.

The introductory evening was just that - a quick but thought-provoking insight into what is involved which is probably just enough to let you know if this is really for you. The relaxed, friendly Samaritans who took us through the process didn't make it sound like a bed of roses ( and nor should they) but the love they have for what they do, their obvious camaraderie and their genuine belief that they can and do help by providing an ear for the often voiceless was impressive stuff.

The best advert for being a Samaritan was to see these Samaritans in action and to see what it meant to them. It was a powerful witness.

So, could I be a Samaritan and will I sign up? Well, I'm not sure I am ready, but the truth is I probably wouldn't tell you even if I did sign up. This is not about the person on the receiving end of the call, it is about the person who makes it and so to be a (ahem) good Samaritan you have to make yourself less and your caller more.

You have, above all, to be a good listener and prepare to become an anonymous person so the equally anonymous person you talk to can truly feel confident they can tell you things they couldn't tell the closest person to them in the world.

My final impression was this. BT once had a campaign called 'it's good to talk'. What my night with the Samaritans showed me is that sometimes it's even better to listen.

If you would like to attend the next Samaritans introductory evenings they are on Thursday, January 6 and Tuesday, January 11. To find out more about the recruitment process call 01225 423540. If you need to talk to the Samaritans call the local Bath branch on 01225 429 222 or the national number 08457 90 90 90.
For more information on the aims and ethos of the charity go to www.samaritans.org.

It wasn't a cold...it was MAN FLU!!!!!

2010-12-30T01:22:00.000-08:00

This was originally published in the Bath Chronicle on December 23

For the first time in soem five years my regular weekly column didn't appear in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, December 16.

Considering I have managed to do my column while I was on holiday (and even once when I was a couple of hundred yards away from Auschwitz) it was going to take something pretty spectacular to stop me waxing lyrical for the entertainment of, err, both of you.

Well I had that spectacular thing and it was ... MAN FLU!

The term 'man flu' has been invented by, I suspect, women to explain how men exaggerate when they have a minor cold. But, boy oh boy, was this not a cold...

It had begun a few days before when I had the traditional 'coldy' elements of a bit of a cough, a runny nose and a headache. All annoying but all copeable, too.

During last Tuesday, however, I started to notice that these elements were going but they were being replaced by a thumping headache, aches and pains and a sense that my usual 'get up and go' had got up and gone.

The best cure, I thought, was to head home early and go straight to bed but, as nearly 1,000 of you will know, last Tuesday night was TheBath Chronicle carol service where I was due to do one of the readings.

Prior to that the mayor had kindly invited myself and others to his parlour and I remember pointing out to one of his guests (hi Muddy!) that I thought I had 'man flu' and she said 'if you had flu you'd know about it and you wouldn't be able to get out of bed'. Twelve hours later I knew exactly what she meant.

Somehow, I did manage to get through Tuesday's lovely service but to be honest I started to feel a bit doolally, which is never a good feeling to have when you have to read one of the important lessons. But I survived somehow, raced home to bed and then ...

The next three or four days were pretty horrendous. When you have a stressful job the thought of being able to do nothing can seem quite appealing but when nothing really does mean nothing (i.e. you haven't the energy to even pick up a paper or switch the TV) the reality is more appalling than appealing.

I don't think I am a particularly patient patient either and I also always feel terrible if I'm not able to get into work but for those few days I suffered, as I know many of you have (and perhaps some are now as you are reading this), with the kind of lurgy which seems a million miles away from those almost pleasant minor colds which are normally sorted out by a Lemsip or a Tune.

So, it was with some relief that I headed back to work lastn Monday feeling a million times better than a few days before. I say some relief, however, because someone up there with a sense of humour had decided that my reward for finally getting out of bed should be to find my car unable to move because of the snow. And to make in even 'funnier' I then faced week which even people in Iceland would describe as 'a bit dodgy weather-wise'

So that's man flu. It's not funny. And it's not for women. They just invented it.

So is it me or is the Christmas card?

2010-12-30T01:17:00.000-08:00

First publishe din the Bath Chronicle on Thursday December 9

I have had to come face-to-face with two possibilities this week - neither of which are very palatable.

One, is that in the space of the last 12 months I have become very unpopular. And the other is that the great tradition of sending Christmas cards is virtually dying out.

Usually, at this time of the year (and we are only 16 days away from Christmas remember) my office is festooned with a wide variety of cards sent by individuals and organisations as a way of saying 'thank you' for what we as a apaper may have done for them over the last year.

At this point, however, I have a mere four - so few in fact that I can publicly thank them all. So, it is the thumbs up to Bath Building Society, Sam and Wendy Farr, John and Gill McLay and the team at The Mission Theatre. I love you all.

Of course, I may have fallen into a huge depression wondering where all the other cards have gone were it not for a couple of pieces of research that have just come out - and the evidence of my own eyes.

In the latter case, I have been amazed to see how many shops are already selling Christmas cards at half price. Surely, I wonder, that is what you do in January? If you can't sell Christmas cards in December at full price then when on earth can you?

And then there are two pieces of research - the main one being from Oxfam - which indicate that we may indeed be falling out of love with our Christmas cards. Oxfam reckons a third of people this year will be sending far fewer cards than they have in the past with many opting out altogether. And they estimate that this could account for a whopping 141 million less cards being sent than five years ago.

A second survey reveals similar figures and also says that a third of stingy men are planning to send not a single card this year. Weird.

Some of the reasons given are the high price of stamps (but wasn't it always thus?), the hassle of buying cards (ditto) and, more likely, that instead we all now send 'hilarious' e-cards full of dancing gnomes with our heads attached to them. And yes, I have done this (and will probably do it again sadly).

The serious part of all this (apart from the fact that it is sad to see any tradition die off) is that the charity Christmas card market has been really badly hit and the aforementioned Oxfam reckon the trend away from cards could cost them £100,000 alone this year. When you add in all the other charities that rely on cards as an important part of their revenue, it adds up to an almighty sum of money that won't be going to help people this year.

How many people who used to receive a charity card in the post, will just sit stoney-faced at their computer screen as the 15th 'hilarious' dancing gnome with a red hat arrives in their inbox?

To end on a positive note, even with all this doom and gloom, it is still predicted that over 800 million cards will be sent this year.

If that is the case, then I am afraid I must go back to my original point and wonder what have I done to upset all but four people during the course of 2010...

The Bath Spa - a place of real magic

2010-12-02T08:59:00.000-08:00

It is often said that when you live and work in an area you tend to overlook the things that attract many other people to where you are based. And that is why I decided last week to pay a return visit to the Thermae Bath Spa – my first trip for at least three years – and one which I decided I really ought to make to familiarise myself again with this iconic city attraction.
I arrived in Bath in September 2005 when you couldn’t say the word spa without putting the word ‘troubled’ in front of it. It struck me that local people had been following the financial shenanigans to do with the spa for so many years that many of them had probably lost sight of what it was there for and why.
I won’t pretend that all the costs involved and the subsequent legal battles weren’t important and serious but now they are all (for the most part) behind us, I hope people can now just look at the spa for what it is – which is what I did last week.
And I’m delighted to say, that I loved every minute of my somewhat delayed visit.
We decided to go on the night of the opening of the Christmas Market which turned out to be the first of the very cold nights we have all experienced this week. In many ways that was perfect because to be on the rooftop pool in the freezing air at around 5pm as you watched Bath turn from day to night was a truly magical experience.
The contrast between the cold air on your face and the warm waters below was a sensual delight and I can genuinely say that by the time we left we felt as relaxed as if we’d been in a deep, deep sleep for many hours.
What was also impressive was to see just how busy the place was. Even at what I thought was a relatively unfashionable time, the place was buzzing – but not in such a way as we ever felt like sardines in a particularly well-lubricated tin.
The range of people also impressed me. Yes, it is still very female orientated but there were still plenty of men and all adult ages were well represented. Young romantic couples, groups of students, older couples with friends as well as partners and a high number of single people all contributed to a lovely, friendly mix and an atmosphere where no one seemed stressed, no one was moaning and the only fear anybody had was how they could get from the rooftop pool to their dressing gown without catching a severe chill.
Of course, I accept that for some people the whole mess about the spa’s finances will mean they will never be able to fully enjoy the experience as I did – and that, I think, is a shame.
To not use the spa because of these sorts of objections is like not going to see your favourite club at the new Wembley stadium because it cost too much to build. I just wish those people who still feel that way could try to put it behind them and just enjoy what thousands of people from all around the world are now discovering – that the Thermae Bath Spa truly is a jewel in Bath’s crown.
Troubled spa? No, I’ll go with ‘glorious spa’ instead, thank you.

Taking on the Roundheads

2010-12-02T08:57:00.000-08:00

First printed in the Bath Chronicle on November 26

It has certainly been an interesting week for royal watchers both nationally and locally.

Within the space of just 48 hours last week we saw the wedding announcement of Prince William and Kate Middleton and then we enjoyed having The Duchess of Cornwall switching on our Christmas lights and charming many who had the pleasure to meet her.

It all meant that from Twerton to Twickenham and from Widcombe to Wycombe people could once again join in the old Monty Python-style debate “so what have the royals ever done for us?”

I nailed my royal colours to the mast in a column here a while back when I admitted that after being a punk rock inspired ‘non-believer’ in the 1970s as I got older and saw the royals in action first hand I started to realise the special appeal they had, and the amazing way their presence lifted people. I have been lucky enough to attend a number of royal functions and quite a few big political ones too and there is no doubt which group have the most impact on people. You may remember the odd word of a meeting with a major politician but I guarantee you would remember every word The Queen said to you if you met her.

I was, however, in somewhat of a minority among a group of my colleagues when I expressed my interest in the wedding last week. It led to a spirited, passionate debate but, whereas I sympathised with many comments from these latter day ‘Roundheads’, I just couldn’t find one killer point of theirs that could lead me to rejoining the ‘off with their heads’ team.

‘They cost us too much’ was a frequent argument (last I heard it was the huge sum of 67p a year for every taxpayer) and ‘they represent elitism and cause class division’ was another (but would abolishing the royals remove such distinctions or just make oil barons the new aristocracy?). I also heard on a radio phone-in someone say ‘they have lost their magic because of their failed marriages’ to which I would reply with a couple of sentences that may well include words such as pot, greenhouse, kettle, stones and black.

I think my main arguments against the naysayers is that the royals represent something which is truly unique to Britain’s appeal and, quite frankly, that our lives would be so much duller without them.

They are one of the primary reasons people travel to the UK for tourism (£500m a year was a figure I heard for the money generated by the ‘old firm’) and, when The Queen in particular travels away, the goodwill she generates is incredible. I remember watching a documentary which showed President Bush practically quaking in his boots at the thought of meeting our monarch. Would a US president be nervous at the thought of meeting messrs Cameron, Clegg or Miliband? Sorry fellas, but no chance.

Of course I do understand the reasons why I shouldn’t ‘get’ the royals. Why should a person assume the head of a country by birthright alone? It is madness. And, if we were starting a new country now such an idea would be as daft as, I don’t know, giving massive bonuses to bankers. But we are not a new country. We have 1,000 years of history behind us in which we have had a monarch and I can’t believe our modern day lives would have been enriched, made more colourful or indeed more egalitarian if we had decided to ditch that legacy in recent years and instead have elected a President Thatcher or Blair.

No, the British monarchy is not perfect but then again we are not a perfect nation either. What the royal family is, however, is something to inspire and enthuse millions of people worldwide and which is seen as a great and original asset to this country on the world stage.

Not bad for 67p.

It's a wonderful life - and it was for Tony

2010-11-19T13:50:00.000-08:00

My favourite film is – and has been for many years – Frank Capra's 1946 masterpiece called It's A Wonderful Life.

To those who don't get it, this is just a whimsical American fantasy piece about a man who is given redemption by an incompetent angel. However, for those who do truly understand it, this is a truly uplifting film which shows how one man's life touches so many others and how no man who is truly loved can ever feel their life has been anything but a triumph.

This film kept coming back to me on Tuesday when I attended the beautiful funeral service of Tony Morgan at St Swithun's Church in Bathford.

I got to know Tony a few years ago when he was consort to one of his five beloved daughters, Loraine Morgan-Brinkhurst, when she was chairman of Bath and North East Somerset Council. Every time I met him he had the ability to make me feel like I was the most important person in the room, and his warmth, kindness and genuine love of life shone out of his eyes.

On Tuesday I realised that this quiet and unassuming man had the ability to do the same to everyone and I can honestly say I've rarely ever been as moved as I was during this quite remarkable service.

As well as an inspired and inspiring speech by Loraine herself and some beautiful words from nephew Kevin Moore and sons-in-law John Fry, Paul Allison and John Davies, the moment that really struck me was when Tony's many grandchildren went to the front of the church and paid their own incredibly moving tributes.

For someone from a relatively small family it seemed like there were dozens of these grandchildren but what really touched me was the way all of them spoke as if they were the only grandchild Tony had ever had because he clearly loved and delighted in every one of them.

Their loving words would have been heart-breaking – if they weren't completely inspiring.

As I left the service I thought again about my favourite film. It's main character George Bailey is given the chance to see what life would have been like had he not been born and when he realised the impact he'd made on others, he saw that it is, after all, a wonderful life.

For Tony Morgan it was exactly the same. As I looked around the packed church it was almost impossible to find a dry eye but this was a mixture of tears of sadness, tears of joy and tears of pride.

That is the impact that this humble man had on all around him and having not known him terribly well before the service, I felt I really knew him by the end. And my admiration soared.

It showed to me, once again, that we should not judge a man by the size of his bank balance or his home but by the size of his heart and his capacity for love.

In that context, Tony Morgan was truly a man amongst men.