REPORT 38 FEBRUARY 2006
Much droning has taken place . . .
IT'S STRANGE how the simplest challenges sometimes completely defeat
you while apparently complex ones succumb immediately. For twenty-four
hours I have been trying to tame my Sky TV programme. I don't know
what happened but it suddenly started to give out all sorts of bizarre
messages about no satellite signals being received or just sullenly
refusing to respond to anything. I swore at the set, took the card out
and rubbed it on my trousers in the prescribed manner, unplugged the
system and replugged it, and did everything I could possibly think of.
Eventually I've managed to get Sky Sports but only in a fiendishly
baroque way. It's wasted a huge amount of time and nervous energy.
Tim Heald
PS Look out for news in my next Report of a book auction in London in
aid of Books for Africa sometime in February.
In stark contrast is the affair of the crime writers' conference. For
years now I have been a member of AIEP which stands for something like
Associacion International Escritores Policiers but is essentially an
International Crime Writers Association designed to give a break to
those who don't write in English. Loads of Spaniards, Mexicans,
Bulgarians and so on. I've been to two of their conferences in the
past, one in Gijon on the northern coast of Spain and one on the Black
sea Coast of Bulgaria. Both were wonderfully eccentric occasions which
I duly wrote up though I seem to think that neither ever found a
public home - I suppose it's just the grumpy old man in me which
thinks such quirkiness would have been more publishable in the dim and
distant but still. Anyway Janet Laurence, the English AIEP boss, said
that this year's conference was in Zaragoza, Spain and I thought it might
be fun to go. Brittany Ferries run a summer service to Santander in Spain
and it occurred to me that we could take a train from there to Bilbao,
take in the Guggenheim and a Basque tapas bar or two and then train on to Zaragoza. The conference hotel sounded cheap
and cheerful and there would be plenty to write about. By lunch I had
booked the conference, the hotel, had an encouraging e-mail from the
head of PR at Brittany Ferries and another from the travel editor of a
favourite national magazine. All this I found ludicrously gratifying
and encouraging. On the other hand I think the other sort of
experience is more common.
It's been a bitterly cold few weeks and I had a birthday. The birthday
was not particularly significant but any birthday gives pause for
thought and I realise that I am now eight years older than my father
was when he was killed in a car crash in 1972. He was 54 and at the
time he seemed to me quite venerable. Heaven knows how I must appear
now to my own children!
Penny bought me a number of jolly presents the most exciting of which
was an incredibly exotic bottle of Inniskillin Ice Wine from Canada. I
remember the winery from the time I was an editor on Weekend Magazine
in Toronto and it was producing almost the only passable reds in
Canada. This ice wine is, however, a classic sticky and appallingly
expensive. I hope Penny doesn't decide it's too good to drink! We spent
part of the week in Paris (my Christmas present to Penny) and on our
way home put up at the Ritz (thank you, thank you) and Penny took me
to a delicious dinner at the newly revamped Bentleys in Swallow Street
round the corner. Oysters and Dover Sole: opulent simplicity and
entirely delicious!
Paris was a Tesco Special Offer in conjunction with Last Minute.Com. A
cheap hotel in the dixieme, Eurostar, much bitterly cold walking, a
day in the Musee d'Orsay, an evening with friends, all of which I've
written about and still hope to see published so I won't bang on about
it now. Suffice it to say that though Paris isn't a cheap city the
return train fare from Waterloo to the Gare du Nord is only £59 and
you can get an adequate hotel for less than fifty or sixty euros a
night if you're not unduly fussy. London hotels seem much more
expensive. We've just been looking at discounts for same available
through various London clubs and there isn't much under £150 a night.
Pretty scary!
I had some useful meetings in London and partly as a result, and
partly because of the brilliant networking of my editor at Weidenfeld,
Ion Trewin, I think we have sorted out the schedule for my Princess
Margaret biography. That continues to make steady progress and I had
another interesting session with her former private secretary as well
as arranging a chat with one of her favourite later-life companions. I
also had revealing chats with Mike Palin about Margaret and the
Pythons and another with Lord Gladwyn who told me about the time she
visited Paris when his father was ambassador. I'm still trying to find
out more about Dorothy Shay, her favourite singer.
Much droning has taken place. I droned away to a sell-out audience
(56) of the Fowey ladies' Luncheon Club and in an interview for a
Channel Four programme for the Queen's 80th birthday with James Runcie,
son of the Archbishop. They seemed pleased with it but, as usual, I
can barely remember a word I said. I have also arranged a drone on
cricket at the Daphne du Maurier Festival in May, hopefully with that
well known cricket fan, Bishop Bill of Truro. And Gyles Brandreth
wants me to be interviewed for a couple of Granada Specials he is
making - also pegged to royal birthdays. We were on the receiving end
of another drone, this time from Chris Patten at Rick Stein's
restaurant in Padstow where we have an annual Oxford Society lunch -
Penny's idea originally. Chris was good I thought and if I sound
patronising I think it's allowed as we were exact contemporaries at
Balliol College, Oxford and occasionally did tutorials together. It is
salutary in a number of ways to see how grand the old boy has become.
Chancellor of the University and Lord Patten of Barnes foresooth.
That's almost as ageing as another birthday and a reminder that one
has signally failed to become grand oneself. (One PR man actually
asked me the other day whether I wrote under my own name which is bad
enough from a member of the general public but really depressing from
an industry professional.)
So onward, onward, scribble, scribble. The editor at Aurum responded
more or less positively to the Compton manuscript but has a number of
points to raise. He is coming down on the sleeper next week and we
hope to get through the whole thing before he takes the 3 something
train back to London. That should mean the paperback Village Cricket
and the hardback Denis both appearing in April. Cue for celebration.
Finally I promised last week that I would mention the Book Aid charity
auction which received a lot of publicity in the Observer and Sunday
Telegraph the other day and is an event much to be encouraged. The
charity is descended from the charmingly eccentric Lady Ranfurly's
Library and is concerned to send books to poor countries especially
those in Africa. Jeremy Paxman is endorsing the event which takes
place in London on the evening of February 21st and tickets for a
champagne reception and the auction itself are £75 a head. However as
there are only 250 places available it sounds horribly as if they may
already have sold out. Twenty or so authors including J.K. Rowling
herself have contributed original handwritten pieces. For further
information one should contact Madeleine Langford-Allen on
02077333577. Her e-mail is Madeleine.Langford-allen@bookaid.org
This is a good cause and another one is the fledgling community radio
station Radio St. Austell Bay which will be putting out its first
trial broadcasts from 19th February to 4th March. I don't know the
website and you'll only be able to pick it up in this part of Cornwall
so I suppose the appeal is limited. I like the idea though.
And now back to Death on the Ocean Wave which is behind schedule. I
saw the new bank manager the other day and charming though she was
such visits make one acutely aware of the financial imperatives that
govern life! One has to keep the words ticking along.
Report Number
38 FEBRUARY 2006
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