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A warm and muggy Saturday in Cardigan, thankfully no rain. Assembled outside the Guildhall while a Silver Band drew a crowd. Waiting to parade through town in aid of the Jigso Project. Themed Fancy Dress – musicals ancient and modern – inspired a lot of Mum’s (yes I know… ), and there were some superb outfits. Hats off (and believe me it was a hat doffing day) to the Mum who brought along Mary Poppins, the Tin Man AND Willy Wonka. Phew! She-child elected to be an ‘Indian Dancer’ (thanks Boogie Pete!) and so Spouse went Bollywood for the day. Friend and writer Monique Roffey’s new book White Woman on a Green Bicycle is out now and gathers some good reviews. Despite this, she didn’t make the Man-Booker Long List and there’s me thinking it would be a shoe-in. Still there there’s a good chance of getting it on the Not the Booker Prize list that the Guardian is running. Follow the the link and nominate if you are inclined.
Of further note you can hear Monique on the BBC Radio 4′s Open Book show hosted by Mariella Frostrup, the thinking man’s pickled herring. There’s also Fans of Monique Roffey’s New Book ‘The White Woman on The Green Bicycle on Facebook and you might enjoy The Indie’s One Minute with Monique Roffey The keen-eyed will have noticed new colours nailed to my masthead; the logo of newly relegated Southampton Football Club. Yes that’s my club. Dumped out of the Championship, in administration and starting next season with a 10 point deficit, they are on the brink of being bought out by a consortium financed by a mystery multi-millionaire. Even though we live in dark economic days there are some ready and eager to invest in that thing that is the opposite of a cash cow. Doubtless if I had the cash I’d be one of them. Notwithstanding nearly 40 years living in Wales (and a brief narrowboat induced flirtation with Aston Villa) I can’t bring myself to support any other club. It’s a blood thing really; a large New Forest family on my mother’s side, living close enough to Southampton to be regulars at the Dell, it can’t be helped. Anyway, today I read this story in the (Southern) Daily Echo. As with so much from the back pages it is likely to be complete tosh. But while the identity of alleged multi-millionaire investor remains off-radar a man (of a certain age) can dream. Of course I’d prefer it if it were Rod Stewart AND the Faces. But I suppose Gordon Strachan will have to do. My parents love to garden; their parents loved to garden. I sadly do not. Although I love a summer garden I have never caught the bug. As a child I came to dread excursions to garden centres, not that they were called that; they were plant nurseries. Rather boring, specialist places, they seldom could hold this child’s attention long enough. Alpines, annuals, hardys, aquatic, marginal or bog it made no difference to me. Of course it is the way of things that I find now that specialist nurseries are interesting and cherishable. Penlan Perennials Nursery at Penrhiw Pal, near Newcastle Emlyn, is my favourite in Ceredigion, and well worth a visit. Although I remain a reluctant gardener I do like to photograph a well made garden. And, after nearly 40 years of work, is my my parents’ Aberporth garden in its late Summer glory. |
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