Category: Literature

Pickwick

At this time of year my thoughts turn to opening a bottle of something sweet. The approach of Christmas turns me into Mr. Pickwick.

Chronicles of War

Sir Alan (Tommy) Lascelles cropped up recently in a reply to a comment. He served as Assistant Private Secretary to George V, Edward VIII and George VI and then as Private Secretary to George VI and Elizabeth II, retiring in 1953 aged 66.

The Rule of Seven

Great discoveries have been made in a bath in Greece and an orchard in England. I make my contribution in the library bar at the Lanesborough Hotel on Hyde Park Corner.

Punkers*

One purpose of blogging, for me at least, is to improve my writing. There is plenty of room for this endeavour. A reader has told me that I have fallen into error. The Spanish Inquisition is still with us.   

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Categorised as Literature

A Post About Post

I recently listed a few of the abundant, high quality crop of novels published in 1932. 1847 wasn’t so dusty either: Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Vanity Fair and The Macdermots of Ballycloran were all published. You haven’t heard of The Macdermots? Nor me until now.

Good Reads

Yesterday’s post had a list of MPs who abstained in this week’s Commons vote on airstrikes in Syria. Today’s post is another list. I’m becoming an obsessive-compulsive list-maker. It’s not a new complaint; much of The Old Testament is lists of who begat whom and Burke’s and Debrett are keeping up the good work.

Hatchard Job

Gifford’s name has cropped up a few times here and, as he has never sent in his legal team to sue the socks off me, here he is again. He has drawn my attention to a poll conducted by Hatchards to pick the best novel of the past 200 years.

You Rang, M’Lord?

Reading P G Wodehouse is a source of great pleasure to me but it has a serious angle. It, subliminally, provides education on titles and forms of address and he doesn’t put a foot wrong.

When I Was Five

“A house in Kensington and £2,000 a year.” Sounds a bit like some thing from the pen of Muriel Spark, doesn’t it? Well, you’d have to sell the house these days. When I started in the City I never aspired to a residence in Kensington but I thought that I could jog along on £4,000… Continue reading When I Was Five