Hitchhiker history

Who needs it? The history. The background to one of the funniest ideas in – well, in what? – literature? Broadcasting? Television? Film?

I started at the wrong end, if there is one. I read the books first. Though, come to think of it, since the radio series of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a lot better than the books, it would have been more disappointing to go the other way. OK, maybe I did it the right way. In fact, I have a feeling I may even have watched the television series before getting to the radio. It was on just as I met the Resident IT Consultant, and I recall us watching it in the early days.

I looked on in fascination as the trilogy grew to five books. That’s British humour for you. It’s why I like my adoptive country so much. It has stuff like H2G2.

Fast forward to the unfashionable end of the last century, when I came across the radio series on audio cassette in the mobile library, and borrowed it for Son. I thought he might like it. He did. It wasn’t exactly news at the time. Nobody much – other than nerds – talked about it, so Son was educated in something vaguely historical and dated. Who cared, as long as he laughed and learnt a few new good quotes. It turned out useful, too. How his leaders at Pilots at the local church could even begin to think that children his age would be able to answer any questions on this subject in their fun quiz, is beyond me. Old-fashioned Son could, but his friends had never heard of it. Very handy, too, when it came to dressing up for World Book Day at school. We just needed to send Son to school in his dressing gown, holding a ‘book’ which said Don’t Panic.

From then on I’d say that H2G2 woke up again. More stuff on the radio, a film, and now the sixth book, written by Eoin Colfer. He is not Douglas Adams, but since we can’t have him, Eoin is a good second. I hope.

Anyway, that history. Who needs to know? I mean, who doesn’t already know about it? There was a long description/history thing in the Guardian a week ago, and I just wondered what the point was. As a fan, I do like reading about what I like, but there was something not quite right about this article. And I don’t just mean the fact that facts were wrong. Ford and Arthur did not hitch a ride with Zaphod when Earth was demolished.

The point of the new book is surely to educate a new generation of readers, and anybody old who happened to miss it the first time?

Marmite is truly horrid

We have a cellar full of Marmite. Luckily it’s fully contained in those nice jars that Marmite comes in. It’s only unlucky, because we don’t really need to buy any more Marmite for the foreseeable future.

I don’t like Marmite. Neither does Horrid Henry, which rather surprised me. Silly of me, as I’ve already mentioned what a sensible boy he is. Why should he fall for that ridiculous notion that Marmite really is much nicer than its smell would lead you to believe? That’s for his silly brother to do. Perfect Peter does like that foul-smelling, dark brown substance.

By now the people at Marmite and at Orion will be up in arms, and probably Philip Ardagh, too, although he has nothing to do with Henry. But I will admit that Marmite and Orion have come up with a good idea. You buy Marmite – if you must – and then you can download a total of five free Horrid Henry audiobooks. If you buy five jars, that is, which sounds a little OTT.

There has been no end to Horrid Henry in these parts. As if the story collection I mentioned the other day wasn’t enough, Marmite-hater Henry has an annual, too. Naturally.

Horrid Henry’s Annual 2010, illustrated by Tony Ross as usual, has a lot in it. I’d say that any Henry fan would enjoy the tricks, jokes, quizzes and whatnot. Even an old witch feels all twitchy when eyeing the wordsearches and the things to make.

Halmstad library

Don’t remember why I didn’t feel a new library in Halmstad was a good idea. I liked the old one, of course, and didn’t want it replaced. But I’m not the one who decides on these things, and that’s lucky. It also seemed somewhat mad to build it hanging out over the river Nissan. But, why not?

Now that it’s been here for a few years I can’t se why I was so negative. It’s almost exactly in the same place as the old one, so there is not even a need to change where you go. It’s beautiful, and large, and lime green. Colour accents only, I hasten to add, before anyone has an allergic colour reaction. Suits me, as I have strayed into lime green as my blog colour.

We used to go to the library to use the public computers, but I always struggled with the unknown PCs. Now Son has started a new trend in taking the baby laptop along and simply using their super fast internet. You do have to be a library member, but a club that will have me in it, should be easy to join.

So the other day Daughter and I carried our little toys into town and surfed happily, sitting on comfy limey chairs, with a view over the river. The only slightly disconcerting thing were the seagulls. I could have sworn they were in there, so loud were they. I lifted my eyes up to the ceiling to see if there really were gulls, but I expect it’s a trick of the sound entering somewhere.

They have a café, too. The library, not the seagulls.

And I apologise for my fascination with toilets, but they are great. And they look nice. (This is a direct message to the unfriendly, toilet-free Stockport library.)

I have yet to attend any of their special events, but I’m sure I would if I lived here all the time.

This week I enjoyed their exhibitions of book cover art and Ex Libris designs. Being a small town, I knew several of the Ex Libris owners. I could have offered mine if I’d known they were arranging this exhibition.

Do go and have a look if you’re in Halmstad.

Last night I dreamed

that I sat next to Ann Pilling. My dream was set somewhere holiday-ish where the whole witch family had gathered, and there were loads of children’s authors. I ended up sitting next to someone by the name of Ann, but it took me ages to find out who she was.

I wouldn’t be telling you about my dream, if it wasn’t for what Daughter did next. She needed occupying, so being a bookwitch I suggested reading. Of course. I also suggested Michelle Magorian’s A Little Love Song, but sadly it has turned into one of these suggestions where Offspring have to say no, just to keep up tradition. So she went off to see what else there might be and came back with Vote For Baz, by none other than Ann Pilling. Witchy.

I don’t know the book myself, as it’s one of the review cast-offs from Librarian Husband of Cousin, which has been hanging around for a few years. But it was good enough to result in Daughter not doing anything else for a whole day. But she would like it known that the cover sucks.

When Son and Dodo arrived, they proudly mentioned they’d brought a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, with a view to reminding themselves what it’s about. I told them they were idiots, as it’s the only Harry Potter we already have here on holiday, so a waste of a kilo of luggage allowance. They remedied this by reading a copy each, side by side. Then they went to the library for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The library had no other Harry Potters in English except The Deathly Hallows, and they even had two copies of it. So they have side-by-sided HP7 as well.

The library has been useful in other ways too. Daughter had to have some more audio books to listen to at night, so she found an Alex Rider and Philip Pullman’s The Scarecrow on CD. It’s free and you can keep them for four weeks.

Other than this, we have tidied the book collection a very little. Over the years we have carried spares and jumble sale books for those desperate days when you just have to have something else to read. But unless we are to hang on to lots of old books for any grandchildren we may have, we have quite frankly outgrown some of them. They are now sitting in the Salvation Army bag, waiting to go.

Daughter wanted to relieve the Salvation Army of a second-hand bookcase to put them in, but I felt we didn’t need more shelves. We need fewer books. I prune and re-order every now and then, and we have a passable collection by now. In fact, my former neighbour used to let herself in with the spare key and borrow books every winter. Well, I always wanted to be a librarian.

One book that is going nowhere, is I Am David, which Daughter read a few days ago, at long long last. She asked about the title, which she thought she had overheard when her brother listened to the audio book. They are the last words of the book, and just thinking about it made me want to cry a little. She finished the book and then told me she could find nothing sad…

What’s a witch to do?

Campaign for the Book (1)

As I usually seem to do, I ran into Fiona Dunbar in the Ladies at the start of the proceedings of the Campaign for the Book. Since this was held in the impressive King Edward School in Birmingham, which is a boys’ school, we have to be grateful for there being facilities for us girls at all. And while in toilet mode, I may as well admit to ending the day in the Gents, where the lone male customer was showing considerable courage in the face of so many women invading.

Having spent a whole day looking into the future of libraries in schools there is a lot of stuff to tell, so let the number one in the title be a warning that I will not disclose all right now. In actual fact, having begun by not being serious, I may as well continue not being serious. I had a surprisingly easy journey, only getting a little lost cutting through Birmingham University. That is despite the great help from that super-organiser Jean Allen, librarian at KES. Beautifully visible in cerise, and with a beautifully audible voice – so many people whisper, you know – Jean masterminded a first class event. Lots of food. Good food. Things worked.

I have always wanted to write the words stone mullioned windows. There! I have done it! They had them, you see. Great Hall. The school’s Chief Master (what a title!) spoke. He’s a former pupil, along with his mate Lee Child (who I distinctly remember saying a few years ago that he had had an ordinary English school background…), and he was suitably amusing before leaving in order to stop his son setting fire to their house. Or maybe that was a joke.

It’s fascinating with events where the authors are mainly in the audience. I have only listed the ones I know and recognise, although the list provided had more people on it. (From an alibi point of view I don’t want to state that X was there, in case he wasn’t.) Was pleased to discover Theresa Breslin was on the list, and worked hard at deciding what she might look like. She was, of course, the one sitting to my left.

Alan Gibbons is the driving force behind the whole campaign, so he was there. Celia Rees had a speaking role, and so did Gillian Cross. Steve Skidmore kept people in order during one discussion, and Beverley Naidoo and Frank Cottrell Boyce ended the day.

We had two sittings for lunch, and if I say that I first lunched with Theresa Breslin and later with Fiona Dunbar and Lucy Coats, you’ll wrongly assume I ate twice. I just didn’t leave when I should have, since it was so nice to finally meet Facebook friend Lucy.

Most of the 200 conference goers were librarians and others similarly occupied. And not a single Gudrun Sjödén stripe in sight. With so much on the programme I was amazed to find we finished on time. I had done a little autograph hunting during the day (my bag would have been a lot lighter with fewer books carted round), and then I finished off the day’s hunt by catching Gillian Cross and Beverley Naidoo as they were leaving.

The Haggis-knee played up on the way back through the university, so some hobbling was engaged in, and I was overtaken by loads of librarians. Like the famous tortoise however, I caught the train and they didn’t. Ticket issues, I believe. Found Beverley Naidoo again at New Street station, where I was also offered a Malteser by polite young Muslim man. All in all, very nice.

(Sincere apologies for being such a very dreadful photographer.)

Adèle on the radio

Adèle Geras is on the radio today! ‘Quote Unquote’ at 13.30 today on Radio 4. Should be good. Except that being out of the country, I will have to hope that someone records it. Or possibly that I end up catching the repeat on Saturday.

And speaking of the Geras family, I was pleased to come face to face with the Swedish translation of Sophie Hannah’s Little Face in the bookshop in Halmstad the other day. Prominently displayed near the entrance, with hardback book and audio book side by side. And a copy of the book in the shop window.

One of these days I will have the sense to carry a camera at all times. I’m so old and weird that I still use a mobile from the year 2000. It’s purple, and simple, but has no camera. You don’t think I ought to move on, do you? I have seen there are purple phones out there now. In fact, I was on the train recently, and three out of four people where I was sitting had purple mobiles. Very pleasing to the eye.

Glasgow tales

Killing time sometimes leads to more interesting things than you’d expect. My empty evening in London last November took me to the Cottesloe to hear Bill Paterson read from his book Tales from the Back Green. Not only did the book sound absolutely marvellous, but I quickly concluded I didn’t want to read it. 

I wanted Bill to read it to me. What a voice! And that accent! Those snippets in November lead me to listen to the whole book on audio, read by the man himself, which is actually very logical, as it first appeared on the radio. It’s a fairly short book, fitting onto two CDs, in ten chapters. It’s bliss to listen to.

And that’s before you take the contents into account.  I do have a fondness for a Glaswegian accent. Did I already mention that?

The first half is about the earlier days of Bill’s childhood, about playing in what must have been almost central Glasgow. It’s about the little stream called the Molly, before it was covered up. It’s about an interesting neighbour before the fear of pedofiles. It’s football and trams. The second half is about going to the cinema, wanting to join the Navy (I like the idea of stone frigates), summer holidays, the invention of the teenager, and finally about Bill discovering climbing and the theatre.

I’d say that 1950s Glasgow has a lot more in common with Sweden in the 1960s than you’d think.

And for a ‘mere’ actor who left school with few Highers, Bill writes very well, indeed. I’m feeling slightly green with envy. It sounds so easy, but I don’t think it is.

After the Cottesloe I contacted Bill to rave in a similarly uncontrolled manner to what I’m doing now. He replied (he replied!) that as it began on the radio, his main wish for Tales from the Back Green had always been to produce an audio book rather than a printed one. Great minds think alike…

If you don’t buy this audio book now, to listen to when you go to bed at night, I’d suggest you get it to play in the car as you set off somewhere for the weekend or on holiday. You might want to consider Scotland, unless you already live there, in which case I’ll permit you to go somewhere else.

Dad swap

We have a Dad like the one in Neil Gaiman’s The Day I Swapped My Dad For Two Goldfish. He sits and reads the newspaper and pays very little attention to things. We have yet to swap him for goldfish or anything else, but Daughter is trying to come up with a plan.

It’s another of the brilliant but simple plots that Neil is good at coming up with, or more accurately, that he’s good at recognising when he finds it. In this case it was his son who was annoyed with him and wanted a swap. Well, Mike, we’ll take your Dad and you can have something from us. Our Dad. Newspaper included.

The book is pretty much what it says on the box, except that once you’ve swapped Dad, you have to be prepared for further swaps, and getting him back can be tricky. It’s a nice simple story, made really interesting by Dave McKean’s illustrations. I was so intent on admiring the pictures I almost missed the story.

For such dizzy individuals the solution is to listen to the accompanying CD where Neil reads his story, and all you have to do is look at the pictures. Slight risk of falling asleep, as Neil’s reading is so soft and relaxed that you could drift off……………….

Neil Gaiman pod casts

The long-awaited (by the witch, anyway) pod casts from Neil Gaiman’s visit to Edinburgh in October, have finally appeared on the Fidra blog’s website.

There are two. One is from the Q & A session where, quite sensibly, Neil is reading out the questions, too, which makes for better listening. The other is Neil reading a chapter from The Graveyard Book. As far as I can recall, he said it was the first time he read Dance Macabre.

Having an author read their book is so special, and for it to sound so good when done standing on a stage in front of lots of fans, at the end of a busy day, is even more fantastic. Neil can come and read to me from his books whenever he likes. (I suspect that will be less frequent than I’m hoping…)

Being charitable

It was only as I got to the Guardian Money pages late on Sunday, that it occurred to me how charitably I’d been behaving all weekend. I had been looking forward to a quiet weekend doing nothing but rest and read. (Well, as some people know, I had actually hoped for a very different weekend, but since that couldn’t be…) Then I was hi-jacked by Daughter, who after months and months, and in some cases years, had decided to clear out. And would I help? So I sat in her armchair and directed her as she cleared. Hard work directing, but someone has to.

So, the bookcases are dusted. Books have been put in alphabetical order, excepting the colour co-ordinated Jacqueline Wilson shelves. (Less sure what Dumbledore is doing there.) Books have been re-discovered. But above all, books have been packed into bags for Oxfam. A few books have also, unfortunately been handed back to me, but now that I see some spare space on Daughter’s shelves, I may have to sneak some back. Because I have no room.

Videos have been, not so much got rid of, but been put further out of reach. We simply must keep all those old Disney films, and the Friends episodes, but not for everyday consumption.

And a great number of audio books have been consigned to new ownership. We were once very big customers at Cover-to-Cover, but there comes a time when even Daughter has finished with some of her beloved stories. They have all been heavily used.

But I’ll be interested to see how long those gaps will last, and how soon the Harry Potter figure will have to give way. And someone will have to traipse to Oxfam with the book bags.