March, 2007:

Holmfirth, the small town where I grew up is now best known for being the location of Last of the Summer Wine, the longest running comedy series in the world.

The town’s relationship with the media doesn’t just revolve around programs about three old men rolling down a hill in a bath on wheels however. In 1898 a local firm named Bamforths began creating moving pictures and a film industry sprung up in the area which was a serious rival to that of Hollywood. In fact the process of editing is thought to have been invented by Bamforths in the 1899 film the kiss in the tunnel. What’s even more interesting is that the name Holmfirth (or Holm Frith as the town is referred to in some ancient documents) translates literally into Holly Wood. Well according to the mighty Wikipedia anyway.

I actually spent most of my childhood living in the Bamforth’s mansion, or at least a third of it – the house was split into three more modest homes. We had the middle section, and had two sets of stairs, one the grand elaborate main staircase covered in
ornamentation and coving, and the other an incredibly steep and narrow set of servants’ stairs. My bedroom still had the wires from the butler bell calling system in place, although unfortunately they no longer worked.

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In 1933 road worker Percy Shaw was driving home over the hills from Bradford to Halifax. It was a foggy night and visibility was poor. Usually Percy was guided by the reflection of his headlights on the tram lines that ran the length of the road, but they had been taken up for repair. The night was dark, the fog was thick, and the road was treacherous. Suddenly Percy saw two pinpoint lights shining at him straight ahead. A cat, sat on a fence separating a bend in the road from a steep drop, had saved Percy from a potentially nasty accident. And the Cats Eye, the reflective sphere set into the middle of roads, was born.

Of course road safety pioneers have not been exclusively British. In 1917 June McCarroll, a doctor in Southern California, was run of the road by a ten ton truck barreling down the centre of the road. Incensed, she wrote to the local chamber of commerce and the county board of supervisors demanding that they put some sort of system in place to mark out separate lanes. When she had no luck going through the official channels she bought a can of white paint, got down on her hands and knees, and painted a line down the middle of the road herself. McCarroll continued to campaign, and by 1924 the idea was taken up by the California highway commission and pretty soon afterwards the rest of the world.

I was going to finish off with an explanation of why the British drive on the left, but Americanmum did a good job of this a couple of months ago.

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Peter Kay’s Road to Amarillo Video. Yes it turned into a bit of a monster, but I found the video hilarious at the time. It’s Comic Relief night tonight, while sometimes the comedy part leaves me a little stony faced there is no doubting that the relief part is worthwhile. Donate if you fancy it.

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This week Amy, Evan, and I have been stealing, nicking and pilfering. We have also been thieving, nabbing and purloining; robbing, snatching and misappropriating; and filching, looting and half inching. Yes, there comes a time in every man’s life where he feels the need to introduce his offspring to the joys of petty crime, and for me that time was Wednesday lunchtime.

On my daily drive to work I pass by a number of rugged farm tracks, one of which is bordered by piles of various agricultural, commercial and mechanical detritus. Of particular interest to me has been a large stack of wooden pallets and a heap of old car tyres.

Plan 57, subsection 43b of my great garden scheme involves me creating a compost bin and also a raised container in which to plant potatoes. Old wooden pallets and used car tyres are the ideal materials from which to create these, and so the sight of them laying abandoned just off the public byway has been tantalizing me for months. I haven’t so much been coveting my neighbors ass as much as coveting his piles of crap.

On Wednesday it all became too much for me and so, packing my grapple gun, glass cutting kit, and security laser detector, I bundled my gang of ne’er-do-wells into the car and went off on a heist. I screeched to a stop beside the farm track in a manner reminiscent of the Italian Job, but with Skodas instead of Minis. I would have done a handbrake turn just to finish it off but I couldn’t quite remember how to do one and anyway I was a little worried about driving into the ditch.

While Amy kept the engine running and Evan stood lookout I scuttled round the back of the car and threw four old tyres in the boot. We then made our getaway, careful not to attract the attention of the Fuzz. The same procedure was followed in order to liberate the pallets, except it was less a case throwing them into the boot as it was dragging them around and frequently stopping to catch my breath.

So now I am the proud possessor of four decrepit car tyres and four mouldy wooden pallets. I have yet to attempt the compost bin, but Amy and I spent the day yesterday making the potato planter. Amy chose the colours, not necessarily the ones I would have picked but I’m still pretty pleased with how it’s turned out.

I just hope some bastard doesn’t steal it.

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Chad Vader, day shift manager. The story of Chad Vader, Darth’s younger brother, who works as a manager at a supermarket.

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Don Quixote by Miguel De Cervantes is widely regarded as a vital cornerstone of literature. Written in Spanish and published in two parts, the first printed in 1605 and the second in 1617, the book has subsequently been translated into English numerous times, most recently by the critically acclaimed Edith Grossman.

The book is felt to be the first example of a novel in its modern form, and some believe it is such a masterpiece that it has yet to be bettered. Thomas Mann says “What a unique monument is this book! How its creative genius, critical, free and human, soars above its age!”, The Daily Telegraph said “It is impossible not to approve of this book in every respect.”, and the Guardian states it has “energy and clarity and the rhythm of the telling is compelling.”

And me? I’m on page 129 and my eyes are starting to bleed.

It’s not that the language is especially difficult or archaic, quite the contrary in fact, Grossman’s translation is mercifully free of thee and thous. It’s just that the story keeps repeating itself over and over again with only slight variations. Here comes the deluded Don Quixote who thinks he is a knight errant of old misjudges a situation, tries to apply chivalric principles, and gets seven shades of crap beaten out him by the local peasants. And repeat.

Apparently the second half of the book gets more symbolic and satirical. But as the thing that it is being satirical about is 17th century Spanish culture I’m not completely sure I can be arsed sticking with it.

I bought the book on a whim, sucked in by its placement on the three for the price of two table at Borders. I was feeling very worthy at the time and so also have a history of the philosophy of happiness and a booker prize winning novel staring accusingly at me from my bookshelf. Meanwhile I keep sneaking off and re-reading my PG Wodehouse books behind their backs.

I’m not a book snob. I believe we live in a postmodern age where the latest Dan Brown has the same cultural value as the new Salman Rushdie. I would rather read a book I enjoyed than one I could show off about. But sometimes I listen to all the clever people on Radio Four and want to have just a bit of their knowledge.

There was recently a poll of what books people in the UK have started and failed to finish. There were some obvious ones in their, but also some unexpected. A chap at the Guardian used the poll as a springboard to blog far more eloquently than me about his own struggles with Don Quixote, but I promise this blog entry was conceived before I’d read his account. I mention it only in the interests of full disclosure.

If you are interested here is the list. Are there any books on your own shelves that have defeated you?

1. Vernon God Little, DBC Pierre

2. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling

3. Ulysses, James Joyce
4. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Louis De Bernieres

5. Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell

6. The Satanic Verses, Salman Rushdie

7. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho

8. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

9. The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

10. Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky

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