100 Plays!

Post-pandemic, at the start of 2022, recognising that I am never actually going to move to the Home Counties, I resolved that if I lived in London I needed to use it more. I've always been good at exhibitions, but I wanted to do much more live theatre. So I did. I committed myself to going around twice a month, specifically 25 times a year*. Yesterday, I went to the Young Vic for the nuts, but very good, Bengal tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, for #100. It's been superb. Here are some stats.

• 21 musicals, only eight written after I was born
• 25 Shakespeare, half way through a target to see them all
• 6 Pantomimes. We went to two a season in each of 2023 and 2024
• 2 with my own child in. I cannot comment on the quality of either.
• 35 attended alone
• 39 different theatres
• £60 average price, masking a £20 rise between 2022 and 2025

It's changed my life. Here's what I learnt:

• London has loads of theatre on. Twice a month feels like a lot, but I missed plenty.
• Going to the theatre alone is amazing. There is something thrillingly efficient about arriving just in time (ideally by bike), seeing a play, reading a book at the interval, and going straight home.
• I can cycle into pretty much every theatre in central London even if I leave home at 7pm.

Here were my favourites, in the order I saw them:

1. Oklahoma (2022, Young Vic) was a marvel, reimagined and exciting. I even enjoyed the dream ballet. The women - Anoushka Lucas and Marisha Wallace - both outstanding.
2. Night at the Kabuki (2022, Sadler's Wells). 12th century Japanese retelling of Romeo & Juliet and set to Queen’s A Night at the Opera. It was even madder than it sounds and huge huge fun.
3. My neighbour Totoro (2022, Barbican). Everyone loved this. It was charming.
4. The Motive and the Cue (2023, National). Truly mesmerising. Full of cleverness and good on that cultural hinge in the mid century. Absolutely astonishing performance by Mark Gatiss.
5. La Cage aux Folles (2023, Regents Park). I cannot believe I haven't seen this before. It was done exceptionally well.
6. Player Kings (2024, Noel Coward). Possibly Ian McKellan's stage swansong as he injured himself shortly after. I have never heard Shakespeare sound so natural before or since.
7. Fiddler on the Roof (2024, Regent's Park). The structure of this is always lopsided, but this made it work. To Life (L'Chaim) done like a whirlwind; Anatevka with enough lightness to make it heartbreaking. I felt very smug when it transferred to the Barbican.
8. Macbeth (2024, Pinter). David Tennant's Macbeth was superb; what I thought would be a gimmick of giving everyone headphones enabled a range and immediacy that amplified the impact.
9. Midsummer Night's Dream (2025, Barbican). I booked this because it had Mat Baynton in, who does the best Horrible History songs. He delivered a great Bottom, and the final playlet scene was distilled, perfect, pantomime, and the funniest Shakespeare I have ever seen.
10. Much Ado about Nothing (2025, Drury Lane). However much fun I had watching this (and I had a lot of fun), it was less fun than Tom Hiddleston had performing it.
11. The years (2025, Pinter). Powerfully done, very well staged, and fascinating. Extra points for surmounting the tedious audience fainting
12. The Producers (2025, Garrick). I loved this so much that I went home to watch the original film again.

* The exact rubric took a bit of working out, but I decided it was scripted performances, thus stand-up comedy is out (Andy Zaltzman), as are lectures (David Suchet, Christopher de Hamel), but one man shows are in (on Buffy, Life under Mugabe). The line is fuzzy.

Late night library

Last night, thanks to Anna covering children and my new policy of drink less, doctorate more which I'll be adopting till the damn thing is finished (hopefully December. They'll be a party), I spent an evening in the Library. I haven't spent an evening in a library for a long time. I used to. I remember very fondly coming out of the Bodleian at closing time at 10pm and into the pub. I should stress that outside of Finals panic, I had rarely got the Bod before lunch on said days.

Anyway, I certainly haven't spent any time in the Maughan library (that's KCL's) late at night. Here my reflections:

1. Late night usage is very different from the day. When I visited during the day in the spring, there were sections where I was alone once the motion sensitive lights went off). It was bustling in the evening. And everyone was a bit louder. Disappointingly, this didn't seem to be because they had been drinking.
2. KCL has a very curious cataloguing system. While I have a some sympathy for idiosyncratic approaches to taxonomy (see long and short posts), even I struggle to see why the Late Roman should be split from the Byzantines, but combined with modern Italy. I faced a wall that held biographies of Constantine and Cavour, but not Cantacuzenus. 
3. Despite the fact that everything has changed at university because they all have to pay and they can get all the articles online, undergraduates are still prone to a good old fashioned essay crisis. In the four hours that I was there, two of them sat next to me attempting to write an essay. They didn’t get very far and seemed to be settled in for the long haul. They were quite annoying and seemed to working on sociology (they obviously hadn't figured the cataloguing system out either), but I mellowed towards them through the evening.
4. As a result, I felt exceptionally smug. I also remembered how much better I work in the library compared to being at home, and how much more I enjoy working in them, even at night.
5. That's even true given the now common disregard for basic library etiquette. While I was there, one of my undergraduates got through two cans of Red Bull. Given I was there from 6:30 and 10:15ish, God knows how he was going to get through the small hours. More important, who thinks it's acceptable to drink sticky drinks in a room full of someone else's books?
6. I am very glad I didn't go to London. Regardless of the quality of the library environment, it's always a long way home. For all of my time at college, it was never more than ten minutes walk.
7. That said, cycling home through the centre of London late in the evening is simply amazing. I haven't done that for ages either, but spinning through the centre when the streets have started to clear, but everything remains lit up is magical. Not even a slightly malfunctioning gear changing mechanism can spoil it
8. My bike needs a service and possibly a new gear box.

It was great, and I got loads done. Unlike the undergraduates next to me.

A love letter

Last week, after nearly eight years, I left the BBC (I started at WaterAid on Monday). What follows here is my love letter to the Corporation. It's not a technical argument for it, though I am happy to have that argument (if increasingly sceptical of its value) nor any kind of defence of some of our unsavoury employees anymore than it is a tribute to the wonderful colleagues I have left. This is simply my farewell. It does of course repeat many of the things I said at my leaving drinks so isn't worth reading if you were there.

I shall miss the BBC terribly. I've been lucky enough to work across almost all of it, though I've seen some bits more closely than others. And I loved it because I got to defend things I loved. 

My affection for those things is deep rooted. When I think about the BBC, it comes saturated with memory. So saturated that some of those memories come from a time before I was born. I remember being played classic radio comedy as a child from the 1960s, so that I can still recite sketches from Round the Horne (e.g.,) and I'm sorry I'll read that again. I'm not alone in this - think of the Dr Who fanatics younger than me who can go back to the same decade. As a twelve year old, I fell asleep to the 1992 election coverage on Radio 4 amid the glimmerings of the great victory. Obviously I woke up the following morning to Today, but I've done that since the age of about eleven. About the same time, my whole family always watched Noel's House Party. I still have an enormous soft spot for Mr Blobby. (This, with Will Carling, is objectively brilliant)

So far, I've got to about 1992 and the list could roll on and on, but there are plenty of more comprehensive lists out there. My own consumption has waxed and waned over the years in entirely predictable ways - when I watched Benedict Cumberbatch play Stephen Hawking in 2004 I was watching very little, but it was still one of the most extraordinary pieces of television I have ever seen. My current favourites are shaped by my child centred timetable and would be dominated by Radio (note especially this this wonderful gem on Shakespeare last month), News, Politics, and CBeebies. And Pointless. It would have drama in, but I rarely have the energy to engage with much now, and I can't bring myself to watch War and Peace until I've reread the book again.

However, my favourites aren't really the point. That list could be entirely different and just as strong. The BBC is a place where magical things get made, lots of them, and many done in ways that commercial TV and Radio can't do and certainly can't sustain. This time last year, in the grip of a small baby and a lot of hours to fill, I listened to Serial. Frankly, I was dreading it being better than regular speech radio. It wasn't, though it was fine: a good story, told well. We do things that good every week on Radio 4, some better, and many times over. Serial, which lost money, has found it harder to replicate its success. Our music is unsurpassed, Radio 4 inimitable, and our News coverage wider, better and more diverse than anyone else. I wouldn't be without the Spectator and the Economist, but I rely on BBC News. And I know no-one else has as many correspondents in as many places because I've counted them.

I found that experience typical. Working for the BBC only increased my affection for most of the output, if at times straining my patience with the internal and external constraints. Working in News taught me not just to appreciate, but to love, the English Regions. My favourite BBC statistic remains that the regional current affairs strand Inside Out has higher audiences than Panorama. The BBC taught me how to think about digital with the whole audience in mind. BBC Radio, which is the best part of the BBC, gave me such pleasure. There, I got Radio 2 Eurovision approved and saw, brilliantly, Brad Paisley in session. It was marvellous.

This isn't a structured policy argument about the BBC. The technical arguments for and about funding are a reasonable argument to have, though not always had reasonably. There are things one could and should change about the BBC. However, I think this misses the point. The BBC's future has been dressed up in technocratic discussion for over a decade, yet for me it's never been about that. It's been about the institution. And any position anyone takes on the debate is about how they feel about the institution and I suspect institutions generally. David Hatch, quondam Controller of Radio Four, talked about running that station as like inheriting a long-established country estate that has to be handed on intact. I feel that about the whole BBC (and indeed the great estates). It should be handed on. I fear it won't be.

For now though, I feel honoured to have manned some of the barricades. It was an enormous privilege.

Daniel John Garrood

b. 01:43, 30.xii.2014, London, 8lb 6oz (3.8kg)

Daniel for:
the Prophet
the Stylite

John for:
the Baptist
the Revelator (as this, not as imagined by DH Lawrence)
Tzimiskes
Cash
And my grandfather, John Garrood

Disappointingly, Anna vetoed Charles.

An elegy for lost data

Notoriously, I have a database of my friends. Specifically, I have a small spreadsheet on which I record my core friends - about 50 of them - and various facts, including how often I see them. I also have spreadsheets that record in detail a variety of other things, including my books and reading. No-one really remembers them though. Now, they are all gone - or at least 2012 is - as I put them memory stick on which they reside in the washing machine. The data for 2012 is lost. I was, and am, very upset about this. A doesn't really understand why.

Now I've had these for about ten years, maybe a bit more. I started them for quite prosaic reasons. I built a list of books because at the time most of my books were still at my parents' house and I didn't want to buy duplicates. I started recording presents when I bought the same thing for the same person two years in a row. I built the Friends database to win an argument over how many of my friends were Tories - less than half as it happens. But I've kept them because they're useful, and interesting. They've expanded in function of course. It was the Books DB that told me I'd not read about 15% of the books in the house, and so I read them. It's the Friends DB that means I don't forget to catch up with people who aren't front of mind. A record of what I cook, and where, from means I could throw out half my cookbooks last year, and forced me to discover more in those I kept. There's more, minor (I also recorded when people first met JR on the Friends DB) and major (the Books DB also records reading levels, allowing me to note the catastrophic baby-induced collapse in volume). I'll now never have that information for 2012.

But the loss I feel is bigger than that - I feel like I have lost part of my past. Without the data, I'm forced to rely on my perception of what happened, and perception is irredeemably faulty, unsystematic and unreliable, and just plain wrong. We know this - that's why we write things down, it's why we take photographs. For me, the information in those spreadsheets was part of my narrative of my past. The information contained allowed me, quickly, to access accurately the past. I'm not making any great claim for the information they held as a record of my life, but they captured part of it, and with ten years of data, they were compelling. And now they are gone. I can replicate some of the information, but not much, and though I've only lost one year, the sequence is broken and the data will always be incomplete. So will the narrative they supported.

I mourn.

James Robert Garrood

b. 00:45, 28.iv.2012, London, 8lb 15oz (4.05kg)

James for:
the I&VI, the II&VII, and the III&VIII
The Greater and I suppose the Less
Anna's grandfather, James Beale

Robert for:
Guiscard
Artois (as imagined by Druon)
Oppenheimer
And of course Zimmerman

Though Anna is claiming she just likes the sound of the names.

Dictator chic

It apparently isn't acceptable to publicly pronounce on the aesthetics of dictators (as Bryan Ferry undeservedly knows to his cost). However, as we practice entirely inconsistent social rules on this, I can comment positively on the iconography of Chinese communists, who in Mao count the bigger mass murderer in history, without criticism and Beijing is the place to do it. It's not all good - the illuminated face of the embalmed corpse of Mao reminded me of nothing more than a second rate saint's body in one of those cheap catholic churches - but the spectacular bits were spectacular.

That said, the best bits by miles are imperial. A & I disagree on the detail (her favourite day remains the great wall; mine the forbidden city), but both were spectacular, and a terrifying testament to the sheer scale of China and its Emperors. It's also the best stuff we have seen in China. I'm struck, as with the terracotta warriors, that the famous big bits haven't been a  disappointment at all. The central courtyards and pavilions of the imperial forbidden city were beautiful and, as expressions of imperial power, comparable with even the most bombastic expressions of European imperialism, and certainly more powerful than the south side of the square, where communist monumentalism is shown to full effect. The Great Wall has much the same effect, though our stretch also had a slide.

Beijing also seemed (to us) a great city to visit. We were helped by having a great little hostel, where we often retreated after dinner (the Chinese do eat early) and drink cheaply with wifi. But we also had some great times out and the food was fantastic & pretty cheap. Partly this is us cracking China a bit more, but also Beijing being accessible and relatively welcoming: nonetheless, our 56p dumpling lunch on Wednesday remains a highlight.

Overall, then China has been fab. I was a little taken aback by it at first - simultaneously disorientated by the total unfamiliarity of the language &c but also surprised by the modernity, especially when implicitly comparing it to the middle east. But after that initial shock, it's been pretty easy to manage (even train tickets weren't too difficult, though highly stressful). I wish I had learnt more about Buddhist liturgy (and the Bodhisattvas) in advance, and maybe a little about imperial history (still largely limited to Mongols, Ming, Manchu). In fact generally, I wish I'd come earlier, and I think we'll be back.

Japan now. Radiation be damned.

Journey to the West

written 30th March 2011

Now, I know after reading the whole thing, that the Journey to the West actually started in Xi'an (Chang'an) rather than finished there, but it's as far west as we're getting on this trip. Also, while I wouldn't claim that I have endured the trials of the Tang priest, it's an infuriating city. In our case, made worse by a lack of metro (we like metros, much better than buses) and dodgy guidebook information. Our Lonely Planet seemed not to have a single accurate restaurant listing, though some were nearby.

That said, I'm very glad we came, for obvious and non-obvious reasons. Obviously, this is home of the terracotta warriors, which were fantastic. While I saw and loved them in London at the BM a few years ago, nothing really prepares you for the rank upon rank of them presented in the main excavations. Never mind the afterlife, they're quite intimidating in this one. They are also exquisite, with the famous individuality really shining through particularly when you see them en masse. They are endlessly fascinating, even in their fairly rudimentary display (in a big hanger) It's also symptomatic of Xi'an: it's actually very easy (and cheap) to get there from the city, but then they drop you in a park with no signage to the nearby site.

Non-obviously, Xi'an also has a decent set of other major sights that I never heard of, and a fun little Muslim community. We seem to have done the city in the wrong order, and instead of doing the central sites first first went out the far sites. The far ones (a huge 'Goose' pagoda and the museum) are best, but I'd be much more relaxed if I'd wandered round the mosque and towers in the centre on day one. Even more pointless, but exciting, I dragged A to a stele museum on the last day - obviously we couldn't read anything,  but they have a Nestorian stele with traces of Syriac at the bottom. Honestly, even I was a little bored, but it's got to be seen. We met some people in Beijing who were going to Xi'an later, and they were planning to skip the city sights and go to the mountains. I didn't try to persuade them otherwise, but I hope they saw some of them,

The biggest city you've never heard of

Written 24th March 2011

I'm writing this as we approach Xi'an, after a fairly dodgy night overnighting from Hangzhou (via Shanghai). No plush private sleeper for us this time, but rather a six berth cabin, with no door, so not an ideal amount of sleep. But just about OK. The weather seems much improved from Monday and early Tuesday, where we arrived in the very pretty lake town of Hangzhou, only to find it deluged under a downpour. Our mood was not improved by the fact that I had managed to a) note down the address of our hotel in roman characters only, and b) note the wrong address down. Thank god for mobile Internet - we got there eventually, and given the downpour, holed up in our hostel and ate there, before going to bed very early.

Fortified with sleep, we tackled Hangzhou itself the next day and Wed am. , although we started off in a downpour, it steadily improved, was dry by lunch on Tuesday, and sunny on Wednesday. In some ways it was fortunate to see it in al weathers, as it is an extraordinarily pretty town. Now I say a pretty town, actually it's a massive city, with a population of over six million, though most of them live in horrible bits away from the lake and we didn't seem them. The lake itself is stunning:  a beautiful landscaped sequence of gardens, pools, pavilions and islands, which together are extraordinary to look at. Anna particularly enjoyed the endless numbers of little bridges, which pop up with understandable frequency given the causeways and pools the paths have to cover. We also discovered that Anna's greater tolerance for untidiness extends into nature  - I tended to prefer the ordered and symmetrical Bai causeway, to A's preference for the more uneven (though still entirely man-made) Su causeway. At one point I was accused of only liking nature when it had been tamed - an accusation without evil if you ask me.

Two other curious things about Hangzhou. Firstly, it was the most Chinese place we've been to. It's very touristy, but we saw only a handful of other westerners, and a lot of Chinese tourists (more in the sun obviously). Although we broke out of our hostel for dinner on the second night, it was noteworthy that it  hostel also had mostly Chinese guests. Secondly, the town itself, though old, is actually all of recent reconstruction, and this goes for the sights as well. It's prominence dates to the Southern Song (C12-C13), with successive reconstruction, especially in 1699 (we saw the same dates on a lot of monuments). However every monument seems to have been rebuilt or moved in the C20, including the most prominent of the main towers. I wasn't sure how I would feel about that - I am after all a hankerer after ancient authenticity - but having seen it, I'm a fan of modern restoration along classical lines; it works perfectly in Hangzhou. It's the best bit of China we have seen so far.

Pudong and Puxi

Written 21st March 2011


We're very much still easing ourselves into China. Shanghai is more Chinese than Hong Kong, but still very English, by which I mean American. There are more Starbucks here than I have ever seen, and inexplicably, an extraordinary number of KFC outlets. We've not been in either so cannot really comment on their quality (not that I enter either in the UK either). We've also overshot our required hotel standard and are staying in one of the old imperial hotels (the Astor) at the top of the Bund. It's pretty reasonable for price, but have started to wonder if we could have done this a little cheaper. That said, it's fun to be met by black tie staff.

Shanghai itself is great though. It's relatively easy to navigate - a lot of the signs are in English; we can work the metro - and there are some great sights. Though unevenly distributed, it's clearly the product of a lot of money: obviously the silly towers, but also a wide variety of infrastructure investments (I'm writing this on the new link to Hangzhou, covering the 200km in 45 mins) and a lot of shopping developments. I'm especially  pleased that one of swishest, most European of those new developments now essentially incorporates the site of the founding of the Chinese Communist party. We went to both yesterday - they're very keen on waxworks (in the communist bit, it's not a function of the shopping).

So, top marks for Shanghai, though I wouldn't want to live here - I don't think it knows what it wants to be yet. Part of the city (mostly the modern Pudong development) is high finance, expensive and western, the rest (Puxi) is emphatically of the party - Chinese flags over the Bund buildings etc - and I don't think I'd want either for a long time, though fun to see in action.

And, the news from Japan still uncertain, though something seems to be happening in terms of moving the solution on. Go Tokyo Power and Electric! (not a sentence I thought I would ever write)

Epitaph for Empire

written 16th March

As I write this we're on the train between Hong Kong and Shanghai [as I publish, it's the 3rd of April, given China's absurd firewall], a monster train journey of 18 hours, made more bearable by our private compartment, but less bearable by the fact they will not take Hong Kong dollars, which are the only currency we have on us. We are surviving on biscuits.

The four days we've had in Hong Kong have been more stressful and much more alcoholic than we'd intended. Japan's disaster is on our minds at the moment, partly because we've only really managed to get NHK World (Japan's English Language news channel) in the hotel, but mostly because it makes the rest of the holiday a nightmare to plan. While nothing compared to death toll and risk of a nuclear winter that the Japanese are facing, it's own little cross to bear. A tells me this is callous, but it's the bit I am worried about.
Hong Kong made it all seem quite far away, both literally and metaphorically. An 18 hour train journey makes you feel the distance we're covering here, but there's also a curious air of unreality about the holiday so far - Hong Kong and Macau feel very much like what they are - little enclaves of Europe, complete with each country's foibles. We had custard tarts on Macau and I'm delighted to note there is an M&S in Hong Kong. Last night, aside from the warmth and the slightly more civilised atmosphere, we spent the late evening in what could have been an English town centre, albeit one from the late 1990s. Two nights ago, we watched the faintly depressing rugby in the company of a raggle taggle set of other Anglos. Part of the this has been made possible by the excellent hospitality from my mother's godson, who despite not having seen me since he rescued me from certain death in the snow 25 years ago, has been welcoming above and beyond the call of duty, but I also suspect Hong Kong is just a bit like that. It's been great fun, though too many parts of it have been spent hungover.

Things we have learnt:

• All the main tourist things are in fact great - the Peak, Macau, the Star Ferry, the big Buddha (of which more later) - though there seems to be little else to see, apart from some markets
• Beware the weather. Though warm, it is always hazy so take advantage of whatever clarity you can. Definitely don't go up onto a mountain when the cloud cover is low. It will waste an afternoon, and make you cold and wet.
• Take your hotel's card with you out drinking: trying to explain where you want to go to a non-English speaking taxi driver, while tipsy, at 1:30, is not straightforward.
• There is nothing past the gate at the international departure terminal at the station. Change your money and buy your food beforehand

Tough choices

I'm told we have to make these now, on account of the no money left.

However, few can be harder than this. On the same weekend next August:

• The fourth and final England - India test match, at the Oval
• The 22nd International Congress of Byzantine Studies, in Bulgaria

I don't think I can go to both - a crisis.

Not wearing flowers in your hair

They've stopped the flower-wearing in San Francisco, or at least I didn't see any. Which is probably just as well.   Instead we did see what I would call the first real city of the holiday, and most welcome it was too. I still feel that like LA, it must be more fun to live in than to visit, but we had a great day pounding the pavements of San Francisco. And, while we missed out on a few things, I would liked to have got further round the Asian Art Museum than the cafe, though that was excellent, I think we did well. We were helped by having kind hosts to stay with - many thanks to A & K - and therefore did well on food and drinks also. As a city, it's clearly hard to go wrong with such spectacular natural geography as the bay area, and taking the trip to Alcatraz really highlights the glorious setting (and it's a great tour). It also means they appear to have built part of it before the roads came, and that makes a real difference.

However, the highlight for us came yesterday. I'm currently on our last US morning. Up first and sitting within sight of a winery and touching distance of vines, having spent yesterday cycling - increasingly shakily - round the local tasting rooms. We're by Healdsburg, staying in one of the wineries' own cottages, and it's been pretty close to perfect. The weather has been sunny, but not too hot (it's actually hotter in London today), the wine great, and with generous tasting options and we had a very jolly day indeed.

I'm not too surprised (though it was better than even I expected); I like the way Americans do their wine. Everywhere we have been here since LA, serving staff have been knowledgeable and crucially enthusiastic about the wine they carry. And in the vineyards, both here and New York State where I went some years ago, it's been relaxed, informal and very enjoyable to meander through the country sampling their wines. Of course, it also turns out very expensive - not of necessity, in fact most tastings are free - but we've just ended up buying quite a lot of very good wine, and we'll probably get some more today (A should have a present from this trip after all).

So, an unqualified success, and a great end to this Californian run. I'm left with the unexpected feeling that I'd really quite like to do much of this again. Next time I'll do the Vancouver - SF run south, though that's 1,500 miles, nearly 2,000 if I went to the Grand Coulee Dam (which I'd have to). That may take another fortnight, and I'd have to get A to learn to drive. I'd hate to come to these vineyards again without her. Though whether she would have approved of the right wingery on show out here is another matter. I wore my new Reagan centre T-shirt, which drew at least one approving comment and the winery we're staying by has a picture of the Governator on their bar. It's a long way from flower power, but certainly a more productive outcome.

On the road again

We’ve hit San Francisco now, having spent much of the last three days on the road. Since leaving LA, M & I have gone up Highway 1 up to Monterey, crossed the state to Yosemite and rolled into SF. We dropped the car off today with 1280 miles on the clock for six days, and I didn’t even crash once.

The places we managed to get to on the road have been the highlight of the trip so far: Highway 1 itself, especially around Big Sur, was beautiful; Hearst castle barking, yet brilliant; and getting to Yosemite, though a brutal drive on the way, was worth every minute (hour). We've also eaten well on the way. The food and wine in Cambria and Groveland (outside Yosemite) was exceptional, especially Cambria. 

For me, it's the first time I've really done a driving holiday; rare are the occasions that we venture out of the confines of cities and public transport normally (this is why I haven't read much this time, in contrast to my normal demolition of a book every few days, this time, I'm only on book two). But it makes sense in America, and it has helped me makes sense of the country as well. Firstly, it's so big. I feel like we drove for ages, but we never really got very far from a small number of centres. Secondly, transport is a major deal. We went to the Wells Fargo museum in LA, where the centrality of the railroad in the development of their fortune and American prosperity is rammed home to you. These have both contributed to a decentralised and local approach that is is marked contrast to the European. There are lots of reasons for this, but I think I needed to go see the other bits of America to get a sense of this, and it helped by listening to all their election broadcasts on the radio.

They were odd, but I loved the country and want to spend more time around it; for the first time, I can look back and say I wish we'd spent more time driving, more time in the country, and cut the cities a bit.

LA

We've not had the best runs into LA. Firstly, I was ill; secondly, on arrival, M became ill; thirdly we appeared to be staying in what I hope isn't representative of motels in the country, but I suspect is.

We fixed most of these things pretty quickly. After a good sleep (and some excellent Japanese art), I was fine. M recovered though towards the end of the stay, both helped by a switch after one night (and a dreadful morning with no hot water) to a new hotel. We did some good things too. The LACMA was excellent, and the source of the Japanese art in question above; downtown interesting; Dodger Stadium and the baseball exciting and the Getty a fantastic site as well as a decent repository of art. The last hampered by the fact that the its exhibitions put the whole thing into unfortunate perspective. The best thing there at the moment is Donatello’s Bearded Prophet on loan.

I still don't really get it as a city though. It’s sprawl is notorious but really is debilitating to any conception of the city as a whole, and having been to a number of its various neighbourhoods, I cannot think of any of them that I would wish to live in, in fact few I would want to visit again. It’s as if the city has just sprung out of the boulevards, rather the other way round, and it still takes ages to get anywhere.

In fact the most exciting thing of our time in LA was on the exit when we called in on the Reagan Presidential Centre, which is amazing. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to stay and do the tour but we did look at the grounds and the giftshop. I’ve got a great T shirt now.

Beyond the back of beyond

No-one goes to Nipton. That's not quite true, but even the car hire people hadn't heard of it. You should though (go, that is).

We went there straight out of Vegas (based on the visitors' book, so had several others) and wanted to find a tranquil place to sleep and attack the Mojave the next morning (you should go there too). It was bliss, as far from Vegas as can be imagined, though physically near enough for our hotelier to go there frequently for shopping. It felt like a relic from the American past with a working railway line through it, freight only and no stopping, a small store that did everything and a community so straightforward that our hotel just left the hotel open and a envelope with the key in a postbox outside. Then we found them in the bar next door (they run that too). The countryside is also beautiful, as you'd expect near the desert parks.

There's very little to do, but it does it well. Skip Vegas and go. From the look of the visitors' book, Matt tells me that's most people wished they'd done.

Viva Las Vegas?

So, Vegas. I thought I would hate it; and I wasn't keen, though not for the reasons I had imagined. 

Everybody who'd been (and those who hadn't) told me it was clearly not my thing: modern, brash, not enough classical ruins and so forth. But actually those things were fine. Clearly there aren't enough classical ruins, but its tackiness is somehow glorious. I spent a day going up the Strip looking at the horrifying badness of the various hotels. While many were absurd, Caesar's palace remains my favourite on account of both the pool and the - wait for it - animatronic statues in the mall. Similarly, gambling isn't unfun, especially if you win, which we seemed to. I pocketed $230 in the two days. And none of it was a surprise: you know what you are getting with Vegas - they'll be gambling, and drinking, and overblown nonsense, I'm happy to roll with it.
But, although there is a lot of the flash and the plastic and the rest, it's still all a little bit desperate and worse a bit, well, dirty. I don't mean literally, though that's also true, especially in Paris, despite it's half scale Eiffel Tower, where I was poisoned by a poor lunch, incapacitating me for days. Take the sleaze for example. I know that there will be dancing girls in shows; I know there will be prostitution and strip clubs somewhere, but I don't want my taxi driver home to suggest he take me to one, and get me free drinks. It's ugly. Likewise, gambling, I know people will come and some will win and more will lose, but nothing had prepared me for the cud chewing ranks of the middle aged cranking out slots. Where's the fun in that. They certainly didn't seem to having any. Not that the young were any better. Nowhere else have a seen a hotel which had an off-licence on the premises and watch various groups of people retreat to their rooms with a six pack of beer. If you don't want to drink here, why have you come?

I had fun (until the food poisoning kicked in), but as a backdrop, it left a lot to be desired.

Technology fast

It's Ash Wednesday; I still haven't decided what to give up. Although a detailed perusal of my diary suggests that booze is out of the question. I think it's going to be about bible action on the positive - & I've lined up a load of books to read ont this. Interestingly, I've been reading the bible on the Morning and Evening prayer rotas this month and it's been great

However, I like very much the church's call for a technology fast. Actually they call for a reduction in carbon, but most of those are boring. However, I will do two, and more strictly than they call for.

Have a technology fast. Try a day with no TV, no iPod, no computer, and even no mobile. Five days in Lent (vs their one a month) is target. Dates TBC with Anna, but should default to all Sundays. And, for those thinking about it, I am aware of the irony given my job.

Be a part-time veggie. Aim to eat at least two vegetarian meals every week. This is hard. I gave up meat once (in 2006), but I forgot about halfway through. Here though I want two veg days a week, not just two meals. Will have to think about recipes (though without cheating and using the Internet)

I'll also give up crisps.

Books that matter to me

The preamble:

Don't take too long to think about it.

List 15 books you've read that will always stick with you. They should be the first 15 you can recall in no more than 15 minutes. Tag 15 friends, including me, because I'm interested in seeing what books you choose:

1. S. Rushdie, Midnight's children
The first really adult book I read and loved. I reread it a few years ago and while it was diminished over time, it's still a great novel.

2. L.N. Tolstoy, War and Peace
I reread this recently too, but found it enhanced. F.R. Leavis called Tolstoy 'transcendentally great.' This is why.

3. G. Elliot, Middlemarch
Another monster, but a magisterial anatomisation of life

4. J.M. Coetzee, The Life and Times of Michael K
Spare and simple, but enourmously powerful. Probably the best modern book I have read in ages

5. J. Gillingham, Richard I
A great retrieval of Richard I from the assaults of the revisionists, pugnaciously and logically argued. For me, it was the defining book of my historical approach, helped by the fact I probably read it at the turning point of my degree

6. H. Chadwick, The Early church
A slight volume, but perfectly formed, which as well as being lucid and comprehensive, gave me an enduring interest in the early church

7. The Bible
Which leads me here. I resent having to put this down, as I don't exactly read it for pleasure, but it is lodged both in the fabric of society as well as my own personal worldview

8. J.J. Rousseau, The Social contract
As is this. I don't agree with it (or not all of it), but it's hugely influential, well argued and - I was delighted to discover when I got round to reading Rawls - still a powerful engine in modern political theory

9. J.J. Norwich, Byzantium (the trilogy)
Modernity - or at least the Byzantine establishment - has been less kind to this, but it's a great book / trilogy. It's wrong on a lot of the detail and lacks sophistication, but it rattles along, and it made me be a Byzantinist.

10. P.L. Fermor, Mani
This on the other hand made me want to read travel literature. PLF's books are generally brilliant, but this is exceptional, being also both travelogue and the capture of a vanishing society at a point before transition. I think it's his defining work

11. G. Grass, The Tin Drum
As is this. It's magical (in both senses) and fizzes with energy and invention in confronting the Nazi era. It's also a fantastic read.

12. A. Trollope, Barchester Towers
Really this should be the whole sequence, but this is the best, and, well, it's Trollope.

13. L.Durrell, The Alexadnria Quartet
I edited this from Lolita, which, though brilliant (and the first half is simply the best passage of writing I have read in fiction) but this is more significant for me - evocative and cleverly done, even if it does get a little silly towards the end

14. G. Greene, Monsignor Quixote
Simply charming, and funny, and the best exposition of the Trinity that I have ever read (with jokes).

15. H.U. Von Balthasar, Dare we hope that all may be saved? (with a short discourse on hell)
Fewer jokes, but I believe this. And the coda to the title is ace.

I looked up previous preferences once I did this, and there are obvious omissions, and I cracked and changed one. (I also may need to do some marrying up of this list with my stated preferences on FB), but I'll stand by it.

Democracy denied (update)

To be fair to Lambeth, they replied quicker than I have done on this blog, but their reply was unhelpful. I reproduce the letter here.

I desperately wanted to reply in a spectacularly offensive manner. This was my first draft:

Thank you for your prompt reply to my letter. However, I cannot thank you for the implausible case you make within it. I'm delighted to know that your phones were operational during the run up to the election. Perhaps an automatic response to emails could have indicated this. Although busy, I suspect you could have spared the 20 seconds it takes me to set up an out of office autoreply. Not, I presume that you could have done much about it if I had rung, as your database would have told you that our flat was unoccupied.

This is the substance of your preposterous letter. I have examined my house from the street and - as we temporarily have no curtains in the living room - it is pretty clear that someone lives there, as you can clearly see the books lining the walls, and the painting in the room. So, either you send people round who are incapable of making the link between habitation and literacy, or who are innumerate and cannot identify the house number, or - most likely - you did nothing of the sort. Maybe they were struggling with the out of office on the computer. Who knows.

Finally, you tell me that you cannot use the council tax database to verify occupancy. You give no reason, is that programme too difficult to use on the computer too? I would have thought that the record of who is paying you for services may be a strong indicator of who is living there.

So, clearly in your records our flat was vacant for a portion of time. I would suggest you send us the refund for the tax we paid in that period. And, most importantly, I expect a full written unconditional apology for the fact that you incompetence denied us the right to vote. This is a serious matter and I will escalate it until I have a resolution - I take voting to heart. I would suggest you do too.

Anna pointed out this would not have the desired effect, so instead I wrote them a briefer (and less violent) letter, though with the same object in mind. I await a response.