GLASTONBURY (BBC)
Lest anybody be in doubt as to the two main reasons for the recent appalling weather one of them is Glastonbury, a joyful mud bath which attracts big musical names from all over the world. This year was no exception. Starting with the likes of Rufus Wainwright (a vision in Pierrot stripe) through to Dame Shirley Bassey (a vision in split-skirted pink) and rounded off by The Who (no vision but their set included Pete Townshend's Who Are You and Baba O'Riley which are used to introduce CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and CSI.NY respectively) it just had to be a winner.
The Beeb gave it considerable coverage and, from what I saw, Ol' Shirl. alone was worth whatever it cost them. From her designer rainwear (DSB for Dame Shirley Bassey prominent on the wellies) to her this is what a star should look like stage dress she was queen of all she surveyed. I thought she was great. I love the Dame bit, too. OK, so they're all Dames now: Shirley, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren, Elton John...
But you can't begrudge them. They are fine entertainers who invariably support a plethora of charities.
So now to the second reason for the appalling weather : -
WIMBLEDON (BBC)
I was reading when the cat Shadow came in.
"I've got a couple of poems for you," he said.
"We wrote them between us up there on the roof."
I eyed him suspiciously: "Go on then."
He struck a poetic pose.
"Poem one: Wimbledon Is Here Again."
Wimbledon is here again.
It will rain and rain and rain
Drowning the alarm bells meant to ring
To warn that Cliff is going to sing.
There'll be strawberries and cream
And there'll be champagne
And lots of Sue and bloody rain.
He looked at me. I grunted in my best non-committal way.
"Poem two, Prime Ministers," he announced : -
BLAIR'S RESIGNATION (ALL CHANNELS)
Goodbye, Tone.
It's the other one, Brown,
Who's now the coolest dude in Town
No jaw-dropping,
All smiles,
No frown.
Promising Government of Renown.
(The price of cat food won't come down.)
He had a quick wash before enquiring: "What d' ya think?"
"Definitely doggerel and decidedly not Andrew Motion," I replied.
"Knew you'd be impressed. Can I tell the guys on the roof?"
"Feel free."
"Great. A bit of praise cheers them up no end."
I went back to my book : -
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
This is the penultimate book in Jo Rowling's super series and the one to read before the Deathly Hallows comes out on July 21st. Did not matter that I had read it twice before, once I got started I was hooked again. Now I shall be properly prepared for the last story, which I shall try to read less quickly than I have read the others (how do you do that with a book you know will be a page-turner?) because, like every Potter fan, I want it never to end.
There is a bonus, though. The film Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix will be released on July 12th. Then we'll have the Half Cut Prince (sorry, J.K.) and the final film still to come.
Meantime, July 2007 is Potter month. Hurray!
Oh, one last thing: keep writing, J.K., keep writing!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
77. Books, practices, praise and Becks
WHERE MY BOOKMARKS ARE RESTING
A month or so back I finished The Once and Future King by T.H.White.
Book 5, The Book of Merlyn, did contain much of the material used in Book 1, The Sword in the Stone, but that which was original was moving and a fitting conclusion to an epic work.
It was commendable, too, that T.H.White and his publishers did not play the trick played many years ago by the author Leslie Charteris (in collusion with Hodder and Stoughton and his American publishers) of renaming books previously published and presenting them, with a miniscule reference to the change, as new material.
I am thinking of Meet The Tiger (Later called The Saint Meets The Tiger) The Last Hero (The Saint Closes the Case), Knight Templar (The Avenging Saint), She Was A Lady (The Saint Meets His Match) and The Holy Terror which later became The Saint versus Scotland Yard. That, by the way, is to name, or rename, just a few.
My father regarded the whole thing as a blatant deception. He eventually forgave me for remarking that he should have read the small print. He never forgave Mr. Charteris and he discontinued looking for the Sign of the Saint.
Coincidentally I have just finished a Saint short story, The Smart Detective, which is contained in my current bedtime read The Television Detectives' Omnibus edited by Peter Haining (Orion 1992). Had my father been alive to read it he would no doubt have remarked that any plot which depends on the hero being that lucky is not a plot at all.
He would have been right. Sadly, a similar criticism can be levelled at many of the stories in this collection.
Never mind, in preparation for the publication of J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows next month, I am reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince yet again.
Now there's a darned good read.
DID IT ALL START IN AMERICA ?
In this country we used not to applaud between the movements of a symphony or a concerto. Who started doing that? Was it the Americans? We certainly didn't. We did not leap to our feet at the end of an act or a song or a recital to applaud the turn or the soloist or the orchestra, either. We sat in a sensible fashion and applauded just as heartily without drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. I mean, why would we stand? To applaud each other? To make sure everybody knew we were there? To be sure we were ready for the national anthem?
Did it all start in America? Perhaps I unfairly malign Americans. Perhaps it wasn't them at all. They do have some cranky ideas though.
Who else would invite the three tenors to perform and then induce them to sing a selection of ancient movie numbers so that creaking musical has-beens in the audience could take a bow? Who else would conclude a concert by Andrea Bocelli with a totally incongruous diving and firework display, presumably on the grounds that he wouldn't see it? Who else?
Well, not us, I hope. Though we do become dafter every day. Latest craze is to sing the national anthem during play at international soccer matches. Why? The Queen is not a football supporter. The late, great, Tommy Cooper is said to have asked her if he could have her Cup Final ticket. Perhaps it's because Land Of Hope And Glory is not PC enough and too few people know the words to This Royal Throne Of Kings.
I dunno: and if you think you do I'll thank you not to tell me.
UNQUALIFIED PRAISE
Noel Coward once said: "I can take any amount of criticism, so long as it is unqualified praise."
Good old Noel, just about anything he didn't say was said by Oscar Wilde. For that matter, pretty much anything done by Oscar Wilde was done by good old Noel. Only he wasn't caught.
Where was I?
Oh, yes: unqualified praise. If you looked in earlier you may have seen another kind comment from John 'Anonymous' A. It now rests elsewhere. I transferred it on the grounds that the publication of one nice comment is fine but more, too soon on, will have you looking askance and me looking in mirrors. [Nowadays I avoid reflections - not quite sure who the old guy is.]
But thanks again, John.
And at the risk of sounding like a letters editor: this correspondence is now closed.
BECKS VICTORIOUS
I was pleased to see that Becks finished his Real Madrid stint on a high.
The cat Shadow was pleased, too, though I think he was marginally more pleased to see the four expensive boxes of cat food bought for him by my Leader on her last trip to Marks & Sparks.
I worry that he may become too grand for ordinary grub.
Anyway, good luck to Becks in America. He's still a winner so he should do well.
A month or so back I finished The Once and Future King by T.H.White.
Book 5, The Book of Merlyn, did contain much of the material used in Book 1, The Sword in the Stone, but that which was original was moving and a fitting conclusion to an epic work.
It was commendable, too, that T.H.White and his publishers did not play the trick played many years ago by the author Leslie Charteris (in collusion with Hodder and Stoughton and his American publishers) of renaming books previously published and presenting them, with a miniscule reference to the change, as new material.
I am thinking of Meet The Tiger (Later called The Saint Meets The Tiger) The Last Hero (The Saint Closes the Case), Knight Templar (The Avenging Saint), She Was A Lady (The Saint Meets His Match) and The Holy Terror which later became The Saint versus Scotland Yard. That, by the way, is to name, or rename, just a few.
My father regarded the whole thing as a blatant deception. He eventually forgave me for remarking that he should have read the small print. He never forgave Mr. Charteris and he discontinued looking for the Sign of the Saint.
Coincidentally I have just finished a Saint short story, The Smart Detective, which is contained in my current bedtime read The Television Detectives' Omnibus edited by Peter Haining (Orion 1992). Had my father been alive to read it he would no doubt have remarked that any plot which depends on the hero being that lucky is not a plot at all.
He would have been right. Sadly, a similar criticism can be levelled at many of the stories in this collection.
Never mind, in preparation for the publication of J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows next month, I am reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince yet again.
Now there's a darned good read.
DID IT ALL START IN AMERICA ?
In this country we used not to applaud between the movements of a symphony or a concerto. Who started doing that? Was it the Americans? We certainly didn't. We did not leap to our feet at the end of an act or a song or a recital to applaud the turn or the soloist or the orchestra, either. We sat in a sensible fashion and applauded just as heartily without drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. I mean, why would we stand? To applaud each other? To make sure everybody knew we were there? To be sure we were ready for the national anthem?
Did it all start in America? Perhaps I unfairly malign Americans. Perhaps it wasn't them at all. They do have some cranky ideas though.
Who else would invite the three tenors to perform and then induce them to sing a selection of ancient movie numbers so that creaking musical has-beens in the audience could take a bow? Who else would conclude a concert by Andrea Bocelli with a totally incongruous diving and firework display, presumably on the grounds that he wouldn't see it? Who else?
Well, not us, I hope. Though we do become dafter every day. Latest craze is to sing the national anthem during play at international soccer matches. Why? The Queen is not a football supporter. The late, great, Tommy Cooper is said to have asked her if he could have her Cup Final ticket. Perhaps it's because Land Of Hope And Glory is not PC enough and too few people know the words to This Royal Throne Of Kings.
I dunno: and if you think you do I'll thank you not to tell me.
UNQUALIFIED PRAISE
Noel Coward once said: "I can take any amount of criticism, so long as it is unqualified praise."
Good old Noel, just about anything he didn't say was said by Oscar Wilde. For that matter, pretty much anything done by Oscar Wilde was done by good old Noel. Only he wasn't caught.
Where was I?
Oh, yes: unqualified praise. If you looked in earlier you may have seen another kind comment from John 'Anonymous' A. It now rests elsewhere. I transferred it on the grounds that the publication of one nice comment is fine but more, too soon on, will have you looking askance and me looking in mirrors. [Nowadays I avoid reflections - not quite sure who the old guy is.]
But thanks again, John.
And at the risk of sounding like a letters editor: this correspondence is now closed.
BECKS VICTORIOUS
I was pleased to see that Becks finished his Real Madrid stint on a high.
The cat Shadow was pleased, too, though I think he was marginally more pleased to see the four expensive boxes of cat food bought for him by my Leader on her last trip to Marks & Sparks.
I worry that he may become too grand for ordinary grub.
Anyway, good luck to Becks in America. He's still a winner so he should do well.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
76. A good week and a festive weekend
ISLE OF WIGHT FESTIVAL (8 - 10 JUNE 2007)
The older I get the faster these annual events come around. Granddaughter Jessie is at the IW Festival this year. She has gone with her father. They have thoroughly enjoyed the music and the atmosphere to date. The weather has been wonderful, too.
Yesterday (9th June) the Red Arrows did a marvellous display for them which was unlisted, lasted half an hour and included sketching out in the sky the shape of a bow and of a heart with an arrow through it. Jess will leave early tonight because she has to be back at school tomorrow. Sadly she will miss the top-of-the-bill Rolling Stones.
When told she said: "Who?"
Perhaps it won't be that much of a miss after all.
DIRTY DALI: A PRIVATE VIEW (Channel 4)
I was left wondering whether art critic Brian Sewell, reflecting back to his early twenties, did not get to know the outrageous genius Salvador Dali just a little too well. Whatever: it is unlikely that anyone else alive knew the man in quite the same way. Forthright as ever, Sewell pulled no punches. Dali was a sexual deviant, a poseur and an egomaniac. He was also, at his best, one of the greatest artists in the world and undoubtedly the most famous of the surrealists.
This was a fresh insight into the real world of a world famous personality. It is doubtful that Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dali i Domenech (1904 - 1989) will ever again be subjected to so sensitive a scrutiny.
But it was in the main a kindly study and I think he would have loved every minute of it.
Of course he would.
It was about him.
PAUL MERTON IN CHINA. (Five)
Had Paul Merton been left to ask tactful questions of his Chinese hosts, to comment sensibly on the replies he was given and to behave in an adult fashion throughout, this could have been every bit as good as the Victoria Wood series Victoria's Empire. But all too often he was prevailed upon (presumably by his producers) to act the silly ass Englishman.
Pity, because he is obviously a pleasant and astute observer with a lively curiosity.
He deserved better and so did we.
DIANA: THE WITNESSES IN THE TUNNEL (CHANNEL 4)
As common sense foretold, there was no conspiracy, no hard-on-the-heels posse of paparazzi, no secret service assassins. There was a swerve to avoid a slow moving car, a loss of control at speed and a collision with a pillar. It was an accident.
Now can we please leave this poor young woman and those who died with her to rest in peace?
ESTONIA v ENGLAND (BBC1)
"Nil - three to England," I said to the cat Shadow. "Good ol' Becks!"
"So now he'll play the equivalent of First Division football in America, eh?" he replied. "That will be like playing permanently against the likes of Estonia and they hadn't scored in their last seven matches. No, his international career was kicked out from under his feet when England were dumped from the World Cup. This comeback won't last too long if McClaren has anything to do with it."
"Got nobody to replace him though, have they?" I said.
"When did that matter? He pulled the manager out of a hole again this time and he'll be thanked in the same way he was thanked last time. First opportunity he'll be dropped. You see."
"I never reckoned you to be such a pessimist."
"Oh I'm not, mate, but I am a realist."
I hope he's wrong this time.
He seldom is, though.
YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR FRIENDS (ITV1)
This strange piece of fluff, billed as a comedy drama, starred Julia McKenzie and Anton Rogers with Robert Daws, Claire Skinner, Rebecca Front and Gordon Kennedy in strong support.
My Leader and I sat through it together and when it was over she said: "Just as well it was a one-off. If it had been a pilot I'd not bother to watch the series."
Too right, Mrs. Lady, I thought: too darned right.
AND, LASTLY, AN E-MAIL THAT GAVE ME A SMILE
(Forwarded by our friend Jan Bennett)
Council tax re-evaluers want to charge us more if we live in a nice area.
That ought to mean discounts for those of us who live in rough areas.
We have a huge council house in our street. The extended family is run by a grumpy old woman with a pack of fierce dogs. Her car isn't taxed or insured, and doesn't even have a number plate, but the police still do nothing. Her bad tempered old man is famous for upsetting foreigners with racist comments. A shopkeeper blames him for ordering the murder of his son and his son's girlfriend, but nothing has been proved yet. All their kids have broken marriages except the youngest, who everyone thought was gay.Two grandsons are meant to be in the Army but are always seen out in nightclubs. The family's odd antics are always in the papers.
They are out of control. ..
Honestly - who'd live near Windsor Castle?
The older I get the faster these annual events come around. Granddaughter Jessie is at the IW Festival this year. She has gone with her father. They have thoroughly enjoyed the music and the atmosphere to date. The weather has been wonderful, too.
Yesterday (9th June) the Red Arrows did a marvellous display for them which was unlisted, lasted half an hour and included sketching out in the sky the shape of a bow and of a heart with an arrow through it. Jess will leave early tonight because she has to be back at school tomorrow. Sadly she will miss the top-of-the-bill Rolling Stones.
When told she said: "Who?"
Perhaps it won't be that much of a miss after all.
DIRTY DALI: A PRIVATE VIEW (Channel 4)
I was left wondering whether art critic Brian Sewell, reflecting back to his early twenties, did not get to know the outrageous genius Salvador Dali just a little too well. Whatever: it is unlikely that anyone else alive knew the man in quite the same way. Forthright as ever, Sewell pulled no punches. Dali was a sexual deviant, a poseur and an egomaniac. He was also, at his best, one of the greatest artists in the world and undoubtedly the most famous of the surrealists.
This was a fresh insight into the real world of a world famous personality. It is doubtful that Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dali i Domenech (1904 - 1989) will ever again be subjected to so sensitive a scrutiny.
But it was in the main a kindly study and I think he would have loved every minute of it.
Of course he would.
It was about him.
PAUL MERTON IN CHINA. (Five)
Had Paul Merton been left to ask tactful questions of his Chinese hosts, to comment sensibly on the replies he was given and to behave in an adult fashion throughout, this could have been every bit as good as the Victoria Wood series Victoria's Empire. But all too often he was prevailed upon (presumably by his producers) to act the silly ass Englishman.
Pity, because he is obviously a pleasant and astute observer with a lively curiosity.
He deserved better and so did we.
DIANA: THE WITNESSES IN THE TUNNEL (CHANNEL 4)
As common sense foretold, there was no conspiracy, no hard-on-the-heels posse of paparazzi, no secret service assassins. There was a swerve to avoid a slow moving car, a loss of control at speed and a collision with a pillar. It was an accident.
Now can we please leave this poor young woman and those who died with her to rest in peace?
ESTONIA v ENGLAND (BBC1)
"Nil - three to England," I said to the cat Shadow. "Good ol' Becks!"
"So now he'll play the equivalent of First Division football in America, eh?" he replied. "That will be like playing permanently against the likes of Estonia and they hadn't scored in their last seven matches. No, his international career was kicked out from under his feet when England were dumped from the World Cup. This comeback won't last too long if McClaren has anything to do with it."
"Got nobody to replace him though, have they?" I said.
"When did that matter? He pulled the manager out of a hole again this time and he'll be thanked in the same way he was thanked last time. First opportunity he'll be dropped. You see."
"I never reckoned you to be such a pessimist."
"Oh I'm not, mate, but I am a realist."
I hope he's wrong this time.
He seldom is, though.
YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR FRIENDS (ITV1)
This strange piece of fluff, billed as a comedy drama, starred Julia McKenzie and Anton Rogers with Robert Daws, Claire Skinner, Rebecca Front and Gordon Kennedy in strong support.
My Leader and I sat through it together and when it was over she said: "Just as well it was a one-off. If it had been a pilot I'd not bother to watch the series."
Too right, Mrs. Lady, I thought: too darned right.
AND, LASTLY, AN E-MAIL THAT GAVE ME A SMILE
(Forwarded by our friend Jan Bennett)
Council tax re-evaluers want to charge us more if we live in a nice area.
That ought to mean discounts for those of us who live in rough areas.
We have a huge council house in our street. The extended family is run by a grumpy old woman with a pack of fierce dogs. Her car isn't taxed or insured, and doesn't even have a number plate, but the police still do nothing. Her bad tempered old man is famous for upsetting foreigners with racist comments. A shopkeeper blames him for ordering the murder of his son and his son's girlfriend, but nothing has been proved yet. All their kids have broken marriages except the youngest, who everyone thought was gay.Two grandsons are meant to be in the Army but are always seen out in nightclubs. The family's odd antics are always in the papers.
They are out of control. ..
Honestly - who'd live near Windsor Castle?
Sunday, June 03, 2007
75. Favourites, hoaxers and welcome encouragement
ENGLAND v BRAZIL (BBC1).
"What did you think, then?" I asked the cat Shadow. "1 - 1 with Brazil and our lot should have won."
He had spent the Friday night match curled up in my Leader's chair, she having taken convenient leave of absence to visit relatives on the mainland.
He stretched: "Why do friendlies nearly always end in a draw?" he asked. "Is it compulsory to gift the away team a goal with barely a minute to spare?"
"Didn't really matter did it?" I said. "Ol' Becks was back and he played a blinder."
He eyed me quizzically. "Steven Gerrard was named man of the match, wasn't he? And John Terry didn't have a bad game, either."
"Yes, well..." I started, but he was ahead of me as usual.
"All right, all right," he said. "Even if one Becks may not make a summer, one Becks did make this game."
Then, to restrain further comment, he added: "Pity they all fell asleep in the first half, though. In no time at all, so did I."
NCIS (Five)
This coincided with the football on BBC1 so thank technology for the old video recorder. I'll record on DVD when I can work out how or, failing that, when baby Boo becomes old enough to show me. Give it another couple of years.
Anyway, Jethro Gibbs (Mark Harmon) and his crew were under pressure from the customary hard-headed female defence lawyer and from yet another unwell-wisher who can magically stalk their H.Q. without the slightest difficulty. (I know...)
Lovely, quirky Abby (Pauley Perrette) is again the victim of unwelcome attentions in Bloodbath and eventually sorts things out in her own unbelievable way.
At 21/24 of series three these favourites are going far too quickly.
DOCTOR WHO (BBC1)
The conclusion of The Family of Blood. A great romp with lethal scarecrows. This continues to be a completly different Dr. Who from its predecessors and truly deserves all the plaudits it has received. It is becoming hard to think of the Doctor as anyone other than David Tennant now and Freema Agyeman is perfect as his travelling companion. If this cracking standard is maintained, who knows? One day Doctor Who could rival The Mousetrap.
EVEN THE HOAX WAS MORONIC.
So now the Big Brother producers say that their sick idea about a woman donating her kidneys to a fellow house member of her choice was a hoax designed to draw awareness to the shortage of donors in Holland. Well, even the hoax was moronic and my original opinion of them has not altered. Twats!
YOU SHOULD NEVER SHUN ENCOURAGEMENT.
Way back last December I commented (apropos an anonymous comment by some apparent malcontent to the TrippingOnWords girls) that I would delete out of hand any anonymous comments sent to me. Well, I have drawn the line at deleting my old friend John A. for obvious reasons. (1) I know who he is and (2) his comments are encouraging and you should never shun encouragement. What's more, he tells me that he is unable to record a comment on my posts without signing in as anonymous. I assume that's maybe a Blog Ed manoeuvre to warn me from which direction the arrows are coming. If so, thanks Blog Ed whomsoever, whatsoever and wheresoever you may be. If not, no matter, thanks anyway.
My e-mails this week have included encouraging murmurs from daughter Jac and from nephew Phil. So what they're relatives...their pleasant words were much appreciated. Like I said, you should never shun encouragement.
"What did you think, then?" I asked the cat Shadow. "1 - 1 with Brazil and our lot should have won."
He had spent the Friday night match curled up in my Leader's chair, she having taken convenient leave of absence to visit relatives on the mainland.
He stretched: "Why do friendlies nearly always end in a draw?" he asked. "Is it compulsory to gift the away team a goal with barely a minute to spare?"
"Didn't really matter did it?" I said. "Ol' Becks was back and he played a blinder."
He eyed me quizzically. "Steven Gerrard was named man of the match, wasn't he? And John Terry didn't have a bad game, either."
"Yes, well..." I started, but he was ahead of me as usual.
"All right, all right," he said. "Even if one Becks may not make a summer, one Becks did make this game."
Then, to restrain further comment, he added: "Pity they all fell asleep in the first half, though. In no time at all, so did I."
NCIS (Five)
This coincided with the football on BBC1 so thank technology for the old video recorder. I'll record on DVD when I can work out how or, failing that, when baby Boo becomes old enough to show me. Give it another couple of years.
Anyway, Jethro Gibbs (Mark Harmon) and his crew were under pressure from the customary hard-headed female defence lawyer and from yet another unwell-wisher who can magically stalk their H.Q. without the slightest difficulty. (I know...)
Lovely, quirky Abby (Pauley Perrette) is again the victim of unwelcome attentions in Bloodbath and eventually sorts things out in her own unbelievable way.
At 21/24 of series three these favourites are going far too quickly.
DOCTOR WHO (BBC1)
The conclusion of The Family of Blood. A great romp with lethal scarecrows. This continues to be a completly different Dr. Who from its predecessors and truly deserves all the plaudits it has received. It is becoming hard to think of the Doctor as anyone other than David Tennant now and Freema Agyeman is perfect as his travelling companion. If this cracking standard is maintained, who knows? One day Doctor Who could rival The Mousetrap.
EVEN THE HOAX WAS MORONIC.
So now the Big Brother producers say that their sick idea about a woman donating her kidneys to a fellow house member of her choice was a hoax designed to draw awareness to the shortage of donors in Holland. Well, even the hoax was moronic and my original opinion of them has not altered. Twats!
YOU SHOULD NEVER SHUN ENCOURAGEMENT.
Way back last December I commented (apropos an anonymous comment by some apparent malcontent to the TrippingOnWords girls) that I would delete out of hand any anonymous comments sent to me. Well, I have drawn the line at deleting my old friend John A. for obvious reasons. (1) I know who he is and (2) his comments are encouraging and you should never shun encouragement. What's more, he tells me that he is unable to record a comment on my posts without signing in as anonymous. I assume that's maybe a Blog Ed manoeuvre to warn me from which direction the arrows are coming. If so, thanks Blog Ed whomsoever, whatsoever and wheresoever you may be. If not, no matter, thanks anyway.
My e-mails this week have included encouraging murmurs from daughter Jac and from nephew Phil. So what they're relatives...their pleasant words were much appreciated. Like I said, you should never shun encouragement.
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