That His Dark Materials bloke...

Is a bit of a whizz when you think about it - IMHO, of course, to which I think I am entittled – and it was Mort whose entry in Favourite Things made me buy the trillilogy off eBay a while ago and I read it in double quick time - does that make six or one-and-a-half? Ho-hum. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed it and also the resultant fillum 'Golden Compass' but am somewhat irritated to hear that production of 'The Subtle Knife' may be hampered by objections from various religious groups who seem to be contending that Philip Pullman is a heretic who was writing with blatantly obvious relish about the necessity for a war against and the eventual destruction of God. And here's me thinking it was a story.

Anyway, to tone things down a little, I should like to refer to another of Mr Pullman's literary offerings; he also wrote a quartet of novels about a character called Sally Lockhart. Now I am easily led (see the reference to Mort above) and, one afternoon, I chanced to have the opportunity to watch a BBC production of 'Ruby in the Smoke' (the first novel) starring Billy Piper (ahem, crosses legs) as our heroine (apparently, there is also a BBC production of the second novel 'Shadow in the North' which I haven't yet seen – strangely, it has not yet appeared on UK Drama or UK Drama +1, 2, 3 or 4). Billie wasn't bad as Sally but worth particular mention is Julie Walters, who played the thoroughly evil and disgusting Mrs Holland wonderfully.

I also thoroughly enjoyed this to the extent that I bought all four books in the series and read 'em all on holiday. And jolly exciting reading they made, an' all! Would anyone like to read them? I'd be happy to share/donate them; I didn't even realise Philip Pullman had written them until the credits rolled at the end of 'Ruby'.

You may think this was a pointless blog but at least it was a blog. Love to one and all and sorry I missed the meet.

Back in business

My blogging stats are even worse than Simon G's these days but not much seems worth chronicling. If I go on about my back being, er, back, it'll seem like I'm feeling sorry for myself and whingeing.

Well, all right, then, ever since I did a bit of bending in the garden about three weeks ago my back has been killing me – my own fault, I suppose – and the two most comfortable positions I can adopt at the moment are upright in my office chair and lying down. I've got another appointment with the rheumatologist in a couple of days but it is proving something of a logistical nightmare trying to figure out how I can get to Salisbury Hospital either in my office chair or lying down. Any ideas?

In other news, it is almost sad to relate that little of note occurred to mar the enjoyment of our recent holiday in France (at the same campsite), unlike last year when – as you may remember- it rained continuously and we were exposed to the menace of the oak processionary caterpillar. I am pleased to say that of that wretched multiped there was not a trace and, for me, the holiday was totally spot-free, even from those induced by the mosquito; I attribute that most satisfactory state of affairs to the quinine content of Schweppe's Tonic Water. Apparently, the appropriate authorities and other campsites had begun to take the threat of the OPC in Northern Europe much more seriously and the whole site had been chemically treated via helicopter earlier in the year (with, so far as I am aware, the loss of no clients at all), the exercise being part of an overall scheme to test various methods of controlling the problem. As an aircraft was used, I assume it must have been a pilot scheme.

A bientot!