February 15, 2017

As I cycled along in the middle of nowhere on my American cycling trips then I always knew that somehow there would be enough to write a daily blog about. This journal/blog is no different. Imagine my delight at the arrival of ‘Comedy Gold’ from my Favourite Eldest.  Pornography.

One of the perks of her working for NBC in t’Smoke, who own Universal Pictures, is the occasional invite to a London premiere screening. So collecting her from York railway station to bring her home involved a review of the soft porno follow up called ‘Fifty Shades Darker’. To think I would be debating such a topic with my daughter is not even fathomable.

Also as regards the Silver Screen then we succumbed to a Netfix subscription, yes I know I am the last person in the world to get this arranged. The lure of being able to see the remaining episodes of ‘The Crown’ proved too large a temptation. I’ve been buying DvD boxsets on Ebay to feed my habit. The free month and eventually monthly subscription rate seems good value.

Less expensive are podcasts. I got my weekly fix of BBC Radio’s ‘Desert Island Discs’ with their guest this week guest being the brand that is David Beckham.

For those not familiar with the format then you get to hear the eight records that they would take to a desert island whilst Kirsty Young, the interviewer, picks though a handy recent autobiography.

Our David always struck me as a handsome footballer who played as long as he could and then had the frightening problem of being beyond wealthy but having little idea of how to spend his next 50 years without a football at his feet.

Quelle surprise, he has devoted a lot of his life to promoting good causes as well as underwear, after shave, watches etc. Recent media reports suggested that David, Goodwill Ambassador for Unicef, was furious that he didn’t receive the obligatory Knighthood. Frankly judging by some of the plonkers who have got this gong then he was right to be perplexed but nevertheless ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ and his frustration just highlights how obsolete and broken the British Honours system is.

However, I digress. Had I been asked how he might select his eight records then I imagine a PR executive on a fat retainer would be giving him advice. Given the target market and profile he has then I would never have selected Ella Fitzgerald or a jazz clarinetist born in New Orleans at the end of the 19th Century – Sidney Bechet. What a record collection that executive must have.

Lastly I reached the end of the Bruce Springsteen autobiography – ‘Born to Run’. In terms of ‘running’ then completing the 510 pages might be viewed as more like a marathon than a sprint. In his early days his wordy albums painted colourful pictures of young urban working class America often laced with epic rock tunes. His book falls into the wordy category; never afraid to use 40 words when five might do. If self-analysis is a feature of his songs’ young heroes then I genuinely feel that this book could be seen as a cathartic project for him. He’s obviously driven and tells a story of rags to riches but he pulls no punches in discussing his fractured personal relationships and his underlying mental health issues. Maybe with the world conquered it felt like time to put it all out there warts and all. He does and his honesty, if not his brevity, deserves credit.

If you’re tempted to read the book then there is a recent Desert Island Disc episode with him and you may learn as much, but in a fraction of the time.