High Street, Chipping Sodbury, England

Friends of ours have a shop outside of Bristol, in the market town of Chipping Sodbury. It’s in a part of England where towns have names like that…. and Old Sodbury, uh, Little Sodbury, and – yes, really – Pucklechurch, among others. A way to shorthand describe the area to outsiders is that it could serve as an excellent setting for an ITV murder drama.

Their shop has a variety of items related to dolls’ houses and other collectibles. Co-owner Stuart has recently authored quite a book too, and because they have sold several to people wandering in off the street, they are considering displaying some other carefully chosen titles by independent authors to see how they do. They have offered to sell my Passports, and are awaiting delivery of several copies.

I’m hono(u)red! I know Passports has been in some bookshops in the U.K., including one in Christchurch, after a former neighbo(u)r of ours there dropped in and asked for it. Bless her, the shop then ordered a couple! While it’s tough to keep track of that sort of thing, it feels extra-good whenever you learn your books are displayed in a shop.

So if you ever find yourself on the High Street in Chipping Sodbury, check out Purple Parrot:

Purple Parrot, Chipping Sodbury.

Purple Parrot, Chipping Sodbury.

There are reasons aplenty to stop in there and have a look and a buy besides, uh, my fantastic novel. ;-)

Have a good Tuesday, wherever in the world you are reading this. :-)

ICYMI: The Remarkable Interview

In case you missed it (ICYMI) over the weekend, I finally gave in. As you know, I’m an intensely private person who shuns any limelight. However, I finally consented to a revealing, personal and truly fascinating interview…. with myself.

 Free Stock Photo: This image depicts a stack of books, topped by pair of eyeglasses.


Free Stock Photo: This image depicts a stack of books, topped by pair of eyeglasses.

The interview is posted here in two parts – one and two. Here’s a small sample. When I asked myself why I wanted to write my first novel, I replied to myself thoughtfully….

I’d always wanted to write non-fiction. I’ve got bl-ody degrees coming out of my…. well, but who gives a damn about what I have to say about anything. Or you for that matter. Everyone’s got an opinion. Like should Scotland be independent? How the hell should I know?

Now, just to set your expectations, I never made myself cry. I held it together until the very end. Good grief, I’m not Oprah. ;-)

PART 1: “Saturday Interview: All About Vampires.”
PART 2: “Our Interview With A Legendary Author, Part II.”

Our Interview With A Legendary Author, Part II

Questioner: Welcome back. We are here again with author R. J. Nello. The demand to hear more from him was underwhelming. Still, we figured, what the hell, we have space and time to kill, and it’s Sunday. Part I of the interview yesterday was running long. We thought we’d give you all a break before continuing….

R. J. Nello: Well, at least this title makes more sense than yesterday’s. I’m not a legend, though. I’m still alive. I do hope someday, though, my English niece and nephews will be able to say, “He was so insightful, even for an American.”

Q: We just thought a title more akin to that for a Gore Vidal interview would have been more appropriate.

Nello: Aren’t you a load of laughs. Oh, and thanks a lot for that non-cheerleader of a lousy intro.

Free Stock Photo: A stack of blank books isolated on a white background.

Free Stock Photo: A stack of blank books isolated on a white background.

Q: We’d like to use this continuation of your interview with yourself to talk about something other than your uncle, Gore Vidal, and French girls.

Nello: If so, do you think anyone will actually care?

Q: Now, to go on, Passports covers a melange of themes….

Nello: Melange? A what? Oh, wait, got it. It was your pronunciation. It’s mélange. You from Long Island or New York originally or something?

Q: Let me say, you’re getting better at being the haughty novelist.

Nello: And condescending. Don’t forget that. I’m improving on that too. You know, if this were truly a European interview, like France 24, I’d probably be offered a glass of wine. I’d settle for a Sauvignon blanc. But you’re some American who doesn’t do wine of course. Still, not even a light beer?

Q: Feeling an impulse yet to overturn the interview table?

Nello: I’ll save that for nearer the end.

Q: I’d still like to talk themes and subplots. Passports revolves around global living, diverse relationships, traveling and….

Nello: I know, I know, no machineguns. Or wizards. Or vampires. I’ll try to fit those in at some point down the road in a third volume.

Q: And it’s about late twenty-somethings….

Nello: And there’s sex too. Don’t want to forget the sex.

Q: And it’s about friends.

Nello: Uh, not the Friends as in the 1990s TV show….

Q: But, Mr. Nello, in one chapter you do allude to a program that sounds just like that one.

Nello: Because they were funny at times, weren’t they? My 16 year old English niece has all the DVDs. I never understood how Ross went with Rachel over Emily. He was a moron. But Emily dodged a real bullet there because he was such a lunkhead. I married my Emily and have never regretted it for a moment.

Q: Oh, that’s so sweet, my teeth are decaying. There’s also a brief chapter in Passports about an American student who, shall we say, “misbehaves” in Italy, to the disgust of her English roommate.

Nello: It was worth only a short chapter. We should acknowledge that type exists. But it isn’t really representative of most young Americans in Europe either, thank God.

Q: Is the fictional student inspired by a certain real woman study abroad student convicted of a murder in Italy?

Nello: Wow, no slipping anything by you.

Q: You can understand many Americans think the real one’s been railroaded.

Nello: That’s their right. But we Americans can be awkward: an American can’t be guilty. Really? Why? Because we’re a country where no one murders anyone for asinine reasons or in a fit of pique? The dead actually all commit suicide?

Q: So you don’t think she’s innocent?

Nello: I wasn’t there. And I wasn’t in the courtroom. My view is I can’t help but believe that if we reversed the nationalities of she and the murdered woman, with the exact same evidence, too many Americans now yelling she’s innocent would be screaming for the English woman to be renditioned to Texas and executed.

Q: Sounds pretty harsh.

Nello: Deep down, we know what we are. Think about it. And Ms. Study in Italy always has that perpetually dim expression, that look of, “What? I have to stay after class? But I’ve got a dentist appointment. I’ll get a note from my Mom.” And she was 20 years old. I dealt as a lecturer with American study abroad students in New York before they went over to Europe. More recently, here in London, I’ve seen them after they arrive. Most of them are exactly what we want the world to see. But there’s also a dopey minority we don’t like thinking about: some of our “young” are, unfortunately, immature dimwits.

Q: Whoa!

Nello: Sorry, that’s my Gore Vidal coming out again. I can do nasty and pompous really well now, can’t I? Regardless, can’t we all just settle on at least keeping her the hell off of Good Morning America for good?

Q: To another issue. I also notice there’s lots in your novel about “only children.” Or those with distant, or much older, siblings.

Nello: I think it’s an interesting family dynamic.

Q: Are you?

Nello: Am I what?

Q: An only child?

Nello: I have a sister who’s much younger than I am, so in some respects I could be an only child. She went to Yale for a time. She’s a helluva lot smarter than I am in some ways. She can correct a Frenchwoman’s French.

Q: James in Passports is an only child. Isabelle has only much older brothers. Virginie is an only child. The list goes on. And the cultural differences you weave into the tale….

Nello: You realize you just ventured onto the subject of French girls? I did lead you there with my last answer, though. But you didn’t stop me? Are you paying attention to your own interview boundaries? Anyway, do you have an actual question?

Q: No. Just pondering the profundity of it all.

Nello: Okay, I’ll give you a moment. Who you pondering? What’s her name?

Q: Actually, where I was headed is the issue of the French hating Americans and vice-versa. You tackle that.

Nello: The discourse is complex and multifaceted on that matter. Did that answer sound suitably literary theory-ish?

Q: So do you also perceive how the cross-cultural difference of some of the characters may be interpreted as being at odds with the notion of them as individuals possessing unique inner voices, yet faced with a commercial and capitalist construct that outwardly demands they adhere to certain mores that….

Nello: Yes.

Q: Uh, I’m not finished with the question yet.

Free Stock Photo: A beautiful girl isolated on a white background.

Free Stock Photo: A beautiful girl isolated on a white background.

Nello: Look, I’m the intellectual here. I know where you’re going. Get to the Valérie character already, will you….

Q: God, you are indeed brilliant! You knew exactly what I was going to ask before I asked it.

Nello: I was channeling Gore Vidal again. Careful. Although I’m smiling, I could turn nasty on a dime. Us novel-writing intellectuals don’t suffer fools gladly.

Q: So you’d never appear on, say, Good Morning America ever?

Nello: Good grief, have you seen it? I mean really watched it? No wonder half of Americans think Beirut is in Northern Ireland.

Q: You champion social media, though. That’s full of lunatics.

Nello: At least they’re interesting and can be fun. You run into those who’ve figured out how Dick Cheney was standing on 5th Ave on September 11, 2001, dressed as Madonna, and used a pacemaker to implode 7 WTC. At one time, “independent thinkers” like that were unable to make their voices heard.

Q: So you see social media as a positive?

Nello: Absolutely. Every now and then someone appears and follows you who you never would have imagined would. It’s flattering. Even for us geniuses. You do get to interact with other brilliant people.

Q: What do you think would happen if, via social media, your uncle discovered your book(s)?

Nello: He’d probably sue me. And we’d end up on Good Morning America: “Novelist uncle sues novelist nephew.”

Q: Now, a few more words about the upcoming sequel.

Nello: Oh, well, fine, if you insist….

Q: You’ve written it’s somewhat darker than Passports.

Nello: Yes. It’s not Stephen King, for God’s sakes. It’s just a bit rougher and less optimistic maybe. The death of our very close girlfriend in February still hurts every day. I miss her terribly. That did actually impact my writing. I sat down some days hating life.

Q: For a moment, this actually has become a serious interview….

Nello: I know. We’d better stop it. Here, look, I’ve actually been reading The Winds of War. Could this book be any longer? And the Pug Henry character is really amazed by writers. He should be. We are amazing human beings. I’ve also discovered the Pug in the book looks nothing like Robert Mitchum. What a real downer to learn that!

Q: Not that book again? Feel free to quote Humphrey Bogart. But don’t mention Camus, because no one reading this gives a damn about him.

Nello: Here we go. Typical. Getting all tense at being unable to control the narrative all the time. Maybe I should cry? It could be just like on Good Morning America?

Q: I think we’re finished now. Thank you for your time. I am sorry to say this Mr. Nello, but you’re damn exhausting.

Nello: Are we done again already? But I haven’t had a chance to turn over the coffee table? And I can whine like Ross if you’d like to hear it? Awwwwwwh….

_____
Note: If you missed the gripping Part I of this interview, here it is. ;-)

Saturday Interview: All About Vampires

Questioner: Thank you for joining us. Welcome to this major, first-time, blog interview I’m conducting with myself, R. J. Nello – novelist, traveler, expatriate deep thinker, intellectual extraordinaire….

R. J. Nello: What the hell are you talking about with that title? Vampires? There are no vampires in my books. Although as my wife loves to barb me, they are full of French girls….

Q: It’s a grabber. A headline that wows ‘em. We want people passing through to read this, don’t we?

Free Stock Photo: Illustration of a vampire.

Free Stock Photo: Illustration of a vampire.

Nello: And I’m an intellectual? Thanks for the pat on the back. But you sure as hell haven’t seen my SAT scores.

Q: We’ve got to get those using WordPress reader to stop and look for two seconds at least. Putting your photo up sure won’t work. You’re not an attractive woman.

Nello: Uh, huh. Okay, dude, here’s another grabber: my uncle is friends with a man who was friends with Gore Vidal. Really. Top that? Okay, Vidal’s dead now. But you probably think I mean Al Gore.

Q: No, I don’t.

Nello: Oh, and Sean Connery – yes, that Sean Connery: Mr Bond, Mr. Scottish Independence – once asked for my uncle’s autograph. How’s that also?

Q: Is that why you write, to try to compete with and better your uncle?

Nello: What are you, a psychiatrist? And I don’t think I need one of those. Well, at least not yet….

Q: Okay, to Passports. What got you started? Where did the basic idea for that novel come from?

Nello: James Blunt.

Q: Excuse me?

Nello: I’d always wanted to write non-fiction. I’ve got bl-ody degrees coming out of my…. well, but who gives a damn about what I have to say about anything. Or you for that matter. Everyone’s got an opinion. Like should Scotland be independent? How the hell should I know?

Q: We all have new things to learn?

Nello: Okay, you really wanna know? One morning, I was listening to that “1973” song of Blunt’s on my iPhone for about the 247th time and I thought, ‘He’s too young to remember that year. Hell, even I don’t!’ Ah, but how about circa “1993?” Bingo! My brain shifted forward into a fictionalized historical memoir type thing….

Q: That’s fantastic!

Nello: Wait, I’m not done. Then I made my wife a cup of tea. I stopped thinking at that point. She’s English. Damn it, I can’t be distracted making tea for her. She tells me off if it’s not good.

Q: Obviously evidence of sheer genius in knowing exactly when and how to focus the mind. F. Scott Fitzgerald couldn’t match it. May I have your autograph?

Nello: Look, take it easy with that suck up stuff. It won’t work. Well, buy a copy of my book at least. A little encouragement always helps. We novelists are a fragile lot.

Q: About the content. It sounds fascinating. You’ve written fact as fiction?

Nello: No, I haven’t! You think I wanna get sued? I base my fiction on general events and on people I knew in another century. Sorta my life – very broadly – at one time way back when. But very SORTA. As many a fiction writer has done. It’s not fact. No one in Passports is a real person. Got that? No one. Not a soul.

Q: Understood. So you don’t want to end up in court. Understandable that. Okay, but I’m sure your wife wants to know, “Who’s Isabelle?”

Nello: I’m certainly not telling you. But she knows this much: I dated a French girl in college long before I knew her, today’s lovely, gorgeous, perfect Mrs. Nello. My mother’s reaction at the time was about what you’d expect after she had met mademoiselle: “Are you nuts? They hate us.” Next question.

Q: You used that very line opening a chapter, when one of James’s workmates disparages his going out with her!

Nello: Hey, you did read Passports pre-interview! That’ll win you brownie points for a question or two. I can be as tough as Gore Vidal was on ignorant interviewers, you know. People expect us novelists to be nasty sorts. Bitter. Angry. I’m working on that. Makes us more interesting, I suppose.

Q: Is that girl how you seem to know Isabelle’s mind so well? And that of her friends? What she told you? What you learned from her? All of them?

Nello: Oh, God, more pop psychology. But you’re on the right track again. That’s two good questions. Makes a refreshing change for this dumb interview.

Q: So that’s who she is? That girl from then? Your readers are dying to know?

Nello: Now you’re annoying me. I told you the answer to that. Back up. Don’t badger me. You aren’t Jon Stewart and I’m not some Republican. I swear I’ll get up and walk off this set.

Q: Sorry, sorry. May I ask, do you ever still hear from her?

Nello: The last time was through a relation of hers years after I’d last seen her. Her sister emailed me days after September 11, 2001, asking if everyone we knew in NY was okay. By then they had both married Frenchmen who weren’t too keen on them having male friends outside marriage. Shocker, ain’t it? Even if those male friends were married to other women? Probably because it’s you know, France, and they’re Frenchmen and they know how they themselves might behave…. and why the hell am I telling you this?

Q: Because I’m the interviewer! Moving on. The tale’s got culture, travel, and politics, yeh; but also love and mushy stuff. Did you fear it perhaps being labeled, uh, “chick lit?”

Nello: I’m a romantic, okay. I admit it. I’m also an historian. Historians are, by definition, romantics. I will admit one of my proofreaders used that phrase. It made me cringe. I wasn’t aiming for that and that’s not what the books are. I also knew the tale isn’t Rambo Returns, Part XVII. No one would call The Winds of War “chick lit,” or Casablanca a “chick flick.” Or maybe they do? Anyway, I suppose anything touching on relationships in which men are also not invading a small country runs the risk of finding itself labeled “romance.”

Q: So what is your goal in writing? Is it artistic? For the generations? Do you hope to make a statement?

Nello: I hope one day my niece and two nephews will be able to cash massive cheques that their dead uncle’s typing and struggles made possible, and then they can write of what a wonderful man I was and how no one ever appreciated me while I was alive and that’s a shame. That’s the English spelling of “check,” by the way, given we’re doing this interview in London.

Q: But what about now? While you’re living? What do you hope to achieve?

Nello: If I’m totally honest, I hope people who stop and read this will buy my book, love it, and tell 900 of their closest friends on Facebook. And then they’ll also contact major film studios demanding, “Have you optioned this? It’s my favorite book! When’s the film version coming out?”

Q: So you’d like to see a film of it? Heh, heh, ya got any French actresses in mind?

Nello: No one you’d know, I’m sure. Like you know French cinema? Did you vote for that buffoon George W. Bush or something? Sorry, sorry, that’s just more Mr. Vidal popping out of me for a moment. Hey, how’s my being moody and nasty working for you interview-wise? Making this more compelling?

Q: You are telling your blog readers a sequel due for November release is in the works. Sounds great. So where are you going from where you left off in the first book?

Nello: Ahem, well, as Albert Camus once said….

Q: Uh, I’ll have to stop you there, Mr. Nello. It’s been an unadulterated pleasure speaking with you. I’m sorry, but we’ve run out of time. And frankly, I’ve had enough.

Nello: But I didn’t finish sharing my Camus quote? Damn it, I knew I should have held out for Charlie Rose.

_____
UPDATE: The interview continues here. ;-)

“So what do you think of Obama’s Syria policy?”

The Scottish independence referendum to be held September 18 reminds us that even if we don’t care much about politics, it is difficult to avoid it. As a foreigner here in the U.K., I watch what is happening worried about friends about to fall out, yet unable to do anything about it. In the end, us outsiders can only hope the outcome – whichever it is – is the best one for everyone.

And nothing like when I get questions here in Europe such as, “So what do you think of Obama’s Syria policy?” “How come the U.S. doesn’t have a health service?” “Why do Americans love guns so much?”

Uh, do we have to go there? ;-)

We have all heard the cliché about never discussing politics (or religion) over the dinner table. Even among friends, we might not like what each other think if we dig too deeply, so perhaps it’s indeed best to say as little as possible to each other. I have friends and relatives who run the spectrum from extreme conservative to extreme socialist: I’ll definitely alienate somebody.

Free Stock Photo: Joe Biden and Barack Obama in Springfield, Illinois, right after Biden was formerly introduced by Obama as his running mate.

Free Stock Photo: Joe Biden and Barack Obama in Springfield, Illinois, right after Biden was formerly introduced by Obama as his running mate.

So I am firm believer that politics should not define us. What we believe politically is not all that we are as human beings. Well, it shouldn’t be anyway.

I try to slip that “life outlook” into my books. I enjoy writing characters who are “all over the lot” politically, for I feel that makes them that much more believable. They may voice views that are insightful, or inconsistent, or inaccurate, or even arguably wrong; but those are part of real life as well. Views shared may also occasionally surprise us – just as in real life:

“All this in the stores here [on Long Island] and no one asks why,” Lena observed, gesturing generally to the full racks and the shoppers around them taking the selection for granted. “Before Gorbachev, before the Party gave in, in Russia we had very little to buy like this. You could get only what the Party allowed you.”….

….Isabelle asked directly, “So you don’t think [communism] can be made to work?”

“No, I don’t,” Lena replied, absolutely sure of herself. “None of my grandparents left the Soviet Union. They were not allowed to. The Party feared letting them see the world. Every year the holiday was the Black Sea. I would kill myself. I will not live behind a communist wall. They can take their Marx and F-off.”

Then there are other perspectives:

“And we have to because of the Americans,” Béatrice declared. “They rule everything.” She pointed at James approaching and smiled disparagingly. “You! You vote for Reagan! He was evil!”

Isabelle teased her friend. “You say you don’t speak English well because you don’t like Americans? We know you do speak English very well!”

“Actually, I didn’t vote for Reagan,” James replied assertively as he sat down next to Isabelle. “But he wasn’t evil.”

Stéphane yelled from the kitchen, “Former darling, you promised no politics!” He rushed to the lounge with a wine glass. “Here, stop saving the world for tonight. Drink!”

Yes, alcohol may help lighten things – up to a point. ;-)

We may also find ourselves facing suddenly voiced opinions we had been unprepared for, leaving us scrambling for a polite response:

“It was a terrible shame,” Valérie replied. “The war came about because the Palestinians made so much trouble because of Israel.”

James disagreed cautiously. “I read the PLO ended up in Lebanon after it was kicked out of Jordan because it tried to overthrow King Hussein. It wasn’t Israel’s fault the PLO was so irresponsible.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she responded. “I’m not someone who demands ‘Death to Israel!’ Not at all. Just that there must be a solution to the Palestinians so we stop the killing.”

Others may then later have their own opinions…. about those previously voiced opinions, and perhaps share what they feel are ulterior motives:

“And Valérie! God, how she looked at you! And she will visit in New York soon. Glamorous!”

“Should I say she’s ugly?” he laughed again. “You’d know I was lying then!”

“Politics? Israel? Ha!” Isabelle threw up her arms. “She cares nothing! She loves shoes and handbags!”

And how often do we admit that we – as individuals of no particular standing – feel essentially powerless anyway:

….[Isabelle's father] smiled, wiping his brow. “The Legion was there. I hope President Clinton does not attack Iraq again.”

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” James shrugged. “When I’m next at the White House, I’ll ask him.”

Finally, there reaches a point where it’s time to give it a rest:

Isabelle reappeared at the edge of the patio. She called out to them, “Lunch soon! Enough talking!”

“Coming, little one!” her father shouted back.

“Always blah, blah, blah!” she tossed up her hands laughingly as she turned around to return inside.

Yes, lunch is often far better than talking politics. Have a good Wednesday, wherever you are reading this. Let’s try not to argue too much. :-)

Buckinghamshire

My wife and I went for a walk with her aunt during a brief visit with her yesterday. She is incredible. You’d never guess the woman just turned 80 years old.

And sometimes a photo opportunity also presents itself – as this one did for me:

Farmland, Buckinghamshire, England. [Photo by me, 2014.]

Farmland, Buckinghamshire, England. [Photo by me, 2014.]

It’s always even all the more pleasant when there’s a pub at the end of any walk. ;-)

Just thought I’d post that. Hope you’re having (or had) a good Thursday, wherever you are reading this….

What Happened To Bobby?

Yesterday afternoon, an episode of Escape to the Country came on the BBC. In the background, we heard one of the househunting couple’s children’s names: “Hatcher.” With that, the fun began:

• Me: “There must be an American in this couple. Boys names in the U.S. have become ridiculous in recent years. Only an American would name a son ‘Hatcher.'”

• Mother-in-law: “It is odd. There’s an American golfer with the Christian name ‘Webb.’ So silly.” (Note: she is of the generation that still says “Christian” name.)

As Escape proceeded, we learned I’d gotten it right. They were an American couple, living in London, seeking to move to Surrey. It’s a well-to-do county that might be compared roughly to, say, Loudoun County, Virginia, or Putnam County, New York.

image

Their home search had a major requirement: a house needed to be near a train station. Why? The husband admitted on camera that he didn’t have a U.K. driving license, so he had to commute by train.

• Me: [Thinking. There's nothing wrong with the train. But, God, aren't you embarrassed admitting that on U.K. national TV? Pass your bl-ody U.K. driving test, and stop embarrassing other Americans living here by giving British viewers the impression we can't manage to drive in their country.]

While I had become distracted by the driving silliness, my mother-in-law was still on the issue of the boy’s name:

• Mother-in-law: “Over in Ireland, they often don’t have traditional names on children either. [She waves an Irish Independent at us.] Look at this? Apple iCloud. What sort of a name is that?”

• Me: [Thinking: Did I just hear her right?]

• My wife: [After a pause followed by a roar of laughter] “Mum, that’s not a name!”

Seems I haven’t yet entirely “escaped” my personal Seinfeld episode either. It continues on this side of the Atlantic too. ;-)

An Airport Welcome

So I’ve left my Dad in recovery in Pennsylvania from his August 9 heart failure. After two weeks there, it was time to leave: I could do no more, and I couldn’t stay forever of course. He looks excellent, and is in the (now calmer) hands of my mother and my sister.

Having flown into Newark back on August 14 was my first trans-atlantic flight alone since 1999 – pre-marriage. Flying back yesterday evening from Newark to Heathrow was obviously the second. We almost always fly British Airways – as I did for these flights too.

Some journeys are arduous. Others relatively easy. This was the latter.

There were no hassles with the car service to Newark Airport, no fuss at bag drop, no real wait at Security.

It was also a strange feeling prepping to fly alone across the Atlantic again.

The flight itself – on a 787 Dreamliner, which is quite a plane – was unremarkable. (Also, I noticed no one getting to know a row-mate rather, uh, well.)

After landing in London, matters were similarly routine: disembarked quickly, and UK border control moved smoothly. (Unlike last time, today’s passport officer – another woman – displayed absolutely no interest in my occupation.)

The luggage was on the reclaim carousel when I reached it. I exited and found myself so early – the flight had also landed early – that my “driver” on this end (my wife) had not yet arrived. I took a seat near one of the “meeting points” in Terminal 5.

Killing time, I checked email, Facebook, and decided to have a tweet. The tweet was (I thought) innocuous. However, it attracted a response from Heathrow Airport’s official Twitter feed:

image

First time I’ve ever been welcomed by “an airport.” ;-)

“Byron, have you ever been to Warsaw?”

Recuperating, my Dad found The Winds of War mini-series on Netflix. Couldn’t resist it. We sat and watched the first two episodes together yesterday afternoon and evening.

Based on Herman Wouk’s 1971 novel about Americans in Europe before Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entry into World War II, it was shown originally in February 1983. My wife and I bought the DVDs a few years ago, and feasted on it during several evenings’ viewing. A prominent American officer and his English “paramour” (of course, right?) became a particular focus of humo(u)r between the (English) Mrs. and myself.

Winds was remarkable television, made before U.S. network TV became dominated by people behaving like circus performers in cheapo “reality” programs. It boasts some absolutely superb actors from the era. How the fictional characters are woven into history is usually clever and eminently believable.

Years ago, teaching college on Long Island, I regularly heard from some students – and still hear from some people now – how “dry” history can be. However, Winds is about often ordinary people living amidst a downward spiral of terrible events usually beyond their control; their individual fates are uncertain. It’s not about memorizing “dates” for some test.

It’s still a spectacle over 30 years on. Wikipedia says it attracted an average of 80 million U.S. viewers each night over its initial 7 night run. Save for the Super Bowl, a U.S. network TV broadcast almost never gets anywhere near that sort of viewership any longer.

Yeh, it is romantic. And it can also be melodramatic and “soap opera-ish” in spots. Viewed from 2014, some of the production values are naturally somewhat dated too.

But it’s often greatly moving and memorable. If you’ve never seen it, give it a chance. Above all, it’s entertaining, and you’ll may learn lots without even realizing you are. ;-)

Here’s A Cheque/Check

I discovered a little while ago via Facebook that my 12 year old nephew in Britain wants me to dump ice water over my head.

I’m disappointed. By now, surely he knows his uncle would prefer the Patrick Stewart approach:

However, it’s just a bit too early in the day to pour a drink here in Pennsylvania, USA. ;-)