Purple and Orange and Blue...

Several people have been kind enough to respond to my earlier post, asking why the rainbows over Camberwell are so vibrant and frequent.

Many have pointed out that Camberwell has a Rainbow Street, named after the Rainbow Cottage where 19th century poet Robert Browning was born. Unfortunately there seems to have been no literary citation of the multi-coloured marvels, even from Browning himself.

Incidentally, both Browning and his wife Elizabeth Barrett had mixed race, scottish and jamaican heritage. This is more common than you might think. Every time I walk the streets of Camberwell wearing my kilt, even more so in Brixton, I am greeted by caribbean men who tell me with great pride that they have scottish ancestors.

I wondered longtime why this might be - a desire to ally with percieved anti-english rebellion? or to get on up in a skirt? or to match Malcolm X's pride in the same lineage?

Me, I think it's to do with the way Scots travelled the world in the early 19th century. Young, single, well-educated Scots went out into the New World, India, and Africa as cartographers, engineers, men of commerce, doctors, ministers, and artists. Not as Viceroys, Generals, and Exisemen. Consequently they would have spent much more time in the company of the local population; and doubtless finding them interesting, amicable, and socially alluring...marriages, alliances and a reluctance to return to [say] Dunfermline must have followed close.

In short, it was a Scottish Empire, but the English taxed it.

Andrew Mishmash

Crimes Against Literature

I read with much amusement that the Home Office's Top Tackdog, Doctor John Reid, plans to ban convicted criminals from publishing the memoirs of their exploits. He intends to trackfast this legislation too, so watch out!

This comes as a classic redtop-led kneejerk response to recent rumours that paramilitary murderers, released into the community by the Good Friday Agreement, have been paid substantial cash advances by UK publishers.

So it isn't [honestly, guv] about winding up disgraced tories Jeffery Archer and Jonathan Aitken, although clearly there will be no tears shed at the Politburo if those two perjurers are stripped of their royalties. It's about stopping some very nasty criminals from benefitting financially from their crimes.

The most prevalent UK publisher of hard-man autobiographies is John Blake. I've read some of their stuff, Guvnor, Pretty Boy, Chopper and Bronson; it's not very edifying, but it does sell well south of the river. What's more, it is in general written by men who have served their sentence and been released. And whether we like it or not, and read it or not, they should be free to ply their wares, shouldn't they?

The task of codifying this legislation will be a nightmare. Will it be retrospective; and if so will there be a rule of limitation? Will booksellers run the risk of imprisonment for selling a copy of The Ballad of Reading Gaol? Or Papillon? Or Jimmy Boyle's A Sense of Freedom?

Mishmash Bookshop suggested some time ago to friends of ours at 'the Yard' that the Metropolitan Police should have a literary division. A few coppers could sit around on an overstuffed leather banquette, cross-referencing charge sheets with galley proofs from this month's violent bestseller. If the subject claims to have 'blagged' a bank robbery that remains unsolved, the response is only a phonecall away.

Or perhaps we could 'come to an arrangement' with the various firms to extend the 'East End Omerta' to cover the West End publishers.

Andrew Mishmash

Help! Help! Help!

Regular reader and occasional contributor Mr W has quite a problem on his hands - he is, if stories are to be believed, personally responsible for almost all of the current IT boom in Scotland's youth.

That's not the problem tho' - he desperately needs a fan to replace the broken one on his Dell Dimension 8100. And Dell can't - or, we secretly suspect, won't - help him. A most unfortunate Mr W, then.

So if anyone reading this has either a spare fan, or a Dimension 8100 with a "frazzled front end" and a working fan, lying about the place, do please give him a call.

More of the usual half-baked opinionated nonsense coming later.

Andrew Mishmash

That's Greenock Mean Time!

I have just heard on the news that the Local Government Association - and here I'm assuming that's the LGA for the generic Englandandwales - have reported that the return from British Summer Time [BST] to Greenwich Mean Time [GMT] at the end of the summer is directly responsible for the deaths of some 450 people, mostly killed in car accidents during the evening rush hour.

They have suggested that the United Kingdom should stay on BST through the autumn and winter, and go to BST-plus-one in the spring. Meaning that England and Wales would go onto Central European Time [CET], and always be one hour ahead of GMT.

They propose that there should be a three-year experiment to evaluate the comparative benefits of the scheme. This experiment was tried before between 1968-71, and resulted, according to ROSPA, in the deaths of 2500 people per year.

Any plan to put the whole of the UK onto CET means that Scotland, especially the fine northern parts thereof, would be plunged into darkness until lunchtime for half the year. Of course as a dyed-in the-harris-tweed Nationalist I don't have a problem with my country deciding on its own practical time zone; in fact I'm pleased when politcs allows us to consolidate our differences. But it would be a practical nightmare for the good citizens of Berwick, or St. Abbs, or Dumfries.

These kinds of arguments get kicked around almost every weekend the clocks change; largely because news is quieter at weekends and lobby groups post their reports then to improve their audibility.

But surely - joking apart - you couldn't have Greenwich Mean Time that never applied in Greenwich!

Andrew Mishmash

PS I have just remembered that HM Forces need not be concerned with this pettyfoggery as all operations anywhere in the world are conducted on GMT - militarily known as Zulu Time. But you knew that, Andy McNabb fans, didn't you?

King of Kennington?

My favourite film of all time is City Lights by Charles Chaplin. I have seen it dozens of times and still dissolve in floods of tears when the Flower Girl realises that the Tramp.... well, this isn't a spoiler site, so see it for yourself.

When Jean-Luc Godard - a film director I won't call accessible - said "film is a footnote to Chaplin" it was City Lights he was talking about. Chaplin did it all; wrote it, directed it, acted, designed the gags, and bedded most of his leading ladies. In doing so he invented much of the cinematic grammar that still applies today, like lap-fading, establishing shots, and crossing the line. And all before tea-time.

I read Chaplins autobiography many years ago, and didn't really like it. But now, living in Camberwell, and having a bit more experience of mortal and financial highs and lows, I'm profoundly moved by the opening chapters. The constant grinding poverty that Chaplin, his brother, and their mother suffer is horrifying, and not all three of them survive it.

Unfortunatley, at the point where Chaplin goes to America and starts to make some money, he gives up on the abuse-lit horrors [and who can blame him] and therafter delivers a blow-by-blow account of how charming everyone he meets is, how well his films sell, and how much money he is earning.

This weekend I think I might go out and about to see if I can find the garrets, workhouses, and factories in which the fons et origo of cinema grew up; pictures to follow if I can find them.

Vincent van Gogh lived a couple of hundred yards from our garret too, and I might well make a similar pilgrimage of his sites next - springtime trip to Arles anyone?

Andrew Mishmash

The Last Post by Max Arthur

The Metropolitan Police Military History Society [of which Mishmash Bookshop is a cheerful member] had a very interesting visit from the war historian Max Arthur earlier this week. Max read from, and talked about, his book The Last Post, which came out in paperback recently.

The Last Post is a collection of interviews with veterans of the First World War. At the outset there were twenty-one of them, and during the writing of this book, sadly, seventeen of them died. Of the four now remaining alive, only one saw active service. It is as Max says, a conscious effort to record their histories before it's too late.

I have been a great fan of Max’s Lost Voices series for a number of years. I think his hands-off and transparent style suits the subject matter - the day to day mundane nature of life on military duty, interrupted by short periods of terrifying violence and often by death.

Max contributes almost nothing written to the books himself; but he clearly brings two very great skills to his publications. Firstly, he must be an extremely good interviewer. He spoke about this towards the end of his talk, and revealed his secret technique - "ask about their childhood, and then just let them talk, and hold their hand as you listen".

Secondly, he is very obviously a discriminating editor. One of the problems with academic history is that it treats all facts as equally important; but the lay reader wants something more narrative, that will convey the peaks and troughs. Once he has the raw material, Max knows which of Tommy Atkins' tales will shock you, which joke will amuse, and which will bring on tears of empathy or of regret.

Max is a very entertaining reader [no doubt deriving to a great extent from his earlier fame as an actor] and brings a vitality to the words that cannot come from the page alone. It was useful too to have his brief descriptions of the interview scenarios that you don't get in the books; like one of his respondents sitting up in bed in his pyjamas, and wearing a tricorn hat.

Last year the last surviving Australian soldier of the First World War died; the news was carried on the front pages of all the national newspapers. I hope ours are respectful enough to do the same.

Andrew Mishmash

Trouble at t' Mill...

Some of you may have seen the sad news over the weekend the Terry Jones has been getting treatment for cancer. Apparently the treatment has gone well and he is recovering. Jolly Good.

Jones, you will recall, directed the Monty Python movies Holy Grail, Life of Brian and Meaning of Life ; and later developed a career as a serious [well, serious for a Python] TV historian. The requirement that all television historians should have a 'trademark silly walk' allowed Jones the opportunity to walk with the aid of a cane, much in the manner of Sir Richard Attenborough in Jurassic Park.

The sharper-eyed newshounds among you will have noticed that Jones' bedside vigil was being kept by his "pretty blonde 21-year old swedish girlfriend". Said the Mirror.

Mishmash say;

Jonesy - well played, not bad for a boy from Colwyn Bay, isn't it!

Gentlemen of the Press - you just can't help yourselves, can you?

Andrew Mishmash

Red and Yellow and Pink and Green...

When I'm not hard at work in Mishmash Bookshop, I retire to live in the beautiful south London village of Camberwell.

One of the many truly astonishing things about Camberwell is the quality of it's rainbows.

During this afternoon's heavy showers, followed by sunshine, I knew we would be in for a treat, and I wasn't disappointed. The shot above is from last year, and doesn't do them justice. It was taken looking east, over the village, from Myatts Field Park.

Now, I was educated in Scotland in the 1970's, so I know what a rainbow is. They are caused by sunlight is being marginally refracted through the water vapour in the air. The reason you can see 'twin' rainbows in the best examples is that the refraction is happening in a converging pattern towards you, and the slower red light bends into the centre. So that box is ticked.

But my question is - Why, after a fair amount of rural life, and a lot of mountaineeering both in Scotland and abroad, does Camberwell have the most vibrant rainbows I have ever seen, and the most regular occurance of the twin rainbow?

I have thought long and hard about the effects of poor air quality, the temperature, the southern boundary of the long-gone Thames flood; but I just can't figure it out. So can anyone either explain this phenomena, or at least point me towards any historical resourse that will confirm it?

I will buy the most convincing respondent a pint in Camberwell's fantabulous Sun and Doves.

Andrew Mishmash

Shut Up! Damn! Already!

Walking past the newspaper stand this morning I saw the headline on the Times - Prince in bid to save Briton on Death Row.

For a moment I thought [as perhaps you just have] that the royal personage in question was His Purpleness, The Minneapolis Midget, Prince Rogers Nelson.

No such luck. The poor sod on Death Row [always capitalised, like a residential address] will probably go to his grave having just been asked what he does and how far he has come today by everyone's favourite socially awkward posh bloke, with a different name for use in each country he owns.

If I was on Death Row - and hey, these things happen overseas - I would want Brian Blessed speaking up for me, in character, as Vultan, Prince of the Hawkmen from 1980's camp movie classic Flash Gordon.

Or Stephen Berkoff, as Brian Blessed, as Prince Vultan.

Andrew Mishmash

Le plus ca change...

We note here at Mishmash Bookshop that the fragrant Louise Bagshawe has been selected via the notorious Conservative Central Office ‘A-list’ system to be the prospective candidate for Corby. Conservative Central Office is less than fifty yards from the front of our shop – start to feel like the world is getting smaller? And it is above a Starbuck’s – claustrophobic?

Prior to winning Tory X-Factor Ms Bagshawe was a writer of racy romantic fiction for modern girls – ‘chick lit’ as it is known in the biz. And because her successes in this project were not all that her publisher had expected, all of her titles have been remaindered, and we sell them by the bucketload. Especially to gay men for some reason.

But this is the second time in Mishmash's short and chequered career that I have fallen back on selling the early literary slush of a politician more famous for being infamous, than for representing their constituents.

In the mid ‘90’s the top-selling book in our Glasgow remainder bookshop was Helen Liddell’s Elite. Ms Liddell [almost always referred to as ‘Stalin’s Granny’] had just started out on her car crash of a political career and was none too pleased with us when we started promoting the literary failures of her past; I vaguely recall a lawyer’s letter landing on our MD.

I think Ms Liddell eventually ran out of friends to the extent that she was posted to Australia to act as High Commissioner; a kind of political transportation, but not, sadly, for the term of her natural life. Perhaps, since each of her official incumbencies seemed to coincide with the abolition of said offices, the Aussies thought her appointment might accelerate their eventual independence.

The trick to this – I humbly submit – is to make it as a politician, whatever that involves, before you engage in the ‘evening and weekends’ profession of scribing under-performing fiction. Ms Widdecombe and Ms Currie will no doubt leap to back me up here. Of course their work, too, was remaindered – it’s appallingly written – but the advances from the gullible publishers are so, so much bigger, darling!

Have a literary weekend – I’m off out with the Wee Guy.

Andrew Mishmash

We're Nearly Famous Now!

Victoria is a funny old locale for bookselling [and I pause here to allow those of you who live 'off' to raise a brow to our St James's Park address, but it’s really the same place]. At first it seems a bit barren; but on close inspection, and with a bit of judicious gerrymandering, it's actually quite productive. Literally speaking.

Iain Dale started Politico's just round the corner, and last time I lifted the lid it looked like he was creating a Tory TV channel and becoming a web based media baron.

Random House aren't so far away that you couldn't go round there and make inappropriate comments at them during your lunch hour.

And just across Victoria Street from Mishmash Bookshop is the delightful Friday Project [whom I here pause to emphasise are nothing at all to do with the execrable after-hours bilge that is TV’s Friday Night Project].

The Friday Project is a small, funky, blogfan type publisher that looks to utilise the best emerging technologies like the internet, podcasts, e-books, that sort of thing, to run alongside print media. Most famous for employing Scott Pack, the erstwhile “most powerful man in British bookselling” [sorry Scott but it could be worse; “real name Katie Price” for instance] TFP was actually up and running for a while before he joined them a couple of months ago, bringing them more into the reading public’s gaze.

They have got a very good website too, with three very informative and entertaining blogs; Scott P's very own Me and My Big Mouth, The Friday Thing and London by London. Of course everyone in bookselling reads MMBM every day, despite Scott’s recent protestations. TFT is just coruscatingly rude about pretty much everyone, and LBL is a fantastic hotch-potch of opinions and ideas from just about everyone left standing in London.

Last week they picked Mishmash Bookshop for their Intermezzo Londoner interview bit – boy was I surprised. In amongst the entry level celebrity glitterati, you can understand our flattered glee. You can have a read of LBL's latest issue here. Then take a look at the other Friday Project stuff. And next time you are in Victoria [or at least the St James’s Park end] pop into Mishmash Bookshop and buy a book or two.