A Land Of Glory?
"I was always in trouble with the various banks to whom I entrusted my overdraft, in the days when I believed that beyond my means was the only place to live,'' wrote Ian Skidmore.
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"I was always in trouble with the various banks to whom I entrusted my overdraft, in the days when I believed that beyond my means was the only place to live,'' wrote Ian Skidmore.
...“My grandfather,” confided the baron to the startled driver, “always maintained there was no greater pleasure than making love in a sleeping car as the train went over a set of points.”...
Ian Skidmore told of the day he introduced the aristocracy to the chip butty.
Continue reading "A Knight Of The Brotherhood Of The Chain Of The Turning Spit" »
"The great names in pantomime include John Rich, David Garrick, Joe Grimaldi, Dan Leno, William Beverley, E.L. Blanchard, Herbert Campbell, Nat Jackley, Florrie Ford, Dorothy Ward, Pat Kirkwood, Wyn Calvin, King Charles II, the Emperor Augustus and my mum,'' wrote Ian Skidmore.
...So there he was, up-ended, circling a tiny azure paddling pool, with his chest making rude noises...
Ian Skidmore tells a delicious war-time tale.
"Far from being anti-religious, I have worried about religion for most of my life and have only recently come to a conclusion that satisfies me,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore tells of some characters in uniform who came a little short of wonderful.
... We have all had a lovely, stormy time together. Choked with admiration of ourselves and each other...
Ian Skidmore celebrates his lovable family.
...The waitress took the order without demur and soon returned with the champagne, followed by a waiter bearing the finest chip butty I have ever seen. The bread was home made, the butter runny and the golden chips had hard crusts protecting inner potato, soft as a baby’s cheek. The silver platter on which they were served also carried salt, pepper and vinegar...
Ian Skidmore recalls a tasty feast.
...The waitress took the order without demur and soon returned with the champagne, followed by a waiter bearing the finest chip butty I have ever seen. The bread was home made, the butter runny and the golden chips had hard crusts protecting inner potato, soft as a baby’s cheek. The silver platter on which they were served also carried salt, pepper and vinegar...
Ian Skidmore recalls a tasty feast.
"My mouth mewed with delight this morning when the postman arrived with a collection of tastings of the finest malts and most noble blends from Master of Malts,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"My mouth mewed with delight this morning when the postman arrived with a collection of tastings of the finest malts and most noble blends from Master of Malts,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
...What takes the Woe out of Man - Woman. Neat,eh?...
Ian Skidmore imagines an early-day conversation.
Continue reading "Nearer To God In A Garden Is Not Necessarily A Good Thing" »
...What takes the Woe out of Man - Woman. Neat,eh?...
Ian Skidmore imagines an early-day conversation.
Continue reading "Nearer To God In A Garden Is Not Necessarily A Good Thing" »
... When I went for my blood test this week a battalion of nurses asked me how I was. I said: "That's why I am here, so you can tell me how I am."...
Ian Skidmore makes light of bad news.
"When I said Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch English listeners found my command of language impressive. Welsh speaking listeners shuddered. That was my problem. I lived in a place I could not pronounce,'' writes the Ian Skidmore.
"When I lived at Tattenhall on the Welsh border I had to remonstrate with an enthusiastic neighbour whose flower seeds blew over the fence and choked my weeds,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
" If you look at any photographs taken in the Fifties everyone is smiling yet in contemporary photographs there isn't a happy tooth to be seen. Our media resembles nothing so much as the Fat Boy in the Pickwick Papers 'who wants to make yer flesh creep'.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
...Once, returning home, he could not find his front gate. He hacked a great hole in the hedge, assuming he was back in the Chindits. It would be dishonourable to him to call him predictable...
Ian Skidmore recalls a journalistic friend.
... He made up stories for the Mirror that nowadays would have got him an overnight declaration in the Booker Prize. Like the one about the girl who couldn’t afford the cruise her doctor ordered so she bought (or, to be more truthful, Bill did) 45 round-trip tickets on the New Brighton ferry...
Ian Skidmore recalls another astonishing character.
Ian Skidmore introduces us to a gloriously unique character.
"He stopped going to meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous when a fellow alcoholic failed to buy his round of lemonade...''
Ian Skidmore tells of a friend of his youth.
"There is no time in my life when I have been without a close friend whose pigmentation differs from mine. At school, in the Army and through my working and retirement life, some of my best friends have been coloured and I would certainly let my children marry one. I had a coloured uncle and much preferred him to my aunt, his wife. My first wife and our children were mostly Jewish. My father didn't mind what you were, so long as you weren't a Catholic. It ran in the family. My uncle was furious when I introduced his daughter to a friend who was Catholic. A chum, who is a Catholic priest, has to hide his occupation in the Middle East,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"Joe Minogue was a giant cloth cap, a cigarette and a pronounced Manchester accent,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore tells of the day the Queen was offered cabbage.
...Harry was small, saturnine, with an impish grin like a devil on holiday and he could ruin a suit by standing next to it. His cap was his badge of office and he had a genius for conversation. Google lists only seven Harry Whewells in Britain. Personally I don't believe in six of them...
Ian Skidmore pays tribute to a very special man.
Ian Skidmore is delighted to hear that he is looking young.
Continue reading "Oh To Be In England, Or Anywhere Else, Now That Spring Is Here" »
As an evil news breasts the tape with religion and television, writes Ian Skidmore.
"Anyone can live a week on very little. Hell is having to do it week after week, year after year,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"There a very few born crooks but plenty of vulnerable kids who will prove you right if you do not show them kindness and respect.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I expected to be a mess at 84. I did not expect to be a laughing stock. Other people get nice, sensible diseases which inspire sympathy. I fall for the ones which verge on the downright comic,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore introuces us to Kathyann Latchoo (nee Waterman), Deputy Director of Prosecutions in Trinidad. who takes us on a chuckle-filled tour of the law.
...a fellow member of a dining club insisted the perfect drink is when the man drinks green chartreuse the woman yellow chartreuse and they kiss...
Ian Skidmore writes about the undoubted joys of alcohol.
"They are gone the days of Daimler Jags and Lagondas, of Land Rovers and MG TDs. In their place is a walking stick. These days we are a tripod.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
" I prefer biography to fiction. Biography, indeed life, can be fanciful in ways that fiction wouldn’t dare,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"What a thing of vanity is man who believes himself the image of God. With his manifest talent as a designer why would God.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"What a thing of vanity is man who believes himself the image of God. With his manifest talent as a designer why would God.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I was born to be buttled but, alas, four monarchs have neglected the peerage I have always believed my due. I am doomed never to be handed a freshly ironed newspaper on a silver salver,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"There was a saying amongst the more gullible soldiery: “You cannot beat the army.” Rubbish. I reckon in my short stay I got the best of three falls,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I have a certain expertise in the architecture of falling over. You begin with a fond farewell to the perpendicular, the next and most graceful move is a panic stricken hover,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I have a certain expertise in the architecture of falling over. You begin with a fond farewell to the perpendicular, the next and most graceful move is a panic stricken hover,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore recalls the man who was charged ith biting a Doberman Pincher.
Ian Skidmore recalls the best ever description of a hangover penned with feeling by one of the greatest - some say the greatest - journalists of the Twentieth Century.
The adjutant at my new posting in Germany scratched his head when he read the charge sheet.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
“I am a very bewildered officer,” he admitted. “You don’t look violent.”
Ian Skidmore tells of a man whose pet parrot bit both Goering and H.G. Wells.
"Field Marshall Montgomery will have his own memories, but for me the most significant moment of the war came during the bacchanalia which suffused the population on V.E. Day,'' writes the irrepressible Ian Skidmore.
...One housewife told about her lodger, a man whose kindness had overwhelmed her: “Do you know, Mrs Jones, every Saturday he goes down to the port and finds a lonely sailor. He treats him to a fish supper, then he brings him home and takes him upstairs to let him sleep in his bed. There’s kind for you.”...
Ian Skidmore recalls wartime goings-on.
"I have reduced fish and chip luncheons to fish and mushy peas.'' writes Ian Skidmore who is contemplating weighty matters.
"The nightly bombings were exciting and there was always the chance of another sighting of Olive Cobbold’s bosom. But not even that could distract me from my major strategy. I was determined not to be evacuated,'' writes Ian Skidmore, recalling the wartime years.
"My family fought at Crecy, Agincourt, Trafalgar, Waterloo, in the Boer and Zulu Wars and World Wars One and Two, so I never really forgave Hitler for starting his war when I was only ten and too young to join in; though I had the Martini Henry rifle my Uncle Alby used to despatch Zulus. In my bed in Manchester I slept with it by my side longing for invasion.'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"...the Upper Classes did more to popularise adultery as an indoor sport than any other class, except perhaps the America military,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
... Battle was joined early in our arrangement when my riposte to them bouncing a £2 cheque was to apply for a personal loan. Halfway through the interview that followed the manager excused himself because he had to supervise a visit to the vaults.He paled when I offered to go with him. “You are doing enough damage to the concept of banking where you are."...
Ian Skidmore recalls in delicious detail his decades of skirmishing with a certain bank.
"Spilled blood and trickery built most empires. Ours is the first to be killed by kindness,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
...Neville was all about excellence and perseverance. He never gave up; he never let anyone he cared about give up. He was loyal to the core...
Ian Skidmore pays tribute to Neville Stack, *the brightest newspaperman of his generation''.
"My faith does not allow me to believe in death and dying isn't a very productive way of passing the time,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"...expect Salmond the King Maker will offer the crown of Scotland, which is on show in Edinburgh Castle, to Sean Connery. I reckon he would graciously accept and Scotland would have a king...
Ian Skidmore casts a cold eye on the bid for Scottish independence.
"One of the joys of living in Wales was the pleasure I got from being rude on radio and in my columns about the Welsh Arts Establishment or, as I christened it, The Teflon Tafia,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"In a perfect world badgers would be culling us. We make a far greater mess of the world. We kill other species and ourselves on a scale unimaginable in the animal kingdom. The hungriest man-eating lion watches us in envy,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I have been married twice and the second one has been blissful. Indeed this week she saved me from being eaten alive. My first wife gave the lie to the belief that Britain never produced a decent light heavyweight fighter,'' writes the irrepressible Ian Skidmore.
...At the age of 75 the countess was declared bankrupt, largely due to the actions of her son. She moved to a terraced house in Bristol with no hot water and got by on occasional Highclere handouts. She died after choking on a piece of chicken in the early summer of 1969...
Ian Skidmore tells of life upstairs.
" .I have been out of tune with what we laughingly call Western Civilisation since the Dawn of Denim and the advent in the Sixties of the adenoid as a musical instrument,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"The Welsh were invented by an ancestor of mine, a Pictish
chieftain called Cunnedda,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore introduces us to Captain Timothy Edwards - or to give him his nickname in Nelson’s Navy “Old Hammer and Nails” - squire of Nanhoron on the Llyn Peninsula.
"He was every bit as dashing as Nelson, as was shown in his biography “Hammer and Nails” by my chum David Beaumont Ellison.''
Ian Skidmore tells of an old friend who bought a mountain in Wales.
"A visit to a second-hand bookshop is a chastening experience for a writer. Shelf after shelf of authors, once feted but now completely forgotten, whilst on bookstalls a badly written pornographic novel sells fifty million copies. Only rarely does one come across copies of "Fame Is The Spur” which by a country mile is the finest novel I have ever read. An even greater tragedy is that neither Howard Spring, nor his contemporary Ivor Novello, nor the hilarious writer the amiable Gwyn Thomas, three of the finest creative artists Wales ever produced, are remembered in their native land. If only they had been Welsh speakers the halls would still be ringing with their praise,'' writes columnist and author Ian Skidmore.
...He was a great Word War Wager, his invective darkening the skies like the arrow night of Crecy...
Ian Skidmore pays tribute to the giants of the newspaper trade.
"My battle with the New Age makes a flash in the pan of the Hundred Years War,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"Teetotalism is dangerous. It allows you to do much sillier things than ever you did as a drunk,'' declares the inimitable Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore muses on this, that - and the Oympics.
"The only consolation to people like me who love soldiers but loathe wars is that war has become one of those bad habits we can no longer afford,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
...just imagine getting to the top of the council house waiting list and being called with an offer of a house surrounded by trees, four miles from the nearest shop, 800 years old and a mile from the front gate...
Ian Skidmore expresses his sympathy for the aristocracy in their draghty stately homes.
"When you are very old only your dimensions travel. I have grown shorter, my mouth has shrunk and in consequence my dentures wobble,'' writes Britain's best columnist Ian Skidmore.
"Two sips and you arrive at that state where conversation is easy but pronunciation difficult. It is like being mugged with a velvet cosh. Your mind walks in ever diminishing circles, whimpering uneasily,'' writes Ian Skidmore in this celebration of Bruges's beer houses.
"Another thing that puzzles me about soldiers is that they never tumble to what sewers politicians are. No matter whom they meet, Jap, Hun, Taliban or Chinese, they are never going to come across an enemy as implacable as the Ministry of Defence,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"But hold your foot up, Your Lordship. Why not go the whole hog and have the athletes coming out two by two behind their countries’ flags, from a giant plastic Ark. With ubiquitous Boris as an intoxicated Noah?''
Ian Skidmore is a long way short of being impressed by the opening ceremony planned for the London Olympics.
"When I was a lad I was told I had grown on a blackcurrant bush. Not very nice going through life thinking you were adopted and your real mother was a shrub,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"For thirty years I earned a living by renting out the mouth for money. As a result the mouth was a great traveller. I scarcely left my armchair but every week the mouth went all over the world,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"Frankly I am glad of the practice because any day now I am going to be standing knee-deep in clouds and deafened by the incessant harp plucking, shouting over the noise, explaining to God I never had any problem with Him. The evidence of His existence is so obvious it would be foolish to deny it. Such a complex thing as life could not possibly be an accident. It was religion I had come to think of as evil and, frankly, if any of its various versions of God came to live next door, I would move.''
"I was lucky enough to meet two pilots who fought in fragile aircraft above the battlefields in World War One,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
...The worst thing is the way time suddenly speeds up. The Spectator becomes a daily and it’s Christmas every other week. Or as Christopher Fry memorably said: “You seem to have breakfast every half hour.”...
Ian Skidmore reflects on old age, dropping a few famous names along the way.
Ian Skidmore writes with feeling about a subject we are all aware of - a concern which is rarely discussed.
...He found ample evidence of Chinese penetration but was captured by them and imprisoned in remote Takalot, high in the Himalayas. On Christmas Eve he was suddenly freed and told to walk back to India across the roof of the world and, with supernatural help, he succeeded. Climbing down a cliff face, knowing he was about to lose his grip, he felt arms holding him, guiding him to safety...
Ian Skidmore pays due tribute to marvelopus men.
"Any writer will tell you that insults are much easier to write than peons of praise. So when the Times also appointed him as its TV columnist the result was predictable. His general views of TV were sound but his comments on presenters and programmes verged on libel.''
Ian Skidmore lambasts the criticd A A Gill.
82-year-old Ian Skidmore buys his first mobile phone.
"I will be 83 shortly and too near the swinging of the Pearly Gates to ‘scape bruising. Yet I remain convinced the Creator is unknowable and that mankind invented gods to explain climate change,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
England's water shortage crisis haunts Ian Skidmore's dreams.
"I may have mentioned that I once fell asleep in the middle of an interview for a Radio 4 series. For the first and only time in my life the office was inundated with letters praising my interviewing technique. At last, they all said, an interviewer who isn’t forever interrupting,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"The nearest thing we had in our family to a tradition was the
Hogmanay Fight. My father emigrated to Manchester but
always returned home to Edinburgh on 30 December. He went a day early to get in training,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"We handle words so carelessly and yet they are more dangerous than nuclear fission,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore draws attention to an ominous date.
Ian Skidmore counts true heroes among his friends.
Ian Skidmore delivers a history lesson for the Speaker if the House of Commons.
"I’ve said it once and I will go on saying it until I am, non-politically speaking of course, blue in the face. The answer to our problems is to sack all the MPs and let their precious fig trees run the country,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore suggests that all broadcasters are paid too much.
"Kindle ‘deniers’ are the sort of people who prefer magic lanterns to the cinema and enjoy driving vintage cars rather than new ones,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"I loathe money so deeply that I get rid of as much as I can as quickly as I can,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
Continue reading "A Million And A Million And A Million..." »
"There will always be an England - which when you see how it has turned out is a pity,'' writes a seriously disenchanted Ian Skidmore.
...Thus the burglar alarm has its eye on us. It waits to mock us if we put a foot wrong. It knows if we are trying to trick it by remaining in the house when it has been set...
The irreplacable Ian Skidmore takes another deliciously dystopian look at the present-day world.
"Why, one wonders, are we loading ourselves with debt, traffic jams and bomb attacks by importing a foreign version of an English original?''
Columnist Ian Skidmore has qualms about the forthcoming Olympics in the UK.
...New Year’s Day saw another costly parade. This one launched The Yawn of the £9 billion Olympics, the most costly sports days in history. Lord Coe announced that it was a victory for sportsmanship at roughly the same time the Culture Minister warned that the biggest betting fix in history was already threatening every event. We had already been alerted that this triumph of sportsmanship was such an obvious terrorist target the army has been called in to defend it...
Ian Skidmore will not be cheering the progress of the Olympic flame through his native land.
...In place of a paper hat I wore the livery of the S.A.S. (The Scrooge Appreciation Society which I founded many years ago), a woolly hat emblazoned ”Bah Humbug”, carpet slippers and capacious track suit bottoms.''
Ian Skidmore declares a loathing for Christmas.
"The passing of Christopher Hitchens did little for my Xmas spirit,'' writes Ian Skidmore, passing on some of the iconoclast's wise words quoted in the New York Times.
"The great joy of authorship is researching, gradually assembling the building blocks of books. The excitement of discovering gems of information which others have missed; of gradually bringing your subject to life,'' says author and journalist Ian Skidmore.
"I used to go for walks. Now I have a daily stumble. More particularly I stumble from bench to bench in our lovely riverside park where the water is fringed by magnificent giant willows. I can sit for hours drinking in their beauty,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore tells of a threat to a famous railway.
"Science and law and rhetoric are what universities were invented for,'' declares Ian Skidmore. "The rest is jobs for the boys.''
Ian Skidmore tells a tale to highlight delays in medical treatment for two-legged creatures.
"I am Greece made flesh. Long holidays, short working weeks, high pensions. Fine by me. And if my debts are being paid by the Germans who seventy years ago subjected Greece to cruel occupation and slave labour, then bring it on,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
...So many golden memories. Asking the opera giant Geraint Evans how he got the ideas for his splendid make ups and being told, “If I had known you when I was preparing Falstaff I would have modelled him on you.” And then shortly afterwards getting a photo inscribed “From One Falstaff to Another”...
At the end of a dolorous week the wonderful Ian Skidmore finds solace in his memory bank.
"In another life I was Welsh so I took Wales's World Cup debacle very personally indeed,'' writes the irrepressible Ian Skidmore in another hugely entertaining column.
Ian Skidmore shines a spotlight on recent EU regulations. No comment needed!
...And then I saw it. A tray of Barnsley Chops. Can there be a soul so dead it is a stranger to the Barnsley Chop? A palate so starved of joy it has never felt the caress of meat so sweet it could flavour cake? Surely not...
But all was not as should be in what, up to to that point, Ian Skidmore had thought to be a Heavenly butcher's shop.
...When she felt the urge for horizontal gardening she had an arrangement with one of the gardeners at Highclere. She later told a friend how she would stand away from her desk in one of the windows and that was the signal to summon him....
Ian Skidmore, after pondering on Count Dracula and his ways, reveals surprising facts relating to a certain blue-blood lady.
Columnist Ian Skidmore writes from a hospital bed.
"Wales is a Limited Company run by a small group of families, however much the Welsh Government preens itself,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"Broadly speaking I am in favour of sex education,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore reminds us of the first infamous bombing raid on civilians.
...Government interference cost us our export trade, our police force, our rail system and our education structure. Legislation outlawed the discipline of our young and crackpot theories ruined traditional teaching methods.
We were led by the nose into the Common Market and as a direct result our freedoms have been eroded, our courts superseded and our industry wrecked...
To say that Ian Skidmore is disenchanted with the present state of affairs in his native land would be the understatement of the century.
...I have another two words for getting Tweeters off the streets. Digital Recorders. They fit snuggly next to the whistle and all the other toys the Politically Correct PCs carry. Out of the question, I suppose. They are succesfully in use in the US, where they arrest wrongdoers , bundle them into the police van and speak the arrest details into the recorder. When the tapes are full, they are collected by a single officer and are taken back to HQ, plugged into computers and the recordings are automatically transcribed...
Ian Skidmore has a recommendation to improve policing in the aftermath of rioting in certain English cities.
"The art of politics is a constant effort to repair the harm done by the preceding politicians,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"Whenever I have been broke it meant that I had no money. Apparently the same rules do not apply to countries.
"America, which rents its homeland from China, hasn't got enough ready cash to pay its civil service. But for some reason that does not mean America is short of money. It baffles me in the way I used to baffle the Midland Bank,'' writes Ian Skidmore.
"The purpose of what is now called bullying in the army was simple. It was to make a soldier more afraid of his own NCOs than he was of the enemy. We are now told that this is disgraceful. That harsh discipline robs soldiers of their dignity. That we must be kinder to the young men who fight for us.
May I, as an old soldier, say that this is rubbish,'' asserts Ian Skidmore.
Ian Skidmore bridles at being banned in China.
"For most of my life I have been a reluctant monarchist; approving the office but loathing the occupants of any post-Plantagenet dynasty,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"Fantasy is essential to Nationalism. It enables people to forget that the road to Nationalism leads to the gates of Belsen,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
"Lets face it. Five books is a lot for one finger but it is the only way I can type and I have had five books commissioned, bubbling away in the little room above the eyebrows, begging to be let out,'' writes ace journalist and author Ian Skidmore.
...Mr Fellowes assures us he is writing a film script which is both sensual yet tasteful enough to avoid accusations of child exploitation. His version, he insists, “keeps pretty true to Shakespeare but is more accessible. We tell the story more economically too.”...
Ian Skidmore bridles at a proposed new production of Romeo and Juliet.
Continue reading "What Fright From Yonder Window Breaks..." »
Ian Skidmore spotlights the dark side of the Olympic Games.
Ian Skidmore does not share the national perception created by romanticised TV porgrammes that all Vets are Good Eggs and probably Scottish Porridge eating philanthropists to a man.
The inimitable Ian Skidmore tells of urgent measures taken to confine his dog Taz who is a demanding patient.
Ian Skidmore puts in an impassioned plea for Britain to be a little nation, bothering no one.
"I am concerned that vets are becoming the Dick Turpins of our day. On degree day they wear a black mask with their gowns and mortar boards. Compared to Vets the Great Train Robbers were a Hospital Saturday Fund,'' says Ian Skidmore whose dog Taz is being treated for a broken leg.
Ian Skidmore draws our attention to the following report which appeared in the Newcastle Evening Chronicle.
...She was a successful novelist and short story writer, a painter, a maker of exquisite miniature rooms and a gardener, though her garden was a toy wheelbarrow. She made jewellery and greetings cards, lace and tapestries on tiny canvases with a miniature needle and very fine thread...
Ian Skidmore pays tribute to a most remarkable human being.
...The girl said, “Don't forget to bring proof of your nationality.”...
Columnist Ian Skidmore is dumbfounded by a request for proof of his nationality.
Ian Skidmore brings a different take on the royal wedding.
"I suspect great waves of charity,'' says columnist Ian Skidmore. "Children in Need makes millions, we are told. I used to take part in it every year on BBC Wales but it was some time before it struck me that my voluntary efforts were giving the BBC days of free broadcasting. It was surprisingly difficult to get the BBC to pay me for my appearances so that I could give the fee to charity.''
...Another legend tells of the attempts of Vortigern to build a castle on Dinas Emrys. Every time it was built, it collapsed. Merlin explained the reason was that the dragons were fighting underground. The truth of the myth is probably that the primitive Welsh saw the long pennants the Roman legions marched behind that “wriggled” in the wind. To further banjax the foe, the Romans attached whistles to the flags that screamed in the wind....
The irrepressible Ian Skidmore ruminates on a variety of myths.
"I think if I lived in Vienna I would be smiling all the time. It must be the loveliest and least aggressive city in Europe, with the most helpful population,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
...I have danced a reel with the late Queen Mary, naked save for her velvet toque hat. Once, to hide my nudity, I borrowed a suit from King George VI, which is ridiculous. I have got a watch chain that weighs more than he did. My lips are permanently sealed in the matter of Princess Margaret, the bucket of G and T and the Courgette...
Ian Skidmore illuminates the curious effects of drinking Lemsip.
Ian Skidmore foresees doom an gloom in the UK if the internet is switched off.
"Pick your four favourite MPs? I couldn't pick four I would trust to take Taz, my long dog, for a walk. I don't just mean contemporary MPs. I mean since politicking started in the 17th century,'' declares columnist Ian Skidmore.
...What is this fuss over library closures? Close them all. The argument in their favour is outdated. Certainly I was educated in them and the best moment in my young life was when I qualified for an adult ticket and could borrow four books at a time. Today you can download around two million books free of charge and buy new ones online at a greatly reduced price. Second-hand paperbacks are available for the price of an ice cream or a lollipop. The few people who haven't got assorted computers could be given them free...
Bookman Ian Skidmore is moving with the times - or should that be The Times?
Continue reading "Dr Jekyll - But What HappenedTo Make Hyde Hide?" »
summoned the fire brigade. Through that brief sentence flows a river of tears...
The irresistibly humorous Ian Skidmore says he no longer writes about comic happenings - he lives them.
"There was a time when I felt the kingdom was a tragedy: I did not know it would become a farce.''
Ian Skidmore despairs of a disunited Kingdom.
...The past has a beginning and an end but the present has only a beginning, which merges into the future, and that is somewhere I have no wish to go. Indeed, I often wonder if it will exist...
Ian Skidmore says that life was more fun in the past.
Ian Skidmore declares his allegiance to books - then, now and for ever.
Continue reading "“Pick Me Up, Tie Me To My Chair And Fill Up My Glass.”" »
...In my day there were two certain ways to get information from the police. Either join the Masons or pay for it in cash or kind...
Retired journalist Ian Skidmore takes a critical look at recent events.
...I do not do reverence but I am very strong on awe. I am gripped by it at
the thought of the flower crouched in a tiny seed and the magic of
creation...
Ace columnist Ian Skidmore voices dyspeptic views on religion and the state of his homeland.
Zestful columnist Ian Skidmore, victor in many a deadline battle, points out that it was a journalist who invented the modern pantomime.
Do visit Ian's superlative Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
...Never mind every dog has its day. In today's tabloids every day has its dog story. So with Herodotus. He knew his readers liked stories about lovable animals. So he told the story of a breed of sheep which was prized for its fat tails. Tails which were so fat and so heavy that the shepherd made little carts that the sheep dragged carrying their tails behind them...
Ian Skidmore goes travelling, with tabloid Herodotus as his guide.
Do visit Ian's Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
...Her debut album with Universal, "The Choirgirl, Isabel" was released under the Decca label. She has already recorded duets with Bryn Terfel and Aled Jones, who with characterstic kindness has agreed to be her mentor....
Ian Skidmore introduces us to Isabel Suckling, a relative of his who is destined to become a big name in the musical world.
Ian Skidmore recalls in hilarious detail a Christmas tree which was a long way from being free.
Do visit Ian's sizzling Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
Ian Skidmore tells a tale that is sure to please.
For further richly-entertaining reading do visit Ian's Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
...A third guest said: "Yes, we have" and grabbed the parcel of
chicken from where it had been roosting under my arm.
Everyone but me applauded the skill with which the next
guest, a rather showy chap, executed a back pass with my
parcel between his legs...
Having watched his Christmas "feast'' being demolished an impoverished Ian Skidmore was then the recipient of a surprise gift.
"The pinnacle of Christmas is reached for me when I watch, as I do every year, Miyako Oshida, the ultimate Sugar Plum Fairy, and her Prince, Jonathan Cope, dance the magical Grand Pas de Deux in the Royal Ballet's production of the “Nutcracker”, choreographed by Pepita,'' declares Ian Skidmore.
For more of Ian's high-spirited words do visit his Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
...Scoop a netful of the pond life which swims in the waters of Westminster. Ask them why they came into Parliament. With one voice they will utter the mantra, “We wanted to make a difference.”...
Ian Skidmore casts cold eye on Britain's Parliamentarians.
Ian Skidmore concentrates on a most meaningful and much-used word. Up sticks and at 'em Skidders!
Do visit Ian's brilliant Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
Columnist Ian Skidmore sees elements of Gilbert and Sullivan operas in the manoeverings of Britain's politicians and military men.
"Murder Inc, or the Metropolitan Police as it is more generally known, appears to be getting away with murder,'' declares ace columnist Ian Skidmore.
...All over the Fens there are churches and cathedrals which are treasures. The people make an effort if the landscape doesn't. Wonderful pubs, many with good restaurants. and thatched cottage villages. There is a Straw Bear festival, river festivals, and at Christmas there's a 'Extravaganza' in a village of 400 which attracts 40 busloads of visitors a night...
Ian Skidmore sings the paises of England's Fenland.
...I pass over Nudie Ice Cubes with a wellbred shudder,
offering the same response to Zany Nudey Party Glasses in the
shape of a human body and made - in the coy language of the
catalogue - "each with the details that make the
difference. Four and a half inches high."...
Ian Skidmore was far short of being filled with desire when he surveyed the offerings in a gift catalogue.
Do visit Ian's Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/
Today Open Writing welcomes a new columnist, Ian Skidmore.
And what a columnist! Ian is a star entertainer. Allow him to introduce himself.
**
I was educated in paperback . M.A. (Penguin) Without punctuation or shorthand I have been a reporter and author of 26 books,largely because I went into the wrong office in the army to dodge a vengeful RSM and within an hour was on my way to cover the Berlin airlift as an army PR sergeant.Two hours after being freed from an army prison as a private (It was a bum rap but I have never ceased to be grateful,because otherwise I would be a retired bus driver now.) For fity years I also wrote newspaper columns, so many that I ws known in the trade at the Parthenon Kid. I have been atop more columns than Simon the Stylite. I was also one of the few BBC presenters who hadn't been in the Footlights. I worked for BBC Wales for 30 years and ws awarded a Golden microphone for services to broadcasting. A month later I was dropped because I was English. Which proved BBC bosses don't listen to the radio.