Announcing my new book…

Posted on by Alex

‘The Resurrection of Frederic Debreu’ will be out on May 5th.

There’s a small amount of info about it here; you can pre-order signed copies (including ones that come with a nice little bonus thing) here. Or you could just hop down to your local bookshop, or go to Hive or even Amazon.

Thank you to everybody who helped with it, and that, once more, means all the people who have read this blog over the years: the ones who gave me the confidence to continue writing.

There’s hopefully a little bit of buzz around this particular book, which is nice, and I’ve been floored by the endorsement of a few people who – well, all I can say is that I’m blown away to have their acknowledgement at all. So here’s hoping that it’s a success. I can’t act all cool about this – I’d love it to be.

That’s it for now. It’s – er – possible that I might write a bit more about it over the next few weeks.

If you’re ever anywhere near New York State…

Posted on by Alex

…make sure you visit the U.S. National Museum of Play, and in particular their gobsmacking collection of early/classic era arcade games and pinball machines.

I mean, there are other things to do: the amazing countryside, Niagara Falls, head into the city and see the Statue of Liberty blah blah blah, but these people have got original Asteroids machines, and Donkey Kong, and Frogger, and Galaga, and Centipede, and Defender, and Zaxxon, and scores upon scores of others – did I mention Galaga? That one’s the best. And you play them at what are essentially classic era prices. (10p a go).

As you do the pinball machines, which fill a whole separate room.

Vintage pacman machine

I visited in a slightly professional capacity, to do with other writing stuff that I do (it was a tough job, but somebody… etc). It’s fair to say that I hadn’t *quite* explained the concept to the rest of the family in a great amount of detail, which led to a certain amount of pursed-lips ‘so, we’re at the Museum of Play for the childrens’ benefit, you say?’ but to be fair they caught on quick and were also very, very happy with the more kids-based exhibits and activities downstairs.

It was good because I could then educate and entertain them with the history of and my opinions of the sociological and technical development of those classic-era arcade machines during the subsequent nine-hour drive to Quebec City. I am the best dad in the world like that, like when I took the family to the Official Dukes of Hazzard Museum, or made a two-day round trip for a romantic meal at the original Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant.

The only slight disappointment was that the collection is missing a Carnival machine (which was my favourite for ages), and their Gunfight/Boot Hill was out of commission somewhere. So if you have either of these historic artefacts in your garage somewhere, I encourage you to donate them to a good home.

I receive an email from the Slovenian Graham Norton.

Posted on by Alex

The best thing about having a moderately successful blog covering major issues of world-wide concern (keeping chickens, playing bowls etc.) is that it does tend to prompt a trickle of quirky and interesting things to happen. The trickle is a little more trickley than it was during the mad days of ‘OMG! OMG! People having blogs is the next big thing!’ but just when you think life has settled down into some sort of normality, an email pops up from the host of Slovenia TV’s Eurovision Song Contest coverage.

So, my new friend Klemen Slakonja (which is Slovenian for ‘Graham Norton’) thought he’d liven up the Slovenian domestic Eurovision auditions show by using the nation’s entire annual TV production budget to create an all-singing, all-dancing video parody of Vladimir Putin, president of Evil Russia. The fact that this exists means that Slovenia is my new favourite country – for reasons less about Mr Putin himself than a simple what a magnificently bloodymindedly mad thing to decide to do. It has already gone viral (as I understand it) on the YouTube, with all sorts of cheery comments below the line along the lines of ‘I am from Russia and you should be afraid’ and ‘we are so going to nuke your country.’

I would like us to be a country that would undertake this sort of lunacy, during a prime-time light-entertainment broadcast put together to somehow represent the nation. But I can’t really see it happening.

Rather than do the sensible thing, which would be to remove the video, change his name, stock up on anti-polonium cream and go and hide in a cupboard, Klemen is approaching Western powers (like me) to try to get more people to watch it, along with his other stuff, some of which is in English and some of which is in Slovenian. I found the stuff in Slovenian to be doubly enjoyable, as I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but it gave me the impression that somebody was being annoyed, somewhere. I’m currently looking for Slovenian evening classes, but there appears to be a gap in the market here in Norfolk.

 

Now I’m 64

Posted on by Alex

I wrote this sort of free-form poem/lyric thing a while ago; I don’t particularly know why. Then a couple of days ago there was a little article in the Guardian about how ‘When I’m 64’ had been branded a song that portrayed ageing in a negative way, which brought it back to mind. Then George Martin’s death was announced, and I thought I might write something about George Martin, but as usual it’s all been said already, apart from a little point I made on Twitter about how he had a rare open mind amongst his contemporaries.

Anyway. Negative? I’ll give you negative. Here’s my ever-so cheerful with-apologies-to-Paul thing, that should probably be read in a morose and flat Liverpudlian accent.

So now I’m 64.

Losing the fight against bitterness.

Bald by my forties; didn’t see that one coming.

Here on my own.

.

I’m sorry things didn’t work out.

When the Valentines petered out, I knew.

Then just the dutiful birthday cards.

This morning, an empty letterbox.

.

So that bottle of wine turned into two; three…

And you started locking me out, both metaphorically and literally

You said you didn’t need me staggering in at quarter to three

expecting dinner on the table.

.

You’ll be no spring chicken yourself now.

If you’d just pick up the phone?

.

I lost my confidence.

‘Get a man in!’ you barked, as I fumbled with the electrics.

Long silent evenings staring into the electric fire.

Morose car journeys to the garden centre.

.

So I started to spend more and more time out of the house

Hacking away my disappointments with spade and secateurs

While you chatted to your friends on that ‘Facebook’

And the microwave went ping.

.

You said I was tight.

But I thought we liked it there.

Familiar beaches, the same faces in the café.

And what’s wrong with the Isle of Wight anyway?

.

Perhaps if the kids hadn’t gone.

I got a photo the other day.

Chuck and Dave, in the paddling pool in Brisbane.

They’ll be big lads when they grow up.

.

Just pick up the phone, love.

Let me know where I stand.

But I think I know the answer.

Now I’m sixty-four.

.

Ho.