Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alison Weir (1999)

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Alison Weir's biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine, wife of King Henry II and mother of Kings Richard and John, finishing it in June 2020. This took a while, as it is rather long, but more particularly because the cast is quite extensive and they often have very similar names, suggesting some Equity card system would be useful for French dukes and the like, as each paragraph needs to be read slowly to get them straight. The author follows the sources so closely she starts to think like them: unless she is being tongue in cheek when she writes, for example "the fact was that Geoffrey [of Brittany] was dangerous, slippery, treacherous and grasping" (p. 207). No  insight into Eleanor as the feminine aspect of medieval life will be found here. Most of the book is a gruesome rendition of leaders resembling mafia barons, avenging perceived slights. In fact, I am not convinced anyone really knows much about Eleanor other than on which date she happened to be somewhere, and not always even that, either. Nevertheless, this is a thorough account of the bloodletting around her. 

Churchill: Walking with Destiny

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Andrew Roberts' biography of Churchill "Walking with Destiny" (2018), mainly in Agios Gordios. It is very heavy, as I became particularly aware while walking there over the hills from the airport. But perhaps not quite heavy enough - as a drama it is not easy to follow clearly what the other leading politicians of the period of the age were up to: Asquith, Lloyd George, Attlee flit in and out of the narrative like butterflies, pretty things visible only when entangled in the web. Also some important elements remain mysterious, at least to me, such as the gold standard controversy, the fall of Singapore, and if I am not mistaken we last hear of the Chindits deep in the jungle, where they may still be, like those Japanese on the bypassed islands, for all I know. The style is workmanlike, infelicities are rare - the repetition of 're-election campaign' on p 955, the occasional injudicious outbursts against fellow-travellers or other critics - particularly the leaders of India (apparently contributing nothing to the defence of the subcontinent against Japan, maladministering the relief of famine, and advising Britain to surrender to the mercies of Hitler); an odd list of internet rumours (p981f) that no-one who reads this sort of tome will have (previously) heard of; and the captioning of a photo (no. 67) of Kay Summersby. As for WSC himself, the book is a little tiresome as it runs through the early period pointing out how episodes of his early life pointed to his 'destiny'. Indeed in whole it is not far from hagiography - a typical section goes: 1. Churchill says or does something dubious; 2. people criticise him for it; 3. the author points out that Churchill in fact turned out to be right in the end, or if not, just reflected the attitudes of his time.  This would be comical, with any other subject. Though for this subject I am not sure the author is not right. There are several cats in the book, though unlike Nelson and the Munich mouser, Jock (p.991) is not indexed. 

Sleep at the Forum, 4 October 2019

Topless in Orange.

The only effects were lights, usually green, occasionally purple, offset by the insistent orange power dots of the amplifiers, and this time we were blessed with no projections. The rhythm progresses at what might politely be termed a steady pace, but this did not deter a desperately manic moshing front and centre; though Melachi reflects that moshing to Sleep resembles moshing to Gregorian chant, for sure it can be done, but why would one want to?

The Black Death by John Hatcher

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read The Black Death by John Hatcher (2008), in 2020, for contemporary reasons. It is an imagination of life in an English village, Walsham, during the plague, though sticks very close to records from the time. Unfortunately these records are mainly texts of ideal liturgical practice and rolls from the local court, dealing with successions and straying livestock. The latter are used nicely to demonstrate  the changes in prices and demographics, though one does wonder whether the locals were quite as religious as the other sources make them appear. Although this must be the most interesting time in the life of the village, the mysteries of life and death remain, and there is nothing else, so it is all quite sad, as with most things.

Uncle Acid, Electric Brixton, 26 January 2019

Acid moon.

Catsuit and flute.

I had not previously visited the Electric Brixton, and it seemed to have a very odd door policy, involving not letting anyone through the door. However, then they said the times had been wrongly advertised and in fact they had never planned to let anyone in until 7pm, even if it was pouring with rain. Inside there was nothing drinkable for a man but Kronenbourg in cans (poured into plastic cups) at great expense. Otherwise this it is a pleasant little place, even with balconies. Blood Ceremony gave a pleasant set which could have been rather louder, and included a new though not immediately remarkable single. Uncle Acid produce lo-fi albums but here we had excellent crunching sound and even a level of the sort of aural distortion you can get with valves played at the top of their output. The projections were  pointless most of the time but with some nice effects at the end. Audience was enthusiastic at the front, tiring towards the finish, and less keen on the material from the new album, with which judgement I concur. Notable also was that I do not ever previously recall a metal concert ending with a mellow guitar duet.

Sleep at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, 28 May 2018

Al, Bass Lord.

First 'Black Moth' were I thought rather good, and in excellent sound, particularly the song about the Blackbird. The crowd though largely present on time, were strangely quiet. But they were indeed dwarfed by mighty bass rites of the Reptile Masters themselves, much more lively than last year at the Roundhouse. To tell the songs apart you would have to be a bit of a specialist, for instead of riffs they play repeated chords, with monotone chants as vocals. Though would benefit from some psychedelic back projections, methinks. Although most of the stuff is fairly slow we saw some energetic crowd movement and even a brown-robed, diving-cylinder-wearing crowd-surfer, which was extremely cool.

Katchikally Crocodile Pool, Bakau, Gambia

I walked over to the Katchikally Crocodile Pool, in Bakau, which is in the middle of the town and not easy to find. There is first a pleasant museum with some masks and information about Gambia in the war. The pool itself is small and has many crocodiles, none doing very much. I stroked one on the back and it didn't seem to mind.

La Cabane du Surfer, Almadies, Dakar

Surfers, surfing.

I visited several times the "Surfer Shack" which is a slightly upscale beach bar on the rocks by the Atlantic waves in Almadies, Dakar; where, as the name suggests, one can have a beer (about 1500 CFA) and watch the surfers. It is quite big and very tidy with a large clean bathroom block. The pizza (4500CFA) was fine and the cocktail (4000CFA) quite strong. Service was not very visible which at least means you can stay the afternoon without people forcing drinks on you. Though the Frenchies do not seem to drink much anyway. There are not many sun loungers, for which I think they charge 2000FCA. Be warned, on some the back does not adjust!

The Maimouna bar and pizzeria on Saint Louis Island, Senegal

The manager Karim invited me into his bar, the Maimouna on Saint Louis Island, with plastic chairs and bare tables, announcing that the Gazelle beer was only 1000CFA for 0.6l, which indeed it was. I sat opposite a nice fellow who said nothing except bonsoir, not even trying to sell me a tour, after suggesting that the manager was bothering me. A fellow after my own heart, I thought. The locals otherwise were neither very friendly nor hostile. The experience, generally, not unlike that one finds in the midparts of the United States. The gentleman in military fatigues at the door said he was indeed from the military and offering security, on a break from the army. I asked him if such security was really necessary, as it seemed quiet area, and he avowed that indeed that was why he was there, so the area would remain safe and quiet. And thus it was, for my stay.