How to be Topp – A new author speaks out

A good friend of mine recently suggested that as a new author I should probably write a few book themed blogs, in addition to the myriad of offbeat ramblings that have been my blogging bread and butter to date. Not a bad idea at all, on reflection. After all, it is one thing to be known and loved as a humourist, but not all that helpful if your ultimate aim is to gain recognition as a writer of high quality and entirely absorbing fiction, as is mine. So, without further ado, here it is, my first blog about books… well, one book in particular.

‘How to be Topp’ by Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle is one of my all-time favourite books. It has pride of place on the middle shelf of my bookcase and has travelled with me as a prized possession more than halfway around the world and back again. First published in 1954, it provides a wonderful glimpse into the past, specifically post-war, middle-class England, through the jaded eyes of prep-school inmate, Nigel Molesworth. I don’t recall who gave it to me or when, but ever since I turned the first page as a child, I have loved the visions that it conjures up of British education in a time long since past.

Although the book is now over sixty years old, having spent a grand total of three days at an English boarding school in the 1990’s (more about that in a future blog) I can say with hand on heart, that much of it still rings true, for me at least. From those at the top (or should that be topp?) of the tree, i.e. Grabber, the handsome and rugged, yet completely gormless football captain, to the wily survivors in the middle of the pack, such as Molesworth and Peason, and not forgetting the fops at the bottom, e.g. Fotherington-tomas, this book has it all.

What I particularly love is the way that ‘How to be Topp’ is presented as a prep-school survival guide. As such, its chapters aren’t linear, but cover a range of random topics and musings, including: ‘How to Succeed as a New Bug’, ‘How to be Topp in Latin’, ‘Criket’ and of course, ‘All there is to kno about Space’. And while some of the material is no longer of relevance to today’s modern curriculum, e.g. Latin, the book nonetheless retains a wonderful naivety, made all the more charming by the awful phonetic spelling of its protagonist and hero, the aforementioned N. Molesworth.

Gabbitas and Thring - A new author speaks out. Rob Gregory Author

Teacher recruitement 1950’s style!

For me, some of the ideas that Molesworth presents, via the timeless visualisations of cartoonist, Ronald Searle, are pure genius, such as Gabbitas and Thring (see above), two Victorian undertaker-like characters whose sole aim in life is to ensnare unsuspecting young men and take them away to become masters (teachers). Part of me suspects that this might still be the case in some British schools even now. Then there is the dialogue, which even in my middle years can still bring a smile to my lips. For example, in the section ‘How not to succeed’, the following exchange occurs between Grabber, the head boy and a new boarder (bug):

Grabber: You have a face like a flea and could not lift a cucumber.

New bug (with a yawn): You also have a face like a flea and could not lift what the French call a concombre.

Grabber: Do you know who you are talking to?

New bug: Can it be Stalin?

I think that it is fair to say that this book has, in many ways, influenced my own writing style over the years, more subconsciously than deliberately and I suspect from the image below that I might be in good company. You be the judge!

How to be Topp - A new author speaks out - Hogwarts. Rob Gregory Author

Great minds think alike? A mention of ‘Hogwarts’ in the 1963 edition of ‘How to be Topp’.

I have recently found out that ‘How to be Topp’ was actually one of a series of books published between 1953 and 1958, and for renowned cartoonist, Ronald Searle, was apparently something of a reaction to his popular St Trinian’s series, about a boarding school for wayward girls. If you’re interested in following that one up, then my suggestion would be to start with the original film adaptations starring George Cole as Flash Harry and Alastair Sim as the headmistress.

Fancy an engaging and amusing romp through fantasy-land? If so, then check out my new book, ‘Drynwideon, The Sword of Destiny – Yeah, Right’. Available now from Amazon, Smashwords and all leading ebook retailers.

A peek down memory lane. Kodak Ektra photos

A peek down memory lane

… old photos of Reading University…

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a blog called ‘A walk in the dark’. The cover image for the blog was a scan of a photograph that I’d taken while I was studying at Reading University, back in the mid-1990’s, on my old Kodak Ektra slimline camera. No built-in flash, no manual focus and certainly no telephoto function, this was ‘point and press’ photography at its most basic. And yet ever since I stumbled upon that image, sitting in a forgotten envelope at the bottom of a box file in my study, I can’t help but feel that it is truly beautiful.

Lone student walking past the Palmer Building at Reading Uni c.1995. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

A lone student walks past the Palmer Building at Reading University c.1995

Maybe I’m being nostalgic, but I love the graininess of the image, which makes it look more like a painting than a photograph. These days, we live in a ‘High-Def’ world and are bombarded by crystal clear images everywhere we look. Seeing this makes me realise not only how far we have come, but what we may have lost in the process. It is often said about movies that what you don’t see is better than what you do see and I think that the same is true here. We’re now so conditioned to look for the detail in images we see that sometimes we forget to look at the picture as a whole. Certainly, you can’t see individual blades of grass in any of these photos, the 110 films just didn’t have the resolution, but nonetheless, you certainly get the impression of grass, that is for sure.

Then, there’s the colour rendition. Maybe the images have matured and softened with age, but I absolutely adore the contrast between the moody, grey Reading sky and the orange AMS tower peeking up cheekily from behind the chocolate brown brick of the Palmer building in the foreground. Similarly, the lone student who happened to be walking along the path when I took the photo (and I have no idea who it is, before you ask), contrasts beautifully with the rest of the image, his blue T-shirt subconsciously drawing the eye off the mid-line of the photo, then up the vertical, concrete pillar of the Palmer building and ultimately into the cloudy, summer sky above.

Now, I know as well as you do that it’s only an old photo, a single moment in time, as indeed all photographs are. But I hope that you will agree with me, that for whatever reason, it is a beautiful image in its own right, which deserves to see the light of day again, after having been hidden away in darkness for so many years.

Below is a selection of other images of Reading University, circa 1995, taken using the same Kodak Ektra 110 camera. I hope that you enjoy them as much as I do.

AMS Tower at Reading Univeristy. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

AMS Tower at Reading University c.1995

AMS Tower and Palmer Building at Reading University c.1995. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

AMS Tower (left) and Palmer Building (right) at Reading University c.1995

Palmer Building at Reading University c.1995. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

View of the Palmer Building, Reading University c.1995

Plant Sciences Building at Reading University c.1995. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

Rear of the Plant Sciences building at Reading University c.1995

Reading University Botanical Gardens c.1995. Kodak Ektra. Rob Gregory Author

View of the botanical garden at Reading University c.1995

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Top ten facts about Wales

Truly amazing things you never knew about the land of dragons…

I’ve recently come back from the UK, where I spent some time promoting my new book, Drynwideon. While I was there, I happened to find myself in the beautiful country of Wales. During my stay, I decided to do a bit of digging into this wild and largely untamed, magical land. What I discovered was truly fantastic and I feel privileged to be able to share it with you here. So, sit back, grab yourself a coffee and a biscuit, and prepare to be amazed by these hitherto unknown top ten facts about Wales:

All of the world’s coal comes from Wales. Other countries have long been stealing it by mining underneath the UK. The Channel Tunnel was originally one such mine shaft, built by the French.
Smaug the dragon from ‘The Hobbit’ lives in Merthyr Tydfil. You can easily tell which house he lives in because it’s got the biggest chimney in the street.
The two Severn bridges are actually there to help hold Wales in place, otherwise it would completely detach from the rest of the UK, as happened with Ireland nearly 30 years ago. More bridges are planned in the future as the two countries continue to pull away from each other along the enormous River Severn fault.
Most Welsh cheese is, in fact, made by highly trained canaries made redundant following the closure of Wales’ world-famous sugar mines in the mid-1980’s. Some of the canary families can trace their heritage back as far as the battle of Dan Y’ Fab San in 1232.
A’i fab in Welsh does not mean ‘and son’ as is commonly thought. In fact, it means ‘I’m bloody brilliant, boyo’.
A’i Fab, indeed. Welsh butchery at its finest!
It is traditional for most working-class families in Wales to give up at least one son, usually the youngest, to one of the many travelling Male Voice Choirs that prowl the valleys, in exchange for beads, coal dust and old Harry Secombe albums.
The little bit of Wales right at the northernmost tip is called Dayvd.
Brains SA, one of the strongest beers on the planet at 420% alcohol, is bottled at source by a small group of Franciscan monks, who have been living in hiding in Ysbyty Ystwyth since the early 1500’s. Brains SA is commonly used as a condiment to season many of Wales’ delicious national dishes.
Despite its relatively small appearance on world maps, Wales is, in fact, more than twice the size of the continent of Australia.
Wales is famous for its sheep, many of which are over 11 feet tall and eat cats.

And finally, a quote from my father to my mother, which if it hasn’t been said before, needs to go down in the annals of comic genius:

“You’ve given me loads of sound advice over the years. 99 percent sound and 1 percent advice!”

You’ve just go to love the Welsh… I know that I do!

Great life experiences – Part 1

… An essential resource for understanding where you are in life…

Ever wondered how well you are doing in the great race of life? Running on empty or full to the brim with the glory of your own existence. Well, worry no longer! Below is part one of the only guide you’ll ever need to work out exactly just how great, good or downright rotten your own particular life experience is. So, don’t delay… try it today!

Great life experiences	Good life experiences	Bad life experiences
Helping a Playboy bunny across the road	Helping an old lady across the road	Being helped across the road by an old lady.
Finding a twenty pound note on the ground	Finding a twenty pound note you thought you’d lost in your pocket	Finding that someone has emptied your bank account and has been throwing twenty pound notes around the town
Having your arch-enemy committed to a mental asylum	Having someone you don’t like committed to a mental asylum	Being committed to a mental asylum (especially if by your worst enemy)
Being the pigeon	Not being crapped on by the pigeon	Being Nelson’s Column
Owning a racehorse	Having a share in a racehorse	Eating racehorse without knowing it
Doing something truly philanthropic	Supporting a charity with regular donations	Finding out that your donations have been supporting the local branch of the Hitler Youth
Partying hard with no hangover the following day	Partying hard with only a bit of a sore head the next day	Partying hard and waking up to find your friends have left you in a bath full of Special Brew
Being truly loved by at least one person (not your mum)	Having a lot of friends (including your mum)	Being famous on Facebook because of that picture of you with diarrhea when you were a kid
Being physically present at the birth of your first child	Being able to watch the birth of your first child from outside the delivery room	Being given your first child by the midwife and finding out that it’s the wrong colour
Seeing your favourite band playing live just before they were famous	Seeing your favourite band playing live just after they were famous	Seeing your favourite band playing live in the local pub as a Karaoke duo
Living in mansion in a tropical paradise	Living in a big house in a tropical paradise	Living under a coconut
Playing rugby for your country	Playing rugby for your local team	Being used as the rugby ball

So, how did you score?

Mostly great… You lucky so and so. Whatever you are doing it certainly looks like it’s working and you’re probably having a pretty good time doing it.

Mostly good… Okay, so you’re not up there with the cream of the crop, but look at it this way, you’re probably doing a heck of a lot better than most of the other inmates of planet earth.

Mostly bad… Wow! What did you do in your previous life to deserve this? You must have been exquisitely horrible to a lot of people, that’s for sure. Every day must be just one long slow slide down the razor blade of life with no pants on. Still, at least it can’t get any worse, right?

So, that’s it, now you know where you stand (or fall) with respect to the metaphorical ‘Joneses’. But never fear! Keep your eyes peeled for part two of this guide sometime in the near future and maybe you can improve you score!

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A summer’s day in Oxford

… or a punt around the harbour…

For those of you who have been loyally following my blog, you could well be forgiven for coming to the conclusion that I am something of a booze-hound. After all, quite a few of my posts have either directly involved alcohol in one form or another, or been set within the confines of a bar or a pub. So, just to reassure you that there is more to yours truly than a half-empty beer glass and borderline writer’s block, I give you this heart-warming recollection of a good deed done during my time at Oxford University, a tale involving myself, a punt and two elderly Americans.

Summer in Oxford is a glorious thing, spoiled only by the amount of traffic and the huge influx of tourists, all gawking and snapping away at the ancient, stone-built colleges that line the city’s main thoroughfares. Fortunately, I was at one of the newer colleges on the outskirts of the city, so largely avoided the predations of the coachloads of new travellers arriving each day. Consequently, in my mind, it is a place full of sunshine, endless blue skies, fluffy white clouds and of course, punts.

Punts, for those that do not know, are a special type of long, flat-bottomed boat, with square ends, designed to be extremely unstable and difficult to control. Rather than the usual rudder and wheel approach, punts use a long stick, called a ‘punt pole’ to both propel and steer the vessel. It takes a bit of time to master, especially if you come from the ‘other’ place (Cambridge) and persist in standing at the wrong end, but once you have done so, there is no feeling like it.

Getting back to the story at hand, for one reason or another, I found myself with the afternoon off one summer’s day and decided to spend it relaxing by the college harbour, soaking up as much sunlight as my pale skin would take. Just as I was making myself comfortable, I was approached by Barry, one of the college porters, who asked me if I would do him a favour. Not wanting to disappoint him, because he was always very good to me, I agreed without hesitation and followed him to the porter’s lodge, where I met the aforementioned elderly Americans.

It turned out that one of them, the husband if I remember correctly, had been a member of the college many years before and was visiting for the first time since he had graduated, with his wife in tow. Apparently, one of their greatest wishes during their visit to dear old ‘Blighty’ was to go punting, however, neither of them was able to manage a punt anymore and no one else, apart from myself, was around at that time.

Of course, I agreed. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go punting down the Cherwell river on a beautiful summer’s day? Slowly, we made our way to the harbour to find only a single punt remaining. Unfortunately, it was the one that no one ever wanted to use, because it had a split running down the side of it (thankfully above the waterline), which made it even more difficult to control than usual. Undeterred, I gently ushered the American couple into the punt and let them get comfortable on their cushioned seats. Then I unmoored the vessel and pushed off into the harbour, doing my best to cancel out the alarmingly wobbling punt, using my body as a counterweight. It took a little while, but eventually, we made it safely out of the harbour and into the river proper, all ready to take a leisurely cruise along the waterway. However, no sooner had we left, than the lovely American couple, who were, I stress, thoroughly enjoying themselves, announced that they wanted to return to the college because they had another appointment to go to!

I was dumbfounded. We had hardly set off and already they wanted to go back. Was it me? Was it the punt? Were they getting seasick or feared that I would capsize them? I really didn’t know. I tried several times to talk them into going further, but they insisted that all they had really wanted to do was to sit in a punt and be taken around the harbour, and that they were on a very tight schedule and had shortly to leave.

Well, there was nothing that I could do short of abducting them, so I made my way back into the harbour and moored up once again, helping the aged couple out of the punt and back onto dry land. The whole trip had taken less than twenty minutes when I was more than happy for it to have taken two or three hours. Still, as I mentioned before, the Americans were extremely pleased with their experience and thanked me profusely for giving up my time to help them. It was no problem for me. I loved punting and still do, so you can imagine my surprise when they insisted on paying me for my trouble (and I mean insisted, as only Americans can). The ex-college member practically forced a ten-pound note into my reluctant hand before patting me on the back and thanking both myself and Barry once more for our help, as he and his wife left the college.

I never saw them again and I do sincerely hope that they enjoyed their brief punt ride. As for the ten pounds, well, that just happened to be the exact price of a college ‘bar-book’ (tokens for the student pub), so you can guess where that money went!

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