Just For Lookin' Thru

An intriguing young woman escapes from post-Revolutionary France without money or assistance. Nameless, she has to rely on herself or charity. Another lengthy novel from Burney, to try a modern reader, but illuminating with regard to the overwhelming importance of name and connections – not personal worth, similar in that regard to Cecilia. The unnamed heroine frustrates because she does not defend herself, and is pursued from pillar to post, and because she self-sacrifices again and again. She repels Harleigh, who is surely her destined mate. Initially this is because she gave her word, in honour, to prevent the dramatic suicide of another woman, Elinor, who is in love with him, that she would not marry Harleigh. Elinor is a bizarre and fascinating character, melodramatic and constantly seeking death, inspired by what she perceives as the glorious deaths during and after the French Revolution, so Ellis (as our heroine comes to be called) seems really wet in comparison to the impassion

There are about twenty members of this really good band, who deliver with panache all the swing standards, so much loved by all age groups. There’s a new, growing audience of 20 year olds who are really getting into swing, and learning to dance, encouraged by ‘Strictly Come Dancing’. How wonderful for them to have discovered the romance of dance. Could this mean the next generation will be unafraid to act like women again, to dance, be escorted home, and treated with respect (we can all be like Bette Davis et al) ie intelligent and confident, whilst wearing lovely clothes and perfume. This swing sound and atmosphere wouldn’t encourage ladettes to swill down pints, show their bottoms in public, bare their breasts and shout, swear, or throw up in the street, before dragging some Chlamydia-ridden bloke to give them a quick shag up against the dustbins round the back of the nightclub. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

That’s more like it. Out and about in the car, rushing from one property to another. I’m out at the old barn conversion again and my first punter seems keen. She’s delighted to find a field at the back where she can exercise her dogs and fly her falcons. She says the owl doesn’t need much exercise. I suppose not, as they only go out hunting for food and, if she’s providing that, monsieur owl can just perch and decorate the living room. She stays so long I think she’s moved in but, she still wants to think about it, because she was bumped into her last offer, only to find there was woodworm and a £30,000 bill to sort it out. Not our agents of course. Seeing her desire for the property makes me want it even though I know I need three bedrooms, although it really appeals to me because I love the garden and the curtains. Not reason enough. Later I have to meet my old boss, the consultant paediatrician, who is considering investing in a buy-to-let property. I have seen him once since I wa

Wow! This Bond film is intelligent and has real integrity. Daniel Craig is spot on as Bond, and gets a believable character across on screen, even – dare I say it – overtaking Connery, the ultimate Bond. He fits the role perfectly, and is tough and tender, the perfect combination for manhood... Where Craig has the advantage is in an updated, well-written script by Purvis and Wade, incorporating current themes of terrorism and attempted spy poisoning. The bad guy, Le Chiffre, is strange without being ludicrous, and the screenplay does without the usual schoolboy humour, and without the naughty schoolboy antics with Q, who does not appear at all in this film. Miss Moneypenny is also absent. She is unnecessary because this Bond gets to develop a real emotional response to a believable woman, with whom he has a meaningful relationship. Bond does not have to contend with ridiculous gadgets, like exploding pens and wristwatches, yes I know they are really used by the secret service,

I love live music. It’s that breadbasket-as-the-bass drum, pounding in the chest thrill. Okay, they’re a bit loud, but it’s fun. For a moment there I came over a bit nostalgic, with the whole 70’s soft California rock scenario - their lead guitarist with long hair, a clipped beard, and wearing flared jeans. This is unfortunately accompanied by an unwelcome emotional response – wistful and, oh dear, a bit resentful. I actually heard the thought, ‘when anything felt possible.’ Teenagers do think this, and I suppose it’s true, if circumstances are favourable. At times like that, I feel like I’m in the Indiana Jones film where he seeks the Holy Grail, and the old knight says to the first guy, “You chose poorly.” It’s that simple. There’s still time to have some fun though, just not in a spring fresh body – and not with the wide eyes of innocence. Dear old Eagles, with their romantic ballads and coupledom songs, sweet. Great to hear Peaceful Easy Feeling, Take It to the Limit, One of Those

Only three appointments yesterday, two at the same house, where the dear, 80 year-old man has lost his wife recently. He sees her everywhere in the house and it makes him more sad. One of the interested parties is a man who is about my age, and I don’t see many of them. I realize I am flirting with him but I hadn’t meant to; it’s simply so refreshing not to be hit on by 60 year olds that I am in the faintly ridiculous position of spotting a novelty and toying with it. The rest of the day is spent in the office and this is when I confirm that I am ill suited to this work. I’m really in my element, driving about all day, meeting and greeting, chat and politeness, but, this morning, in the office, knowing nothing of what has gone on throughout the week, I flounder. When I get back to the office, it is so quiet that the others have locked up and gone home. The desk I use when one of the other women is not there is really mucky, as is the phone etc. I think about cleaning it up but realize

Chicken Shack are the support act, a fairly noisy band, but pleasing. They run over time due to the prolonged, nauseating ad libbing of StanWebb in between every number, as he drones on ad infinitum, not only cringingly unfunny, but odious and offensive too. Amazingly, people laugh when he says ‘fucking’ and again when he defiantly holds up a pint of beer. What a naughty boy, he’s managed to get a glass past the vigilant staff at the Hall for Cornwall in Truro. I must be hallucinating; I thought he was adult; he looks as though he was born around 1940. He comes out into the audience during their encore, which is deeply disturbing, as he gives off a really nasty vibe. I hide behind other people. There’s no way I want this creep anywhere near me. He tells us he’s had four wives. Well, there must be four crazy women then. I am alarmed to see a very attractive young woman go up to him, hug him, rub her hand all over his whale-like stomach, press her little face into his shoulder, hug him a

Rattigan’s post-war drama highlights the voracious nature of woman’s passion, and his use of language brilliantly conveys the unsaid, which lies behind the politesse of formal speech. Hester’s desire for Freddie has no reason to it, other than itself, the force of her passion is an ind in itself, serving no purpose than to blaze and consume. Freddie’s desire for Hester does not come across; he is merely portrayed as a shallow and inconsequential fellow who has no purpose in his life since the end of the war. Lost in peacetime he has turned to drink and playing golf as escape mechanisms for his inability to ‘live’. As a result, his character fails to engage. In strong comparison, Hester’s veers from ladylike self-control to almost demented frenzy and back again. Her physical pain comes close to the primitive, and the conflict between the primitive and the civilized is wonderfully captured. There are times when her focus on the need for Freddie in order to be able to live seems like weak

Sadly Georgie Fame's not in the line up this evening, but it includes Andy Fairweather Low, Terry Taylor and Geraint Wilkins. It is very disconcerting that, when Bill walks on stage I think it's my old Auntie Doris, little stick legs and big hair. It’s a great mix of Cajun, blues, rhythm and blues, and numbers written by Gene Vincent, Chuck Berry and Ray Charles. There are a couple of ballads and a few belted soul songs. The stage is full, with the four guitarists, drummer, keyboard player, two saxophonists, plus two black singers separately giving us Soul Man and I Put a Spell On You. It’s a lively set, and a good-natured atmosphere on stage, with Bill Wyman quietly smiling as he plays his bass. Andy Fairweather Low’s voice blends well with the other singers, and is ideally suited to the Cajun numbers. Geraint Wilkins from Wales sings rich, deep and low, serious blues. I didn’t stump up £5 for a programme so I can’t get all the names but the black singer, the soul diva, is Fel

The inconvenient truth is that this film that “every man, woman and child in this country should see” is only on at Falmouth Arts Centre for two nights, and is sold out. Former vice-President of the USA and long time environmental campaigner, Al Gore, has had over 1,000 of his lectures made into a film. Guggenheim’s riveting activist documentary which is anticipated to raise the public’s awareness of climate change is perfectly timed to coincide with heightened motivation of the public, following many years of ill-attended-to conservationist rhetoric. Just as we finally begin to see people taking the scientists seriously, local cinemas fail to understand the importance of this film. Truro isn’t showing it at all, and Falmouth has only given it two screenings. Yah boo sucks. Find it if you can.

First up, a 9.30 appointment out in the sticks. I have 15 minutes to find eight sets of property details for the day’s viewings, get directions to eight properties, locate eight sets of keys, get the names of the people I’m meeting, check which properties will have the owners present or not, and their names, so I am prepared for them, and to make introductions. I don’t have time to read any of the details, or to get any history as to the usual questions: How long has the property been on the market - How soon will the owners want to be moving - Is it a probate sale. I hare off, feeling very unprofessional because I don’t have the necessary information to be able to respond to any questions. I do have the name of the owner, the names of the viewers, but I know this place has fields as part of the deal, a right of way down a track to the village pub, and unhappily, the owner is going to be in, always inhibiting. I meet Dr and Mrs and their delightful toddlers who are waiting for me in th

I had an interesting talk today with a self-titled anarchist. There seemed to be some confusion when challenged, as to what the definition was. I took the line that throwing red wine all over someone's £2,000 cashmere coat was a pointless act, resulting in nothing, as well as being a personal attack, and not a political one. The reply to this was that he had no business wearing such an expensive coat. We discussed this point at length with my line being that one cannot judge a person by his appearances, but by his actions. Assumptions often later turn out to be incorrect. This seems to me to be more of an imagined 'class war' in which people with chips on their shoulders resent the success of others. In defence of my argument I had to use myself as an example, always a bit of a weak move, to demonstrate that, having been seriously impoverished in childhood, I now like to have nice things. Anyone meeting me now would assume I had had a reasonable upbringing, which is very fa

Here's a conundrum. My car insurance needs renewing. Honest as ever, I tell my insurers that I work at the weekend and use my car for work. I am told that, it is most likely that if I use the car for business, the insurance premium will go up. If I use the car for business and don't tell the Insurance Company, then I won't be covered should I have an accident. My difficulty is this: if I was driving my car to my voluntary work, at the theatre, then I would be covered; if I am driving the same car to the shops, to the beach etc, I would be covered. If, however, I drive to a house where I meet prospective purchasers, show them round, then drive back to the office, I will not be covered - unless, of course, I pay a higher premium. Roads are roads are roads, and traffic is an unknown quantity. At any point on any journey, to the theatre, to work, around the county for work, or on any recreational journey, I could have the misfortune to be in a collision. I don't understand

It’s interesting to re-read this novel after a gap of over thirty years. What struck me forcibly aged around thirteen, was the violence and cruelty, particularly the hanging of Isabella's dog, which I barely noticed this time around. Reading it now, although Catherine and Heathcliff are really unpleasant characters, wilful, capricious, filthy tempered, and devoid of a discernible soft side, even towards each other, I am struck by the decency of Edgar Linton. As a teenager I thought him intolerably wet and uninteresting. The mistreatment of the adopted Heathcliff by his new siblings is slightly mitigated by Catherine befriending him later, but his isolated state, as an unwelcome guests is pitiful. The later mistreatment of both Heathcliff and Catherine, by her elder brother Hindley, is harder to understand, and so seems to be wilful power abuse on his part. Hindley Earnshaw is the villain of the piece, because of his neglect of his sister, and cruelty to Catherine and Heathcliff, wh

It’s a full day racing from one house viewing to another, meeting folks at house and scampering round pointing out the nice features and the ‘could do with a bit of updating’ features. This is my fourth week at this and I am beginning to get back to some of the same places for a second and even third time. It feels insincere to say the same things, even though the new people haven’t heard you mention the underfloor heating, or the sunny garden. I meet a youngish couple, late 20s – can’t be thirty surely? – at a four-bedder on the market for £350,000. He keeps mentioning that they have just come back from holiday and are planning another, and another. Are they drug dealers, contract killers or something? It’s newish built and so badly finished it looks like someone left in a hurry. The skirtings are rough, there are gaps between them and the walls, and patches of filler slapped on here and there, not even sanded off. The laminate flooring squeaks and there is a slightly creaky feeling t

The Harlot's Progress. Channel 4. Shown 2.11.2006 Interesting to see the eighteenth century recreated on TV, in all its squalor and poverty, disease and premature death, whilst reading Frances Burney. Toby Jones plays William Hogarth in Channel 4’s televised presentation of an episode in the artist’s life. His portrayal of the man is deeply sensitive and understated, as he moves amongst the depravity and vice of London, conveying more than an honourable man, something deeper and more affecting than conscience and morals. Hogarth meets a newly arrived, and lovely, 16 year old girl from York and becomes fascinated by her, from her initial freshness and ambition, to her haughty pride and grandiose aspirations, throughout her descent into abuse, filthy whoredom, imprisonment and repeated rape, to her eventual death, pox-ridden and disfigured. Jones’s tenderness brings me to tears when her baby dies, simply by his look of accepting comprehension. He tells her the baby is sleeping, and s

Legislation must enforce planners and builders to build all new housing to high specification, in terms of low impact on the environment, energy-efficient, sensitively designed for maximum social harmony but, particularly insisting upon the incorporation of wonderful insulation, wood instead of stone, three or four storey instead of a mere short-assed two. Loss of land cannot continue, small spaces suffocate, shoddy building along with get-rich-quick builders and developers are short-term measures that make the UK an ugly landscape. To look back for a moment, the design of Georgian houses incorporated a cellar for storage, three floors and more above ground, with interiors designed to be spacious and elegant, unlike the alienating high rises constructed in the 1960s. Terracing was a common feature of Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian building, taking up minimum square footage whilst allowing generous space indoors. These old buildings are fetching the highest prices. Rather than advoca