Miklós Bánffy, The Phoenix Land

I bought this book because I liked the front cover, which features that map of the old Kingdom of Hungary, incorporating Croatia, Slovakia, Transylvania and all the other bits of neighbouring countries which some Hungarians still apparently consider to be Hungarian. It always chills me a little bit, and acts as a reminder that there is unfinished business in that part of the world. It's the memoirs of a Hungarian Count who was a bitpart player in European diplomacy in the aftermath of the First World War, and saw the Habsburg world he knew collapse. He's well-known as the author of a trilogy set in the same period, although in my ignorance I'd never heard of them. I've asked Cathy if they are worth reading.
It's been a long time since I last wrote, and I'm conscious that I've recorded very little of Libby's first year in comparison to Fred's, so hopefully I'll be able to keep it up this time. Libby stood up unaided and took her first steps on Saturday, in the glamorous surroundings of the Café at Woking Leisure Centre. She's giving Helen a hard time at the moment, often waking up in the night and taking hours to settle. Helen isn't ready to let Libby learn to get herself to sleep yet, so she has to hold her. I look after Freddie's bedtime, which now consists of a story and a lullaby. The lullaby comes from a lyric sheet I put together which contains Lloyd Cole, Belle & Sebastian, Madness, Simon & Garfunkel, the Kinks, Emily Barker. Right now my favourite is Bright Phoebus, which Fred joins in on, 'For the very first time'. Up until recently, Fred had a choice of two lullabies, as there are so few songs I both know the words to and can reach the required notes! The choice was either The Bony King of Nowhere from Bagpuss or the wonderful One Spring Morning. Fred now knows the words to both, and after so much practice I'm very nearly in tune. My version of 'The Only Living Boy in New York' however, is hideous

George Tomkyns Chesney, The Battle of Dorking

A fabulous Victorian scaremonger over-reacting to the German victory in the Franco-Prussian War. It’s an alternative history in which Bismarck’s troops were not sated by occupying Paris, but annexed France, torpedoed our fleet in the channel and then the dreaded Hun invaded Sussex. Just like in War of the Worlds, if you capture the Surrey Hills and Putney, then apparently the whole British Empire crumbles. It’s incredible to think what an influence these armchair generals and their scare stories had on British public opinion and Foreign Policy, leading Britain to think of Germany as an enemy when there was so little geopolitical conflict between Britain and Germany; one a naval power, one a land power, one a global power, one a Central European power. Erskine Childers has a lot to answer for. There’s a moral in there somewhere. Don’t let idle young men pootle round Frisian sandbanks in a skiff without having a good book to occupy them, maybe. Apparently it leads to global conflict and the accelerated decline of the British Empire.

David Mattingly, An Imperial Possession: Britain in the Roman Empire 54BC – AD409 (The Penguin History of Britain)

As always, the Penguin History of Britain lets itself down by hardly mentioning penguins. I will never, ever tire of that joke. A history of Britain at the time of the Romans, rather than Britain, so great effort is made to write about those parts of the isles outside the empire, or the experiences of the colonised within the empire, but there’s just such a lack of sources. A very post-colonial 21^st century perspective on the empire, and makes an interesting point that those parts of Britain in which Christianity and relative order and stability remained after the Romans left were those parts that were not part of the empire or on the fringes: Ireland, the West of Scotland, and Gwynedd. Maybe the origin of the soft southerner sterotype.

Over the past few weeks I appear to have become alarmingly obsessed with Thomas & Friends Wooden Railway engines. Not the Hornby 00 ones, not the diecast ones, not the Take ‘n’ Play ones, just the Wooden Railway ones. Not the wooden railway tracks, not the buildings, just the engines. It’s like collecting Panini stickers, I just lose all self control. I’ve won 33 auctions on eBay, with another 8 winning bids at the moment. It’s just idiotic.

A few nights ago, Freddie wanted to read the story of Diesel, a whiny, sneery engine, not like the noble steamies. Diesel is one of the 33 engines in my stash, so it seemed a good idea for Diesel to come and listen to the story too, as a special guest star, as a treat for him and Fred. Fred seemed thrilled by the idea, and cuddled and looked after Diesel while I read the story. At the end of the story, Diesel, having seen the errors of his snide ways, returns to The Other Railway as a Really Useful Engine, despite the inherent disadvantage of being a dirty diesel engine. As the storybook was closed, I attempted to retrieve Diesel so he could go back to The Other Railway. Freddie wailed like a banshee. I couldn’t give in to the crying, so it took a few minutes to calm him down. When I came downstairs, Helen asked what all the crying was about. Because I’m a coward and didn’t want a confrontation, I told her Fred was just tired (which, to be fair, was true). But the next day, when Freddie woke up and Helen went into see him, his first question concerned the whereabouts of Diesel, who apparently was now Freddie’s best friend and most beloved of all engines. I had a text not long after enquiring into the mystery of Diesel and why Fred was so distraught at the loss of his beloved friend Diesel. So I had to call in at home to get Diesel out of my stash, and take him down to nursery when I went to pick Freddie up. Since then I’ve been checking with Freddie each evening as we read his choice of Thomas book; ‘Freddie, if Cranky/Daisy/Emily/Murdoch was to come over as a special guest from The Other Railway to listen to the story of Cranky/Daisy/Emily/Murdoch, and then went back to The Other Railway afterwards, how would you feel?’

‘Sad.’

‘Sad? Why sad, Fred?’

‘I want to cuddle Cranky/Daisy/Emily/Murdoch’

‘Hmm, ok. Probably best they don’t come then.’

In the meantime the stash is growing. Since I started writing this there’s been a few more eBay auctions won.

Jo Nesbo, The Snowman

Made a mistake reading this at the same time as watching episodes of The Killing, as it was difficult to distinguish between the two dark Scandinavian murder mysteries where everyone wears woolly jumpers. Maybe I should stick to Fred’s Thomas books until the baby brain stage is over. There’s less existential angst, laments over the death of social democracy and Faroese woollens to worry about

Barnaby Rogerson, The Last Crusaders: East, West and the Battle for the Centre of the World .

The Last Crusaders wasn’t the book I thought it was. I saw the words ‘Habsburg’ and ‘Ottoman’ and assumed it was about battles in the Balkans and the siege of Vienna in the 17^th Century, but it turned out to be based much earlier, and concerned rivalry in the Mediterranean between the Spanish Habsburgs and the Turk. Curiously, large parts of the book are dedicated to Portugal, who seem to be a pet nation of the author and his family. I pictured him wearing a Portugal shirt and tucking into Nando’s as he wrote the book, extolling the virtues of Henry the Navigator and his ravaging of the Berber coast.Most of the book was read on a business trip to Norwich, my first trip away since Libby was born. I missed the family, but it was lovely to have an uninterrupted night’s sleep.

Freddie’s bedtime ritual has become more and more elaborate. The ritual begins about twenty to seven, when Freddie is reminded it’s nearly bathtime. Fred then asks to play with trains for ‘a bit more’, which is granted. Then, when it’s time for bath at quarter to seven, Freddie shouts ‘I don’t want a bath’, and he is given the option of a wash instead. Fred then asks ‘What sort of wash?’ (Ungrammatical, but he is only three), and is given the options. Downstairs Wash. Upstairs Wash. Upside-down Wash. Spinning Wash. Dragon Wash (where the wash is nominally administered by his dragon-shaped toothbrush). Fred selects and then I go upstairs to collect two toothbrushes, a bucket, a towel, a flannel and a laundry-basket’s worth of pyjama tops and bottoms. Fred then protests at the wash while lifting up his top to show anyone in the room his belly button. Tickling and blowing raspberries is required at this stage to keep Fred from running off.

Fred is then offered a selection of pyjamas, none of which he likes. After some complaints, he finally settles on the ones he was originally offered. There is normally an additional quirk demanded, such as wearing a vest over his pyjama top, or a hat, or wellies. This may or may not be acceded to, depending on levels of tiredness in both the dresser and dressee, practicality, and humour value. After that we kiss Helen and Libby good night and head upstairs. The next stage is Freddie’s reward chart, where he is rewarded for good behaviour in a number of categories, including getting dressed nicely, eating his food nicely and sharing his toys. If he has done such nice things, he is rewarded with a magnetic star, which is added to his chart. Once seven stars are reached, Fred is rewarded with a trip to the Magic Box Keeper.

The Magic Box Keeper is me wearing Helen’s pink bobble hat; a pretence which Fred can obviously see through, but which he maintains as it means he gets a present. I (as me) wander off claiming to be looking for Magic Box Keeper (we don’t use the definite article, there is no clear reason why not). I (now wearing Helen’s pink bobble hat) quickly return, and announce myself as the Magic Box Keeper. Fred then hands me his seven stars, which I store in Helen’s hat, and Fred is allowed to pick something from the Magic Box (in reality a red FLÖRT box from Ikea), which contains stickers, sweets and small toys.

Treat selected, Fred then requests to be able to sleep with the treat. This is allowed. Next, it is time for Circle and Square show. Freddie runs into our bedroom and climbs onto the bed, while I locate a torch and the level crossing from his wooden railway. The torchbeam has a circular shadow in the middle when held approx 2m from a wall, and is the ‘Circle’. The Level crossing is held by me in front of the Torch, and its shadow provides the ‘Square’. Sometimes Fred will request that Square be replaced by a special guest star for the evening, such as a toy rabbit or teddy bear. Circle and Square (or substitute) are good friends, and each evening perform a short play for Fred’s delectation. The fourth wall is frequently broken and Circle and Square address their friend Freddie directly, sometimes receiving a kiss from him. Watching a toddler kiss the shadow of a level crossing is surprisingly sweet. Circle and Square do some dancing, jumping and running, and then claim to be tired and in need of a sleep. Freddie follows them without question (!) into his bedroom, and Circle and Square disappear under his bed to sleep. Freddie will then state whether he wishes to do stickers, do a puzzle or read a story. He is allowed to do two things. Those two things completed (usually stories, usually Thomas the Tank Engine), the lights go out and Freddie is tucked in. He will then request ‘Daddysleepwithmealittlebit’ while making the internationally recognised sign for ‘a little bit’ with his hand. I then lie down on the floor beside his bed. Fred will then say ‘wantacuddle’. I then place my hand on his shoulder. We then fall asleep exhausted. . .

Jane Fearnley-Whittingstall, The Good Granny Guide 25th January 2008

I am not, nor am I ever likely to be, a Granny, good or otherwise. I bought this for my mum and started to flick through and ended up reading the whole book. Lots of common sense and tips from a very posh granny. Woodland knowledge, literature, gardening and cookery. Finally finished off the loft today; although there have been some ominous sounds this evening implying pictures and mirrors have fallen down. . .

Ian Gilmour, Riots, Risings and Revolution: Governance and Violence in Eighteenth Century England

Gilmour is what Conservatism should be. Intelligent and pragmatic with a social conscience. Hopefully one day they'll discover that again. Most of the book is set out thematically; food riots, mutinies and so on. Such a good book. Freddie gave me a smile for the first time, just after I finished reading. Almost had a tear. . . .
(Horace Walpole on Wilkes) Does not there seem to be a fatality attending the Court whenever they meddle with that man? What instance is there of such a demagogue maintaining a war against a King, Ministries, Courts of Law, a whole legislature and all Scotland for nine years together? Wilkes in prison is chosen MP and then Alderman of London. His colleagues betray him, expose him and he becomes Sheriff of London. I believe, if he was to be hanged, he would be made King of England