Friday Five: Four Whiskies and a Gin (Okay, it's few more, but who's counting? Hic!)

Still at Ardbeg (in my dreams...)

I have mentioned previously how much I like whisky, so it should be no surprise that this was one of the main reasons for visiting Islay and Jura last year. Because I couldn't possibly pick favourites, I have listed the whiskies we tried in alphabetical order.

Ardbeg

10 Yr Old - Named World Whisky of the Year in 2008, this is a bench mark for the smokeheads. There is peat for sure, but there is also oak, vanilla, seasalt, black pepper, chocolate, toffee, cinnamon and nutty malt. But mainly there is peat.

An Oa - In the summer of 2017 An Oa became the fist addition to Ardbeg's core range in over ten years. It is designed to show 'a more approachable side to Ardbeg single malt' and it is indeed very quaffable with subtle citrus notes and a hint of butterscotch to soften the peat. It is aged in a mixture of Pedro Ximinez, charred oak and ex-bourbon barrels so has picked up some delicious honey treacle flavours, while the palate displays, 'notes of cigars and golden syrup flapjacks, with sweet black tea and hints of chocolate limes.'

Corryvrekan - Having stumbled through peat bogs and driving rain to see the whirlpool after which this is named, we felt we definitely deserved our tastings of its namesake. It boasts, 'swirling aromas and torrents of deep, peaty, peppery taste lurk beneath the surface of this beautifully balanced dram. Like the whirlpool itself, Corryvrekan is not for the faint-hearted!' I'm happy to strengthen my cardiovascular system by the fire in the pub with a few of these before bed.

Perpetuum- Ardbeg Day is held on the final Saturday of the Fèis Ìle music and whisky festival on Islay, and a special expression of whisky is released by the distillery. In 2015 to celebrate its 200th anniversary, Ardbeg released 12,000 bottles of Perpetuum. It was a vatting of young and old Ardbeg from ex-bourbon and sherry casks. It was endlessly complex with fresh, rich smoky vanilla cream, smouldering pine, cocoa and vanilla (with the signature peat and sea spray). It was fantastic and I think it's all gone.

Uigeadail - hilariously unpronounceable (hilarious to the Scots; unpronounceable to everyone else), the word Uigeadail refers to the loch from which all Ardbeg water flows. This cask-strength, heavily-peated  whisky is produced from a mix of bourbon and older sherry casks, resulting in a velvety sweet and smokey dram. It's both sweet and salty with hints of spearmint and seaweed. People attempt to outdo each other with descriptors. My favourite are 'marmalade scents over menthol and sweet cedar smoke'; 'like standing downwind of the barbecue while steaks are char-grilled on the beach'; 'very smooth, then explodes on the tongue'; 'at once dry and sooty, then tarry and finally kippery on the finish'; 'a shock to the system'.

Bowmore

10yr - produced for the travel retail market, this interesting blend of Spanish oak sherry casks and hogsheads results in a fine balance between classic coastal Islay smoke and sherry sweetness. Those happy trippers get a dark golden drop with fruitcake flavours, rum warmth, chocolate depth and ever-present sea salt.

15yr - Like the above but more so. It ramps up the chocolate, raisins and cinnamon, with spicy treacle toffee and wood-smoke.

Bruichladdich 

Bruiachladdich Islay Barley - Single malt, single barley variety, single harvest and even a single field; this is whisky doing 'terroir'. Citrus, apple, salt - all clean flavours (no peat) and matured in American oak. It's experimental; it's different; and it's excellent!

Octomore 10.2 - This is from Bruichladdich's heavily peated range. Sometimes I feel the need to ramp up the PPM (parts per million) is no more than a pissing contest, but this is sublime. Supposedly this series of releases is meant to showcase the softer smoke (although it still settles in at 96.9 PPM) and it displays honey, maple syrup and citrus zest - maybe all slightly cargrilled. The descriptor mentioned jelly babies and I was sold (actually, I wasn't as it was 126 Euro for a bottle, but I did try it). 

Port Charlotte MC (Marsala cask) - Ageing in Marsala barrels sweetens the smoky edge, resulting in a sort of salted caramel meets oily olive vibe. Maturing whisky in ex-wine casks seems to be an experiment that is paying off - I liked it a lot.

Bunnahabhain

12 Year Old Cask 1635 PX Butt - A whiff of sulphur is followed by a sherry bomb and damp wood. At 60.4% there is absolutely nothing subtle about this whisky. It has nothing to hide and is totally unashamed: this is what all the cool kids are drinking.

Palo Cortado Cask Finish - After spending 19 years slowly mellowing by the sea in traditional oak whisky casks, this delectable Bunnahabhain was then finished for almost two more years in rare Palo Cortado sherry casks. The result is a tantalising dram with a nose of fresh berries and cream, pecan and walnuts, rich oak with vanilla, and hints of dried fruit. More dried fruit, rich oak and roasted notes carry over on to the palate with subtle hints of cocoa, and it's all wrapped up with a dry nutmeg finish.

Stiúireadair - More sherry; more salt; more dried fruit. This is full of roasted nuts, cinnamon and clove spice and that tell-tale touch of the sea. It's a great Islay whisky for those who don't like aggressive peat, and it's very easy drinking - one to share with the family at Christmas.

Toiteach A Dha - Now the smoke returns; made with peated barley and combined with a higher sherry influence, we're talking rich and strong in flavour. The nose promises peatiness, sweet sherry and rich oak, and the palate delivers in spades.

Caol Ila

Distiller's Edition 2019 - This soft smoky whisky is finished in Moscatel sherry casks, which import a honeyed vanilla taste with a hint of ripe peaches and dry spices. It's a summer whisky, if you will.

Moch - The word is Gaelic for dawn or early morning; the taste is honey, citrus and lemongrass with a slightly sweet softness and peanut brittle characteristics. Supposedly it is 'the first single malt from the distillery to be selected entirely on the basis of its taste, rather than age, wood, alcohol volume or finish'. Would this be a breakfast whisky? 

Stitchell's Reserve - an unpeated release named for the distillery manager who retired after 40 years at the distillery. It's very clean and fresh although it still retains some smoke - this is an Islay whisky after all - and finishes with a lingering nutty honey sensation. A palate-cleansing aperitif before dinner I think. 

Jura

The Sound - all of Jura's whiskies have been 'toned down' from the years when we lived in the UK and drank them: they now exhibit 'subtle smoke'. We tried the travel retail range (these are the ones we'll probably be buying on our travels, after all) which are aged in Pedro Ximenez sherry casks. This one purports to have flavours of caramel fudge, black forest fruits, and milk chocolate.

The Road - The barrels in which this whisky matured previously held 20-year-old PX; there are some flavours of that still, but also the whisky itself is prominent, with a touch of apricots and bergamot on the nose and then rich coffee, toasted pistachios and cinnamon on the palate. 

The Bay - Copper gold in colour, the whisky gives off scents of toffee apple. The taste is raisins, fig, ginger spice and soft licorice.

The Loch - The sherry casks for this one previously held 30-yr-old PX and come from a single bodega. I know that the combination of stewed fruit and black treacle doesn't sound too great, but it smells divine and the coffee, tropical fruit and black pepper taste is finished off with warming spices. 

The Paps - The whisky is 19 years old; the sherry casks held 40-year-old PX; this is the pinnacle of the expressions. Powerful aromas of ginger cake and vanilla lead to a taste sensation of spiced pear, fig syrup and roasted walnut. The lingering impression is of toasted oak smokiness, hints of sea salt and a memory of biscuits baking in the family kitchen. 

I could have bought everything on this shelf (if I had the money...)

Kilchoman

All Islay - Everything about this whisky is done here on the premises from growing their own barley, floor malting, distilling, maturing and bottling. This is a showcase of the malt demonstrating all the salty freshness, lemon flavours, vanilla spices, oaky edges and smoky goodness. 

Machir Bay - citrus vanilla, layered fruit, butterscotch sweetness: it sounds like a desert, but it makes a mighty fine whisky too. Matured (mainly) in bourbon and (a small porportion of) sherry casks, it displays a balance of classic Islay character and fresh floral complexity, seasoned to perfection with cracked black pepper and sea salt. 

Sanaig - The ratio of bourbon: sherry maturation is practically reversed in this expression. Oloroso sherry casks impart the richness of dried fruit, dark chocolate, brown sugar and barbecue peat smoke one would expect, and love.

Loch Gorm - Matured exclusively in Oloroso sherry casks, this is bedtime whisky. Loch Gorm is Islay's biggest freshwater loch and has dark peat-coloured waters; one of its tributaries, the Alt Gleann Osamail burn, is where the distillery gets its production water. This combination of sherry and peat provides the best of both worlds, with my favourite review coming from the Single Malt Whisky Club; 'sweet sweet smoke with undertones of kelp-littered beach carried on wafts of hot chocolate'.

Port Cask - According to the distillery, this is 'one of our most talked-about releases in our thirteen-year history', I can see why. It pours a russet colour with a nose of red berries and Turkish Delight infused with sweet smoke. The palate is berries, dark chocolate, vanilla and sooty peat, leaving a juicy cherry-ripe finish. Sensational.

Lagavulin

2017 Jazz Festival release - Lagavulin offers punters a taste of its annual Jazz Festival release: a limited edition, cask-strength (57.6%) whisky, of which there were only 6,000 bottles produced. Their notes say the nose is licorice and peat smoke, and the taste is black pepper, peat, creamy vanilla and fruit. I'd agree with that. 

2018 Distiller's edition - packs a powerful peaty punch. Lagavulin is seen by many as the ultimate expression of the Islay region; this edition is double-matured in Pedro Ximenez cask wood. PX is derived from intensely flavoured sun-dried grapes, and that raisiny sweetness matches and accentuates the rich character of the original whisky. 

Lussa

And so we get to the gin. At Lussa, in Ardlussa at the north end of Jura, three women own and operate the distillery, which makes just the one gin from botanicals grown, gathered and distilled locally. It is fresh, zesty, smooth gin with a subtle, aromatic finish, and it is truly exceptional. 

The botanicals include lemon thyme, coriander, rose petals, lemon balm, lime flowers elder flowers, honeysuckle blooms, bog myrtle, orris root, water mint, sea lettuce, Scots pine needles, ground elder leaves, rose hips, and (of course) juniper

This all amounts to a gin like no other with woody scents, a hint of sea spray and a herby tang. The taste is all citrus notes, sherbet zing and subtle sweetness with a spicy warmth to the finish. I honestly cannot recommend this highly enough.

Goodbye to the Greek Island: The Garden of the Gods

The Garden of the Gods by Gerald Durrell

Penguin Books

Pp. 198

This is the third and final instalment in Gerald Durrell’s stories about his years in Corfu with the family, begun in My Family and Other Animals and continued in Birds, Beasts and Relatives. The tone has been set by the previous two, and this continues with more idyllic scene-setting and animal anecdotes.

These are halcyon days as the children have outstanding freedom in their unaccompanied travels: Gerry potters about in his boat; Margo swans off to the mainland; Leslie wanders the countryside with guns; Larry invites complete strangers to come and stay at their villa.

Gerald Durrell has a highly evocative way of writing that makes the countryside sound divine, and there are Homeric epithets in his descriptions of the sea. When he writes of the approaching seasons, his naturalist’s eye combines with his rustic poeticism and, as always, his main preoccupation is zoological. “For me, spring was one of the best times, for all the animal life of the island was astir and the air full of hope.”

He is keen to amass more creatures for his ever-growing menagerie, but he knows that certain members the family (particularly Larry), do not like his animal collection so he tries to get Mother and Margo on side, and they often feel sorry for abandoned animals. One of the peasants, wanting to get rid of unwanted puppies, buries them alive, by which fact Mother is understandably outraged. She exclaims, “These peasants! I can’t understand how they can be so cruel.”

The Greeks are examined almost as another species, which can be uncomfortably racist to a modern reader. Margo has many affairs of the heart, but always with Greeks rather than English boys (friends of Larry’s), saying of the local peasant boys, “They’re so handsome and so sweet. They all sing so well. They have such nice manners. They play the guitar. Give me one of them instead of an Englishman any day.” On the subject of changing attitudes with time, the family are remarkably accepting of potential paedophilia, commenting of a guest, Colonel Velvit, “Since his retirement his one interest in life was the local Scout troop and, while there were those unkind enough to say that his interest in Scouts was not entirely altruistic, he worked hard and had certainly never yet been caught.”

Mother accepts all the guests and offers outstanding hospitality, even to horrible or boring people, warning Margo, “We’ve never done anything nasty to anyone that’s stayed with us – I mean, except as a joke or by accident – and we’re not going to start.” One visitor friend of Larry’s believes he can levitate and keeps trying, invariably falling through the trellis

Gerry embellishes stories for comic effect, and sees them through a boy’s eyes, but some of the details are harrowing, such as when a Turk visits them (at Margo’s invitation) with three wives, aiming to make Margo his fourth.

They live in a weird limbo land without news of the outside world because, “we did not have the dubious benefits of a wireless and so, for the most part, lived in a state of blissful ignorance.” Part of this lack of ‘outside interference’ means they have to rely upon themselves for entertainment, and they do so with spectacular results. Gerry’s descriptions of the food, drink and company at these events are exquisite, and his depictions of a bygone era are sumptuous and appealing. He paints pictures with words that inspired a generation to travel and take an interest in nature. Some of the attitudes are outdated, but if he instils a sense of conservationism, they can be excused as the results of age. It’s tough to farewell these tales of childhood on an island paradise.

Get Orf My Land: The Shepherd's Life

The Shepherd's Life: A Tale of the Lake District by James Rebanks

Penguin

Pp. 287

Sheep are big business. Last month (August 2020) in Lanark, Scotland, a sheep called Double Diamond sold for a world-record sum of £367,500. James Rebanks knows that sheep are important. As a shepherd, he understands that farming and shepherding are crucial to the economy and the livelihood of many. He explains that this is hard work but that he loves it and enjoys the connection that he gets from the land. What he doesn’t seem to understand is how privileged he is and how many of the people he scorns would love to have been given his opportunities.

The Shepherd’s Life is not particularly well-written but Rebanks received an advance from an agent before he had written it. Although he appears to despise people who don’t do his work, they seem to be interested in him. He writes a sort of auto-biography, which also contains a lot of information about farming and a lot of assumptions about what non-farmers think of him and his industry. Many of his blunt and antiquated attitudes are irritating and arrogant, such as his inherent sexism and antipathy towards intellectuals, but the sections on sheep-farming itself are interesting and the most engaging.

As a child he followed his grandfather around the place knowing that he would inherit the farm because he is male. He has sisters, but it was “different for girls…their role is to leave and do something else to earn respect.” This knowledge of his purpose in life means that he feels ownership of the land. “We owned the earth. We’d been here forever. And we always would be. We would get battered from time to time, but we would endure and win.”

For him and his family, “our sense of belonging is all about participation. We belong because we are part of the work of this place.” And what if we can’t inherit a farm? Will we never ‘belong’? He dislikes Alfred Wainwright, Chris Bonnington and William Wordsworth because they’re ‘not from round here’ and so have no right to talk about ‘his’ land; he thinks climbers, poets, walkers and daydreamers are pointless, and that tourists are “minor irritants, like ants – they got in the way and they had strange ideas, but a little bit of bad weather and they’d be gone again to get on with stuff that mattered.”

The book itself is poorly written, grammatically clunky and very repetitive; a lot of sections start out telling us what someone is doing in the present tense, as he tries to set a basic scene: “My father is wielding a white-handled meat saw…” “My mother is sitting on a wooden chair in our barn…” “We are working in the sheep pens.” The use of generic pronouns is also problematic, for example, he writes of his grandfather, “He had a rough whiskery face when you kissed him goodnight.” This begs the questions, when did I kiss him, and what was his face like when I didn’t? He acknowledges, “We are, I guess, all of us, built out of stories” and yet, he doesn’t narrate his own very well.

He became inspired by books when he picked up a copy of A Shepherd’s Life by W.H. Hudson (the story of a shepherd called Caleb Bawcombe) and says he admires “the brilliant plain storytelling, no messing about”. It is predictable when he talks of reading; it is of male authors – Camus, Salinger, A.J.P. Taylor, Orwell – and that his biggest inspiration is the hyper-masculine Hemingway. After criticising the poets, he tries to write his own, and I certainly hope he’s a better sheep farmer.

He is at his best when writing about the sheep, the dogs, and the cyclical nature of farming. When told without prejudice, these snippets are interesting and engaging, including the shepherding chores of lambing, making hay, shearing (“It is a carefully choreographed thing in which the sheep is turned, shuffled and rolled in clever purposeful ways”), dipping, and training sheepdogs.

He divides the book into four seasons, as everything they do is connected to the weather and the natural cycle. In many respects, shepherding and farming have not changed in centuries. “You could bring a Viking man to stand on our fell with me and he would understand what we were doing and the basic pattern of our farming year. The timing of each task varies depending on the different valleys and farms. Things are driven by the seasons and necessity, not by our will.”

If you remove the tractors and the machinery, the farming practices are ancient, and it upsets him that these traditions, skills and knowledge are being lost or dismissed. He commends the ‘old ways’ and wants future generations to see the reality of farming and agriculture. His book is almost a call to arms to protect the natural mechanics and importance of farming.

James Rebanks is a tough person to like – he has some interesting things to say about sheep and the farming of them in the Lakeland fells, but he tells them in a didactic and hectoring tone. If he could climb down from his privileged perch, his message about sustainable farming might be easier to hear.

Friday Five: Inverse Positivity

One of my favourite words is discombobulated. The sound of the perfect match of vowels and consonants goes some way to making up for the slightly weird effect of the feeling. It led me to wonder if there is such a thing as combobulated, and I was interested to learn that there isn't. Similarly, one can be overwhelmed or underwhelmed, but never simply whelmed (although the word 'whelmen' is a Middle English term meaning to turn over.) In an article from 1953 entitled The Mystery of the Vanished Positive, J.H. Parker wrote about this phenomenon known as unpaired words or absent antonyms.

One of the ways in which these words are created is through 'back-formation' in which a new word is created by removing affixes. For example, the noun 'resurrection' was borrowed from Latin and then the verb 'resurrect' made its way into the language hundreds of years later by removing the '-ion' suffix. Many English words are formed this way but because they may sound odd, they are often used to humorous effect. 

'Far from being quite gruntled'

Novelist, humourist and all-round wit, P.G. Wodehouse, made good use of this when he writes in The Code of The Woosters, "I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being quite gruntled." In Scrubs, Turk tells another character, "I don't disdain you! It's quite the opposite - I dain you!"

One of my favourites is the word 'ruthless'. One expects there to be a corresponding 'ruth-full', but it appears not. I like it particularly because one of the characters in Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons, Ruth Blackett, captain of the Amazon, changes her name to Nancy because she wants to be a pirate and her Uncle Jim tells her that pirates are ruthless. 

Swallows and Amazons in which pirates are ruthless

5 Unpaired Words:

1. Disgusting - from Latin gustare, meaning to taste; the antonym, desgouster, appeared in Old French, but there is no English reverse equivalent. Although wind can be 'gusting', that comes from a different root altogether, gustr, being the Old Norse word for 'cold blast of wind' (circa 1580)
2. Gormless - Once again Old Norse used the word gaumr meaning care or heed. In dialect English, the word gome is found to mean notice or understanding (circa 1200). In the 18th Century there is evidence of the use of gaumless or gawmless to mean wanting sense/ stupid. One cannot generally be gorm-full
3. Feckless - Clearly meaning lacking in feck, but what is feck? It is a Scots/ Northern English corruption of the Middle English word effect, so feckless is synonymous with effective. Unfortunately the use of 'feckful' as a substitute for effective is no longer common
4. Inept - Similarly, we rarely describe someone as being ept, due to a linguistic quirk. The word inept comes from the Latin root in + aptus (not + able/fit). Whereas English kept both inapt and inept, the language decided to only retain apt and ditch ept. Shame.
5. Nonchalant - Sadly, there is no word 'chalant' in English. The word 'nonchalant' derives from the Old French word nonchaloir meaning to disregard (non + chaloir = not + to concern) Therefore the opposite of nonchalant is concerned or interested, not chalant.

The English language is beautiful and rich and multicultural. I love it, and I love writing and playing games with it. This is a poem by the aforementioned J.H. Parker being comically feckful with absent antonyms.

A Very Descript Man

I am such a dolent man,
I eptly work each day;
My acts are all becilic,
I've just ane things to say.

My nerves are strung, my hair is kempt,
I'm gusting and I'm span:
I look with dain on everyone
And am a pudent man.

I travel cognito and make
A delible impression:
I overcome a slight chalance,
With gruntled self-possession.

My dignation would be great
If I should digent be:
I trust my vagance will bring
An astrous life for me.

Friday Five: More Podcasts

Back in May I wrote a blog post about the podcasts to which I was listening in COVID-19 times. Well, it's still going on, and I'm still listening. I just keep adding them to the list, and they roll around and keep me entertained alongside my regular favourites. Here are five more recently-listened-to podcasts.

5 Recent Podcasts:

1. The Guilty Feminist (Patreon) - Deborah Frances-White hosts this podcast which ranges from stand-up comedy to interviews about hard-hitting topics such as domestic abuse and genital mutilation; recent episodes have covered Justice, Satire, Rebellion, Shame, Education and Credibility. Every episode kicks off with a round of  'I'm a Feminist, but...' as hosts and guests confess to 'shameful' double standards which we can all recognise. While mixing up the tone, the message remains firmly to fight for gender equality, and this is also the podcast that introduced me to the wonderful protest folk music of Grace Petrie. 
2. The Anfield Wrap (TAW Player) - Yes, it's all about Liverpool F.C. and yes, it has over 28 million downloads worldwide. Neil Atkinson hosts a group of blokes (and it is nearly always blokes, unfortunately) who sit around discussing the highs (of which there are many lately) and lows of the club. There are a number of levels to which one can subscribe, but the free content is sufficient for me, covering transfers, signings, matches (both before and after), player interviews and a plethora of awards. Bonus 'cup of tea' episodes address current issues and how they affect the club from supporting foodbanks to LGBTQI rights and kicking racism out of football. 



The lads of The Anfield Wrap with the manager of the Anfield team

3. No Filter (Mamamia) - If interviews with interesting folk are your thing, then this Australian podcast hosted by Mia Freedman might be for you. With a fresh approach and a candid attitude she chats to well-known celebrities (Julia Gillard and Osher Gunsberg) and 'ordinary people' with incredible stories, such as a mother of a trans child or the bloke whose wedding sparked a COVID outbreak. 
4. Have You Heard George's Podcast (BBC Sounds) - George Mpanga (aka George the Poet) delivers a highly individual take on societal issues through a mixture of music, poetry and storytelling. The first series, which came out in 2018, won four gold awards at the British Podcast Awards, plus two silvers and the podcast of the year.  His subjects included blaxploitation films, Reaganomics and why drug dealing and murder can seem the only options for black youth, whether in the 1970s and 80s US or contemporary UK.
5. Newscast (BBC News) - I started listening to this when it was Brexitcast, then it became Newscast, then Coronaviruscast, and now I think we're back to Newscast. It might be tricky to keep up with the title but the premise is the same - intelligent, topical political and social issues introduced by Adam Fleming, and discussed 'with the BBC's best journalists and other people who know what they're talking about'. It's basically how I check in with what's going on back in Blighty; it's interesting informative and measured with lots of heft and a touch of levity.

Victorian Thriller of Modern Manners: A Particular Eye for Villainy

A Particular Eye for Villainy by Ann Granger

Set in Victorian London, this novel (the fourth in a series of seven so far, but perfectly readable as a stand-alone novel) concerns a husband and wife ‘team’ who are not exactly working together. Narrated in alternate voices, the story follows Elizabeth Martin Ross and her husband, Inspector Benjamin Ross as they attempt to solve the mysterious murder of a man on their street, Thomas Tapley. No one knows anything about Mr Tapley, where he comes from, what he does, or where he goes during the day. He was taken in by a respectable landlady (Mrs Jameson, a neighbour of the Ross’s) and accepted because he “was possessed of a certain charm and innocence of manner. For all his down-at-heel appearance, the street soon decided he was ‘an eccentric’ and approved his presence.”

Naturally, discoveries are soon made, such as the fact that he has a brother, Jonathan Tapley, who is a barrister, a daughter, Flora, who is soon to be married, and a secret from his past. The novel is also peopled with earthy characters such as cab drivers, prize fighters, street urchins and policemen. Superintendent Dunn exclaims to Inspector Ross, “Only think of the players in this drama! Beautiful and pure young woman – I suppose Flora Tapley to be both – on the brink of marriage. Son of a peer. Eminent barrister. Mysterious Frenchwoman of dubious background seen with the victim on the beach at a Continental watering hole. Good grief, Ross, this business has all the ingredients of a shilling shocker!” And all this is before Superintendent Dunn even knows about the private detective disguised as a clown.

Ann Granger makes the most of her setting, with the time and location being of paramount importance. As it is before telephones and cars, characters are constantly sending telegrams and catching a cab to deliver news or collect people. The novel ranges from Southampton to Harrogate via London and France, infused with a suspicion of foreigners and seaside towns, which “tend to have a racy reputation.” Deauville and Trouville are apparently known “as the sort of place fellows take their mistresses.” There are, of course, grim and criminal elements: there is an altercation at a graveyard and a chase across rooftops like something out of Oliver Twist and the accounts of the less salubrious parts of the city are imitations of Dickensian descriptions.

As with another Ann Granger novel I have read, there is a focus on the process of the law. In many aspects detection is a puzzle, and Inspector Ross searches for clues, but the author points out that people’s lives can depend upon this game and that they need compassion and humanity. If the law is a game, policemen and lawyers don’t always play on the same side, and they often compete. Inspector Ross battles with Jonathan Tapley and clearly does not like him: “I could not let him win. I would not let him win. We were like a pair of duellists, facing one another in a misty dawn, pistols drawn and having one shot each.

Part of this antagonism is motivated by class: Inspector Ross’s parents were coal miners; he was brought up ‘on charity’ and sent to school by the largesse of his benefactor. Because it is written by a woman, the consideration of female treatment is prominent. At times it provides wry humour, but there is also social commentary; women have limited options as they ‘belong’ to their men folk. Ann Granger may have grafted some more modern ideas on the sensibilities of the characters, but the anachronisms are forgivable in the nature of humour and irony.

My Newest Favourite Thing: The E-Type Jag

"The most beautiful car ever made" - Enzo Ferrari

"I want that car and I want it now!" - Frank Sinatra

"Every car that came before and every one that has happened since is irrelevant." - James Elliott, Classic & Sports Car

When I was fifteen, I visited my dad at his work place. He was doing very important things at the forefront of computing. He had a to-do pad on his desk and, while he was out of his office making coffee (or, more likely, finding someone to make it for us), I wrote on it 'Buy Daughter an E-Type Jag'. He said nothing about it and I presumed he hadn't seen it, or just tossed it in the bin, but he came home from work the next week with a Matchbox Jaguar E-Type, which remains one of my most treasured possessions.

Matchbox E-Type Jags

When I got married, I added one to the wedding present list, and I received a beautiful model of a silver Series 3 coupe. It was exquisite, right down to the gleaming spokes of the wheels. Clearly, we were getting closer. Him Outdoors arranged one as our wedding car, and we had one booked, but the week before, the owner phoned us to tell us that it had failed its MOT and couldn't be on the road. He offered us an Austin Healey as a replacement. As if. Him Outdoors had had one job. (As it turned out, we got a launch which ferried us up and down The Thames while we had a bottle of champagne and crossed the county border in style, so all was marvellous.)

The Jaguar E-Type is a British sports car that was manufactured by Jaguar Cars Ltd between 1961 and 1975. Launched at the Geneva show in March 1961, it was designed by former aeronautics engineer, Malcolm Sayer, who had previously worked for the Bristol Aeroplane Company during World War II. It was fast: 150 mph top speed and 0-60 mph in under seven seconds, and it had a range of features that made it exceptional. 

• Unitary construction: a method of fabricating vehicles where the body, floor pan and chasis are built on one unit, resulting in high performance torsional rigidity
• All-steel monocoque, which offers high fuel efficiency due to low weight: the whole structure is an outer shell (monocoque meaning 'single shell' in French) which provides better space efficiency and crash protection
• Disc brakes: the E-Type had them on all wheels, at a time when few mass-produced cars did
• Rack and pinion steering 
• Front and rear suspension: double wishbones at the front, wishbones and twin coil/ damper units at the rear

Okay, so maybe I looked most of that up (although I did know it was fast for the time), because if I'm honest, I'm not all that interested in the specific features. What thrills me is the looks. This is simply the most spectacular thing on wheels. I'm far from alone in thinking so. In March 2008, the Jaguar E-Type ranked first in the Daily Telegraph list on the world's 100 most beautiful cars of all time. That may be the only time I agree with that paper. 

The New York City Museum of Modern Art has six cars in its permanent design collection, and the Jaguar E-Type is one of them. The others are a Cicistalia 202GT, Jeep, Smartcar, Volkswagen Beetle and F1 Racing Car (Ferrari 641), which may have historical and cultural significance, but they haven't got equivalent style. In 2018 James Elliott wrote in Classic & Sports Car, "The Jaguar E-type is the most commonly desired car in the world. Period. Even car-haters swoon in its presence and, if you ever want to be taken seriously as a classic car dealer, you must have one on your forecourt."

It's hard to argue with that design and those vital statistics: length of 14ft, 8in; counterbalanced by width of 5ft, 5in. It looks as though it was designed by a human to appeal to our artistic and aesthetic instincts, rather than by a computer to appeal to power-to-weight ratios and wind-tunnel performance. It was both. There were 72,500 of all types built and, according to Elliott, "the E-type is the barometer of the entire classic car market and has been since day one."

Finally keeping a promise and completing his job (seventeen years on; who says we have to keep nagging - things will be accomplished eventually), for my birthday last year, Him Outdoors hired one for the day. It was amazing, and a little bit terrifying. I was overwhelmed by my dreams coming true, and by the slightly erratic nature of the beast. 

By modern standards of power steering, the directional motion is tough. The bonnet is so long that you sometimes have to nudge out of a side-road before you can actually see what's coming. There are no wing mirrors and the view from the rear mirror is limited.The engine wants to let rip - this really is a powerful cat - and it can be strenuous to control that surge. She has modern tyres that grip the road (apparently not as thrilling to racing drivers who enjoy the thrill of high-speed cornering on tiptoe), but if you're not going quickly enough around a corner, she will wander a fraction to try and hint who's boss. She can smell fear. 

Bearing all that in mind, I took a couple of turns around the carpark, and was content to let Him Outdoors do the lion's share of the driving. I took the photos (we were in Cambridgeshire; a land of thatched houses, village greens and picturesque pubs) and watched the people watching us. We had been told that people would make way for us and let us into traffic. They did. We had been told that people would smile and wave as everyone loves an E-Type Jag (only the Jensen Interceptor receives a fraction of the interest according to the bloke who rented it to us). They did. 

We had been told that people would want to stop and talk to us about the car. They did. We had stopped at the roadside because I wanted to take picture of the car against the ploughed fields and the sunset. A chap pulled up alongside us and asked if we needed any help. He said that he used to own an E-Type and, seeing one stopped at the side of the road brought back memories of his multiple breakdowns. We had a chat and he could barely take his eyes off her. I don't blame him.

In an article for GQ entitled, The A-Z of the Jaguar E-Type: a 1960s icon that's never out of style, Marc McLaren wrote that the E-Type was "as integral a part of the Swinging Sixties as Mary Quant miniskirts and Mod suits". It's also timeless. In 2017 an E-Type Zero was used as a wedding car by Prince Harry and the new Duchess of Sussex - what've they got that we haven't...? It's an electric version of a 1968 Series 1.5 Jaguar E-Type Roadster. Buyers could either provide their own donor vehicle for conversion or let Jaguar Classic source a donor car to be rebuilt - the BYO price was quoted as GBP60,000.

It would be a shame to lose that engine, but it's more environmentally conscious, although development was halted in November 2019, and no further explanation appears to be forthcoming. Meanwhile, she sounds sensational; that cat-like purr is content for now, but it contains a suggestion of power, just waiting to be unleashed. I am utterly smitten. 

"If it's not an E-type Jag; it's just a car." - Me