I’ve just been reading (belatedly) “The Deceiver” by Frederick Forsyth. Excellent. Set in the Cold War years. Then I got an e-mail from my cousin in Canada, M, with whom I have been catching up since his mother died last year. We haven’t seen each in more than 30 years but seem to have a lot in common. He was a freelance cameraman before retiring at the end of 2007. We were talking about writing and he confessed that he had recently resurrected a diary he had kept when ABC TV sent him and a soundman to East Berlin, Prague and Budapest in December 1989 to film some of the conditions remaining after the withdrawal of the communists. He e-mailed me a copy and although all that is now a long time ago, he certainly experienced some hairy moments when they walked into the Romanian revolution which, from a writing point of view, I rather felt he downplayed the danger somewhat with typical British sang froid! All in all, he reminds me so much of my Dad, as M admits to various other practical hobbies like re-building old cars. I plan to stay in touch now: maybe he will even visit South Africa one day. He travels more now as ironically, he’s had to retire early from his filming career owing to the onset of Parkinson’s.
Book Nut! (Re Aicons at home). Yep. Agree, if mine broke - out would come the Plastic!