The Man Booker shortlist was announced last week and the light at the end of the tunnel would appear not to be an oncoming train. We are nearly there. It's been an amazing experience for me as one of this year's judges. And most amazing of all is the
fact that the chair of the judging panel, Michael Portillo, has become such a good friend of mine. Ten years ago the notion of sharing the former Tory Cabinet member and potential party leader's company would have been unconscionable; the fact that I actively enjoy hanging out with him is as surprising to me as to anyone else.
He himself refers to the fact that the moment he lost his Enfield Southgate seat in the 1997 general election has been voted by Channel 4 viewers as the third most enjoyable moment in TV history. He is a changed man from the Michael Portillo who wanted to lurch the Tories even further to the right. I never knew him then and probably never would have. All I know is that the man I have met this year, the man I have worked with and laughed with and dined with is a decent, upstanding and honourable man. And he is my friend.
Rock of ages past as solid as everThursday was record buying day. Fresh after the announcement of the Mercury Music Prize I decided to top up my collection with some of the nominated acts. (I already own and love the winning album, the mind-blowingly brilliant The Seldom Seen Kid by Elbow, the folk masterpiece Laura Marling's Alas I Cannot Swim and the dark, nocturnal delights of Burial.) While browsing my gaze fell upon a classic British album, a gargantuan opus of historical significance, a musical masterpiece by behemoths of hard rock. I found Deep Purple's In Rock. Oh yes.
For all my apparent sophistication, my numerous corduroy suits and my ability to cook fennel, I was a heavy metal loving kid. I blame this on my big brother, Raj. He was obsessed with the Purple and it seemed only natural that me and Sanj follow suit. It was easier to imbibe our eldest brother's tastes than try to search for our own. And thankfully with regard to Deep Purple, his taste was impeccable (if only the same could be said of his clothes). Many knock Purple, offering as evidence a rubbish and clichéd rendition of the opening five chords of 'Smoke On The Water'. I cannot begin to tell you how much that annoys me. There is so much more to Purple than simply Smoke. Deep Purple Mark 2 (Gillan, Glover, Blackmore, Paice and Lord) were ahead of their time, musical visionaries who combined rock, blues, classical and any other musical influence that they found lying about. In Rock displays this eclectic mix of influences. Deep Purple were a brilliant example of every band member being at their absolute peak, coming together in the often tempestuous band dynamic, a dynamic that elevated the sum far higher than the individual parts. 'Speed King' is a classic rock anthem, almost punky almost a decade before punk. Into the Fire is a laid-back blues-infused tune and 'Black Knight' (Deep Purple's biggest hit single) is a rock classic. I spent most of Thursday evening pretending to be 10 years old again. All I needed was a tennis racket for a guitar, Sanj on Hammond organ and Raj on lead vocals. The volume was of course cranked up to 11.
Moved by the granddaddy of all coincidencesSometimes you meet people who make you realise how amazing life can be. I was in a bookshop in Bath on Wednesday working out what passages from my book I would bore the nice people with, when an older couple came striding towards me. "It's been an amazing day," the husband says to me, as if he has known me for years. Clearly he wants to tell someone what has happened and I'm as good a listener as anyone. It transpires that some years ago his daughter Anya and he fell out quite dramatically to the extent that she left her home town. All contact broke down between father and daughter until he recently heard that she might be living in Bath. He was a man of advancing years, and as the father of a daughter myself, I could imagine the heartache he had suffered.
So he and his new wife ventured to the town, not knowing a soul there, and hoped that they might collect a clue as to Anya's whereabouts. And this is where life, serendipity and synchronicity come into play. The first person they stopped and asked in Bath knew his daughter. They were overwhelmed. They also learnt his daughter had a child, a nine-year-old boy. The man had a grandchild he had known nothing about. I felt honoured to hear this story. The sadness of the wasted years were soon displaced by the thought that perhaps they all might be reunited. And all because one man decided he would not be a prisoner of the past.
Credit crunch won't stop the squeezeCome with me into the world of juice. Orange, tomato and grapefruit have always been delicious. But now there is a new wave of juices that daringly combine the as-yet uncombined: beetroot, celery and ginger; apple, carrot and guava; grapefruit, raspberry and ham. Okay I made that last one up, but there truly is a brave world of vitamin-rich, nutritious and natural food to be enjoyed. The only down side is the expense of purchasing these avant-garde juices from equally avant-garde juice outlets. In an attempt to enjoy juice without requesting a re-mortgage, I have invested in a juicer. This is no ordinary juicer however. Apart from being beautifully apple green in hue it will pulp as well as juice. It has at least three attachments (every kitchen gadget must be judged by attachment numbers). One of my more cynical friends, Kendo, asked which cupboard I was going to leave my juicer in having used it only for a week. I chastised Kendo reminding him of the overwhelming health benefits of fresh juice. He countered with the overwhelming cleaning difficulties of the oddly shaped attachments. Undeterred by Kendo's lack of faith I have juiced and enjoyed a beetroot, ginger and celery concoction. Next week I shall see what I can do with an apple and a small bag of radishes. What is more important? Five a day or the burden of cleaning oddly-shaped kitchen gadget attachments?
Hardeep will be appearing at the Mitchell Theatre, Glasgow, on Thursday September 18 at 7pm, and at Waterstone's in Aberdeen on Friday September 19 at 7.30pm, to talk about his new book Indian Takeaway: One Man's Attempt to Cook His Way Home. Tickets for Glasgow call 0141-287 2870, tickets for Aberdeen call 01224 592440.
The full article contains 1175 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
