Dru, Steinbeck and the Book of Deer

Dear Juliet I'd better not think about pastrami and rye, time's passing by... I'll be in London 15th-16th June, back in Shifnal on the 17th and back in London again 18th-19th June. I'd originally booked to go to a book launch on the 15th, then decided to attend the Society of Authors' (SoA) big summer blowout at Southwark Cathedral on the 18th. London hotel prices are so lethal it's probably best to go home midweek, then return. No, I'm probably not being very logical, but I've booked myself in at two separate shoeboxes and I can check Henry Pordes for Donna Tartt. I'll also see if I can access my blog via my smartphone. Everything should be fine although the government may fall on the 18th if Andy Burnham wins the by-election and Keir Starmer resigns . Unlikely, but... Do not worry, everything should be fine. As well as the SoA, I'm a charter member of the Self Preservation Society ! On the other hand, perhaps it's about time to tell you tha...

Dear Juliet I was going to update you on my next London trip, try to be logical and competent (15th-19th June 2026, by the way); then I think I saw you'd been reading about Point Lobos again. I'd love to go back to the Point. I stayed at the Hyatt in 2023 but hung out in Monterey in 2024, took the bus down to the edge of town and walked back to Gibson beach. I saw the Carmel Mission Basilica ( founded 1771 ) over my shoulder from the bus, sloped around the old Chevron filling station and set off along California Highway 1. I remember seeing the Carmelite Monastery in the hills , and the surf on Monastery beach. And for a' that, I think I heard you singing down the wire while Dru walked quietly with me. There was some school or other further along the way, and in its grounds the remains of an old jalopy. Either used by paisanos on the farm or driven across from Oklahoma during the days of the Great Depression, in search of the land of milk and honey. I'd just seen the B...

Dear Juliet I had a not-particularly-great night last night, with too many Jelly Babies and too little concentration on Star Trek IV and my co-ordination. I feel a little frowzy this morning although I never get a hangover. In fact, it looks like I inherited my father's allergy to alcohol. I can't actually drink much or my liver starts telling me "the engines cannae take it" , as Scotty would say. I've got to do five calls tonight, and am considering crying in a layby. So I just thought I'd mention I'm not perfect either. I eat too many biscuits and I don't want to take exercise any more. I've made plenty of mistakes in the past and will make more in the future. Such is life. Just thought I'd say so. In fact, when I first met you, I certainly thought you were the world's best actress, a great beauty and Hollywood royalty, but I never thought you were perfect either. I liked you for who and what you were. I might be a bit late back tonight....

Dear Juliet Regarding a certain State Reserve in Steinbeck country, I thought I'd just make passing mention of a brief and personal thought, quiet and beneath your ken. Not a mote in God's eye nor anyone else's. Something like: "Though about Point Lobos, pity it cannot be," and add a link to Perry Como's Impossible ... Oh, look and see ! But I think I understand that a daughter of narcissists always believes that love is conditional, that the other shoe is forever poised to drop if you're not always perfect. That at any moment, I could turn into some sort of violence-crazed maniac bent on revenge like Dr. Evil if I didn't get my way. So I thought I'd take a risk and simply say: No, I won't. I'm just sad it's impossible. That you weren't able to see the view from the Hyatt, walk past Brad Pitt's place, sit on that petrified log and have a pastrami and rye sandwich with me. I'm sorry you didn't sit on Drusilla's beach...

Dear Juliet I think you're happier and I think you're getting into a good place so I'll just once again say: You were always worth it, and the thing is, I always enjoyed going to see you even if it meant standing outside for an hour in the freezing rain! I liked you as you were, not as some impossible ideal but as an actress from Hollywood who was "kind, sweet, sensible and shy." ( Dear Miss Landau ) I liked trudging around Glasgow with wet snow leaking between my toes looking for a present for you. I even liked you more than Kirk liked Spock, which is saying something. P.S. You don't need to call me Admiral, you can call me Jim . In Jimmy , Stewart mentions that someone said to him, "being famous is like being a God." I don't think you're a God, I think you are my dear Miss Landau. You mean the world to me, and that's not for sale. I remember going to Point Lobos and wishing you were there, and I remember (metaphorically speaking) steal...

Dear Juliet Something of a confessional mashup of things today! There was that good lunch with my friend from college days yesterday, leaving me later at my desk, brain unleavened with nothing much to say. Cleaved from my intellect like a penitent in Erewhon, fearful of writer's block and the boring blank page. But I think all that has happened over the last seven weeks simply caught up with me, and there's no shame in saying I needed a break to recharge for a day. I got that in the form of some emotional release. They're making a film about the life of Jimmy Stewart , specifically the time  where he flew B-24s during World War Two . Every time I see B-17s or something similar in flight, it breaks me up completely. The last time I really got emotionally caught was the Eagle landing scene in First Man . It was more the air of quiet concentration that got to me. Like NASA, staff were doing their jobs at the National Autistic Society in Glasgow without fuss, but with a profes...