Debts of gratitude

In a year which has seen the departures of so many iconic figures, it's hard to single people out for special mention, but as 2016 draws towards its close, I wanted to express my own debt of gratitude to the ten who have had the biggest impact on my life and that of my family.

So thank you:

• David Bowie, for providing part of the soundtrack to my teenage years and for two songs in particular - Life on Mars and Starman - whose spins on the turntable were the musical highpoint of every sixth form party.
• Abe Vigoda, forever Salvatore Tessio in The Godfather, the greatest movie ever made and that will ever be made. 'Can you get me off the hook, Tom, for old times' sake?' 'Can't do it, Sally.'
• Maurice White, leader of Earth, Wind and Fire, whose dynamic funk tunes in the late 70s and early 80s laid the foundations for my lasting love affair with dance music.
• Tony Warren, creator of Coronation Street, which, in its original incarnation as a gritty portrayal of Northern working-class life as opposed to a vehicle for ever-more ridiculous and sensational storylines, was for a while the best thing on telly.
• Keith Emerson and Greg Lake, two thirds of Emerson Lake and Palmer, whose weird albums pushed the boundaries of prog rock in the 70s and inspired numerous others, including Genesis, to do the same.
• Johan Cruyff, whose exploits for Holland and Ajax thrilled this football-mad youngster in the 70s and whose invention of 'total football' showed the world how the beautiful game really should be played.
• Muhammad Ali, whose dramatic recapture of the world heavyweight title from George Foreman in 1974 was, along with Boycott's 100th hundred and Viren's double Olympic distance double, the sporting highlight of my childhood.
• Gene Wilder, whose magical portrayal of Willy Wonka in the original and best film version of Roald Dahl's tale opened up a world of pure imagination that not only had my son George captivated from an early age, but his dad too.
• Richard Adams, whose creation of Watership Down opened up another magical world for my boy and me to enjoy together. 'We go by the will of the Black Rabbit. When he calls you, you have to go.'

RIP all.

Bye for now

Thanks for visiting the Paul Linford blog. This blog is now on hold for the time being for reasons I explain below.

1. The blog was originally spawned in a somewhat transitional period of my career between stepping down as political editor of The Journal, Newcastle, in August 2004 and becoming editor of HoldtheFrontPage in June 2008. During this period I was learning a lot about the internet but doing very little actual journalism, and I found the blog a useful outlet for my creative energies. Nowadays, all of these quite rightly go into my day job.

2. As I always suspected would happen, political blogging has fragmented into a small number of mega-blogs which have effectively become part of the mainstream media, and a much larger number of small blogs which receive very little traffic, interaction or attention from the political establishment. This is often no reflection on their quality, but it does have a fairly dispiriting effect as other political bloggers besides me have found.

The blog will remain online as an archive and - who knows? - may yet be resurrected in the future. But for now, it's goodbye.

Paul

Me, this blog, and Dale and Co

I started this blog in 2005 with no great ambitions for it other than to provide an outlet for my political writing which, at that time, was not afforded to me by my 'day job.'

I had left the parliamentary lobby the year before in order to pursue a different line of work and enjoy a better quality of life, and although I did not miss the lobby as such, I did miss being able to sound-off about the political events of the day.

To my surprise, the blog "took off" in a small way and for the first few years of its existence was regularly voted among the top 20 political blogs in the UK in Iain Dale's annual guide.

For a while, I thought it might even fill that much-talked-about left-of-centre "void" in a political blogosphere which, at the time, was dominated by three giant Conservative blogs - Iain Dale's Diary, Guido Fawkes and Conservative Home.

As it turned out, a number of factors militated against that, the biggest of which was that the mainstream media with their hugely superior resources swiftly got in on the blogging phenomenon.

Why bother reading what Paul Linford had to say about the latest Labour leadership crisis when you could read the views of people much closer to the action, such as Benedict Brogan or Paul Waugh?

Like many other 'lone' bloggers at the time, I also found the readers' appetites for constant updates - 'feeding the blog monster' as it became known - impossible to sustain.

And there were internal pressures within my then workplace too, something about which I will say more some day.

I kept the blog going, mainly because it still retained a small core of loyal readers and commenters (thanks, guys), and also to provide an online presence for my weekly column in The Journal, which otherwise only appeared in print.

But I had long since come to the view that the best outlet for my blogging in future would be to join a group blog where the burden of providing a constant stream of entertaining and informative new material could be shared with others.

For a while I contributed to Liberal Conspiracy, but although I am an economic leftist, I have always been a small-c conservative on social issues and it soon became clear to me that my views on such matters as abortion were not appreciated by my fellow group bloggers there.

Fortunately Iain Dale has now offered me another opportunity through his new, non-partisan megablog Dale and Co, and this is where my main political blogging will be done from now on.

My contributions at Dale and Co will be accessible at this page or via this RSS feed

So far I have contributed two pieces on Rupert Murdoch and the phone-hacking scandal - the latest one focusing why yesterday's House of Commons vote to curb his expansion plans was 30 years overdue - and another more reflective historical piece on whether a British Prime Minister will ever again serve two non-consecutive terms.

As for this blog, it will continue, with the strictly limited purposes of providing the following:

An online presence for my Saturday column.

A central reference point for my output across a variety of print and online platforms, including Dale and Co, Total Politics and The Journalism Hub.

An outlet for some occasional personal blogging which will not be of great interest to readers of those other platforms.

A readily accessible archive of my blogging output over the past six years, including my 'Political Top 10s' which continue to get pretty high Google rankings.

A series of links to sites which interest me and which may interest others of a like mind who drop by here.

To those who are interested in that sort of stuff, please continue to visit. To the rest of you, see you over at Dale and Co.

A fond farewell

An emotional day today as I travelled to North Wales to bid farewell to my former regional lobby friend and colleague Ian Craig. A sad occasion, for sure, but it was lovely to meet Ian's family and to see so many old faces from my Westminster days. The turnout at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Wrexham, which included one or two senior politicians as well as numerous Press Gallery figures past and present, was yet a further indication of the huge esteem in which Ian was held.

Remembering Ian Craig

Last Friday I received an email from an old friend in the Press Gallery informing me of the death of Ian Craig, until earlier this year the political editor of the Manchester Evening News. We have since covered this sad story on HoldtheFrontPage, while both the Evening News and the North-West media website How Do have also published lengthy pieces.

As will be seen from those links, the tributes have been led by no less a figure than Tony Blair, and whatever you think about the former Prime Minister, the fact that he has chosen to take time out from campaigning for the EU presidency to express his sorrow at Ian's sudden loss is a measure of the huge respect in which this great journalist was held.

For those that don't know, I worked in the same room as Ian for the whole of my nine years in the Lobby. Not only was he someone I was proud to call a friend, but he was a hugely important guiding influence on my career throughout my time there.

As his distinguished former editor Mike Unger has already said, Ian was quite simply one of the greatest political journalists of his generation, and proof if ever it were needed that not all the best lobby hacks are to be found on the nationals.

There was nothing that went on at Westminster that Ian didn't know about - often several days before it appeared in print or was broadcast on the airwaves. But more than that, as the comments on the various threads have shown, he was a true gentleman, whose personal kindness and courtesy towards colleagues and contacts alike were legendary.

I find myself in complete accord with the comments of his former MEN colleague Rodger Clark on HoldtheFrontPage: "You could not wish to meet a finer journalist or a finer gentleman. Ian will be sorely missed."

Ian was one of the people I hoped I would stay in touch with after I left the Lobby in the summer of 2004, and although I did have one last drink with him on a brief visit back there in May 2005, I hadn't seen him since then.

That's modern life I guess. Times change, and people move on. But I never forgot Ian, and I never will.

The Lost Albums of Paddy Mac

Something significant has happened to me this week, and I'm pleased to say it's nothing to do with David Cameron or Gordon Brown. After 17 years, one of my all-time favourite bands has released an album, originally written in 1992, that has been at the centre of one of the most enduring mysteries in the history of rock and pop.

I have had many musical passions over the years, Genesis, New Order, John Rutter and Sergey Rachmaninov among them, but no music has ever touched me quite like that of Paddy McAloon, who formed Prefab Sprout with his brother Martin, sometime girlfriend Wendy Smith and drummer Martin Salmon (later replaced by Neil Conti) in the late 1970s.

In the 80s and early 1990s their albums From Langley Park to Memphis and Jordan: The Comeback were rarely off my turntable for long, and friends who came to visit me at Number 13 around that time would invariably be forced to listen to them. Some of them even became fans themselves, although I doubt if they've still got the tapes I sent them.

And then, in about 1992, their once-prodigious output of wistful, brilliantly-crafted crafted pop songs came to an abrupt halt. Subsequently, the only new releases were the distinctly sub-standard Andromeda Heights in 1997, followed by the even more lacklustre The Gunman and Other Stories in 2001, while rumours persisted of a stack of unreleased albums languishing under Paddy's bed.

Which is where Let's Change the World With Music has presumably remained until last week, when it was finally released after a 17-year hiatus that has seen it assume legendary status among Sprout fans.

The reasons for the delay remain mysterious. In the sleeve notes to the new album, Paddy draws analogies with the Beach Boys' Smile, which went unreleased for nearly 30 years, and appears to take some of the responsibility for its non-appearance, saying: "Anyway, one day in May '93 we made a poor move."

But even though Paddy seems incredibly reluctant to point the finger at the record company, Sony, it seems likely that this is where the blame really lay, and my guess is that it will have had something to do with the overtly Christian nature of some of the songs - spritual blindness rather than tone deafness if you like.

Paddy's religious inclinations, previously only alluded to in lyrics such as "Don't you know who built Atlantis, and returned it to the sea, don't you know who owns the weather?," become much more in-your-face on Let's Change the World..... For example: "There was a baby in a stable, some say it was the Lord. Why if it's no more than a fable does it strike so deep a chord?"

It was obviously with a mixture of excitement and regret that I listened to the album for the first time this week. Back in the autumn of 1993, when it was originally scheduled to have been released, I was in the process of moving to a new job in Cardiff, and for my first few months down there I lived in a rather poky flat in the student bedsitland of Cathays. A new Sprout album would have brightened up that time no end.

But nevertheless, I feel blessed to have heard this lovely piece of music at long last, and although I don’t think I’ll ever love it quite as much as Langley Park or Jordan - ultimately, the songs you hear in your 20s are the ones that make you cry and the ones that save your life, as Morrissey said - it’s actually a more consistent album than either of those two.

I would certainly rank "Earth: The Story So Far" and "Music is a Princess" among their best-ever tunes, and I hope that the largely positive critical response to the LP - see the reviews in the Guardian, Times, BBC and Amazon - will encourage Paddy to raid his collection of lost albums at least one more time.

He is now in his 50s, partially blind, half-deaf, and with a grey beard of WG Graceian proportions that, together with his large dark glasses, obscures most of his weatherbeaten face, but wreck of a man that he seems on the outside, a musical genius still dwells within, and it seems inconceivable that we have heard the last of him.

In the midst of life....

Shortly after 9.30am on 3 August 2007, I held my new-born baby girl Clara Eloise in my arms for the first time.

It was one of the most joyous moments of my life, and ever since then my beautiful daughter has continued to delight all around her with her sunny personality and winning smile.

But we now know that on that very day, 130-odd miles away in North London, another father was having to cope with very different emotions.

On the day the evil killers of Baby Peter were finally jailed, the victim impact statement by the child's father makes somewhat harrowing reading.

Describing his arrival at the hospital he says: "I saw his little, limp body just laying there, naked except for a nappy. I could not believe what was happening, I could not believe that was my son.

"He appeared to be asleep and I just wanted to pick him up and take him home. There was nothing I could do for him … all I could do was kiss his forehead and say 'goodbye'. My son was gone forever."

"Having a boy meant the world to me, the thought of having a son to continue the family name was a source of great pleasure …He was such an adorable, lovely little boy, he loved to be cuddled and tickled, his laughter and smile could not help but make anyone in his presence feel happy."

"Like all fathers I had imagined watching my son grow up, playing football with him, taking him to see Arsenal play, watching him open his Christmas and birthday presents and just develop as a person. All that has been taken from me."

I would like to think that in the years to come, as I watch my own beloved child open her birthday presents every 3 August, I will spare a thought for that poor bereaved father.

This appalling case has stirred deep emotions in the hearts of millions, but for me, it has been a humbling reminder not just of the fragility and preciousness of human life, but of just how much I still have to be thankful for....

Preserved for posterity

I don't get as much time as I would like to update this blog these days, but by and large I'm pretty happy with what I've produced here over the past three years or so.

So when I was approached by the British Library to be part of its national web archiving project last year, I admit to having felt a great sense of satisfaction.

Snapshots of the blog have now been permanently archived at this page, while the blog is also listed in the Library's politics and blogs collections.

In theory this means my grandchildren in 50 years' time will be able to read the blog to find out what grandad was up to back in the Noughties. Assuming I am lucky enough to have any, of course, and provided the world doesn't end before then.

When I heard that the blog had been archived, I did give some fairly serious thought to knocking it on the head, and treating what has now been preserved for posterity as a completed body of work.

But quite apart from the fact that this would have amounted to a rather arbitrary cut-off point, I found myself thinking that if the blog ceased to exist, I would probably have to reinvent it.

As Iris Murdoch wrote in The Sea, The Sea: "Life, unlike art, has an irritating way of bumping and limping on, undoing conversions, casting doubts on solutions, and generally illustrating the impossibility of living happily or virtuously ever after."

And since this blog was never meant to be art, merely a reflection of what has been happening in British politics and in my own life since 2005, I figure it had better "bump on" for a while longer yet....

Sweet memories of '79

I bet you didn't think you'd see a headline like that today from a left-of-centre blogger. But just as 1979 turned out to be a seminal year in British politics, so was it a seminal year for yours truly, though for different reasons I hasten I add!

I was 16 at the time Margaret Thatcher came to power, and irrespective of what was going on in the world of politics, it was a great time to be alive.

I didn't of course vote in the general election, and neither did my parents, or at least not in persons. In fact they sent in postal votes as they were on holiday in California, having left me in charge of the house for three weeks.

I spent most of those three weeks revising for my O-levels, but I also found time to learn how to cook my own meals - the first flickerings of a love affair that has lasted ever since - and to watch a lot of snooker, the World Championships in Sheffield being then, as now, the main sporting interest on telly at that time of year.

It was the year of one of the sport's great fairytales - Terry Griffiths' amazing run from the qualifiers to the championship trophy, the first time this feat had been achieved. With no mum and dad around to send me off to bed, and with dad's bottle of Scotch providing liquid sustenance, I stayed up till 2.40am to watch the conclusion of Griffiths' epic semi-final encounter with Eddie Charlton, and hear him tell David Vine afterwards: "I'm in the final now, you know" in that lilting Welsh accent.

Later that year, I fell in love for the first time, something about which I'd love to write more, but I'm not Nick Hornby, and three decades on, it would be unfair to the lady in question.

And Thatcher? Well, I guess her coming to power did play a part in my political education. Up until then, I would probably have classed myself as an apathetic Tory, but it was only after seeing the impact of her policies on the country and the divisive nature of her rule that I realised where I really stood on the political spectrum.

There will doubtless be a great deal of bollocks talked over the next 48 hours about how Thatcher "saved Britain." To my mind, there is just as convincing a case to be made that in fact she ruined it, and since we may now be reaching the end of the neo-liberal consensus which she ushered in, I think it's important that this counter-argument is heard.

Neil Clark makes the case well in an article in The First Post, arguing that Britain had created a contented society that had managed to get the balance right between work, leisure and remuneration, contrasting it positively with the anxiety-ridden, job-insecure society of today.

He's right. Britain in the 70s wasn't all that bad a place to be really. And having grown up there, I think I'm in as good a position to know as anyone.

Ten more firsts

I thought the list of firsts which Iain Dale tagged me to fill-in on Monday left out one or two key rites-of-passage, so here are a few more. I won't tag Iain to do the same though....

First conscious memory of a news event
The Aberfan disaster, 1966.

First school
Elmgrove Infants, in Harrow.

First part in a school play
As "Wiz the Wizard" in the Elmgrove panto in 1968 or 69.

First time in hospital
December 1970, to have my tonsils out. It was at Charing Cross hospital - the old one that was right in the middle of Central London.

First pet
A goldfish called Highfield that was duly eaten by the cat.

First footballing hero
Peter Lorimer

First love
Her name also began with a J, but it wasn't the same one.

First drink in a pub
The Market Tavern, Hitchin, on Friday night after choir practice, sometime in 1977.

First time refused service in a pub
New Year's Eve 1983. I was well over-age by then, but two of the people I was with looked younger.

First run-in with the law
Sometime in the early 80s, for relieving myself outside St Mary's in the early hours of Christmas Day after attending Midnight Mass. I won't name the former Hitchin Boys' School head boy who was with me.

The twenty firsts meme

Mr Dale has tagged me to complete something called the "Twenty Firsts Meme" and since this seems like a chance to take a bit of a trip down memory lane, I'm happy to oblige.

First Job
Working behind the counter at the Barracuda fish and chip shop, Hitchin, on a Saturday. It was, as they say, a good way to meet people.

First Real Job
Trainee reporter on the Mansfield Chad 1986-8

First Role in Politics
Administration and Finance Officer of UCL Student Union 1983-84. The first, and only time, I have ever stood for elected office.

First Car
Fiat Uno.

First Record
The Pushbike Song by The Mixtures. Look, I was nine, okay?

First Football Match
Arsenal v Leicester City at Highbury, with my late uncle Eric, sometime in the 1972-73 season.

First Concert
Genesis at the NEC, 22 December 1981.

First Country Visited
Holland, on a school trip, in 1976. We had to go through Belgium to get there, of course.

First TV Appearance
Songs of Praise in 1978. St Mary's, Hitchin, was featured in the programme and I was in the choir.

First Political Speech
Probably in about 1981 or 1982 at the UCL students union, but I can't remember what it was about.

First Girlfriend/Boyfriend
Her name began with J, but I am certainly not going to be any more specific than that on a public website.

First Encounter with a Famous Person
We were having a family meal at a Hertfordshire restaurant some time in 1971/72 when Eric Morecambe came and sat at the next table.

First Brush With Death
Nearly drowning in the sea off the south coast of France while on holiday there in 1984.

First House/Flat Owned
It was in Sycamore Avenue, Kirkby-in-Ashfield, Notts. I moved in on what must have been the hottest day of 1987.

First Film Seen at a Cinema
The Jungle Book.

First Time on the Radio
Discussing the resignation of David Bookbinder as leader of Derbyshire County Council on GMR (Greater Manchester Radio) in 1992. I was the local government correspondent of the Derby Evening Telegraph at the time.

First Politician I Met
I think this was possibly Willie Whitelaw, during a campaign visit to Hitchin in the '79 general election.

First Book I Remember Reading
I don't remember!

First Visit to the London Palladium
Never been.

First Election
Other than the student union election referred to above, I have never played an active role in any election of any kind.

I am supposed to tag five others, and although I don't believe there should be any compulsion attached to this, I gently and respectfully suggest the names of: Barnacle Bill, Little Man in a Toque, Mars Hill, Party Political Animal - either one - and View from the North.

A debt of honour

A few months' back, I ran into a former boss of mine at the Society of Editors' Conference in Bristol. After reminiscing for a few minutes about old times and old colleagues, he offered up the following interesting observation on my career: "You've worked for some pretty nasty people in your time, haven't you?"

He had a point, but thankfully, they've not all been like that, and it was a source of huge pleasure that today, 23 years after he gave me my start in journalism, it fell to me as publisher of HoldtheFrontPage to pen a parting tribute to my first editor, Jeremy Plews.

Jeremy is standing down as editor of the Mansfield Chad later this month after an amazing 36 years in charge. Although I hedged my bets somewhat in the story, I am quite sure he must be the longest-serving editor in the UK and quite possibly the longest-serving since WW2.

He told me with typical generosity that "the best aspect of the job over the years was being able to give a first break to so many youngsters, and the satisfaction gained from seeing many of them go on to success elsewhere." I feel genuinely privileged to have been one of those.

When I was plotting my route into journalism, I never expected to start my career in a place like Mansfield, in the bitter aftermath of the miners' strike and in the midst of the inexorable demise of the Nottinghamshire coal industry. But looking back, I'm bloody glad I did.

Quite apart from all the friends I made in that part of the world - two of whom are now godparents to my son - it was the best damned training I could possibly have wished for on the best damned weekly newspaper in the country. Thanks Jeremy.

Happy Christmas Everyone

Find him at Bethlehem laid in a manger,
Christ our Redeemer asleep in the hay.
Godhead incarnate and hope of salvation,
A child with his mother that first Christmas Day.

Candlelight, angel light, firelight and starglow
Shine on his cradle till breaking of dawn.
Gloria, gloria in excelsis Deo!
Angels are singing, the Christ child is born.

Candlelight Carol, John Rutter

A very Happy Christmas to all readers of this blog.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 1

1. Candlelight Carol: John Rutter

And so my Top 10 concludes with what is surely Rutter's most sublime Christmas work. "Candlelight, angel light, firelight and starglow" - both the words and the music have a magical quality to them which for me capture the very essence of this most wonderful time of the year.

There's only one person I can dedicate this choice to, and that is the person who first played me this beautiful piece of music ten years ago. Back then we had only been going out for a few months, but we've now been married for more than seven years. To my wife Gillian - Happy Christmas, and thanks.



The full list of my Top 10 Christmas Carols can be seen HERE.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 2

2. Nativity Carol: John Rutter

Unsurprisingly, Rutter bags the top two places on my list. This gently flowing piece was one of his very earliest compositions back in the 1960s and for many years rated as my favourite carol, until the great man came up with something even more lovely in the 1980s.

Although not especially musical herself, the person who really gave me my love of Christmas music was the person who gave me my love of Christmas - my mum. This carol is duly dedicated to her, with thanks for having always made our Christmases so special.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 3

3. A Spotless Rose: Herbert Howells

Herbert Howells is in my view the most under-rated British composer of the 20th century. As well as this wondrous carol and a host of other works he also wrote the stirring tune to my favourite hymn, All My Hope on God is Founded.

A Spotless Rose is dedicated to Peter Noyce, who took over from Colin Howard as St Mary's choirmaster in 1979 and who worshipped Howells with something approaching reverence. At one choir practice he described the end of this carol as "probably the greatest single bar of music ever written." I wouldn't quite go that far, but I know what he means.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 4

4. The Shepherd's Farewell: Hector Berlioz

Part of the oratorio L'Enfance du Christ, this is another French composition that has become an essential part of the English choral repertoire. The composer, Berlioz, was operating at the height of the romantic era and the piece has a rather other-worldly feel I have always loved.

This carol was a favourite of my dad's in the days when he used to come along and hear the choir at Nine Lessons on Christmas Eve. Today would also have been his 81st birthday, so this one is dedicated to his memory.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 5

5. Mary's Lullaby: John Rutter

Into the top five, and another John Rutter classic, notable for having been written in the space of a single evening in order to fill a three and a half minute gap at the end of a BBC documentary about a choir he was involved with at the time. I think the basses are way too loud in this recording - it is a lullaby after all - but it was the best one I could find.

This carol, which ends with the words "Lullaby my little baby," did not mean a lot to me until I had children of my own, so this choice is dedicated to my babies - George and Clara.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 6

6. Quelle Est Cette Odeur Agreable: Trad French

For the benefit of non-linguists, this translates as "Whence is that goodly fragrance?" and can be sung in either language. I particularly like the French version though, partly for the reasons I explain below.

This carol is dedicated to Phil Parkinson, a French and German teacher at my old school who was also a member of St Mary's choir. As our resident modern languages expert, Colin Howard enlisted Phil to teach us to sing the carol in French. David Agg and Jeffrey Gray were two of the senior choristers of the time and Phil caused great hilarity by pointing out that the word "agreable" contained not one, but both their surnames. There was no way we would mispronounce it after that.

My Top 10 Christmas Carols: No 7

7. O Little One Sweet - J.S. Bach

Although the main focus of my Top 10 carol selection is on English choral music, it would be impossible to leave Bach out of the list, such was his influence on the English church music canon. The vocal harmonies in this short carol are as close to musical perfection as anyone has ever come. The best recording I could find of it is in the original German - O Jesulein Suess. It's a little quiet so you may have to turn up the volume on your PCs.

I am dedicating this to my father-in-law, Neil Broome, who loves this kind of music and regularly gets the family to sing it round the piano at Christmas.