The Shows That Never End

I have just finished binge-watching Altered Carbon on Netflix, the series based on the 2002 book of the same name by Richard Morgan. I read the book -  which won the Philip K. Dick Award for Best Novel in 2003 - shortly after it was published and loved it. I thoroughly enjoyed the TV show too, but with the passage of time, I have no idea how faithfully it matches the book, although, from a little judicious Googling to refresh my memory and answer some questions I had from watching the show, there are a few differences that I now know of - some minor, some not so.

Adapting books into TV shows or films frequently divides the fans of the originals; we must all have watched shows that differ so wildly from the books that we loved, that - original title and main character apart - they might be completely different stories. Or - and this can be just as frustrating - there are minor changes that seem to have little justification and achieve nothing more than infuriating the viewer. Sometimes we may accept these changes, or at least grudgingly recognise the necessity of them, sometimes not. And if we read the book after watching the TV show, it can be easier to simply acknowledge the differences between the screen and print versions, and while sometimes I question why they were necessary, find them less irksome.

In direct contrast to Altered Carbon, I watched the BBC adaptation of  China Miéville's The City and the City, before I read the book, and although  I could see a few differences - lead character Tyador Borlú seemed to have acquired a wife in the TV show- missing and shown in flashbacks - who was absent in the books, while one of the characters changed gender for no discernible reason - these are minor cavils. One virtue of the BBC adaptation, however, was the fact that the story was not embellished to extend to more than the four episodes that were all that were required to tell the story. Mind you, if the BBC ever get round to adapting Miéville's Perdido Street Station that might be a different story.

One of the major problems that I have - and I know many people feel this way - when watching a TV adaptation of a book is that all too often the characters I have imagined do not match the actor who plays them. Recently, the best example of this was in the TV version of Stephen King's 11.22.63, where I could not for the life of me have any empathy with the character of Jake Epping/James Amberson as played by James Franco, a much less sympathetic version of the character from the novel.

I couldn't warm to James Franco in the lead role of the TV version of Stephen King's best-seller

But, as tiresome as the issues of seemingly inexplicable plot changes or of actors who seem out of kilter with the part may be, my biggest bugbear with TV shows - and this does not apply solely to adaptations of books - is the fact that the producers sometimes seem not to know when to stop. Apparently, Altered Carbon could run to five series - plausible in that the novel has two sequels (Broken Angels and Woken Furies) - but I am not sure that I have the stamina to invest the time or engagement with another of those shows that seemingly never ends. I appreciate that once TV production companies have hit upon a winning formula they are loath to call time - a series like Altered Carbon is likely to be pretty expensive, so clearly a good return on investment is desirable - but sometimes I have to give up on series because frankly, there looks like no end in sight; or at least not one that is satisfactory.

Two series that fall into that category have been Gotham, and Westworld. I confess to a weakness for the Batman story and watched the first two series of Gotham avidly on Channel 5, but after what seemed like an interminable wait for Series Three, found that E4 had started showing the fourth series, with the third available only on Netflix. Frankly, I don't have the patience to troll through the forty-four episodes I would need to catch up on before series five; even less so since the producers have intimated that season five would be far from the last. Similarly, Westworld. The first series was decent enough, but when I learned that not only would there be a second series, but likely a further three after that, I lost interest. Too often with these sorts of shows, what should be a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end turns into an endless soap opera, where rather than propel the narrative along, too many episodes take detours down scenic but pointless byways.

Another reason for me ditching Westworld is that it airs on Sky Atlantic; I watched the first series on our Now TV box, but we have since got Virgin Media, and they don't broadcast Sky Atlantic. So, I could renew my Now TV subscription to get Westworld, but it is the thin end of the wedge, because what about those shows that I want to watch that are on Amazon Prime, or any other provider? I really wanted to see The Man In The High Castle, the adaptation of the Philip K Dick novel, but apart from having to subscribe to Amazon Prime, I now see that that has run into multiple series - another show with potentially no end then, so ultimately I am glad I didn't succumb - and so is my bank balance.

While I've been complaining about the series that outstay their welcomes, the ones that seem incapable of coming to a conclusion, there are the shows that are the polar opposite; the ones that end abruptly. These are the shows that conclude the first - or sometimes the second - season on a cliff-hanger, but then get cancelled, usually due to poor ratings; shows like Journeyman, about a time travelling newspaper reporter, or Moonlight (vampire private detective). Then there is Timeless, another time-travel show that ended series one on a cliff-hanger, got cancelled and then recommissioned, but ended series two on another cliff-hanger and now apparently has no chance of making it to series three, albeit that a one-off wrap up episode may be in the offing.

Timeless was enjoyable hokum, but with no third series in sight, the
somewhat meandering second season still ended on a cliff-hanger.

The way we consume television has changed greatly in recent years with the growth in the number of subscription channels and the streaming services that provide a greater variety of programmes and flexibility in how we watch them. Unfortunately, the shows I want to watch are increasingly being spread over a range of different providers; I think that I pay enough as it is, I have no intention of paying more for a plethora of different cable companies and streaming services, only to be frustrated by shows that are terminated prematurely or plod on flabbily for years on end with no conclusion in sight.

All of this is, of course the very definition of a first world problem, and it isn't so many years since the only TV available was broadcast by the three terrestrial channels, BBC1, BBC2, and ITV - we complained then that there was little enough on - but while the increase in the number of channels has resulted in a number of new shows that I want to watch, they are spread pretty thinly across all of the channels and providers, which probably explains why I  often find myself watching repeats of QI on Dave.

England's Glass Is Half Full

As World Cups go, Russia 2018 will be regarded as one of the better tournaments; perhaps not the best of all time, but certainly better than a lot of people would have given it credit for before it kicked off. Prior to the competition, I had my misgivings. Fears of unrest at the tournament (football in Russia has a reputation for terrace violence and racism) and the underwhelming performances of the England national team at recent tournaments were just two of them. The poisoning of former Russian military intelligence officer and double agent,  Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia in Salisbury in March this year (regardless of who was actually to blame) and the ensuing exchanges that saw Russian diplomats expelled from the UK, and British diplomats banished from Moscow, led to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office urging travelling fans to be wary of “anti-British sentiment”.

But from what the media reported, it seems that there was little, if any trouble in Russia this year, and it does seem that the 2018 World Cup was a remarkably fan-friendly tournament. Footage from inside the stadiums seems to support the view that the fans were extremely well behaved and the organisation efficient (apart from the presentation of the trophy to France after the final which, to put it politely, was a bit of a shambles).

Overall the standard of refereeing at these finals seemed pretty decent as well, albeit that in the early group games it appeared that all of the officials had developed a total inability to spot the adoption of all-in wrestling by teams when defending corner kicks. Serbia were denied what most observers considered to be the most blatant penalty in the history of the game when Aleksandar Mitrovic was pulled to the ground by not one, but two Swiss defenders, while in England's opener against Tunisia, Harry Kane was repeatedly tugged to the floor without the reward of a spot kick. And it isn't as though the referees were not seeing these incidents - they clearly were - but equally clearly were choosing not to penalise the offences. Fortunately, this subsequently changed with later games seeing defenders rightly penalised for holding and rugby tackling forwards.

The use of the Video Assistant Referee system (VAR) in this World Cup opened a whole new Pandora's Box of problems. The principle of VAR is pretty sound, and while in the past I've felt that the Laws of The Game ought not to differentiate between a World Cup Final and a game on Hackney Marshes, I'll now accept that VAR has its place in the game at its highest levels. But the problem with VAR is neither the idea nor the technology, but the people who administer it, either in the booth or on the pitch. Once VAR has been invoked and offered the referee a chance to review their decision, there must always be an element of doubt creeping into their mind such that it is more likely than not that they will reverse their original decision regardless of whether they were right first time (and often, they were); it's human nature to let doubts creep in once you've been told to look at something again.

Referee Enrique Caceres studies the monitor as VAR comes into play in the Portugal v Iran game. Photo:Maja Hitij/FIFA via Getty Images

The normal tub-thumping jingoism that accompanies England at major tournaments was mercifully absent this year. Optimism surged once the Quarter-Finals were reached and won,  and understandably so, after all, England won two knock-out matches in Russia, their best return for many a year. Before this competition England had been victorious in just six knock-out matches at major tournaments since 1966; the last time England triumphed in a game beyond the group stages was against Ecuador in 1996.

I was as cynical as anyone when 'England's DNA' - a sort of footballing methodology and consistency of style and approach across the national side at all age levels - was announced in 2014, but it seems to be bearing fruit, since in June 2017 England's Under-20’s won both the Toulon Tournament and the World Cup and with different squads at each tournament. Later that same month the Under-21s reached the semi-finals of the European Championships before losing on penalties to Germany. In July, the Under-19s won the European Championships after beating Portugal in the final, and then in October, the Under-17 side won the World Cup, coming from 2-0 down to beat Spain 5-2 in the Final. Maybe, if players advance through the ranks to the full England side, playing a similar style of football throughout their progression, the national side will start to perform more consistently and more importantly, more effectively.

Sam Allardyce losing the England manager's job for allegedly giving advice on how to circumvent the FA’s rules on third-party ownership may have turned out to be a blessing in disguise. One can imagine that Sam's squad would have relied heavily on the usual suspects - Wayne Rooney, Joe Hart, Jack Wilshere et al, whereas Gareth Southgate was prepared to give younger players a chance, and to a large degree, was vindicated for doing so.

Gareth Southgate's team selection and air of calm professionalism won him many fans at the World Cup.

In recent years my interest in World Cups has waned somewhat, but I watched more of this tournament than I anticipated - viewer friendly kick-off times helped. I especially enjoyed the Portugal - Spain, France - Argentina, and Belgium - Japan games, and managed to see most of England's games. The Quarter-Final against Sweden proved a challenge, however, as Val and I had tickets for BBC World Book Club with Hilary Mantel (author of Wolf Hall) on the same day, and with me being slated to ask a question (as it happens, it was cut because time ran out) it was difficult not to attend. BBC World Book Club over-ran slightly, so the game had been going for fifteen minutes by the time we emerged from the event. Fortunately, the wi-fi at The Southbank Centre came to the rescue and we watched the game on my iPad.

Hilary Mantel at BBC World Book Club...

 

...followed by England v Sweden

But the Semi-Final against Croatia presented me with a big, big dilemma. Back in January, I booked a ticket to see one of my favourite bands, Big Big Train in concert on 11th July, not realising that it was the date of one of the Semi-Finals. Frankly, even had I known that I would probably still have booked a ticket, after all, what were the chances that England would be playing? As the competition unfolded, it was clear that I could have a choice to make, and after the Sweden game that I definitely had a choice to make. With the gig being in Basingstoke (a two-and-a-bit hour drive from home) while England were featuring in the last four of the World Cup for only the third time in my lifetime, you could say that I was conflicted. In the end, I chose Big Big Train and was glad I did as they were brilliant. Staying at home to watch the game would have been frustrating, stressful and inevitably made me wish I'd gone to Basingstoke.

Big Big Train in Basingstoke proved to be a wise choice.

One swallow doesn't make a summer, and hopes for England's chances in Euro 2020, and the 2022 World Cup need to be tempered with a sense of realism, but it seems only reasonable for the optimist to believe that for once, England's glass is half-full.

A Midland Odyssey Part Twelve - Spanish Pesetas and Travellers Cheques

Every year, as the end of July approaches, I inevitably think back to my days as Foreign Clerk at Midland Bank in Barking during the 1980's, and the panic that set in as the Fords shutdown approached. Factory shutdowns in the summer have long been a characteristic of manufacturing industries, and with Ford having a major plant just down the road at Dagenham, the end of July - beginning of August period would see literally thousands of residents of Barking and Dagenham simultaneously on holiday. As many as 40,000 people worked at Ford's in 1953, and although this number has steadily fallen over the years - to just over 3,000 today - as recently as the 1980's Fords were a major employer in the Barking and Dagenham area.

Ford's plant at Dagenham. Picture: Lars Plougmann - Flickr: 164945157

So, each July, as the end of the month edged closer, thousands of Fords employees began contemplating their fortnight on one of the Spanish Costas, or one of the Greek islands and that meant picking up their Pesetas, or Drachmas, and their Travellers Cheques. And whereas today it's possible to just wander into a bank, or bureaux de change, travel agents, or the Post Office and buy your currency over the counter, back then at Barking branch we were not allowed to hold stocks of currency and therefore most customers wanting their foreign money had to order it in advance.  The plus side of this as far as I was concerned was that I knew for any given day, how many foreign money orders I would have to make up; the downside was that I knew exactly how busy and increasingly frazzled I would be on those days, and inevitably it was Fridays that most customers seemed to want to collect their orders.

Each morning during the summer months, one of my first tasks would be to make up the travel orders before we opened for business at 9.30am, but no matter whether there were twenty orders, or just five or six, it was inevitable that the customers who arrived for their travel money first were the ones whose orders had not yet been made up, while those orders where the cash had been counted, the Sterling equivalent calculated and all of the vouchering completed, would lie in the dual-control drawer until sometime in the afternoon. And handing out that currency was a time consuming job too, since in addition to their cash, most customers bought travellers cheques which I had to watch as they signed them, and then run through my customary patter about keeping the receipt separate from the cheques so that in the event of their loss or theft, they had a record of the serial numbers for any insurance claim.

One year I decided to take holiday during this particularly busy time, and my good friend and colleague Keith Markham was moved from his normal role on the Securities desk to cover me. I think that the trauma of stays with him still, as he often mentions the experience when we meet up. While he may have forgiven me, he certainly hasn't forgotten!

Today, if you go into a bureau de change to buy your foreign currency, you will be served by someone with a computer in front of them, and your receipt will be printed out complete with currency amount, exchange rate, Sterling equivalent and commission amount (if any). In my technologically impoverished day, the conversion was performed on a calculator and the customer's copy and associated accounting vouchers were written out by hand, and also unlike today, each transaction attracted commission. I very much doubt there are many places that charge commission charged today, but it was the norm in the 1980's. But that doesn't necessarily mean today's travellers aren't paying commission, it's just that today the rates are loaded to account for it, and the spread (between buying and selling rates) is much larger.

Those exchange rates today are usually on view in banks and other exchanges in some form of digital display, but they weren't in Midland Bank, Barking circa 1985,! In the banking hall there was a light box with the names of the various currencies that we bought and sold on it, with columns showing the rates - buying and selling - for notes and coins (although in practice we rarely, if ever dealt with coins) and for cheques. And each morning I would stick little plastic numbers on that light box in accordance with the rate sheet that had arrived in the Head Office Letter that day. In theory, when an exchange rate update was advised during the day, I would have to go out and amend the display, and also change the calculation on any unsold orders. In practice, this was observed in the breach unless the rate in question had moved dramatically, and dramatically enough to get me out there would be if someone had devalued their currency! The rates were rarely accurate anyway, due to the propensity for those plastic numbers to drop off the shiny surface of the light box; the only way to have any chance of them adhering was to dab them with saliva, not the most wholesome of practices!

It wasn't just the sale and purchase of foreign currency that was labour intensive in 1980's branch banking. While Midland Bank had moved away from the iconic Burroughs TC-500 computer terminal to the rather slicker Nixdorf machines, on the foreign desk the pen, calculator, books of record and the typewriter still reigned supreme, and the typewriter on the foreign desk was especially busy. There were Credit and Debit Advices galore to be typed, with one customer - a record exporter - receiving numerous payments from overseas during the day, which printed from the Nixdorf terminal and had to be transposed onto a Credit Advice and sent out in the mail. And that same customer issued numerous Foreign Bills for Collection, the forms for processing which were seven-part monsters that necessitated the use of six pieces of carbon paper to complete. It goes without saying that typing using that amount of carbon paper required quite a heavy touch to make sure that the seventh copy (the one retained in the Branch) was legible, but also required an accurate touch as corrections were a total nightmare!

It seemed in those days that almost everything one did had to be recorded in a book, whether it was foreign currency transactions, issuing travellers cheques, processing payments, or processing bills; just about everything had its own book or ledger. And those books stood on a shelf in front of me, the face of which was plastered with stickers on which I had typed the addresses of customers and account numbers of the accounts I used most frequently. It would not be allowed today of course, data protection regulations would put paid to that time-saving hack - actually I'm not even sure I ought to have done it even thirty years ago, and I'm vaguely aware of some point in time when I was required to remove them all to avoid bringing down the wrath of the inspectors.

I can't find a picture of Midland Bank, Barking so here it is in later years rebranded HSBC.

I spent five and a bit very happy years at Midland in Barking; when I started there I knew only a little about foreign work - a job that became my favourite and shaped the rest of my time in the bank - by the time I left I wouldn't say I was an expert, but I certainly knew a bit about virtually everything, and I had the task of making up foreign money orders down to a fine art.