Taking Candy From A Dog

Last night I went to a book signing by an old mate of mine who writes under the name of Vic Templar. The book is called Taking Candy From A Dog and is available from Blackheath Books. Vic describes it as "Tales of football, picnics, cats, holidays, rabies, ghosts, skeletons, George Best, Father Christmas, punk rock, moth rescue, starling execution, ant holocaust, emu puppets and being winked at by strangers".

From what I've read and heard so far, the book goes way beyond the usual reminiscences about Spangles and Chopper bikes and straight to the heart of formative experiences and relationships. And it mentions Dracula ice lollies, which were black on the outside with red jelly in the middle.

The launch itself had Vic reading from the book with a backdrop of old family photos, and a wonderful moment where he played a recording of his grandad talking about how he met his nan. There was also an excellent film of  Super 8 moments from family life in the Seventies which you must see here.

Later on, in a pub garden up the road, Vic and I chatted about the film. It features scenes from a silver jubilee street party in 1977 on what must have been the coldest June day ever, shot in the Chatham street where my nan used to live before I can even remember anything and where my mum was born. I explained that my first memory of being at my nan's was from the early Seventies, at the newsagents that she owned and ran until the late Eighties. It turns out that Vic was a paper boy there between 1981 and 1983, and that my grandad gets a mention in the book for being a daft old sod and giving kids too much change when they bought sweets.

My nan, who is 90, will undoubtedly remember Vic when I mention him (omitting, of course, to mention the "daft old sod" bit). I think I'll phone her later today.