Valentina's Kiosk

Steve Rosenberg, the BBC's Russian Editor, has lived in Moscow for over a quarter of a century. He not only talks to politicians (he's interviewed government officials, oligarchs, (former?) mobsters, even billionaire owners of English football clubs - Rosenberg is the only Brit granted access to Putin's interminable press conferences - but his stock in trade is talking to regular Joes (Joeskis?) on the street about what it's like to live in the largest country in the world and who are definitely not at war with Ukraine. Taking the pulse of this Eastern European behemoth whose land mass covers 11 time zones is not easy as every word is, potentially, being evesdropped and could land interviewer and or interviewee in the Gulag. Or worse. 

Steve was the guest on the latest The Rest is Politics 'Leading' podcast and it was towards the end of this fascinating conversation with Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart that Steve told listeners about the woman in the kiosk he'd been buying his newspapers from for the last 25 years. Valentina has lived in the city all her life and two years ago, in her late sixties, was diagnosed with cancer. Steve had filmed a lot of their conversations (with Valentina's consent) and would post them on YouTube. Valentina  then left Moscow to receive treatment and Steve wrote a song for her (he's an excellent pianist); the story was then picked up by a member of the BBC singers who'd followed her story on YouTube. They and Steve have now turned it into a beautiful piece of music. Listen to the end of the podcast to see how it landed with Valentina. In the meantime, here is Steve Rosenberg with the BBC Singers and 'Valentina's Kiosk'.

A panther that is positively pink

If I was to say Pink Panther what's the first thing that comes into your mind? A priceless diamond? A bumbling French detective? Peter Sellers? Henry Mancini? A panther pink from head to toe? Or maybe all of the above? 

The Pink Panther film and animation franchise begat by Blake Edwards in 1963 threw up (courtesy of the aforementioned Mr. Mancini) one of the most memorable film scores ever. We can all recognise the iconic tune after hearing just the first four notes; that's because it's hard wired into our brains. Another name you could have thrown into the mix is Tubby Hayes. Legendary UK jazzer Edward Brian Hayes, whilst not present on the original recording (the lead sax part you hear in the film was played by the American musician Plas Johnson), did play it live on UK TV in 1964 with the Henry Mancini Orchestra and, as they say, made it his own. The whole performance (all three minutes, ten seconds of it) is, I hope you'll agree, a thing of  beauty.

Henry Mancini (1924-1994)

Peter Sellers (1925-1980)

Tubby Hayes (1935-1973)

On message

Unless you live in the middle of nowhere you'll never really experience true darkness. Light pollution is everywhere seemingly. Tho' we did struggle walking back from the pub to our Devon digs recently. I wouldn't have lasted five minutes in the War. When we were fighting The Hun a blackout meant just that: no streetlights, no torches, no escaping light from any building was allowed whatsoever. You'd have had the ARP Warden, Mr. Hodges, on your case faster than you could say Dad's Army. Lucky then, that we had London Transport on hand to dispense some sage advice. The above sign was part of a raft of information the government were putting out there to help the war effort. I'm not a war historian but I do enjoy reading about the social history of the period and in particular the messaging (some may say propaganda) that was prevalent at the time. The Bright/Dark poster jumped out at me in a book I'm currently reading about the history of the London Transport roundel. More to follow, but not, as I say, in a World at War type way. Put that light out!

Drinking from the cup of Bob Knob

One of the reasons I stepped away from my local book club was because I found it was taking up time I then no longer had to read my own, ever increasing, pile of books. The phrase too many books, too little time has certainly never been truer; though as I'm currently on gardening leave I should be able to rattle through some of the backlog.

At the moment I'm engrossed in The Long Shoe by Bob Mortimer. It's the second of his that I've tackled (The Satsuma Complex being the first) and am loving the reading experience it affords me. Let's face it, story lines about blokes in shiny suits who sell taps for a living are never going to disappoint.

Surprise Chef - Drinking From the Cup of Bob Knob (2019)

It's like a maze: it just goes on and on

I saw Backrooms last week. What a film. James had already seen it a couple of days earlier and said ''It's made for you, dad.'' It's a horror movie but not in a gratuitous kind of way. It's a liminal exploration into what defines memory and feelings of isolation - all mixed with a side helping of full-on creepiness. OK, if I had only 10 words to describe it to you - imagine walking into a maze you can never escape from. I watched it on my own in a room full of strangers and none of us barely exhaled, let alone coughed or rustled a crisp packet; a more reverential audience you'd struggle to find. In fact so intense was the experience I couldn't believe that we'd all sat transfixed for an hour and forty five minutes making zero noise. Catch it if you can.

Backrooms - Trailer (2026)