The new Top Gear - did they pull it off?

Here are my personal observations concerning the new series of BBC2's Top Gear.

In brief: it was very similar in format to its predecessors, but distinctly more grown-up. There were still wacky stunts and challenges, but the schoolboy banter had gone. So too had the crassness, petulance, grumpiness, and plain bad attitude that had marred most of the previous series. Chris Evans and Matt LeBlanc were possibly not so 'characterful' as the three men they had replaced as presenters, and they were clearly avoiding all controversy. Nevertheless, they exuded enthusiasm, driving competence and good humour. There was an easy rivalry between them, of the 'Britain versus America' sort. I don't remember any mention of Germans. Nor any other nationality. Certainly no provocative sneering. I found myself enjoying the programme, and laughing a lot. So if you like exotic cars, and fast driving, and enjoyable challenges, all straightforwardly and entertainingly presented, then watch this programme. It's been cleaned up - but it's still exciting. The prime focus is at last back on the cars, and not on three over-competitive egos.

I was however a bit concerned about whether Chris Evans would wobble. I knew he was a seasoned presenter, but had never watched him on TV, nor listened to him on the radio. I'd only heard about him when he had hit the news. It was very interesting to see his first interactions with that audience in the hanger at Dunsfold - yes it was all exactly as before! - and how they seemed to react to him. These were the first Chris Evans close-ups:

Hmm. A touch of nervousness? Look at those hands clasped together. But he soon got into his stride.

 

The man in the black leather jacket is co-presenter Matt LeBlanc, who initially sashayed on with aplomb...

But following this entrance, I thought he seemed a bit overwhelmed by the all-British and very close-up hanger audience. But he too got into his stride.

It's fair to examine the audience. I think they were full of goodwill, and plainly wanted Chris and Matt to do well:

Were they hand-picked? Who knows. There did seem to be a greater age-group spread than I'd noticed before, and more wives and girlfriends. But maybe that simply reflects the wide appeal of this programme. It's TV entertainment first and foremost, and not really a niche motoring-sport show.

I had hoped for a proper female presenter too, but Sabine Schmitz appeared only in a filmed muscle-car challenge, as one of the drivers. Here she is, at the wheel of a Chevrolet Corvette 206:

She's a racing driver first, so perhaps studio work isn't her thing.

The Stig was back. As handsome as ever, but a toned-down, Joe Cool Stig who actually seemed to understand what was going on, and to use a bit of intelligence. Here he is getting top speed out of a Dodge Viper ACR:

And here he is later on, holding steady a big truck into the back of which Matt will propel his car using ramps that The Stig lets down for the purpose, thereby letting Matt escape from a chasing motorbike rider:

The Stig is obviously enjoying his new role as an A-Team hero, a reformed character capable of Shakespearean subtlety.

So what else? The Stig's racetrack performance was - as it always has been - put up on a board. Not a new board. The same old one. So there was continuity.

The 'Star in a Reasonably-Priced Car' showed some development. Chris (sans Matt) had two stars for this first programme, not just one: Gordon Ramsay and Jesse Eisenberg. I'd never heard of the latter, who is an actor. Gordon Ramsay is the short-fused celebrity chef, whom I'd heard of but never watched. (That's no insult - I never watch anyone who is meant to be well-known). They sat on the same old car seats:

Chris asked them some new stuff: What was their first car? What was their best car ever? And when they got behind the wheel it wasn't a cheap and boring Korean saloon, but a snazzy Mini-Cooper. And there was a muddy 'Dirt Section' to drive through. That was rather entertaining!

There were several films. The first involved a Dodge Viper ACR/Chevrolet Corvette 206 speed and handling challenge, at the US Naval Aviation Warfighting Development Centre somewhere in the Nevada desert. Two cars equipped with roof-mounted laser guns, the idea being to get behind the other car, accurately positioned for a 'shot', and if the driver got a 'hit' he or she 'won'. Chris versus Sabine. Here are the cars:

Wow. What amazing machines! But let's have a reality check. So much depends on the camera angle. After all, my own Fiona looks like this:

Anyway, Chris and Sabine displayed great skill. And Chris certainly enjoyed the drive and his victory!

Then it was the turn of Matt to show his skills, by throwing off three types of paparazzi, who would be chasing him. They'd 'win' if any one of them got a clear shot of him. One was 'piloting' a drone. One would be airborne, with a propeller strapped to his back. One would be on a dirt-track motorbike. Matt was driving an Ariel Nomad:

Matt was confident he could out-drive his pursuers. The Nomad certainly looked handy in the dust:

But remember, the camera angle is always half the effect. Fiona looks just as capable in the right light:

Well, Matt downed the flying paparazzo, and made the drone crash. But he couldn't so easily shake the bike:

At least not until they reached proper tarmac - and some hairpin bends, which tamed the biker, letting Matt pull away. But then a big truck blocked the road! It was however the one driven by The Reformed Stig, and soon Matt was driving up the let-down ramps. The biking paparazzo never got a shot.

The next film involved Chris and Matt and two old Reliant open-top three-wheelers painted in British and American colours. Uh-oh. But it was not at all a Clarkson-style rubbishing of hated three-wheelers. None of this stuff:

The two cars were treated with respect. It was a friendly 'race' from the BBC HQ in central London to Blackpool on the Lancashire coast. A pretty long drive!

They make a good start, not tipping over at any point, even though London has bends and corners aplenty. Matt was amused by the quirkiness of his Reliant.

But then his car started to smoke alarmingly, and he spent most of the trip up north on the back platform of a road-rescue lorry. He insisted, however, on entering the fair seaside town of Blackpool under his own steam. So, with night and the rain both falling, both cars triumphantly entered the Blackpool suburbs, passing under a lit-up arch welcoming both, or at least Matt:

Next day, Chris and Matt filmed another series of stunts. This time it was the original British Land Rover pitted against the wartime American Willys Jeep, with the Lord Mayor of Blackpool reading out the challenges. First, hauling a caravan out off the wet sands: Matt and his Jeep won.

Then, rescuing two ladies stuck fast on the beach by their seven-inch heels:

Again, Matt won in his Jeep. Clearly the original Land Rover wasn't designed with picking up drag artistes in mind. Whereas the Jeep was built especially to do that.

The last film was a hill-climbing challenge in the nearby Lake District, towing those Reliant three-heelers to the summit of Muncaster Fell by whatever route the two contenders, Chris and Matt, thought best. The Land Rover versus the Jeep again. They were not unassisted. Matt had a strong-man with him. Chris had two triathletes, one of them a map-reading expert. Both teams were chipper about their chances.

They each had profound faith in their route-planning. Matt was going directly for the summit up a steep track. Chris had selected a much longer route, but it wasn't so likely to get the Land Rover bogged down. For thick mud abounded.

Matt realised too late that he'd chosen the wrong way. The Jeep got seriously stuck in Lake District mire. Even strenuous pushing by the strong-man didn't help.

Meanwhile the plucky Britishers had also got stuck, the Reliant refusing to be towed further. But they thought of a very cunning plan: to wrench off a door from the Reliant (it seemed easy to do) and take just that to the summit. And they did. Hurrah!

Flying the flag. It was however perfectly fair for Matt, when he arrived, to query the fact that only a small part of Chris's Reliant had been taken to the top. But such was their friendly bonding by then that nothing was made of it. Naturally, Fiona could have managed even better, being of course a great towcar. She looks like this, by the way:

This has been a very, very long post, but I thought it important to study the first of the new Top Gear programmes in detail, and at length. On this showing, I'll be watching again.

The Empire gobbles up more of the country

My Ordnance Survey Explorer map coverage - my 'Empire' - has expanded further since I last reported on it. This is digital mapping, bought from the OS and downloaded online, and stored on my phone for easy access, without the need for a 3G or 4G signal, when out and about. My friend Angie has a similar but more modest installation on her own phone, so that she can't get lost in the Forest of Dean.

Anyone who gets off regular tarmac roads used by cars needs detailed maps like these - hill walkers, ramblers, mountain bikers. Anyone who likes to follow an interesting-looking footpath and find the hoary old castle, or mysterious standing stone, or intriguing monument or folly, or that secret silent lake. Places for people who want to explore. I've little doubt that modern OS mapping could get you across the Dead Marshes and into Mordor by the secret way - and then safely home to The Shire - without ever a false step. (But then there would be no story) Naturally you can fire up GPS while using these maps to pinpoint your position. Except of course when delving under the Misty Mountains - but hey, how likely is that?

The OS offer more than one way of having these maps: this way (where you pay for map sections - 10km x 10km squares, or 'tiles' - on a tile-by-tile basis); or by annual subscription (entitling you to access all their maps, at all scales - as much as you want - and to copy sections of them for printing at home); or by popping into a shop to buy a traditional paper version, folded up inside a cover to keep in your rucksack (which also comes with a one-off digital download). That's quite a wide choice, although to keep things simple it pays to decide which way is best for the long term, and stick with that.

Speaking for myself, I dislike subscriptions. Over the years, the cost mounts up alarmingly, and you never actually 'own' any of the maps, just as you never 'own' any music listened to on a subscription-based online music service. If you stop paying, you suddenly have nothing. The most accomplished and versatile photo-editing programs - Adobe's offerings, for instance - are also subscription-only. It's the modern way. You get the latest version at all times, and all the latest innovations, but it's expensive; and if ever you stop feeding their money-machine, you lose it all.

I do like paper maps, but they are a pain to carry, very awkward when it's wet and windy, not self-illuminating, and you can't zoom in to see the detail clearly. I do however collect old editions for study and reference at home.

For me, an up-to-date large-scale OS map right there in my hand, on my phone, is the ideal I dreamed of when young, and can have now. A seamless map covering thousands of square kilometres. Instantly available, searchable. With all the fun of adding to it tile by tile until it's a monster map covering all the areas I am likely to visit on a day trip from home, or on a caravan holiday.

As well as maintaining the obvious spreadsheet in Dropbox for the laptop and phone, I keep a low-tech paper record of all the digital-download Explorer maps I've bought on an old small-scale OS map of the entire country - gradually colouring in those 10km x 10km squares as I make purchases. This is the present Empire, in yellow (for 2015 purchases) and orange (2016):

The Empire now covers most of south and south-west England, and has advanced up the Cotswolds. Thus the Melford hegemony is imposed. Soon the entire country. Then the world. Then the Universe. But I know that the Rebels will fight back, using the power of The Force. So my expansion plans are ultimately doomed.

Enough of such fantasy! Let's be practical. Let's look at that spreadsheet. It's evolved over many years, has columns to record this and that about each map (paper and digital), and now looks like this. Click on the images to see them better. Off to the left you see the name and number of each map. I keep to the Pathfinder Series numbering of the 1990s. This is the 'home' part of the map, showing Pathfinder number 1:

Here's a section from lower down; and I pan right to show the many columns:

Right at the bottom of the spreadsheet, things are totalled up to reveal 'how many maps' and 'what it it has all cost me so far':

There you are. In summary, 482 paper maps costing at least £571 over many, many years ('at least' because I don't know what some of them did cost) - and that £571 needs to be adjusted for the march of inflation. I'm guessing about £1,500 in today's money. 

And 351 digital maps - electronic downloads - costing £656 since last October.  

'What!' you may say, 'You've spent £656 on your digital map empire in less than a year?' It does sound a lot. But then I've bought them in small batches, so this is a gradual, incremental thing. Besides, the average Explorer map has cost £656/351 = £1.89. So two of them cost roughly the same as a small glass of wine in a pub. That's 175 small glasses of wine in eight months - about my normal consumption, I'd say. And no ill-effects! And I have these maps forever! And the OS will automatically update them! And they are in gorgeous high-definition! So I can zoom in and they stay sharp, with great colours:

The bottommost example shows my exact position, after firing up GPS. (Towards the bottom right on the map, near the Airman's Grave)

This is mapping at the 1;25,000 scale - about two and a half inches to one mile. The OS's next-best is the 1;50,000 Landranger mapping. I've recently purchased an All-GB Landranger package for my laptop, from Memory-Map. That's the entire country at 1:50,000 for just £75. The 2016 edition too. I buy a fresh edition from Memory-Map every four years, at a 25% discount, being a repeat customer. I bought the USB-stick version, which was delivered free, two days after ordering. 

You just plug in the stick thus, and upload the contents:

It's also high-definition mapping, with a great look. Not quite the same detail as the Explorer mapping, but you see more land area. Here's an example, Muncaster Fell, a hill in the Lake District (click on the map to see it better):

Now why this hill? Ah, that's connected with my next post, in which two grown men churn up the track leading up to Hooker Crag at the top. The same men who rescue these ladies from a Blackpool beach:

My goodness, Alfred Wainwright would be aghast! I did in fact look in two of my Wainwright hillwalking guides, to see if he had ever covered Muncaster Fell. 

I looked first in Book Seven: The Western Fells. No joy. Then Book Four: The Southern Fells. Still no joy. I dare say that even as an old man, with legs not so strong as once they were, Wainwright scorned the low-rise Muncaster Fell. 

But in the Southern Fells book, bought second-hand in 2009, there was at least this fond dedication:

   To Tony,

from your walking companion,

Hazel

No kiss, no date. I imagine these were simply good friends who walked the fells together. Not old people: Hazel's handwriting is firm and clear. The book had lost its paper cover, but wasn't dog-eared in any way. I like to think that Tony kept it at home or in the car, as an inspiration when planning a weekend walk, but not as the guide they consulted out in the hills, in the rain. I'm sure they'd now use a modern OS Explorer map instead, and if still walking together - why shouldn't they be? - they, like me, would carry not only a paper map but a GPS-enabled phone with digital OS maps on it. 

Over here

Norfolk must await my full return to fitness! I finished with the painkilling medication for my torn left shoulder muscle and aching left arm some days ago, but the discomfort persists, and although things are definitely improving, I won't be back to normal in time for the original departure day on Monday, just three days hence.

If I disregarded what my body is saying to me, I'd be attempting too much. I'd struggle to turn the caravan around on my drive; and then there'd be all the loading up; and of course the driving, the setting-up at my first destination near Stamford...it all requires energy and a physical capability that I haven't got at the moment.

I'm tired too: I haven't slept really well for almost two weeks now, and I snatch my sleep at night in the recliner in my lounge. It's sort of comfortable, but it's not ideal. I tend to sleep in three- or four-hour bursts that don't do a lot for me - although on the whole I'm sleeping better now than I did a few days back. I long for the time when I can lie in my bed and drop off without my left arm nagging at me. It's the same arm that started to hurt last autumn, after I did too much PC-keyboard work. It'll pass, as it did before, but not in time for a Monday departure.

There are however upsides to a delay in getting off. I can fit in meetups with people whom I have rather neglected since last Christmas. And it spreads out my financial commitments, helping me to budget better. I may get a decent amount of pension income, but I still can't afford to pay out too much in too short a time.

It was quite easy to alter my Caravan Club bookings, and - as I was giving ample notice - there was no penalty for doing so. That's one of the things I really appreciate about online booking with an outfit like the Caravan Club. You can book up something, then alter it if you need to. This allows for great flexibility in planning and then replanning a caravan holiday. Mind you, although there is no fuss about cancelling a booking - if you adhere to the rule about proper notice, that is - it's first come, first served with site pitches. So you need to check availability of pitches at your selected site before scrapping any bookings already made. In fact it pays to book quite a long way ahead.

It'll be north-west Norfolk, by the way. I'm staying on the Club's Sandringham Estate site, which is hardly a mile away from the Royal Residence. But I intend to unwind by driving along the almost-empty lanes of the hinterland, and walking the lonely beaches between Burnham Overy Staithe and Wells-next-the-Sea. There are a few places I haven't seen before, such as the Abbey at Little Walsingham, and the Priory at Castle Acre.

Ah, Castle Acre! There's a good pub there, The Ostrich. M--- and I ate there one evening. It was the end of a warm sunny day in September 1995, and the red-brick pub looked most inviting:

Next to the door was a magnificent Greene King plaque:

Well, we dined so well that we returned two nights later. But it was very, very different! It was so changed - it looked odd and dated. We wondered whether it had mysteriously changed hands, with unknown consequences for the meal we were looking forward to:

Cautiously entering, we found it transformed. It was still possible to have a drink, but the locals told us that they were banned from the place for the next week or so. In fact everyone in the village was banned. Oh, really? Why was that, then?

Then they explained. We'd walked into a film set. A company making a wartime film for TV had taken this part of the village over, pub included. Shooting was going to begin in three days' time. I made a brief note of the details, and wrote them on the back of the print once the film was developed when home again:

This is exactly the kind of stuff I'd routinely write on the back of prints in the 1990s, before I went digital. And you thought I was only now getting obsessive about captioning my photographs? Ha, it's a lifelong habit. I am a terrifically well-documented person!

As you can see, the drama was called Over Here and was about the disruptive presence of American troops brought over in the run-up to D-Day, and billeted in the country. The central story concerned a naval officer's wife who forms a doomed relationship with an educated and thoroughly nice black soldier. This was a forbidden liaison in 1944, at least in American eyes; though not nearly so much through English eyes. For her, the main issue was the attractiveness and sensitivity of this man, and the conflict of loyalties that talking with him, then seeing him, set up inside her. She did not want to be unfaithful to her absent, serious-minded husband. But her empathetic new friend represented kindness, and he became a salve for her loneliness. They both tried hard to resist, but the inevitable happened, and the consequences were rapid and explosive. For him, a brutal court-martial with a predictable verdict. For her, the sympathy of the villagers - but the devastating anger of her hastily-returning and betrayed husband. I think her black lover was shot. For her, a bleak future loomed as a high-minded middle-class wife gone wrong. It was all very powerful and thought-provoking.

Could it happen today? The fact that the man was black wouldn't matter now, but every serving man or woman who goes abroad for long periods must fear returning home to find that their partner has not been faithful to them. Betrayal still matters. It's an offence against mutual trust and respect, and a mortal blow to the relationship that was once believed in. It's human nature to err, but also human nature never to forgive. Only rare people can avoid causing harm.