Book Review - David Niven - The Moon's a Balloon - The Joy of a Born Storyteller.

 

I first read actor David Niven’s memoir, The Moon’s a Balloon, published in 1971, back in the mid-1970s. It was the first “adult” book that I read. It was adult, in the sense that parts of it were somewhat naughty. Other than that, it was a book of stories that were easy to read. It arguably provided a blueprint for others to follow. 

I came across the book when I saw it on the bookshelf of a neighbour of mine, an elderly lady by the name of Violet. She had an extensive book collection, and would allow me to pick one occasionally to take home and read.

Having chosen a book, I would have to give it to her for approval.

“What have you chosen today?” She would ask.

On this day, I handed over The Moon’s a Balloon, a paperback with a somewhat ordinary cover showing David Niven, with four balloons above his head. Each one containing a word of the book title. As book covers go, it didn’t look like one that would sell millions of copies.

Violet put her reading glasses on. “Ah! David Niven, the old Hollywood charmer. It’s not written for children, but you are probably old enough to read it.” And she was right. Niven had a reputation for being a charmer, a true charming man.

Like a librarian, she passed the book to me. “Look after it, and use a bookmark; I don’t want to see any folded corners on the pages.”

I never folded corners anyway.

But back to the naughtiness.

The Truth About Medium, An Interlude - Writing For Pennies - A Poem

Writing for pennies, I wait and dream,

Writing for pennies, is not what it seems.

Writing for pennies, just you and me,

Writing for pennies, stories no one can see.

Writing for pennies, time moves so fast,

Writing for pennies, good times never last.

Writing for pennies, I want my reward,

Writing for pennies, I’m getting so bored.

Writing for pennies, too good to be true,

Writing for pennies, no time to feel blue.

Writing for pennies, for every penny earned,

Writing for pennies, a life lesson learned.

Writing for pennies, where stories unfold,

Writing for pennies, more precious than gold.

Writing for pennies, a tale to be told,

Writing for pennies, I won’t sell my soul.

I originally published this poem on Medium in early September. 

The Truth About Medium - Part Six - Here's the One About Money

 

This post covers my earnings at Medium for 2024-25. 

2024 earnings from the time I joined the Medium Partner Program to the end of December.

Sep — $11.55

Oct — $7.47

Nov — $36.52

Dec — $10.19

2025.

Jan — $2.49

Feb — $1.46

Mar — $2.04

Apr — $2.88

May — $0.63

Jun — $2.74

Jul — $1.24

Aug — $0.54

Sep — $0.04 

Son of My Father - We All Did Dumb Things At School (an extract)

Just one of the dumb things that I did at school, when I was a lad. From Son of My Father.

I remember the headmaster because of the one time that I got into trouble at school. It was the only time that I owned up and got into trouble, and he got involved. For the most part I was not a troublemaker, I kept my head down. However, I admit there were moments of stupidity when I did something unbelievable that got me into trouble. This was one of those moments, but at least I owned up to what I had done.

I was playing football in the front school yard, and I recall that no one else was around. I kicked the ball onto the flat roof of a small building. For a moment the ball was heading towards the edge, but then it stopped and got stuck in the guttering. The building was a toilet block which had blacked out windows around the top of it. It was my ball, and I wondered how I was going to get it back.

How Son of My Father Found Its Name - The Story Behind a Book Title, and a Half-Forgotten Song

In 2022, I wrote a book called Son of My Father.

I remember the moment the title came to me. I was pacing around my home, thinking — searching for a phrase that might hold the whole story together. Titles can be elusive things, they are jotted down, forgotten, some look great, then they don’t. I had a handful of ideas, each discarded for one reason or another. 

None seemed to bring the chapters together in the way I wanted.

At one stage, I had an idea that I felt could really work — to open each chapter with a subheading drawn from a song of the time. A piece of music that had shaped not only my personal experiences, but also the atmosphere of the era I was writing about. I imagined each song acting as a lyrical thread connecting memory, mood, and meaning to the story.

Then reality intervened. Copyright.

Yes, “fair use” might have allowed me to borrow a few lines, but even that felt like a legal grey area. The deeper I looked, the more it became a potential minefield of permissions and costs. Reluctantly, I let the idea go.

Still, once music had entered the conversation, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Songs have a way of unlocking memory, and as I sifted through those from my past, one stood out: Son of My Father, a 1972 hit by Chicory Tip.

I can’t say the band were favourites of mine, nor that the song had any special place in my life at the time. I remember it being played on the radio and Top of the Pops, but I was more into music by T Rex, Slade, Sweet and ELO. Years later, the song — and something in its story — resonated. It felt as though it was an ideal title for the book.

Here’s the song:

I later discovered that the title had been used before — in books, in other contexts — but that didn’t matter. For me, it fit.

Because although my book isn’t solely about my relationship with my dad, he is the presence that runs through it. The man, the mystery. As he left my life almost fifty years ago now, the book is most of what I know about him.

Writing Son of My Father was, in part, an act of discovery — not just about the past, but about what remains when memory fades and imagination takes its place. 

Read more reflections like this here.

 

Image by Tibor Janosi Mozes from Pixabay

Son of My Father - Who Was My Dad? The Man I Never Really Knew

When I began writing Son of My Father, I realised how much of my dad’s story I never really knew. So much of who he was existed quietly in the background — unspoken, unseen. What I do remember, though, was his creative side.

From my memoir, Son of My Father

I know nothing about my dad’s childhood, his schooling, or whether he was academically bright or not. I don’t even know the name of the school that he went to. I’m not sure that I ever did. He probably left school with few if any qualifications. Questions like this were never the subject of conversation between us.

Son of My Father - The Funeral Service (an extract)

An extract from my memoir, Son of My Father.      

A very different time.

My Brother wrote the service for mam's funeral. He wrote the following.

“... when she was a young lady, it was the simple things like, helping her mam in the house, learning how to cook, wash and most importantly sew. Equally another happy time for her was her schooling, she was clever and bright and always managed to be in the top stream. It has been said that in other times she may have gone on to be a teacher.”

 It continues.

“From school she went into the factories (Freeman, Hardy and Willis) and later after becoming a mum turned to homeworking. The house always had Sewing Machines in it, Overlocks, Scissors, piles of leather, trim and fabric and things in the process of being put together. She was naturally creative and could turn any idea plucked from your imagination into a fully realised costume in hours.

She was soon promoted to sample machinist because basically she was the best in the trade.”

 

Her schooling was probably typical of that time for someone from her social background. Until her funeral, I was not aware of what she had achieved at school. She would have left school at around fifteen back then.

I Don't Have An Amazon Kindle - Can I Still Read Kindle E-Books? (Yes, You Can!)

You don’t need an Amazon Kindle device to enjoy Kindle books. Learn how to read Kindle e-books on your phone, tablet, computer, or web browser — all completely free and easy to set up.

No Kindle? No Problem!

Actually, I do have an Amazon Kindle — a very old one which once belonged to my mother. After she passed away, it was given to me in a box of old technology. I recall it was full of old mobile phones, calculators, various other devices, and a Kindle. I just thought it was a tablet, until I saw the name.

Once I figured out how to turn it on, I noticed that she had an extensive collection of mostly crime fiction books. She liked a good detective story. I did read a few chapters of my own book on the Kindle!

Having written a book, an e-book that is available on Amazon (The picture, top right of page), I sometimes get asked.“But I don’t even own a Kindle… How do I read it?”

It was a good question, one that, at the time, I didn’t have an answer to.

So, I looked it up.

The good news? I discovered that you don’t actually need a Kindle device to read Kindle e-books.

Amazon has made it easy to access Kindle books from almost any device — smartphone, tablet, laptop, or even straight from your web browser. These are the main alternative to Kindle device options.

1. Use the Free Kindle App on Any Device

Surprise, surprise, there is an app for it. The easiest way to read Kindle books without a Kindle is to download the free Kindle app. It’s available for iPhone and iPad (App Store), Android phones and tablets (Google Play) and Windows PCs and Macs.

Once installed, sign in with your Amazon account, and your Kindle library, showing the books you have bought or downloaded for free, will then appear.

2. Try Kindle Cloud Reader — Read in Your Browser