As things get more unbearable at Seadog House - the consultants are the least of it - and a lingering cough gets more and more irritating and persistent, our protagonist looks back over his 1960s Catholic education and a 1970s spent trying to make it big in the music business. The band went on Opportunity Knocks and behind the Iron Curtain but Shirley Bassey never got around to listening to its songs. I'm disappointed in you, Miss Bassey. Anyway. I won't tell you too much because it's such a treat to read sans preconceptions.
I did enjoy this laconic memoir. It's laugh-out-loud funny without ever overdoing it and full of detailed, accurate, observation. And, as a woman of years not so far away from our protagonist's, I hope I can make jokes this good when I arrive at the fateful sixtieth birthday. It has hilarious larks and adventures, some good old-fashioned row, an hilariously misspent youth and an underlying weariness at the way things have turned out. I loved the healthy distaste for overweening bureaucracy accompanied by a resentment at the degradation of public services, and the occasional, if accidental triumphs (Alice-themed dad dancing er... self -expression, I'm looking at you). And I loved the nods to my own youth: the band may not have found lasting fame at Camber Sands holiday park but I had some bloody good holidays there. Don't tell anyone: it dates me!
I think you'd enjoy ''Coming of Age''. I surely did.