Books by Ian McMillan

My sand life, my pebble life. My life measured out in tides, coming in and going out. My life measured out in games of trying to spot the sea first. My life measured out in the delicious and indulgent sadness that comes from leaving a holiday cottage for the last time and for the first time in several days it isn't raining, but at least the kids have had a great time and, let's face it, so have you. Warm and darkly funny, this sublimely crafted book transports you (in a blue Ford Zephyr, with an AA route map, a granny in the back and a bingo hall on the horizon) to the world of childhoods by the sea. Specifically, Ian's memories of childhood: ones we'll all identify with - endless sunny days on the beach, done to a turn fish and chips, legendary games of cricket, tea and cakes and family crammed into a tiny caravan, holiday cottages that live forever, buckets of shells, a busted fishing net and enough sand to make a beach, with the tide out, way out. In this nostalgic collection of reminiscences (with the odd poem thrown in) journey with Ian as he walks barefoot to the sea to see the sun rise. He is attacked by seagulls, and midges, and wasps. He eats a lot of fish and chips and it's always the best yet. He nearly avoids a frisbee. He searches for jazz in Scarborough. He walks. He even tries to run. But mostly he savours the sea and our seaside moments and our seaside dreams. If you want a shot of salty sea air, a tussle with a seagull and the congenial companionship of someone described as 'relentlessly jolly' (The Guardian), this will be a joyous and moving read.

I m going to define the essence of this sprawling place as best I can. I m going to start here, in this village, and radiate out like a ripple in a pond. I don t want to go to the obvious places, either; I want to be like a bus driver on my first morning on the job, getting gloriously lost, turning up where I shouldn t. I m going to confirm or deny the clich s, holding them up to see where the light gets in. Yorkshire people are tight. Yorkshire people are arrogant. Yorkshire people eat a Yorkshire pudding before every meal. Yorkshire people solder a t before every word they use... If there were such a thing as a professional Yorkshireman, Ian McMillan would be it. He s regularly consulted as a home-grown expert, and southerners comment archly on his fruity Yorkshire brogue . But he has been keeping a secret. His dad was from Lanarkshire, Scotland, making him, as he puts it, only half tyke . So Ian is worried; is he Yorkshire enough?To try to understand what this means Ian embarks on a journey around the county, starting in the village has lived in his entire life. With contributions from the Cudworth Probus Club, a kazoo playing train guard, Mad Geoff the barber and four Saddleworth council workers looking for a mattress, Ian tries to discover what lies at the heart of Britain s most distinct county and its people, as well as finding out whether the Yorkshire Pudding is worthy of becoming a UNESCO Intangible Heritage Site, if Harrogate is really, really, in Yorkshire and, of course, who knocks up the knocker up?

Hotly-anticipated new collection from one of Britain's most treasured living poets

A mixture of stories, poems and autobiography: the donkey survives the fire, and the poet survives in a northern world where the sun does not shine and where Postman Pat pens a suicide note, maddened by his theme tune, but keeps on driving all the same.