At the beginning of 2008 I did resolve to not use my blog as a vehicle for random ranting at things which wind me up, you may have noticed I failed, spectacularly.
Among the subjects of my rantings were the BBC, most notably Match of the Day, EasyJet passengers, The Daily Mail, Brussels, Pompey not wearing their proper kit anymore and mental Madeiran taxi drivers.
I thought I was doing well and as autumn kicked in I was not guilty of a single rant in October or November but now...I'm afraid all that pent up rage is going to vent forth.
Wandering into the Albert Road Co-Op in Southsea I spied a display of cards, nothing new there you may say, well this time last week the card rack contained Christmas cards which is fair enough but today........today the rack holds Valentine cards. According to my diary February 14 is the prescribed day for this annual event which makes a man either a romantic hero with enough brownie points in the bank to last until at least May or a hopeless, uncaring, unimaginative loser who will be reminded of his sentimental inadequacies in the romance department for the rest of his life.
What on earth is going on? December 30 and Valentine cards on sale, cast your mind back to September, the shops were full of Halloween items and then fireworks. Guy Fawkes Night also known as Bonfire Night or Fireworks Night is an annual celebration on the evening of the fifth of November. Which incidentally in case anyone had forgotten celebrates the foiling of the Gunpowder Plot in 1605 in which a number of catholic conspirators, including Guy Fawkes were alleged to be attempting to blow up Parliament, so why are the shops are selling fireworks from 9 September?
What happened to the magazine collections? that's the usual post Christmas fare. Tent Mallet Monthly "Buy issue one get issue two free....issue one comes with a complimentary felt drawstring mallet bag"........"this fantastic collection builds into a thirty-six volume set that you will want to keep forever".
As soon as Guy Fawkes Night has petered out in a hazy smog of cordite and bonfire fumed cloud the bloody shops hit us again.....this time with Christmas......and then long before the turkey has even been stripped so bare as to only have legs to go into a curry the adverts start for the sales. "Sale starts 5a.m.....Sale starts 7a.m" My heart goes out to the poor souls who work in the shops and have to get up at some unearthly hour while still digesting their sprouts, Christmas Pudding, Port and Stilton.
Then while out observing in the frenzy of sale shopping I spotted a dinosaur along the High Street, mortally wounded and wobbling on it's last legs, with a final "everything must go" kicking of the legs it gave in to the extinction which has been forced upon it by the giant supermarkets. It was a sad sight as the beast finally toppled over, the vultures moving in to pick the flesh off the still breathing but barely alive body of a British institution, the voracious public flocked in to graze on the remains without a care for the Woolworths staff who are facing New Year without a job.
So as 2009 approaches once again I will resolve to be more tolerant and not rant at things that wind me up but I know it's a lost cause, much as my ranting at the non-stop commercialism with which we are bombarded throughout the year will be.
I wish you health and happiness for the new year and I'll leave you with a few predictions for 2009.
Tony Adams signs Nigel Quashie to bolster his beleaguered midfield.
Portsmouth Northern Quarter plan scrapped in favour of building new medieval style stocks for shaming and punishment of miscreants.
Redknapp leaves Spurs to concentrate on taking Southampton down to League One.
Gordon Brown wins Strictly Come Dancing.
A whole day passes without Tony Adams without making a statement to the press.
Gordon Brown is the first to be voted off "I'm a Celebrity".
Someone in the South-East of England will get a mortgage.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Achilleswatch
Three months after rupturing my achilles tendon I'm now walking without the special boot that kept me from falling over, I felt so confident I even went up to London without it on Saturday.
I did take my patent wooden curved handled NHS walking stick though, given to me by the physio department at St Marys Hospital in Portsmouth. With a flat cap and green jacket I'd look like a cast member from Last Of The Summer Wine.
The walking stick is great it acts as a forcefield a kind of total exclusion zone around my leg, especially useful in Commercial Road, we all know how invisible we become when popping into town for a bit of shopping, nobody can see you. So when an oblivious texting teenager or self obsessed student approaches and doesn't move out of my way they are greeted by the stick out in front of the injured leg.
The stick was almost captured at Upton Park on Saturday, as I limped up to the turnstile an overzealous security man in a bright orange jacket said "leave that 'ere mate"......"no way" I replied.........then he added "you aint taking that in there" ......I could see a battle of wills developing here and even explaining about my injury to him he still wasn't allowing my stick to enter. I then felt a hand on my elbow, it was another orange jacketed man who began steering me to a huge gate "hello sir lets open the door for yer, can't av ya going froo the turnstile, ere Sally open the gate fer the gentleman and take his ticket, there yer go sir enjoy the game".
Well I just couldn't resist turning round and smirking at the first orange man, I nearly raised the walking stick and went "nerrrrrrrrr" at him but didn't think I should push my luck.
On the tube the stick also had magic properties a kind man gave me his seat on the district line, this did cause me a problem as the train was packed and in my good fortune I was now stuck because two stops on I had to change to the Jubilee and I couldn't get off. "Stick do your work", a few prods on feet and on the back of a leg or two saw a way through and like Moses parting the Red Sea the stick had got me a passage.
I don't expect you to condone this behaviour and in fact I ought to monitor my stick wielding antics as it seems to be prematurely ageing me. I caught myself watching Countdown the other day and pressing the mute button whenever an advert came on, especially a Christmas advert, what next, New Tricks? Deal Or No Deal?
I did take my patent wooden curved handled NHS walking stick though, given to me by the physio department at St Marys Hospital in Portsmouth. With a flat cap and green jacket I'd look like a cast member from Last Of The Summer Wine.
The walking stick is great it acts as a forcefield a kind of total exclusion zone around my leg, especially useful in Commercial Road, we all know how invisible we become when popping into town for a bit of shopping, nobody can see you. So when an oblivious texting teenager or self obsessed student approaches and doesn't move out of my way they are greeted by the stick out in front of the injured leg.
The stick was almost captured at Upton Park on Saturday, as I limped up to the turnstile an overzealous security man in a bright orange jacket said "leave that 'ere mate"......"no way" I replied.........then he added "you aint taking that in there" ......I could see a battle of wills developing here and even explaining about my injury to him he still wasn't allowing my stick to enter. I then felt a hand on my elbow, it was another orange jacketed man who began steering me to a huge gate "hello sir lets open the door for yer, can't av ya going froo the turnstile, ere Sally open the gate fer the gentleman and take his ticket, there yer go sir enjoy the game".
Well I just couldn't resist turning round and smirking at the first orange man, I nearly raised the walking stick and went "nerrrrrrrrr" at him but didn't think I should push my luck.
On the tube the stick also had magic properties a kind man gave me his seat on the district line, this did cause me a problem as the train was packed and in my good fortune I was now stuck because two stops on I had to change to the Jubilee and I couldn't get off. "Stick do your work", a few prods on feet and on the back of a leg or two saw a way through and like Moses parting the Red Sea the stick had got me a passage.
I don't expect you to condone this behaviour and in fact I ought to monitor my stick wielding antics as it seems to be prematurely ageing me. I caught myself watching Countdown the other day and pressing the mute button whenever an advert came on, especially a Christmas advert, what next, New Tricks? Deal Or No Deal?
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
We Must Remember Them
"At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them"
This line comes from the middle stanza of the poem “For the Fallen” by Lancashire-born poet Laurence Binyon. The whole of this middle verse is traditionally recited as part of Remembrance Day services throughout the United Kingdom. I myself have a big connection with Lancashire, my father was born in Farnworth near Bolton, one of four children whose father (my grandfather) was a miner at Lord Levers' colliery. The town of Farnworth was then a prosperous industrial town with cotton mills, foundries and mining employing the whole town, but in the Great War the menfolk of Farnworth were encouraged to join the local army unit The Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, many of them never to return to the mill or the pit.
My Grandfather was just a young man not yet twenty when he took up the colours in 1914 and his service record for 1914-15 simply says "Theatre of War-Balkans". He often mentioned the Dardanelles which are the straits between Europe and Asian Turkey, it's also where you'll find Gallipoli, there in 1915 he was wounded in the back by shell fragments and by two bullets in his legs but after recovery resumed his service with the regiment. Known to all simply as Alec, Alexander Newsham also spoke of his service in France and Belgium, Ypres, Arras, Vimy Ridge, Passchendale, The Somme, Messines. All places you've heard of and in fact the regiment served in virtually every theatre of the war, so we know he saw some terrible things, things that prevented him from sleeping some nights. His cousin Joseph was killed on 23 July 1916 on The Somme near Thiepval, his body was never identified but his name is commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial and no doubt lays in one of the thousands of un-named graves marked "A Soldier of The Great War".
The whole area of The Somme is dotted with cemetaries and memorials to the fallen, from 1st July to 18th November 1916 over a million men became casualties in the long and bitter struggle on the Somme. The offensive cost Britain and the Empire 419,654 casualties, 125,000 of them dead. The advance was spread along a thirty mile front but became a bloody stalemate in appaling conditions once the summer went into Autumn the rain came and so did the awful mud.
In Britain the impact of the losses was severe, particularly in the north of England where many of the pals regiments were formed, whole streets and places of work joined up as one and died almost as one. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror of those conditions but these men accepted their lot and carried on with their duties, though they would have been scared witless by the shelling and the forays into enemy held territory. Three more years of conflict ensued and nearing the end of the war Alecs unit were at the second battle of Kemmel Hill in April 1918 where the German forces counter attacked and succeeded in capturing part of the high ground. As sergeant he took charge of the company when all the officers were killed and with his leadership and bravery his troops held on to their position for four days before relief got to them. For his actions Alec received the Military Medal. I am proud, honoured and extremely thankful that I knew my grandfather for a few precious years when so many lost family members in the Great War.
Alec died in 1974, he never could forget the horrors of the war, all those friends he saw die or horribly mutilated. For me and my family he lives on, on his return from war he was presented with a beautiful gold fob pocket watch by the very grateful Guild and Townsfolk of Bolton, we have the newspaper cuttings to read and I am researching the regimental diaries, we were lucky that he returned from war, he was wounded three or four times (we're not sure) and as the Bolton Evening News described "survived many hairbreadth escapes in the field".
As we all know many thousands failed to return from "the war to end all wars" along with thousands more in the second world war and down the years. Please wear your poppy with pride this week and take the time on Sunday and next Tuesday at 11.00 to be silent and remember the fallen from all conflicts including the present.
“They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them.”
This line comes from the middle stanza of the poem “For the Fallen” by Lancashire-born poet Laurence Binyon. The whole of this middle verse is traditionally recited as part of Remembrance Day services throughout the United Kingdom. I myself have a big connection with Lancashire, my father was born in Farnworth near Bolton, one of four children whose father (my grandfather) was a miner at Lord Levers' colliery. The town of Farnworth was then a prosperous industrial town with cotton mills, foundries and mining employing the whole town, but in the Great War the menfolk of Farnworth were encouraged to join the local army unit The Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, many of them never to return to the mill or the pit.
My Grandfather was just a young man not yet twenty when he took up the colours in 1914 and his service record for 1914-15 simply says "Theatre of War-Balkans". He often mentioned the Dardanelles which are the straits between Europe and Asian Turkey, it's also where you'll find Gallipoli, there in 1915 he was wounded in the back by shell fragments and by two bullets in his legs but after recovery resumed his service with the regiment. Known to all simply as Alec, Alexander Newsham also spoke of his service in France and Belgium, Ypres, Arras, Vimy Ridge, Passchendale, The Somme, Messines. All places you've heard of and in fact the regiment served in virtually every theatre of the war, so we know he saw some terrible things, things that prevented him from sleeping some nights. His cousin Joseph was killed on 23 July 1916 on The Somme near Thiepval, his body was never identified but his name is commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial and no doubt lays in one of the thousands of un-named graves marked "A Soldier of The Great War".
The whole area of The Somme is dotted with cemetaries and memorials to the fallen, from 1st July to 18th November 1916 over a million men became casualties in the long and bitter struggle on the Somme. The offensive cost Britain and the Empire 419,654 casualties, 125,000 of them dead. The advance was spread along a thirty mile front but became a bloody stalemate in appaling conditions once the summer went into Autumn the rain came and so did the awful mud.
In Britain the impact of the losses was severe, particularly in the north of England where many of the pals regiments were formed, whole streets and places of work joined up as one and died almost as one. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror of those conditions but these men accepted their lot and carried on with their duties, though they would have been scared witless by the shelling and the forays into enemy held territory. Three more years of conflict ensued and nearing the end of the war Alecs unit were at the second battle of Kemmel Hill in April 1918 where the German forces counter attacked and succeeded in capturing part of the high ground. As sergeant he took charge of the company when all the officers were killed and with his leadership and bravery his troops held on to their position for four days before relief got to them. For his actions Alec received the Military Medal. I am proud, honoured and extremely thankful that I knew my grandfather for a few precious years when so many lost family members in the Great War.
Alec died in 1974, he never could forget the horrors of the war, all those friends he saw die or horribly mutilated. For me and my family he lives on, on his return from war he was presented with a beautiful gold fob pocket watch by the very grateful Guild and Townsfolk of Bolton, we have the newspaper cuttings to read and I am researching the regimental diaries, we were lucky that he returned from war, he was wounded three or four times (we're not sure) and as the Bolton Evening News described "survived many hairbreadth escapes in the field".
As we all know many thousands failed to return from "the war to end all wars" along with thousands more in the second world war and down the years. Please wear your poppy with pride this week and take the time on Sunday and next Tuesday at 11.00 to be silent and remember the fallen from all conflicts including the present.
“They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them.”
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
The Great South Run
It's this Sunday, the day all those club runners, joggers and charity runners have been waiting for, or dreading, it's The Great South Run. Ten miles around the streets of Pompey and the open roads of Southsea seafront.
I was at Portsmouth Rugby Club on Saturday and there were several friends there who are entered in the run, they were all wisely avoiding playing rugby, with the race so close nobody wants an injury that will lay to waste five or six months of training. I was very envious of them, my ruptured achilles tendon injury will keep me off running for some time but I remembered the excitement and trepidation I had when my first Great South Run was getting closer and it got me thinking that I could pass on some helpful tips. There are always a lot of runners who've never run ten miles before never mind run in the Souths biggest road race and I have some advice to share with you if you havn't done the Great South before.
I'm not the worlds best runner in fact I'm a long way short of being a decent club runner as anyone at Portsmouth Joggers will confirm but I've got four medals and tee shirts in my collection, four Great South Runs. The first was in 2001 when I ran as a tribute to my dear departed father. He was struck down with cancer and died in May '01 and shortly after that I decided I'd run for the Imperial Cancer Research Fund raising over £300 in sponsorship. Thats the thing, the sponsor money, all those people now expect you to run ten miles before they'll hand over the cash. No escaping it, no bottling out.
Five months of pounding the seafront followed and as the race got closer I stepped up the training, until ten days before the race my training partner and I ran the route of the course except for the dockyard section. This run was around nine miles and it felt good, so then followed more than a week of rest, apart from some gentle cycling to work and back.
So firstly at least a week off training before the run will ensure you don't overdo it, then the night before make sure you eat some carbohydrates. Pasta is excellent, baked potatoes are good too but do make sure you eat your carbs and don't wash it down with any chilled white or fruity red wine because your body will hate you for it on Sunday when you set off partially dehydrated.
You have probably heard this before but allow yourself plenty of time to get down to Southsea, thousands of people all piling in to the city at once doesn't do a lot for the road system so have a plan and make sure you're in position with an hour to spare. By arriving in plenty of time you can meet up with your running friends and you'll also enjoy the camaradery with the other runners and the support, do join in the mass warm-up, it does exactly what it says on the tin.
By now you will have found your favourite most comfortable kit to run in, don't change it on the day, any tee shirt with an embroidered badge on the chest is to be avoided unless you want your left nipple to be reduced to an open sore. To avoid "joggers nipple" which is a most unpleasant chafing incident smear any chafe prone areas of the body with vaseline.
If you're running for a charity find out if they have a marquee or tent and locate it as soon as you can, the tents are great for storing your bag with a towel (in case it rains) and some warm clothing to change into, you can use the tent as a changing room and a meet point for any friends or relations who may be coming to cheer you on. You'll be hanging around a bit after the warm-up so while you're waiting on the road for your group start keep yourself warm, wear an old sweatshirt or jumper that you won't miss, then when the race starts just take it off and throw it away, also if it's rainy or damp a plastic bin liner with a hole in the bottom for your head makes a useful rain jacket to pull over your top half while you wait at the start.
The start is very congested but it still pays not to set off too quickly, In 2003 I tagged on to a similar looking runner as myself to use as a pacemaker but after doing the first two miles in a shade over fifteen minutes I was almost close to burn out and we were only at HMS Victory, I let him go on and slowed to my steady nine minute mile pace and recovered by the time I reached HMS Nelson. Have a go at celebrity spotting to take your mind off the running, "ooh look there's that bloke from The Bill" or "thats the girl from that cookery program". It's a great occasion full of noise and bands so aim to enjoy the atmosphere especially as you head into Old Portsmouth and Portsea, hundreds will be out to cheer you along, a good spot for friends and family to see you are by the Pembroke pub where the race slows for the tight corner and then when you're on the way back the wide road by The Queens Hotel is a good vantage point.
However, having said that there is no substitute for a bit of support in one of the less popular areas. In 2001 at the point where it becomes a bit bleak and lonely, every stride was a real struggle the legs felt so heavy and every part of my body hurt. I remember turning towards the seafront at Eastney and hearing someone shout "Go On Simon" I looked up and saw a couple of mates from the Rugby club shouting and clapping, well my heart lifted and so did my feet, I suddenly found my pace picking up rounding the bend at Eastney swimming pool and then hitting an icy wind full in the face. That wind didn't bother me as I'd had some encouragement from the crowd, my training partner was clearly struggling though and almost on cue we could hear people shouting her name, just before the Royal Marines Museum where the seafront is at it's most unforgiving. Well that was that, we both kicked on with encouragement ringing in our ears, if you can find someone to base themselves along there it will give you a tremendous lift at a point when you are feeling pretty low.
Make sure you drink plenty of water before and during the race and use all the water stops, I had a real treat last year at the water station along Eastern Parade, my girlfriend was a volunteer on the water stand, she was there with a bottle of water and a kiss which got me a lot of jealous jeering from the male runners around me. Heading back along the seafront is very rewarding unlike several years back when it just depressed me. The route used to go along in front of the golf course and cricket ground, I was heading towards Eastney but thousands of runners were heading towards South Parade Pier, with just a few feet between us, both sets of runners in a contraflow, a glance at the watch showed that those guys would be finished in an hour and five minutes while I had another twenty five to plod on. Nowadays the route goes behind the pitch and putt so the two groups don't meet which suits me, I don't want to see all those racing snakes glide past me the other way with not even a hint of hard breathing or a droplet of sweat.
Running towards the pier with the finish in sight is a fantastic moment and you should be feeling pretty good with less than a mile to go, however this part of the course is where many injuries occur. I've seen people so tired they've collapsed on the side of the road and one man last year didn't see a barrier and tripped over it cutting his legs to ribbons, you can avoid any hazards by sticking to the centre of the road, don't try and cut any corners a railing or a kerb may get you.
So there you have it, a few bits of advice to ensure you have a brilliant Great South Run, for those out there who've never run ten miles before you will have your own tale to tell and you'll get such a sense of achievement, those of you who have run it before I hope it's perfect weather so you can get yourself a personal best time.
One final word, you've deserved it so have a few pints afterwards to rehydrate, while proudly wearing the tee shirt in your local.
I was at Portsmouth Rugby Club on Saturday and there were several friends there who are entered in the run, they were all wisely avoiding playing rugby, with the race so close nobody wants an injury that will lay to waste five or six months of training. I was very envious of them, my ruptured achilles tendon injury will keep me off running for some time but I remembered the excitement and trepidation I had when my first Great South Run was getting closer and it got me thinking that I could pass on some helpful tips. There are always a lot of runners who've never run ten miles before never mind run in the Souths biggest road race and I have some advice to share with you if you havn't done the Great South before.
I'm not the worlds best runner in fact I'm a long way short of being a decent club runner as anyone at Portsmouth Joggers will confirm but I've got four medals and tee shirts in my collection, four Great South Runs. The first was in 2001 when I ran as a tribute to my dear departed father. He was struck down with cancer and died in May '01 and shortly after that I decided I'd run for the Imperial Cancer Research Fund raising over £300 in sponsorship. Thats the thing, the sponsor money, all those people now expect you to run ten miles before they'll hand over the cash. No escaping it, no bottling out.
Five months of pounding the seafront followed and as the race got closer I stepped up the training, until ten days before the race my training partner and I ran the route of the course except for the dockyard section. This run was around nine miles and it felt good, so then followed more than a week of rest, apart from some gentle cycling to work and back.
So firstly at least a week off training before the run will ensure you don't overdo it, then the night before make sure you eat some carbohydrates. Pasta is excellent, baked potatoes are good too but do make sure you eat your carbs and don't wash it down with any chilled white or fruity red wine because your body will hate you for it on Sunday when you set off partially dehydrated.
You have probably heard this before but allow yourself plenty of time to get down to Southsea, thousands of people all piling in to the city at once doesn't do a lot for the road system so have a plan and make sure you're in position with an hour to spare. By arriving in plenty of time you can meet up with your running friends and you'll also enjoy the camaradery with the other runners and the support, do join in the mass warm-up, it does exactly what it says on the tin.
By now you will have found your favourite most comfortable kit to run in, don't change it on the day, any tee shirt with an embroidered badge on the chest is to be avoided unless you want your left nipple to be reduced to an open sore. To avoid "joggers nipple" which is a most unpleasant chafing incident smear any chafe prone areas of the body with vaseline.
If you're running for a charity find out if they have a marquee or tent and locate it as soon as you can, the tents are great for storing your bag with a towel (in case it rains) and some warm clothing to change into, you can use the tent as a changing room and a meet point for any friends or relations who may be coming to cheer you on. You'll be hanging around a bit after the warm-up so while you're waiting on the road for your group start keep yourself warm, wear an old sweatshirt or jumper that you won't miss, then when the race starts just take it off and throw it away, also if it's rainy or damp a plastic bin liner with a hole in the bottom for your head makes a useful rain jacket to pull over your top half while you wait at the start.
The start is very congested but it still pays not to set off too quickly, In 2003 I tagged on to a similar looking runner as myself to use as a pacemaker but after doing the first two miles in a shade over fifteen minutes I was almost close to burn out and we were only at HMS Victory, I let him go on and slowed to my steady nine minute mile pace and recovered by the time I reached HMS Nelson. Have a go at celebrity spotting to take your mind off the running, "ooh look there's that bloke from The Bill" or "thats the girl from that cookery program". It's a great occasion full of noise and bands so aim to enjoy the atmosphere especially as you head into Old Portsmouth and Portsea, hundreds will be out to cheer you along, a good spot for friends and family to see you are by the Pembroke pub where the race slows for the tight corner and then when you're on the way back the wide road by The Queens Hotel is a good vantage point.
However, having said that there is no substitute for a bit of support in one of the less popular areas. In 2001 at the point where it becomes a bit bleak and lonely, every stride was a real struggle the legs felt so heavy and every part of my body hurt. I remember turning towards the seafront at Eastney and hearing someone shout "Go On Simon" I looked up and saw a couple of mates from the Rugby club shouting and clapping, well my heart lifted and so did my feet, I suddenly found my pace picking up rounding the bend at Eastney swimming pool and then hitting an icy wind full in the face. That wind didn't bother me as I'd had some encouragement from the crowd, my training partner was clearly struggling though and almost on cue we could hear people shouting her name, just before the Royal Marines Museum where the seafront is at it's most unforgiving. Well that was that, we both kicked on with encouragement ringing in our ears, if you can find someone to base themselves along there it will give you a tremendous lift at a point when you are feeling pretty low.
Make sure you drink plenty of water before and during the race and use all the water stops, I had a real treat last year at the water station along Eastern Parade, my girlfriend was a volunteer on the water stand, she was there with a bottle of water and a kiss which got me a lot of jealous jeering from the male runners around me. Heading back along the seafront is very rewarding unlike several years back when it just depressed me. The route used to go along in front of the golf course and cricket ground, I was heading towards Eastney but thousands of runners were heading towards South Parade Pier, with just a few feet between us, both sets of runners in a contraflow, a glance at the watch showed that those guys would be finished in an hour and five minutes while I had another twenty five to plod on. Nowadays the route goes behind the pitch and putt so the two groups don't meet which suits me, I don't want to see all those racing snakes glide past me the other way with not even a hint of hard breathing or a droplet of sweat.
Running towards the pier with the finish in sight is a fantastic moment and you should be feeling pretty good with less than a mile to go, however this part of the course is where many injuries occur. I've seen people so tired they've collapsed on the side of the road and one man last year didn't see a barrier and tripped over it cutting his legs to ribbons, you can avoid any hazards by sticking to the centre of the road, don't try and cut any corners a railing or a kerb may get you.
So there you have it, a few bits of advice to ensure you have a brilliant Great South Run, for those out there who've never run ten miles before you will have your own tale to tell and you'll get such a sense of achievement, those of you who have run it before I hope it's perfect weather so you can get yourself a personal best time.
One final word, you've deserved it so have a few pints afterwards to rehydrate, while proudly wearing the tee shirt in your local.
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
Money Saving Ideas
The TV advert says "Washing machines live longer with______" well, you know what but I won't give them a free advert on here. Thats what the ad-men claim but if I were to tell you that there is a product out there that costs not a lot more than a pint of milk that can not only keep your machine free of limescale and will save you money by replacing half of your washing powder/tablets usage and doing damn near all of your household cleansing I bet you'd be interested?
You are? excellent then let me continue, Soda Crystals have been around for donkeys years but largely overlooked, at fifty four pence, yes thats 54p for 1kg bag they can save you a few thrifty pounds of your hard earnt, plus they are a Jack of all trades. Added to your wash in the detergent/powder compartment with just one tablet or half the powder it'll make your budget stretch. Adding the crystals makes a box of thirty six tablets go twice the distance and the crystals will keep your machine sparkling clean from the dreaded limescale. It can also clean ovenware and will clear gunged up sinks, pipes and drains, a diluted solution will clean floor and wall tiles, windows, mirrors, upvc window and doorframes, ovens, grillpans, kitchen worktops and even some metals and jewellery........ hang on I can't catch my breath.........so there you have it why waste £s and £s buying a different product for every cleaning scenario when all you need is Soda Crystals? Not all supermarkets stock them but Tesco and Waitrose do and if you're in Southsea then Robert Dyas have them too.
Next up, if you have a garden or outside space why not grow your own spuds and other vegetables? easily achieved in a garden with soil but also if you only have a patio or balcony, you can grow potatoes in a potato planter or cheaper still a large bag of compost will do the job, and I can guarantee you will enjoy the experience of growing and eating your own produce, go to the BBC website for more information. http://www.bbc.co.uk/gardening/grow_your_own/
Make your own birthday cards for your friends and family. I know what you're thinking "how tight is that?" well before I go any further let me tell that the greetings card market is worth £1.3bn annually. Thats more than the tea and coffee markets, 85% per cent of all cards are sent by women and each person sends on average 55 cards per year. A decent card, one with a nice picture or an intricate design will cost anything between three and six pounds each.Card is very cheap to buy from a handicraft shop and you can cut and paste in the traditional Blue Peter style with proper glue and pictures from magazines or the new fangled way from the internet and print it before cutting and creating your own truly individual cards. Photos of football players, club badges or pictures of the recipient and friends, flowers, exotic places you name it. Believe me a hand made card, to the recipient doesn't come across as cheap or tight-it actually means something special to receive one you know that your friend took the time, their own time to create something that will be unique, fitting and made with love.
You are? excellent then let me continue, Soda Crystals have been around for donkeys years but largely overlooked, at fifty four pence, yes thats 54p for 1kg bag they can save you a few thrifty pounds of your hard earnt, plus they are a Jack of all trades. Added to your wash in the detergent/powder compartment with just one tablet or half the powder it'll make your budget stretch. Adding the crystals makes a box of thirty six tablets go twice the distance and the crystals will keep your machine sparkling clean from the dreaded limescale. It can also clean ovenware and will clear gunged up sinks, pipes and drains, a diluted solution will clean floor and wall tiles, windows, mirrors, upvc window and doorframes, ovens, grillpans, kitchen worktops and even some metals and jewellery........ hang on I can't catch my breath.........so there you have it why waste £s and £s buying a different product for every cleaning scenario when all you need is Soda Crystals? Not all supermarkets stock them but Tesco and Waitrose do and if you're in Southsea then Robert Dyas have them too.
Next up, if you have a garden or outside space why not grow your own spuds and other vegetables? easily achieved in a garden with soil but also if you only have a patio or balcony, you can grow potatoes in a potato planter or cheaper still a large bag of compost will do the job, and I can guarantee you will enjoy the experience of growing and eating your own produce, go to the BBC website for more information. http://www.bbc.co.uk/gardening/grow_your_own/
Make your own birthday cards for your friends and family. I know what you're thinking "how tight is that?" well before I go any further let me tell that the greetings card market is worth £1.3bn annually. Thats more than the tea and coffee markets, 85% per cent of all cards are sent by women and each person sends on average 55 cards per year. A decent card, one with a nice picture or an intricate design will cost anything between three and six pounds each.Card is very cheap to buy from a handicraft shop and you can cut and paste in the traditional Blue Peter style with proper glue and pictures from magazines or the new fangled way from the internet and print it before cutting and creating your own truly individual cards. Photos of football players, club badges or pictures of the recipient and friends, flowers, exotic places you name it. Believe me a hand made card, to the recipient doesn't come across as cheap or tight-it actually means something special to receive one you know that your friend took the time, their own time to create something that will be unique, fitting and made with love.
Friday, 26 September 2008
You Snapped What? Ooh That Must Have Hurt
Those of you who know me have probably heard about my achilles tendon injury, for those of you who don't, I 'm going to tell you anyway.
Allow me to elucidate, it happened playing football in August last year I'd just sent a pass upfield then went to run up the pitch and bang, it happened. I thought someone had kicked me in the back of the ankle, ouch, but when I turned around to punch whoever did it there was nobody near me, my leg just gave way, I couldn't bear any weight on it. The other players were wondering why I was on my knees.
I knew what I'd done, I'd seen it happen to someone before, the pain was indescribable, I can only liken it to having a shopping trolley crashed into the back of your ankle. I started to crawl off the pitch being watched by my team mates who thought I was being a drama queen, one of them Dave, helped me off and then the duty PTI came over with an icepack and the accident book, very efficient I thought. To keep my spirits up he kept telling me I hadn't snapped my achilles tendon but probably torn a muscle, but I had self diagnosed the injury, I knew it had gone.
A quick phone call to my girlfriend and within thirty minutes I was in QA with an orthopaedic surgeon pulling at my foot asking, "does this hurt?"... "only a lot" says I.... "what about if I do this?" says the doctor... "arggggggggggh" I replied..... "yes it looks as though you have ruptured your achilles tendon" I could have told him that. So began ten days in a plastercast right up to the top of my thigh, it weighed a ton but it kept my foot pointing straight down which relaxed the tendon and stopped any further damage. Ten days of getting to grips with crutches, one legged shaving, washing, tea-making and pulling the curtains down were highlights. There are two ways of treating achilles tendon rupture, one is conservative the other is surgery where the tendon is stitched together, I was told I would be treated conservatively.
This cast was removed when the bruising and swelling had subsided then I had a scan which showed the damage was up near the calf muscle which thankfully for a scaredee cat like me meant they couldn't go down the surgery route. I was put in a "pot" a cast from below the knee to the toes with my foot in the equinus or ballerina position for a fortnight to allow the tendon to knit back together. Two weeks later another cast with my foot being moved to halfway and another cast two weeks after that, I chose purple for the first two casts which isn't as much of a talking point as this latest pink one.
So now I'm in the neutral position and it was quite sore after they bent my foot up and the pot went on but it calmed down after a couple of days. The worst of it is having to use crutches to get around, I can't put any weight on the injured leg and I would recommend not leaving a bank statement in a plastic wallet on your living room floor, see through plastic wallets and crutches don't get on, luckily for me the tv set was in the way to stop me flying or I'd have been back up to A&E. I've learned a few useful tips such as wearing cargo shorts means you can carry stuff around from the kitchen to the living room, flasks of tea and bottles of wine especially.
So thats where I am, I've been off work for six weeks so far and probably another six to come, thank god the Olympics was on for the first two weeks and for sports and documentary channels keeping me occupied, I've also been learning guitar but it's slow progress. I wasn't going to let it get me down, even though I'm very active, walking, cycling and rugby are a big part of my life but I accepted what has happened to me in the first week, I told myself I've just got to get on with it and get better, my girlfriend has been fantastic and my friends have all rallied round, work have also been brilliant, they haven't pressured me to come back even if I was able to.
Guidance about my recovery was vague, I had to do a lot of fact finding for myself, there was no information from the hospital or my doctor. I have a good friend Ian who is a climber and outdoor activity organiser for Sheffield Council he had the same injury last year, he was able to give me loads of advice and put me on to a website forum http://www.marfell.me.uk/ where other ATR sufferers can share their stories and advice. This has been invaluable for me and I'd thoroughly recommend anyone who has this injury to trawl through the site and glean the information from it.
There have been disappointments, I missed out on the company sportsday in York something I'd been part of in the planning stages and I had to cancel a hill walking week in the Lake District so that will be a definate trip I'll rearrange as soon as I'm ready. It will be a long road to full recovery, months of physiotherapy will follow, I'm back to hospital on the third of October when they tell me I'm getting an Aircast Boot, it looks like a leg from a Star Wars stormtrooper and hopefully will mean I can bear some weight on my leg and learn to walk again.
Slow but sure will be my mantra.
Allow me to elucidate, it happened playing football in August last year I'd just sent a pass upfield then went to run up the pitch and bang, it happened. I thought someone had kicked me in the back of the ankle, ouch, but when I turned around to punch whoever did it there was nobody near me, my leg just gave way, I couldn't bear any weight on it. The other players were wondering why I was on my knees.
I knew what I'd done, I'd seen it happen to someone before, the pain was indescribable, I can only liken it to having a shopping trolley crashed into the back of your ankle. I started to crawl off the pitch being watched by my team mates who thought I was being a drama queen, one of them Dave, helped me off and then the duty PTI came over with an icepack and the accident book, very efficient I thought. To keep my spirits up he kept telling me I hadn't snapped my achilles tendon but probably torn a muscle, but I had self diagnosed the injury, I knew it had gone.
A quick phone call to my girlfriend and within thirty minutes I was in QA with an orthopaedic surgeon pulling at my foot asking, "does this hurt?"... "only a lot" says I.... "what about if I do this?" says the doctor... "arggggggggggh" I replied..... "yes it looks as though you have ruptured your achilles tendon" I could have told him that. So began ten days in a plastercast right up to the top of my thigh, it weighed a ton but it kept my foot pointing straight down which relaxed the tendon and stopped any further damage. Ten days of getting to grips with crutches, one legged shaving, washing, tea-making and pulling the curtains down were highlights. There are two ways of treating achilles tendon rupture, one is conservative the other is surgery where the tendon is stitched together, I was told I would be treated conservatively.
This cast was removed when the bruising and swelling had subsided then I had a scan which showed the damage was up near the calf muscle which thankfully for a scaredee cat like me meant they couldn't go down the surgery route. I was put in a "pot" a cast from below the knee to the toes with my foot in the equinus or ballerina position for a fortnight to allow the tendon to knit back together. Two weeks later another cast with my foot being moved to halfway and another cast two weeks after that, I chose purple for the first two casts which isn't as much of a talking point as this latest pink one.
So now I'm in the neutral position and it was quite sore after they bent my foot up and the pot went on but it calmed down after a couple of days. The worst of it is having to use crutches to get around, I can't put any weight on the injured leg and I would recommend not leaving a bank statement in a plastic wallet on your living room floor, see through plastic wallets and crutches don't get on, luckily for me the tv set was in the way to stop me flying or I'd have been back up to A&E. I've learned a few useful tips such as wearing cargo shorts means you can carry stuff around from the kitchen to the living room, flasks of tea and bottles of wine especially.
So thats where I am, I've been off work for six weeks so far and probably another six to come, thank god the Olympics was on for the first two weeks and for sports and documentary channels keeping me occupied, I've also been learning guitar but it's slow progress. I wasn't going to let it get me down, even though I'm very active, walking, cycling and rugby are a big part of my life but I accepted what has happened to me in the first week, I told myself I've just got to get on with it and get better, my girlfriend has been fantastic and my friends have all rallied round, work have also been brilliant, they haven't pressured me to come back even if I was able to.
Guidance about my recovery was vague, I had to do a lot of fact finding for myself, there was no information from the hospital or my doctor. I have a good friend Ian who is a climber and outdoor activity organiser for Sheffield Council he had the same injury last year, he was able to give me loads of advice and put me on to a website forum http://www.marfell.me.uk/ where other ATR sufferers can share their stories and advice. This has been invaluable for me and I'd thoroughly recommend anyone who has this injury to trawl through the site and glean the information from it.
There have been disappointments, I missed out on the company sportsday in York something I'd been part of in the planning stages and I had to cancel a hill walking week in the Lake District so that will be a definate trip I'll rearrange as soon as I'm ready. It will be a long road to full recovery, months of physiotherapy will follow, I'm back to hospital on the third of October when they tell me I'm getting an Aircast Boot, it looks like a leg from a Star Wars stormtrooper and hopefully will mean I can bear some weight on my leg and learn to walk again.
Slow but sure will be my mantra.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
Value For Money
The Help For Heroes rugby game from Twickenham on Saturday was fine entertainment, a host of former England and Wales internationals were on parade, Lawrence Dallaglio, Colin Charvis, Scott Gibbs, Will Greenwood and Martin Johnson to name a few.
A match to raise money for soldiers injured in Afghanistan and Iraq was never going to be taken lightly, add to that a crowd of more than 50,000 and the scene was set for a cracking game. The rugby was quality and so was the pre-match and half-time entertainment.
At the interval electric string quartet Escala kept the crowd spellbound. Escala are the four young ladies you may have seen on Britains Got Talent or more lately the Sky Sports Premier League football trailer. Their instruments may look like something from a Science Fiction movie but are in fact two electric violins, a cello and a viola.
It got me thinking as to when I last saw any half time entertainment at a football match, in fact I can't recall there even being any at the FA Cup Final in May but I was so nervous I wasn't really paying attention to the pitch at half time. In the past I can remember the occasional parachute display, brass bands, drum majorettes twirling and dropping batons and kids in penalty shoot-outs. I presume those two spoilsports Heath and Safety have a lot to do with it. Burnley recently had a parachutist who got caught in the roof of the stand and one parachutist actually hit the roof of the stand at Villa Park nine years ago and was severely injured so I can see why that particular avenue of entertainment may have been curtailed. Nigel Rogoff was one of several RAF skydiving Santas descending into Villa Park in blustery conditions. Aston Villa fan Robert McEvoy continues the tale: "This gentleman hit the stand, and was promptly dragged off by his parachute, landing on the track in front of the Main Stand. To say the ground went quiet was an understatement, the worst bit, apart from watching a man fall approximately the height of two houses, was that there were six other parachutists behind him, and the man on the PA system was shouting for them to land elsewhere. As Villa Park is surrounded by terraced houses and the M6, they had little choice but to land on the pitch. Parachutist Number two had seen his mate hit the stand, and in trying to avoid that he missed the opposite stand by inches, as everyone in the stadium held their breath. The other five landed in goals, on corner flags and anywhere but the cross in the middle of the pitch."
Rogoff lost his leg in the accident but has since made a good recovery and even married the nurse who cared for him in the months after.
I remember a very amusing incident three seasons ago at Dean Court when covering an AFC Bournemouth match. The Royal Marines from Poole were giving an exhibition of unarmed combat, six mats were put out in the corners and on the halfway lines then six teams of four Bootnecks took it in turn to knock hell out of each other. An interested onlooker was Bournemouths mascot Cherry Bear, who was looking somewhat closely at the action, after a while he went up behind a Marine and swung a huge furry legged kick at the marines' backside, down he went and then all the Royal Marines went for the man in the oversize ursine head. Cherry Bear dispatched the rest of the Marines with consumate ease using a selection of throws, kicks, punches and a swipe with a baseball bat that left his assailant gasping for breath. The pitch was littered with fallen Bootnecks and the stands were full of people falling about with laughter.
West Brom had a race on Sunday between some of the west midlands teams mascots, the five participants had to run one width of The Hawthorns' pitch. Ladbrokes had been taking charity bets in the run-up to the race and raised £2,204, all of which will go to the BBC West Midlands Kidney Kids Appeal, Wolfie the Wolf saw off the challenge of Villa's Hercules the Lion, Albion's Baggie Bird, Walsall's Swifty and the BBC WM Wonder Moose, who finished second through to fifth, respectively.
That was good value for the paying customer but these days all we get is a kickabout by some of the fringe players or the reserve goalkeeper having a bit of practice. Not what you'd call "worth the admission fee" which being £38 at Fratton Park you'd feel a bit mugged by not getting anything other than deafening music and incoherent announcements. The officialdom gets in the way of entertainment too, referees are very quick to punish players who "over-celebrate" scoring a goal, surely this is what the punter expects to see, a goal a celebration it's what they pay for?
Come on football clubs give us a brass band at half-time, a shoot out, a hit the crossbar challenge or maybe even a Police Dog Display team, they were always good value. The cost of a weeks shopping is what it takes to go and see a football match these days and that to me is not giving value for money for ninety minutes football (plus added on time) and no unarmed mascot combat.
A match to raise money for soldiers injured in Afghanistan and Iraq was never going to be taken lightly, add to that a crowd of more than 50,000 and the scene was set for a cracking game. The rugby was quality and so was the pre-match and half-time entertainment.
At the interval electric string quartet Escala kept the crowd spellbound. Escala are the four young ladies you may have seen on Britains Got Talent or more lately the Sky Sports Premier League football trailer. Their instruments may look like something from a Science Fiction movie but are in fact two electric violins, a cello and a viola.
It got me thinking as to when I last saw any half time entertainment at a football match, in fact I can't recall there even being any at the FA Cup Final in May but I was so nervous I wasn't really paying attention to the pitch at half time. In the past I can remember the occasional parachute display, brass bands, drum majorettes twirling and dropping batons and kids in penalty shoot-outs. I presume those two spoilsports Heath and Safety have a lot to do with it. Burnley recently had a parachutist who got caught in the roof of the stand and one parachutist actually hit the roof of the stand at Villa Park nine years ago and was severely injured so I can see why that particular avenue of entertainment may have been curtailed. Nigel Rogoff was one of several RAF skydiving Santas descending into Villa Park in blustery conditions. Aston Villa fan Robert McEvoy continues the tale: "This gentleman hit the stand, and was promptly dragged off by his parachute, landing on the track in front of the Main Stand. To say the ground went quiet was an understatement, the worst bit, apart from watching a man fall approximately the height of two houses, was that there were six other parachutists behind him, and the man on the PA system was shouting for them to land elsewhere. As Villa Park is surrounded by terraced houses and the M6, they had little choice but to land on the pitch. Parachutist Number two had seen his mate hit the stand, and in trying to avoid that he missed the opposite stand by inches, as everyone in the stadium held their breath. The other five landed in goals, on corner flags and anywhere but the cross in the middle of the pitch."
Rogoff lost his leg in the accident but has since made a good recovery and even married the nurse who cared for him in the months after.
I remember a very amusing incident three seasons ago at Dean Court when covering an AFC Bournemouth match. The Royal Marines from Poole were giving an exhibition of unarmed combat, six mats were put out in the corners and on the halfway lines then six teams of four Bootnecks took it in turn to knock hell out of each other. An interested onlooker was Bournemouths mascot Cherry Bear, who was looking somewhat closely at the action, after a while he went up behind a Marine and swung a huge furry legged kick at the marines' backside, down he went and then all the Royal Marines went for the man in the oversize ursine head. Cherry Bear dispatched the rest of the Marines with consumate ease using a selection of throws, kicks, punches and a swipe with a baseball bat that left his assailant gasping for breath. The pitch was littered with fallen Bootnecks and the stands were full of people falling about with laughter.
West Brom had a race on Sunday between some of the west midlands teams mascots, the five participants had to run one width of The Hawthorns' pitch. Ladbrokes had been taking charity bets in the run-up to the race and raised £2,204, all of which will go to the BBC West Midlands Kidney Kids Appeal, Wolfie the Wolf saw off the challenge of Villa's Hercules the Lion, Albion's Baggie Bird, Walsall's Swifty and the BBC WM Wonder Moose, who finished second through to fifth, respectively.
That was good value for the paying customer but these days all we get is a kickabout by some of the fringe players or the reserve goalkeeper having a bit of practice. Not what you'd call "worth the admission fee" which being £38 at Fratton Park you'd feel a bit mugged by not getting anything other than deafening music and incoherent announcements. The officialdom gets in the way of entertainment too, referees are very quick to punish players who "over-celebrate" scoring a goal, surely this is what the punter expects to see, a goal a celebration it's what they pay for?
Come on football clubs give us a brass band at half-time, a shoot out, a hit the crossbar challenge or maybe even a Police Dog Display team, they were always good value. The cost of a weeks shopping is what it takes to go and see a football match these days and that to me is not giving value for money for ninety minutes football (plus added on time) and no unarmed mascot combat.
Monday, 15 September 2008
The Truth Is Out There
The Large Hadron Collider was switched on last week amid lots of ill informed speculation and scaremongering from those claiming that the end of the world is nigh, the use of the web to spread fears that flicking the switch on the LHC could create a Black Hole that could swallow up the Earth was of concern to inventor of the internet Sir Tim Berners-Lee. Okay so the switch-on did happen to coincide with earthquakes in Iran and China but thats all it was, coincidence, in fact both stories were hardly reported. I found out about the Iranian quake by text message as it was happening from a friend in Dubai who had to leave her office block when it started to shake, the tremor was felt right across the Gulf States.
The Worldwide Web is the catalyst for wrong information, when Sir Tim invented the web I bet he hadn't reckoned on Wikipaedia for instance. A great idea in concept, someone posts a definition or an article about a subject or a famous person and anyone, yes anyone else can go into that article and add to it or embellish the definition. Many entries have found to be false, thus making the whole thing a website of misinformation, I have been told by a senior lecturer that some university students have actually copied and pasted wikipaedia extracts into their coursework. Thats not to say Wikipaedia is all bad, the majority of information in there is valid but some is wide of the mark.
There are also plenty of conspiracy theory websites out there, full of circumstantial, anecdotal and photographic evidence but how can we the web users separate the truth from fantasy? As the web evolves the user needs reassurance that what they are reading is factually accurate. When making a purchase online the safety certificate and the "padlock" logo both give you the signs that it is safe to use that site similarly a certificate or logo from the Worldwide Web Consortium could give a credibililty grading to a site, stars out of ten perhaps? The BBC getting nine and the Daily Mail with three, you get the picture? I found a story where John Terry was the FA spokesperson for a Respect Referees Campaign, surely some mistake?
Many millions of people use the web for information every day and the not so well developed countries are in the early stages of using the web, for an African schoolchild logging on and finding a site that claims the HIV/AIDS virus is manmade by the CIA could be potentially harmful to a developing society.
The most popular conspiracy theories at present are The US Government planned the 11th September attacks, Princess Diana was murdered by the British Royal Family, The Apollo Moon Landings (my favourite this one, as I don't believe the Americans actually landed on the Moon). Global Warming or Climate Change was invented by scientists when the Cold War ended so they wouldn't lose their funding, and most unbelievable of all Arcadi Gaydamak, the Jerusalem based Russian-Israeli businessman, has said for the first time that he, rather than his son Sacha is the owner of Portsmouth Football Club. He claims that the club are up for sale for £300m and that the new stadium will be built in conjunction with the Dubai Royal Family (£300m! a tad overpriced?)
So we'll wait and see where the Hadron Collider takes us, it may be that the Cern scientists will discover free renewable energy from their LHC experiments and pass the benefits onto mankind, now then that's a conspiracy theory that I'd like to start.
The Worldwide Web is the catalyst for wrong information, when Sir Tim invented the web I bet he hadn't reckoned on Wikipaedia for instance. A great idea in concept, someone posts a definition or an article about a subject or a famous person and anyone, yes anyone else can go into that article and add to it or embellish the definition. Many entries have found to be false, thus making the whole thing a website of misinformation, I have been told by a senior lecturer that some university students have actually copied and pasted wikipaedia extracts into their coursework. Thats not to say Wikipaedia is all bad, the majority of information in there is valid but some is wide of the mark.
There are also plenty of conspiracy theory websites out there, full of circumstantial, anecdotal and photographic evidence but how can we the web users separate the truth from fantasy? As the web evolves the user needs reassurance that what they are reading is factually accurate. When making a purchase online the safety certificate and the "padlock" logo both give you the signs that it is safe to use that site similarly a certificate or logo from the Worldwide Web Consortium could give a credibililty grading to a site, stars out of ten perhaps? The BBC getting nine and the Daily Mail with three, you get the picture? I found a story where John Terry was the FA spokesperson for a Respect Referees Campaign, surely some mistake?
Many millions of people use the web for information every day and the not so well developed countries are in the early stages of using the web, for an African schoolchild logging on and finding a site that claims the HIV/AIDS virus is manmade by the CIA could be potentially harmful to a developing society.
The most popular conspiracy theories at present are The US Government planned the 11th September attacks, Princess Diana was murdered by the British Royal Family, The Apollo Moon Landings (my favourite this one, as I don't believe the Americans actually landed on the Moon). Global Warming or Climate Change was invented by scientists when the Cold War ended so they wouldn't lose their funding, and most unbelievable of all Arcadi Gaydamak, the Jerusalem based Russian-Israeli businessman, has said for the first time that he, rather than his son Sacha is the owner of Portsmouth Football Club. He claims that the club are up for sale for £300m and that the new stadium will be built in conjunction with the Dubai Royal Family (£300m! a tad overpriced?)
So we'll wait and see where the Hadron Collider takes us, it may be that the Cern scientists will discover free renewable energy from their LHC experiments and pass the benefits onto mankind, now then that's a conspiracy theory that I'd like to start.
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Getting The Timing Right
While watching the Coventry v Newcastle Carling Cup tie earlier this week, a Coventry City equaliser was headed in the ninety-fourth minute. Newcastle manager Kevin Keegan was berating the fourth official, pointing to his watch and shaking his head wondering why when the board showed three minutes at the end of the ninety yet the game still progressed beyond the three extra minutes. It is all down to the referees discretion, hardly the way to run a multi-million pound sport where the referees discretion could be all thats between one team being in a cup final or another being relegated.
This discretionary timekeeping is an all too common scenario at football grounds the length of the country every week, why is it that in the twenty-first century the FA havn't addressed this area?
Football can learn a lot from Rugby Union, the current dalliance in football with the "Respect" campaign has been lifted from rugby, in which only the captain of the team can approach the referee to "discuss" on-pitch matters. The press conference was held with probably the worst offender for dissent, John Terry as the Premier Leagues' figurehead in this attempt to stop the disrespect so often show to refs and linesmen. The difference in rugby is that respect is instilled at a young age, at grass roots. Referees are called "Sir" and if you are penalised by the ref you accept the decision (he's not going to change his mind) and retreat ten metres. Football is not at all like this, the referee on giving a decision against a premier league footballer will be called a choice name, definately not "sir" and once the arguing is over they will form a wall some seven yards from the free kick.
The timing of Rugby Unions top level domestic and international matches is taken out of the referees hands, all he has to do is speak via his microphone headset to his timing official if there is a stoppage for injury and say "time off", the clock is stopped until the ref says "time on" again. Simple? yes it is and it ensures that there is no ambiguity, how many times have you been at a football match when the fourth official holds a digiboard up with 4 minutes on the display, thought to yourselves "hang on, where did that come from?" All the Football League and Premier League refs are "miked up" these days but for what purpose? One use of this technology should be to stop and start the clock, all stadia have digital clocks these days so why not use them? Substitutions when the player going off makes his way to the furthest part of the pitch from the dug-out can eat up the clock but all that is added is thirty seconds for each substitution. The laws of the game state that any time lost is to be added by the referee at his or her discretion, hardly the way to continue in such a success orientated sport.
Football should take all the advice it can from rugby, which continues to be a sport enjoyed by millions of people because of the respect for officials by the players and because the watching customers knowing exactly what is going on, the referees decisions are explained fully to all and the accurate match duration ensures there is no ambiguous discretion causing controversy.
This discretionary timekeeping is an all too common scenario at football grounds the length of the country every week, why is it that in the twenty-first century the FA havn't addressed this area?
Football can learn a lot from Rugby Union, the current dalliance in football with the "Respect" campaign has been lifted from rugby, in which only the captain of the team can approach the referee to "discuss" on-pitch matters. The press conference was held with probably the worst offender for dissent, John Terry as the Premier Leagues' figurehead in this attempt to stop the disrespect so often show to refs and linesmen. The difference in rugby is that respect is instilled at a young age, at grass roots. Referees are called "Sir" and if you are penalised by the ref you accept the decision (he's not going to change his mind) and retreat ten metres. Football is not at all like this, the referee on giving a decision against a premier league footballer will be called a choice name, definately not "sir" and once the arguing is over they will form a wall some seven yards from the free kick.
The timing of Rugby Unions top level domestic and international matches is taken out of the referees hands, all he has to do is speak via his microphone headset to his timing official if there is a stoppage for injury and say "time off", the clock is stopped until the ref says "time on" again. Simple? yes it is and it ensures that there is no ambiguity, how many times have you been at a football match when the fourth official holds a digiboard up with 4 minutes on the display, thought to yourselves "hang on, where did that come from?" All the Football League and Premier League refs are "miked up" these days but for what purpose? One use of this technology should be to stop and start the clock, all stadia have digital clocks these days so why not use them? Substitutions when the player going off makes his way to the furthest part of the pitch from the dug-out can eat up the clock but all that is added is thirty seconds for each substitution. The laws of the game state that any time lost is to be added by the referee at his or her discretion, hardly the way to continue in such a success orientated sport.
Football should take all the advice it can from rugby, which continues to be a sport enjoyed by millions of people because of the respect for officials by the players and because the watching customers knowing exactly what is going on, the referees decisions are explained fully to all and the accurate match duration ensures there is no ambiguous discretion causing controversy.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Ping-Pong is Coming Home
Ping-Pong coming home? According to Boris Johnson it is, his speech at the Olympic handover party in Beijing was superb, he pointed out that Britain had invented and codified every sport there is and to further strengthen his argument he said "Ping-Pong was invented on the dining tables of England, or wiff-waff as we called it, this is what sets us apart from other nations, where the French saw a dining table they saw the opportunity to have dinner, we looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to play wiff-waff". "I say to the Chinese People, I say to the world....Ping-Pong is coming home".
With Lord Coe almost in tears and Colin Moynihan behind him barely able to breathe due to hysterical laughter this was exactly what the occasion needed, not some serious speech about funding winners by a politician all too eager to associated himself with our triumphant athletes and surf the wave of goodwill generated by our gold medal winners.
Boris is not the buffoon that some parts of the media portray, he is a highly intelligent, witty and downright straight talking person who knows how to play an audience, lost in admiration for Team GB, Boris mourned the passing of ancient Olympic events such as "The Pancrateon, whose finest exponent was Milo of Kroton, his signature performance was to carry an ox the length of the arena before killing it with his bare hands and devouring it in a single day, I will be asking Lord Coe to bring this event back for 2012".
Maybe that won't be on the 2012 list of events but Badminton will be, did you know that the code of laws and rules of Badminton was drawn up in Southsea? a quite interesting fact, also we all know that Association Football was invented here in England but why can't we have a British football team in the Olympics? With four seperate Football Associations in Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and England there are some barriers to us entering a Great Britain football side.
Lets hope it all gets sorted out and hopefully the team will be managed by a character like Harry Redknapp instead of the gum chewing incoherent Alex Ferguson, did you hear his comment when his United team arrived at Fratton Park last night, mumble mumble "rabbit hutch" he said as he walked down to the dressing rooms, sorry Sir Alex not every team has the wealth behind them that a club like United has, Pompey don't have over a hundred million people worldwide and in Surrey claiming to be supporters and all helping to boost the coffers and create a stadium that holds seventy-six thousand people.
The chant of the season so far goes to the Fratton End, last night they silenced the "travelling" United fans with "we support, we support, we support our local team".
Wit and ingenuity.
you can see Boris's speech in full here http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7580165.stm
With Lord Coe almost in tears and Colin Moynihan behind him barely able to breathe due to hysterical laughter this was exactly what the occasion needed, not some serious speech about funding winners by a politician all too eager to associated himself with our triumphant athletes and surf the wave of goodwill generated by our gold medal winners.
Boris is not the buffoon that some parts of the media portray, he is a highly intelligent, witty and downright straight talking person who knows how to play an audience, lost in admiration for Team GB, Boris mourned the passing of ancient Olympic events such as "The Pancrateon, whose finest exponent was Milo of Kroton, his signature performance was to carry an ox the length of the arena before killing it with his bare hands and devouring it in a single day, I will be asking Lord Coe to bring this event back for 2012".
Maybe that won't be on the 2012 list of events but Badminton will be, did you know that the code of laws and rules of Badminton was drawn up in Southsea? a quite interesting fact, also we all know that Association Football was invented here in England but why can't we have a British football team in the Olympics? With four seperate Football Associations in Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and England there are some barriers to us entering a Great Britain football side.
Lets hope it all gets sorted out and hopefully the team will be managed by a character like Harry Redknapp instead of the gum chewing incoherent Alex Ferguson, did you hear his comment when his United team arrived at Fratton Park last night, mumble mumble "rabbit hutch" he said as he walked down to the dressing rooms, sorry Sir Alex not every team has the wealth behind them that a club like United has, Pompey don't have over a hundred million people worldwide and in Surrey claiming to be supporters and all helping to boost the coffers and create a stadium that holds seventy-six thousand people.
The chant of the season so far goes to the Fratton End, last night they silenced the "travelling" United fans with "we support, we support, we support our local team".
Wit and ingenuity.
you can see Boris's speech in full here http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7580165.stm
Monday, 18 August 2008
Gold Rush
I am enjoying the Olympics on BBC and thanks to the red button I can get to see everything, although some sports on offer are not exactly my cup of tea I've watched them anyway.
I'm not sure mens beach volleyball has a place on the small screen, ladies yes, it seems quite correct to my one track male mind. What I do object to is dressage, now I've never been an equestrian fan apart from horse racing, you know where you are with racing, start point, finish point, winner and places. But dressage? The commentators, at every opportunity talk about "expression", a horse jigging from one foot to another is deemed to be “expressive”. What, exactly, is being "expressed"? I've logged an hour or so viewing dressage now and I still havn't reached a conclusion.
Rob Walker of the BBC commentary team continues to be a source of pleasure and amusement, he absolutely oozes enthusiasm and eagerness sitting in a tiny rubber dinghy smiling and gripping his microphone as he gets tossed into the air by the swell of the sea as Ben Ainsley streaks by on his way to another gold.
The amount of gold medals we've won has re-ignited my Britishness and to see us winning more gold than Australia is extremely gratifying.
More medals today for Great Britain to follow on from the successes in the cycling, rowing and sailing as well as Lewis Smiths fantastic performance on the pommel horse to get a bronze medal in a gymnastic event, the first in eighty years. I'm hoping maybe we can get some success on the track, Judgment Day is almost here for Christine Ohuruogu. Tomorrow the British runner will line up against the American, Sanya Richards in the 400m, Sarah Claxton runs in the 100m hurdles also Tasha Danvers has got herself in the 400m hurdles final. For the men Marlon Devonish and Christian Malcolm are in the 200m final with Usain Bolt, good luck lads.
A big disappointment has to be Paula Radcliffe, her twenty-third place in the marathon just goes to show that you can't come back a couple of weeks after a stress fracture and expect to win the ultimate Olympic event. But if we were disappointed with lame Paula spare a thought for the Chinese people who are in a state of shock, disbelief and mourning that their golden boy Liu Xiang is out of the games.
He seemed to suffer an injury in his 110m hurdle heat, pulling up almost as he set off. The injury is said to be a ruptured tendon in the foot, he must be a tough cookie, he went back out to the track and took a couple of hurdles and his face showed the pain his frustration overflowed as he kicked his injured foot into a wall inside the stadium. I felt for Liu Xiang, I am currently in plaster myself after rupturing my achilles tendon playing football, if I put any weight on my bad ankle you can hear the scream for miles, this guy must be some kind of superhuman to try and continue in his event.
Xiang won't get another shot at a gold medal until London in 2012 but it seems that Michael Phelps can win medals on a daily basis, therefore I cannot classify him as the greatest ever olympian, I reserve that for Carl Lewis or our own Steven Redgrave.
Hugh Porter the cycling commentator is clearly enjoying himself in the velodrome but a warning for all BBC interviewers here, Rebecca Romero our gold medal winning cyclist was asked for her thoughts after beating fellow Brit Wendy Houvenaghel in the individual pursuit. A four minute slightly cringeworthy rhetoric then ensued where Rebecca talked about demons and the dark side and how she was new to cycling and has such a drive to succeed "I would have been absolutely crushed to have won silver again,” Romero said. “To have medals in two different sports — I’m so proud of myself. It’s been my goal to be a great athlete, to be a great champion".............“If I hadn’t done it today, I don’t know where I would be,” she said. “Probably on the floor, dead somewhere. It’s been so hard, I can’t explain. I was totally believing in myself, but it’s the ultimate.”
glad you asked?
I'm not sure mens beach volleyball has a place on the small screen, ladies yes, it seems quite correct to my one track male mind. What I do object to is dressage, now I've never been an equestrian fan apart from horse racing, you know where you are with racing, start point, finish point, winner and places. But dressage? The commentators, at every opportunity talk about "expression", a horse jigging from one foot to another is deemed to be “expressive”. What, exactly, is being "expressed"? I've logged an hour or so viewing dressage now and I still havn't reached a conclusion.
Rob Walker of the BBC commentary team continues to be a source of pleasure and amusement, he absolutely oozes enthusiasm and eagerness sitting in a tiny rubber dinghy smiling and gripping his microphone as he gets tossed into the air by the swell of the sea as Ben Ainsley streaks by on his way to another gold.
The amount of gold medals we've won has re-ignited my Britishness and to see us winning more gold than Australia is extremely gratifying.
More medals today for Great Britain to follow on from the successes in the cycling, rowing and sailing as well as Lewis Smiths fantastic performance on the pommel horse to get a bronze medal in a gymnastic event, the first in eighty years. I'm hoping maybe we can get some success on the track, Judgment Day is almost here for Christine Ohuruogu. Tomorrow the British runner will line up against the American, Sanya Richards in the 400m, Sarah Claxton runs in the 100m hurdles also Tasha Danvers has got herself in the 400m hurdles final. For the men Marlon Devonish and Christian Malcolm are in the 200m final with Usain Bolt, good luck lads.
A big disappointment has to be Paula Radcliffe, her twenty-third place in the marathon just goes to show that you can't come back a couple of weeks after a stress fracture and expect to win the ultimate Olympic event. But if we were disappointed with lame Paula spare a thought for the Chinese people who are in a state of shock, disbelief and mourning that their golden boy Liu Xiang is out of the games.
He seemed to suffer an injury in his 110m hurdle heat, pulling up almost as he set off. The injury is said to be a ruptured tendon in the foot, he must be a tough cookie, he went back out to the track and took a couple of hurdles and his face showed the pain his frustration overflowed as he kicked his injured foot into a wall inside the stadium. I felt for Liu Xiang, I am currently in plaster myself after rupturing my achilles tendon playing football, if I put any weight on my bad ankle you can hear the scream for miles, this guy must be some kind of superhuman to try and continue in his event.
Xiang won't get another shot at a gold medal until London in 2012 but it seems that Michael Phelps can win medals on a daily basis, therefore I cannot classify him as the greatest ever olympian, I reserve that for Carl Lewis or our own Steven Redgrave.
Hugh Porter the cycling commentator is clearly enjoying himself in the velodrome but a warning for all BBC interviewers here, Rebecca Romero our gold medal winning cyclist was asked for her thoughts after beating fellow Brit Wendy Houvenaghel in the individual pursuit. A four minute slightly cringeworthy rhetoric then ensued where Rebecca talked about demons and the dark side and how she was new to cycling and has such a drive to succeed "I would have been absolutely crushed to have won silver again,” Romero said. “To have medals in two different sports — I’m so proud of myself. It’s been my goal to be a great athlete, to be a great champion".............“If I hadn’t done it today, I don’t know where I would be,” she said. “Probably on the floor, dead somewhere. It’s been so hard, I can’t explain. I was totally believing in myself, but it’s the ultimate.”
glad you asked?
Madeira, Cake and Beer
Following quickly on from walking Hadrians Wall which got our knees into hill mode we took ourselves off to Madeira, the intention of dividing the break into a few days walking and the rest loafing around in the sun drinking ice cold cerveza por favor.
Madeira sits to the north of the Canary Islands in the Atlantic and despite being created by a volcano is lush and beautiful with a vast array of flowers growing practically everywhere. You'll need strong knees and a head for heights on some on the paths that run alongside the levadas but the views will be a fair reward for the effort. A levada is a small channel sometimes made of concrete or in older levadas hewn straight out of the rock, these water channels bring water from the wetter northern part of the island to the drier sunny south where it's used to irrigate the banana plantations among other crops. These channels run for miles all over the island, providing water for hydro-electric plants as well as the other types of edible and floral plants.
If you are staying in Funchal where most of the hotels are situated it's possible to take the yellow town buses and get up pretty high, the buses are frequent and don't worry about missing your stop, when there are no locals left on board it's the end of the line and time to get off.
A good idea is to take along the "Sunflower" Madeira walking book by John and Pat Underwood, this has walks, maps local important advice and essential bus information, it's all you need to get yourself out into this beautiful islands most stunning areas.
You could hire a car but this is quite pricy on Madeira, buses are freely available as are taxis and with this mode you don't have to worry about getting back to where you left the hire car after your days walk.
There are several firms on the island which specialise in walking tours on Madeira and they will collect you from your hotel and take you in a mini bus to your start point and pick you up when you've finished, an experienced guide will take you on some breathtaking walks hopefully without a group of over-excited Americans.
We set off on our own for our first walk from Romeiros to Camacha, the route took us along the Levada dos Tornos passing two tea-houses on the way, my tip is to go for the Hortensia Tea Rooms where the cake is fantastic and a must have energy boost when walking all day. If you get time on this route use it to stop off at the beautiful gardens at Palheiro Ferreiro.
Along the way you'll pass wild geraniums, agapanthus, mimosa and eucalyptus trees among loads of other plants. The islanders make use of every bit of space for growing crops, you'll see runner beans, peas, cabbages, garlic and by one small house an enterprising local had left a bowl of ice filled with bottles of the excellent island beer "Coral", a bottle opener and a tin for the money, most welcome on a dry hot day. As far as equipment goes, you'll need your boots, day pack and a waterproof jacket as it can get a bit damp on top of the mountains and on the plateau. Leave your vertigo behind but you'll need to take a torch for walking on Madeira as a few of the levadas cut straight through the mountains and some tunnels can take ten minutes to walk through.
If you want to get further inland and higher up then one of the guided walk options is a good idea, the Pico Grande and Pico Ruivo are the highest points but some of the valleys are extremely beautiful and the walk from Rabacal (1500m) to the twenty-five fountains and back through the Curral Valley is especially nice although you will need a head for heights here as the path is only a foot wide in places. The fountains are morelike mountain springs but it's a lovely spot for a picnic and if you're lucky a chaffinch will help you eat it.The authorities have now gone a bit "health & safety" mad and all the dangerous areas have a grab wire alongside the path. You find yourself walking along paths which have so much vegetation alongside you don't even realise there is a sheer drop just metres away, you appreciate this when a viewpoint opens out and a sheer cliff is visible where you have just walked from on the other side of the mountain with a valley 100s of metres deep below your feet.
Madeira is a relatively safe place to holiday, the only danger being the odd insane taxi driver and as it has no beach or clubbing culture it's free from the lager lout element, in fact it's more "Saga Lout" with gangs of retired Brits and Germans in their uniform of beige and sky blue roaming the main strip looking for a meal deal or a bar with tv and football. Madeira is a fantastic place for a walking holiday but equally good if you just fancy lazing by the pool, beaches are not plentiful as this is a rocky volcanic island but lush gardens are, the Jardin Botanico above Funchal is a must see and if you make your way up to Monte the Tropical Garden at the Monte Palace is delightful. Along the coast from Funchal is Calheta which has a manufactured beach with golden sands shipped in from the Sahara but the best thing about Madeira for me is the mountains and the lazy levadas where you can walk for miles in total tranquility.
Madeira sits to the north of the Canary Islands in the Atlantic and despite being created by a volcano is lush and beautiful with a vast array of flowers growing practically everywhere. You'll need strong knees and a head for heights on some on the paths that run alongside the levadas but the views will be a fair reward for the effort. A levada is a small channel sometimes made of concrete or in older levadas hewn straight out of the rock, these water channels bring water from the wetter northern part of the island to the drier sunny south where it's used to irrigate the banana plantations among other crops. These channels run for miles all over the island, providing water for hydro-electric plants as well as the other types of edible and floral plants.
If you are staying in Funchal where most of the hotels are situated it's possible to take the yellow town buses and get up pretty high, the buses are frequent and don't worry about missing your stop, when there are no locals left on board it's the end of the line and time to get off.
A good idea is to take along the "Sunflower" Madeira walking book by John and Pat Underwood, this has walks, maps local important advice and essential bus information, it's all you need to get yourself out into this beautiful islands most stunning areas.
You could hire a car but this is quite pricy on Madeira, buses are freely available as are taxis and with this mode you don't have to worry about getting back to where you left the hire car after your days walk.
There are several firms on the island which specialise in walking tours on Madeira and they will collect you from your hotel and take you in a mini bus to your start point and pick you up when you've finished, an experienced guide will take you on some breathtaking walks hopefully without a group of over-excited Americans.
We set off on our own for our first walk from Romeiros to Camacha, the route took us along the Levada dos Tornos passing two tea-houses on the way, my tip is to go for the Hortensia Tea Rooms where the cake is fantastic and a must have energy boost when walking all day. If you get time on this route use it to stop off at the beautiful gardens at Palheiro Ferreiro.
Along the way you'll pass wild geraniums, agapanthus, mimosa and eucalyptus trees among loads of other plants. The islanders make use of every bit of space for growing crops, you'll see runner beans, peas, cabbages, garlic and by one small house an enterprising local had left a bowl of ice filled with bottles of the excellent island beer "Coral", a bottle opener and a tin for the money, most welcome on a dry hot day. As far as equipment goes, you'll need your boots, day pack and a waterproof jacket as it can get a bit damp on top of the mountains and on the plateau. Leave your vertigo behind but you'll need to take a torch for walking on Madeira as a few of the levadas cut straight through the mountains and some tunnels can take ten minutes to walk through.
If you want to get further inland and higher up then one of the guided walk options is a good idea, the Pico Grande and Pico Ruivo are the highest points but some of the valleys are extremely beautiful and the walk from Rabacal (1500m) to the twenty-five fountains and back through the Curral Valley is especially nice although you will need a head for heights here as the path is only a foot wide in places. The fountains are morelike mountain springs but it's a lovely spot for a picnic and if you're lucky a chaffinch will help you eat it.The authorities have now gone a bit "health & safety" mad and all the dangerous areas have a grab wire alongside the path. You find yourself walking along paths which have so much vegetation alongside you don't even realise there is a sheer drop just metres away, you appreciate this when a viewpoint opens out and a sheer cliff is visible where you have just walked from on the other side of the mountain with a valley 100s of metres deep below your feet.
Madeira is a relatively safe place to holiday, the only danger being the odd insane taxi driver and as it has no beach or clubbing culture it's free from the lager lout element, in fact it's more "Saga Lout" with gangs of retired Brits and Germans in their uniform of beige and sky blue roaming the main strip looking for a meal deal or a bar with tv and football. Madeira is a fantastic place for a walking holiday but equally good if you just fancy lazing by the pool, beaches are not plentiful as this is a rocky volcanic island but lush gardens are, the Jardin Botanico above Funchal is a must see and if you make your way up to Monte the Tropical Garden at the Monte Palace is delightful. Along the coast from Funchal is Calheta which has a manufactured beach with golden sands shipped in from the Sahara but the best thing about Madeira for me is the mountains and the lazy levadas where you can walk for miles in total tranquility.
Saturday, 28 June 2008
One of those days
We've all had them, one of those days when not everything goes wrong but pretty close to it. Major things occur during the day that seem like the end of the world, things that could cause your blood pressure to rise and your chest pump with rage, unless like me you can learn to cope with these unexpected occurances that are out of your control.
Okay so that last bit isn't quite true, I am probably the least tolerant and most unable person to cope with the unexpected. If a plane, train or bus is scheduled to leave at a certain time then to my mind there is no reason for it not to do so. How can it be so difficult?
Having had a fantastic week on the island of Madeira we had breakfast in the hotel and checked out after refusing to pay €14.60 for phone calls we hadn't made and found our taxi driver was waiting to take us on the twenty-five minute ride to Funchal airport. His yellow Mercedes was draped in Benfica flags and a minor shrine to the Blessed Virgin on the dashboard. This portly moustache wielding latter day highwayman then set off into the Madeiran rush hour only using his brakes as a last resort. The speed we hit on the busy expressway was now getting serious, the needle hit 150kmh (an unhealthy 95mph) and exiting a tunnel onto a high level viaduct the car suddenly started weaving and snaking at high speed, "senor...SENOR, por favor SLOW DOWN", he did but only for a couple of kilometres, and my next utterance (after much swearing) was "he's got no chance of a tip".
Thankfully the Virgin Mary was looking after us and we got to the airport alive, SuperMario went off to get us a trolley which we didn't need "he's still not getting a tip" and then asked for €32.30. Now then, I'd booked it and the agreed price was €30, I know it's only €2.30 difference but stay with me here, it's the principle of the thing. I did a deal for thirty bucks which is more than enough for what proved to be a ten minute ride, you can hire a cab for half a day for forty euros! So me and this big moustache argued over who was right and when I called a policeman to my assistance he quickly weighed it up, on one hand a taxi driver sporting a giant rug on his top lip and an extremely irate soon to be departing tourist. His response was to ignore the whole incident and walk away, cheers mate thanks a bunch, so in my worst Portuguese I told the driver my thoughts of him and waited for my seventy cents change.
I was in a fit of rage, my girlfriend all the time telling me to forget it and calm down, wise words but I wasn't listening I was so incensed I forgot that he'd nearly killed us. Moving into the airport the next thing I see is our flight is no longer 1115 but 1225, "oh well, lets check in anyway" but oh no, easyjet have other ideas, so an hour later we get checked in and find that the flight is now set to leave at 1300. At last we're going to board the plane but at quarter past two we're on but being told to get off and wait in the lounge in the terminal while a gang of moustachios sort out a technical problem. Oh well, I didn't want to see the Turkey v Germany game anyway.
Needless to say I took this in my stride and calmly left the aircraft for the terminal, I had a great seat too, would I get the legroom I craved when we reboard? if we reboard. Being held in a limbo world between duty free and the aircraft my frayed nerves had to contend with screaming children and those who hold "speedy boarding" tickets. If you want a better class of travel you don't fly easyjet, if you want to get somewhere sunny for £80 return you do fly easyjet and take all the scrummaging that goes with it Those mugs who pay the extra just to get on first so that they can read their Daily Mails by the window, remember this, I always get on pretty early, get the most legroom and don't pay a penny more than when I bought the ticket.
So after cruising up and down Funchals runway to see if the new landing gear circuit board from the local Tandy shop is working the plane finally got away and back to Gatwick, a train journey back to Fratton and rushing over the footbridge to Smiffys Sports Bar on Goldsmith Avenue we ordered beer but they only had Fosters and settled in to watch the rest of Turkey v Germany.
All was not well, no picture which thankfully meant no Motson but the radio was on which meant Alan Green, just how bad could this day get? Soon answered, Germany go 2-1 ahead, pictures return and we see Turkey come back to two each but even as I was cheering the Turks and looking forward to extra time the Germans joined in the conspiracy and scored a third to book their place in the final of 2008s European Championship.
Never mind, I've learnt from the experiences of that day and whatever happens to you in "one of those days", you'll look back and think it wasn't that bad after all, nobody died and remember, there's always someone worse off than yourself, the awful scenes on the news from Zimbabwe reminded me of that.
Okay so that last bit isn't quite true, I am probably the least tolerant and most unable person to cope with the unexpected. If a plane, train or bus is scheduled to leave at a certain time then to my mind there is no reason for it not to do so. How can it be so difficult?
Having had a fantastic week on the island of Madeira we had breakfast in the hotel and checked out after refusing to pay €14.60 for phone calls we hadn't made and found our taxi driver was waiting to take us on the twenty-five minute ride to Funchal airport. His yellow Mercedes was draped in Benfica flags and a minor shrine to the Blessed Virgin on the dashboard. This portly moustache wielding latter day highwayman then set off into the Madeiran rush hour only using his brakes as a last resort. The speed we hit on the busy expressway was now getting serious, the needle hit 150kmh (an unhealthy 95mph) and exiting a tunnel onto a high level viaduct the car suddenly started weaving and snaking at high speed, "senor...SENOR, por favor SLOW DOWN", he did but only for a couple of kilometres, and my next utterance (after much swearing) was "he's got no chance of a tip".
Thankfully the Virgin Mary was looking after us and we got to the airport alive, SuperMario went off to get us a trolley which we didn't need "he's still not getting a tip" and then asked for €32.30. Now then, I'd booked it and the agreed price was €30, I know it's only €2.30 difference but stay with me here, it's the principle of the thing. I did a deal for thirty bucks which is more than enough for what proved to be a ten minute ride, you can hire a cab for half a day for forty euros! So me and this big moustache argued over who was right and when I called a policeman to my assistance he quickly weighed it up, on one hand a taxi driver sporting a giant rug on his top lip and an extremely irate soon to be departing tourist. His response was to ignore the whole incident and walk away, cheers mate thanks a bunch, so in my worst Portuguese I told the driver my thoughts of him and waited for my seventy cents change.
I was in a fit of rage, my girlfriend all the time telling me to forget it and calm down, wise words but I wasn't listening I was so incensed I forgot that he'd nearly killed us. Moving into the airport the next thing I see is our flight is no longer 1115 but 1225, "oh well, lets check in anyway" but oh no, easyjet have other ideas, so an hour later we get checked in and find that the flight is now set to leave at 1300. At last we're going to board the plane but at quarter past two we're on but being told to get off and wait in the lounge in the terminal while a gang of moustachios sort out a technical problem. Oh well, I didn't want to see the Turkey v Germany game anyway.
Needless to say I took this in my stride and calmly left the aircraft for the terminal, I had a great seat too, would I get the legroom I craved when we reboard? if we reboard. Being held in a limbo world between duty free and the aircraft my frayed nerves had to contend with screaming children and those who hold "speedy boarding" tickets. If you want a better class of travel you don't fly easyjet, if you want to get somewhere sunny for £80 return you do fly easyjet and take all the scrummaging that goes with it Those mugs who pay the extra just to get on first so that they can read their Daily Mails by the window, remember this, I always get on pretty early, get the most legroom and don't pay a penny more than when I bought the ticket.
So after cruising up and down Funchals runway to see if the new landing gear circuit board from the local Tandy shop is working the plane finally got away and back to Gatwick, a train journey back to Fratton and rushing over the footbridge to Smiffys Sports Bar on Goldsmith Avenue we ordered beer but they only had Fosters and settled in to watch the rest of Turkey v Germany.
All was not well, no picture which thankfully meant no Motson but the radio was on which meant Alan Green, just how bad could this day get? Soon answered, Germany go 2-1 ahead, pictures return and we see Turkey come back to two each but even as I was cheering the Turks and looking forward to extra time the Germans joined in the conspiracy and scored a third to book their place in the final of 2008s European Championship.
Never mind, I've learnt from the experiences of that day and whatever happens to you in "one of those days", you'll look back and think it wasn't that bad after all, nobody died and remember, there's always someone worse off than yourself, the awful scenes on the news from Zimbabwe reminded me of that.
Monday, 2 June 2008
The Greatest Day of My Life..........So Far
It's been a couple of weeks since the FA Cup final and I've been enjoying, no, wallowing in the glory. I never thought I'd see Pompey win the cup, especially when the sixth round draw was announced, I was on Beachy Head, not the best place to be when you hear the draw is Manchester United away.
I did say at the time "well thats it then, of all the teams to get drawn against, why not Barnsley or Middlesbrough? **** it".
In fact I said "**** it" a lot that afternoon, I thought about that moment while I was driving up the M3 for the cup final, a smile on my face as I passed the stretch limos and coaches covered in Blue and white flags and scarves, how on earth did Pompey win at Old Trafford? Surely the name on the cup would be Portsmouth, all the luck was with us, last gasp own goal versus Preston, a penalty not given against Ipswich, and just how did Distin stop Carrick from getting the ball over the line? Pompey rode their luck like a surfer on the crest of a wave.
The moment I really felt confident of victory was on the train at Richmond, group of Cardiff fans joined us in the carriage, a lady started chatting to us and in a gorgeous Welsh accent said "how old is that Karnooo? he says he's thirty-two, is that right?". Laughter filled the train then she added "we know we're going to get beat but we'll have a lovely day and it's so nice to see you boys all looking so worried".
That relaxed me and at Willesden Junction meeting my brother and his son who is in the joyous situation of being a Pompey fan for a few years now and at thirteen years old he's yet to see Pompey lose. I became more confident, my first Pompey match I was eleven years of age and got a dismal 2-0 defeat at home to Orient, my nephew has seen wins and draws in the premier league and wins in the semi and the final at Wembley, a lucky mascot indeed. I have grown up watching cup finals and becoming part of it, the night before on ITV we'd watch "Who'll Win The Cup?" chaired by Brian Moore with a few hand picked guests. Then Saturday morning, watching the build-up and jealously seeing fans walking up Wembley Way, that's always something I wanted to do. I refrained at the semi-final, it wouldn't have been right to walk that route unless it was the FA Cup Final. So on the 17th May 2008 I realised an ambition, not much of an ambition you may say, but to me it was something special, a missing piece of a jigsaw. The fans were in awesome voice, the Pompey Chimes rang out loud along that walkway and then the sight I'll never forget, Bobby Moores' statue draped in St George and Pompey flags, his bronze image fervently guarded by Portsmouth fans.
The game went by in a flash, ninety minutes never ticked by so quickly until the final three minutes when the clock seemed to stop, the most vivid memory of the game I have is David James rushing out and clearing the danger in about the third minute of the match. I remember the celebrations and seeing the cup carried aloft by so many Pompey heroes and then Barry Harris found himself alone with the FA Cup, he looked around him for a Pompey player to hand the cup to but he saw no-one near him and to his great credit he milked the moment, in front of the fans, his face was a picture of pure joy. I have to admit and I'm not ashamed to say I shed a tear or two when the FA Cup was collected by Sol Campbell, I looked around and many blokes of my age were doing the same. I doubt if winning the FA Cup has meant so much to a group of fans in recent times, it really meant something special.
I met up with an old friend at Wembley station, when we got on the train he looked stunned, stunned but happy but there was something else there too, a lifting of the suffering, we reminisced of journeys to far flung fourth and third division grounds, years of second division campaigns which became like trench warfare, losing the semi final to Liverpool, failing in the play-off semi final against Leicester. An ironic smile at this as we pondered Milan Mandaric and how Pompey prospered and slumped under him, we chatted away while we changed platforms at Willesden, then talked of the evening celebrations, he was heading straight back to Pompey but I was heading to Richmond and a quick sprint down the M3 to Bournemouth, at that point my friend realised he was on the wrong train. His comment "we were making good time too".
Which brings me back to the greatest day of my life, I saw Pompey lift the FA Cup in the afternoon and in the evening saw Paul Weller at his best in the Opera House in Boscombe, I met up with my girlfriend who'd got the train to Bournemouth and having my first cup winning celebration beer in the Opera House bar a couple walked past and I overheard him say to his girl "lets just get champagne eh?" I stopped him and said "are you Pompey?" He was indeed and he was so excited, I thought he was going to burst when I showed him my camera phone pictures of the day. Weller was awesome and really sealed the day for me, a fantastic day and a truly memorable Sunday to follow.
I did say at the time "well thats it then, of all the teams to get drawn against, why not Barnsley or Middlesbrough? **** it".
In fact I said "**** it" a lot that afternoon, I thought about that moment while I was driving up the M3 for the cup final, a smile on my face as I passed the stretch limos and coaches covered in Blue and white flags and scarves, how on earth did Pompey win at Old Trafford? Surely the name on the cup would be Portsmouth, all the luck was with us, last gasp own goal versus Preston, a penalty not given against Ipswich, and just how did Distin stop Carrick from getting the ball over the line? Pompey rode their luck like a surfer on the crest of a wave.
The moment I really felt confident of victory was on the train at Richmond, group of Cardiff fans joined us in the carriage, a lady started chatting to us and in a gorgeous Welsh accent said "how old is that Karnooo? he says he's thirty-two, is that right?". Laughter filled the train then she added "we know we're going to get beat but we'll have a lovely day and it's so nice to see you boys all looking so worried".
That relaxed me and at Willesden Junction meeting my brother and his son who is in the joyous situation of being a Pompey fan for a few years now and at thirteen years old he's yet to see Pompey lose. I became more confident, my first Pompey match I was eleven years of age and got a dismal 2-0 defeat at home to Orient, my nephew has seen wins and draws in the premier league and wins in the semi and the final at Wembley, a lucky mascot indeed. I have grown up watching cup finals and becoming part of it, the night before on ITV we'd watch "Who'll Win The Cup?" chaired by Brian Moore with a few hand picked guests. Then Saturday morning, watching the build-up and jealously seeing fans walking up Wembley Way, that's always something I wanted to do. I refrained at the semi-final, it wouldn't have been right to walk that route unless it was the FA Cup Final. So on the 17th May 2008 I realised an ambition, not much of an ambition you may say, but to me it was something special, a missing piece of a jigsaw. The fans were in awesome voice, the Pompey Chimes rang out loud along that walkway and then the sight I'll never forget, Bobby Moores' statue draped in St George and Pompey flags, his bronze image fervently guarded by Portsmouth fans.
The game went by in a flash, ninety minutes never ticked by so quickly until the final three minutes when the clock seemed to stop, the most vivid memory of the game I have is David James rushing out and clearing the danger in about the third minute of the match. I remember the celebrations and seeing the cup carried aloft by so many Pompey heroes and then Barry Harris found himself alone with the FA Cup, he looked around him for a Pompey player to hand the cup to but he saw no-one near him and to his great credit he milked the moment, in front of the fans, his face was a picture of pure joy. I have to admit and I'm not ashamed to say I shed a tear or two when the FA Cup was collected by Sol Campbell, I looked around and many blokes of my age were doing the same. I doubt if winning the FA Cup has meant so much to a group of fans in recent times, it really meant something special.
I met up with an old friend at Wembley station, when we got on the train he looked stunned, stunned but happy but there was something else there too, a lifting of the suffering, we reminisced of journeys to far flung fourth and third division grounds, years of second division campaigns which became like trench warfare, losing the semi final to Liverpool, failing in the play-off semi final against Leicester. An ironic smile at this as we pondered Milan Mandaric and how Pompey prospered and slumped under him, we chatted away while we changed platforms at Willesden, then talked of the evening celebrations, he was heading straight back to Pompey but I was heading to Richmond and a quick sprint down the M3 to Bournemouth, at that point my friend realised he was on the wrong train. His comment "we were making good time too".
Which brings me back to the greatest day of my life, I saw Pompey lift the FA Cup in the afternoon and in the evening saw Paul Weller at his best in the Opera House in Boscombe, I met up with my girlfriend who'd got the train to Bournemouth and having my first cup winning celebration beer in the Opera House bar a couple walked past and I overheard him say to his girl "lets just get champagne eh?" I stopped him and said "are you Pompey?" He was indeed and he was so excited, I thought he was going to burst when I showed him my camera phone pictures of the day. Weller was awesome and really sealed the day for me, a fantastic day and a truly memorable Sunday to follow.
Friday, 18 April 2008
Red White & Blue
After the euphoria of the FA Cup semi-final for such a serial defeatist as myself coming to terms with Pompey actually being in the cup final having finally realised it's not just a dream, the joy has been dampened somewhat by the news that Portsmouth are to wear all blue in the final.
"The players are superstitious" is the official line from the club, I can understand that, I play cricket in the summer months and I'm a batsman, nobody is more superstitious than a cricketer, I've been putting my left pad on before my right for more years than I can remember but it doesn't guarantee any runs. I also play rugby and have lucky pants, socks, you name it, I follow the same routine but it never made any difference, if you're going to win you will.
Please Pompey boys, try and understand it won't affect the outcome of the match. I once wore a replica France rugby shirt the day before France v England in Paris, England won so the following fortnight I tried it again but we were playing Scotland or Ireland (my memory fails me) and England lost. I tried it again before the Wales game this year and it didn't work so the point is it doesn't matter. What you wear won't adversely effect the outcome of the game.
The Pompey players should be so full of confidence that they don't need superstitions, spare a thought for the fans and the watching world. Pompey very proudly play in blue white & red and apart from a brief dalliance with a pretentious white with blue twin stripe continental look in the seventies they have done for years.
This occasion belongs as much if not more to the long suffering fans as the players and I'm pretty sure that in a vote the fans would say wear the blue shirt white shorts and red socks. If superstition held any credibilty I'd be a millionaire, I do the same superstitious bets every week, the same superstitious lottery numbers, I back the same superstitious jockeys colours and here I am still working for a living instead of relaxing on the earnings of my superstitions.
Come on Pompey boys, do the supporters the club the city and yourselves proud, wear the club colours at Wembley, show the world you're above superstition and that what you wear isn't going to influence how you perform on the pitch, give us our day at Wembley in the red white & blue.
"The players are superstitious" is the official line from the club, I can understand that, I play cricket in the summer months and I'm a batsman, nobody is more superstitious than a cricketer, I've been putting my left pad on before my right for more years than I can remember but it doesn't guarantee any runs. I also play rugby and have lucky pants, socks, you name it, I follow the same routine but it never made any difference, if you're going to win you will.
Please Pompey boys, try and understand it won't affect the outcome of the match. I once wore a replica France rugby shirt the day before France v England in Paris, England won so the following fortnight I tried it again but we were playing Scotland or Ireland (my memory fails me) and England lost. I tried it again before the Wales game this year and it didn't work so the point is it doesn't matter. What you wear won't adversely effect the outcome of the game.
The Pompey players should be so full of confidence that they don't need superstitions, spare a thought for the fans and the watching world. Pompey very proudly play in blue white & red and apart from a brief dalliance with a pretentious white with blue twin stripe continental look in the seventies they have done for years.
This occasion belongs as much if not more to the long suffering fans as the players and I'm pretty sure that in a vote the fans would say wear the blue shirt white shorts and red socks. If superstition held any credibilty I'd be a millionaire, I do the same superstitious bets every week, the same superstitious lottery numbers, I back the same superstitious jockeys colours and here I am still working for a living instead of relaxing on the earnings of my superstitions.
Come on Pompey boys, do the supporters the club the city and yourselves proud, wear the club colours at Wembley, show the world you're above superstition and that what you wear isn't going to influence how you perform on the pitch, give us our day at Wembley in the red white & blue.
Sunday, 6 April 2008
Journey to Wembley
I had vowed to myself that I would only go to the new Wembley Stadium if Portsmouth were in the cup final, my strong feelings that millions of pounds have been wasted in the building of the complex made my resolve not to attend all the more. However what do you do when the club you first saw in 1976 on a wet Tuesday night in April get to a Wembley semi-final?
Of course, I'm going, all my principles were going out of the window and I was going to be there.
The whole city had been buzzing with excitement and it seemed everyone I knew who wanted to go had a ticket, this was going to be the trip of a lifetime. The track maintenance planned between Woking and Waterloo wasn't going to spoil it either, I got myself to the Harbour station at 05.45 to find I wasn't the only one with intentions of beating the later rush, at Horsham the train had four carriages added to the eight original ones such was the swell of people on board, getting off the train at Clapham I met my London based brother and his young son, I only hope my nephew knows how lucky he is to be seeing Pompey at Wembley at such an early stage in his Pompey fan career, I've seen plenty of ups and downs with Portsmouth, in fact more downs probably. On that wet Tuesday in 1976 when my journey began, Pompey were already relegated to the third division before they lost to Orient, so I had already made myself acquainted with a team that would regularly disappoint, following quickly was relegation the fourth division in 1978.
The journeys in those dark days were long, a trek to Rochdale in an Austin 1100 I remember only too well, around 2000 Pompey fans went to Lancashire that day and we cleaned them out of programs by 1pm. This was a typical Division four away game in those days and climbing out of the fourth division at the second attempt by the skin of their teeth was my first taste of success followed by the Division 3 Championship a couple of years later. Years of Division two football then ensued, seeing the likes of Chelsea and Newcastle come and go, Blackburn were always a big rival so too were Barnsley and Huddersfield. There was joy at Mark Hateleys two hat-tricks in a week and seeing him make his England debut as a Pompey player v USSR at Wembley. Then at the end of the 80s a brief flirtation with the top division, when the late Alan Ball guided Pompey up in 1987 only to come straight back down.
So you can see how Pompey fans have suffered over the years and surely nobody can begrudge them a bit of success in a competition so dominated by the rich four in recent times. In fact the victory at Old Trafford however lucky it may or may not have been is reason enough to suggest that Pompey can go all the way. The semi-final was not a great game but they very rarely are, so much is at stake that the professional will to win overrides any thought of showboating or individual skill. The atmosphere in the second half was incredible, deafening choruses of Play Up Pompey echoed around Wembley, I'm sure the Baggies were cheering too but we could only hear ourselves.
The New Wembley is a fantastic stadium but in the wrong place, the transport infrastructure is inadequate and there simply isn't enough access to and from it. I would have liked the semi-final to have been at a neutral ground, I believe that Wembley is part of the prize of the FA Cup but whatever, it's happened now and we all had a brilliant day out and stories to tell for generations.
At the ground I met old friends, people I hadn't seen in years and some new, a friend of a friend who is American and has become a Pompey fan after being dragged along to the quarter final at Old Trafford and one man who I have the utmost regard for. Father Pat a retired priest who was present at the 1939 cup final when of course Pompey won the cup and kept it safe throughout the war. After the game Pat was honest enough to say Portsmouth were poor and that West Brom had played a good game, he stopped and chatted to many groups of Baggies fans after the game and told them how well their team had played and that Pompey were lucky to win, I wonder how many others are still alive today that can say "I was there" in 1939?
The spirit between the two clubs support is very good natured, remember that last day of the premier league season when Southampton went down? Well West Brom played their part in full that day, so a kind of affinity exists between the two sets of fans, good luck to The Albion and I hope they get promoted.
Of course, I'm going, all my principles were going out of the window and I was going to be there.
The whole city had been buzzing with excitement and it seemed everyone I knew who wanted to go had a ticket, this was going to be the trip of a lifetime. The track maintenance planned between Woking and Waterloo wasn't going to spoil it either, I got myself to the Harbour station at 05.45 to find I wasn't the only one with intentions of beating the later rush, at Horsham the train had four carriages added to the eight original ones such was the swell of people on board, getting off the train at Clapham I met my London based brother and his young son, I only hope my nephew knows how lucky he is to be seeing Pompey at Wembley at such an early stage in his Pompey fan career, I've seen plenty of ups and downs with Portsmouth, in fact more downs probably. On that wet Tuesday in 1976 when my journey began, Pompey were already relegated to the third division before they lost to Orient, so I had already made myself acquainted with a team that would regularly disappoint, following quickly was relegation the fourth division in 1978.
The journeys in those dark days were long, a trek to Rochdale in an Austin 1100 I remember only too well, around 2000 Pompey fans went to Lancashire that day and we cleaned them out of programs by 1pm. This was a typical Division four away game in those days and climbing out of the fourth division at the second attempt by the skin of their teeth was my first taste of success followed by the Division 3 Championship a couple of years later. Years of Division two football then ensued, seeing the likes of Chelsea and Newcastle come and go, Blackburn were always a big rival so too were Barnsley and Huddersfield. There was joy at Mark Hateleys two hat-tricks in a week and seeing him make his England debut as a Pompey player v USSR at Wembley. Then at the end of the 80s a brief flirtation with the top division, when the late Alan Ball guided Pompey up in 1987 only to come straight back down.
So you can see how Pompey fans have suffered over the years and surely nobody can begrudge them a bit of success in a competition so dominated by the rich four in recent times. In fact the victory at Old Trafford however lucky it may or may not have been is reason enough to suggest that Pompey can go all the way. The semi-final was not a great game but they very rarely are, so much is at stake that the professional will to win overrides any thought of showboating or individual skill. The atmosphere in the second half was incredible, deafening choruses of Play Up Pompey echoed around Wembley, I'm sure the Baggies were cheering too but we could only hear ourselves.
The New Wembley is a fantastic stadium but in the wrong place, the transport infrastructure is inadequate and there simply isn't enough access to and from it. I would have liked the semi-final to have been at a neutral ground, I believe that Wembley is part of the prize of the FA Cup but whatever, it's happened now and we all had a brilliant day out and stories to tell for generations.
At the ground I met old friends, people I hadn't seen in years and some new, a friend of a friend who is American and has become a Pompey fan after being dragged along to the quarter final at Old Trafford and one man who I have the utmost regard for. Father Pat a retired priest who was present at the 1939 cup final when of course Pompey won the cup and kept it safe throughout the war. After the game Pat was honest enough to say Portsmouth were poor and that West Brom had played a good game, he stopped and chatted to many groups of Baggies fans after the game and told them how well their team had played and that Pompey were lucky to win, I wonder how many others are still alive today that can say "I was there" in 1939?
The spirit between the two clubs support is very good natured, remember that last day of the premier league season when Southampton went down? Well West Brom played their part in full that day, so a kind of affinity exists between the two sets of fans, good luck to The Albion and I hope they get promoted.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Football Going to Hell in a Handcart....again
"When the league does well, other people in the football family do well in terms of redistribution. We feel it is a very positive thing".
Do they indeed? Well thats what Richard Scudamore chief executive of the Premier League seems to think. But on the day that AFC Bournemouth were forced into administration by HM Revenue & Customs it is somewhat unbelievable to take in the news that the Premier League have plans to play an extra round of matches.......in other countries just for the money. There is no other reason but money, surely the time has come to say enough is enough. How have lower league clubs benefitted by the growth of the premier league? This latest announcement severely threatens the whole ethos of football in this country, what was once a working class game has been hijacked and ultimately stolen from the common man by corporate greed and The Football Association has given its provisional support to the plans.
"We understand the reasons for this proposal and the benefits it can bring to English football as a whole," said an FA source. What they should be supporting are teams such as Luton Town and Bournemouth who through whatever fault are up the creek without a paddle or even a canoe.
My father played for Bournemouth & Boscombe FC as they were known then in the 1950s, and Notts County in the 60s, He was lucky if he picked up ten quid a week, to do that he'd have to score in a victory to collect the bonuses that found their way into his boot while he was in the bath after the game. He'd be absolutely incensed at this latest proposal. Many ex-players I speak to are completely dumbfounded and rightly enough quite bitter about the current crop of footballers and the riches that even ordinary players can accumulate just by being a premier league player.
I reckon most English football fans will be totally against this latest plan to destroy the integrity of football in this country, I mean real fans those that actually put their hands in their pockets and pay for their tickets, not the corporate football goer who uses the firms box at Stamford Bridge or Old Trafford or watches the game on Sky. One tournament, The European Cup which this country has had a fantastic pedigree, Manchester United, Forest, Villa and Liverpool all winners has gone, irretrieveably. Now called The Champions League (which should really be named the "Runners-Up League") has already eroded the special magic of the European Cup, how we used to look forward to it, home and away ties played on a Wednesday night between the teams that actually came first in each countries top division. All gone now I'm afraid, games on a Tuesday and Wednesday and teams who come fourth, way way back in fourth in the case of Liverpool have even won the thing, what a ridiculous concept.
So the lure of even more filthy lucre for the top teams will take football ever further away from the real football fan, I know people who can't afford to go and watch their beloved team anymore, it's just too expensive, somwhere between £30 and £50 a go in the Premier League.
This greed inspired treachery of the pound sign will no doubt see the so called big four playing in Osaka or Dubai, an extra game? what utter nonsense, how can this extra game count for anything in a league season? And heaven forbid what if it's a success? where will it lead to then. Twenty teams play each other home and away thats 38 games, nice and symmetrical, mathematically and ethically correct. So who plays who in the thirty-ninth game? Middlesbrough v Blackburn in Melbourne, no disrespect but it's not the greatest attraction, only four teams can play against the "so called big four" and those that are left will be the second tier of this global cash-grab.
I am saddened and disgusted by this proposal to sell the English game as a global product, a brand it's far more than that, it's an institution, a belief, a religion for some but while the game is controlled by money it will inevitably want more. The rich get rich and the strong grow stronger while the Bournemouths of this world who cannot afford to pay their tax bill and other creditors, have to lay off staff who will get no parachute payment from the Premier League and have points deducted, which will no doubt serve as the final nail in the coffin of a season that has been a struggle but lets hope it's not the end of the club. English Football needs the lower leagues to be strong and supported by the big boys, far more than they are at present, the Premier League should be made responsible for taking these smaller clubs under their wing, help them to grow, loan out players yes but pay their wages don't make the financially struggling club pay them.
I urge you to take up your pens and write to the Premier League, the BBC, your local or national newspaper and even your MP, lets try and take football back for the sake of our game and our national team because more television and global exposure will lead to more foreign imports taking places in teams that home grown players should be filling.
The Premiership Flying Circus should be set adrift to ride around the globe on their magic carpet of banknotes, we will be better off without it.
Do they indeed? Well thats what Richard Scudamore chief executive of the Premier League seems to think. But on the day that AFC Bournemouth were forced into administration by HM Revenue & Customs it is somewhat unbelievable to take in the news that the Premier League have plans to play an extra round of matches.......in other countries just for the money. There is no other reason but money, surely the time has come to say enough is enough. How have lower league clubs benefitted by the growth of the premier league? This latest announcement severely threatens the whole ethos of football in this country, what was once a working class game has been hijacked and ultimately stolen from the common man by corporate greed and The Football Association has given its provisional support to the plans.
"We understand the reasons for this proposal and the benefits it can bring to English football as a whole," said an FA source. What they should be supporting are teams such as Luton Town and Bournemouth who through whatever fault are up the creek without a paddle or even a canoe.
My father played for Bournemouth & Boscombe FC as they were known then in the 1950s, and Notts County in the 60s, He was lucky if he picked up ten quid a week, to do that he'd have to score in a victory to collect the bonuses that found their way into his boot while he was in the bath after the game. He'd be absolutely incensed at this latest proposal. Many ex-players I speak to are completely dumbfounded and rightly enough quite bitter about the current crop of footballers and the riches that even ordinary players can accumulate just by being a premier league player.
I reckon most English football fans will be totally against this latest plan to destroy the integrity of football in this country, I mean real fans those that actually put their hands in their pockets and pay for their tickets, not the corporate football goer who uses the firms box at Stamford Bridge or Old Trafford or watches the game on Sky. One tournament, The European Cup which this country has had a fantastic pedigree, Manchester United, Forest, Villa and Liverpool all winners has gone, irretrieveably. Now called The Champions League (which should really be named the "Runners-Up League") has already eroded the special magic of the European Cup, how we used to look forward to it, home and away ties played on a Wednesday night between the teams that actually came first in each countries top division. All gone now I'm afraid, games on a Tuesday and Wednesday and teams who come fourth, way way back in fourth in the case of Liverpool have even won the thing, what a ridiculous concept.
So the lure of even more filthy lucre for the top teams will take football ever further away from the real football fan, I know people who can't afford to go and watch their beloved team anymore, it's just too expensive, somwhere between £30 and £50 a go in the Premier League.
This greed inspired treachery of the pound sign will no doubt see the so called big four playing in Osaka or Dubai, an extra game? what utter nonsense, how can this extra game count for anything in a league season? And heaven forbid what if it's a success? where will it lead to then. Twenty teams play each other home and away thats 38 games, nice and symmetrical, mathematically and ethically correct. So who plays who in the thirty-ninth game? Middlesbrough v Blackburn in Melbourne, no disrespect but it's not the greatest attraction, only four teams can play against the "so called big four" and those that are left will be the second tier of this global cash-grab.
I am saddened and disgusted by this proposal to sell the English game as a global product, a brand it's far more than that, it's an institution, a belief, a religion for some but while the game is controlled by money it will inevitably want more. The rich get rich and the strong grow stronger while the Bournemouths of this world who cannot afford to pay their tax bill and other creditors, have to lay off staff who will get no parachute payment from the Premier League and have points deducted, which will no doubt serve as the final nail in the coffin of a season that has been a struggle but lets hope it's not the end of the club. English Football needs the lower leagues to be strong and supported by the big boys, far more than they are at present, the Premier League should be made responsible for taking these smaller clubs under their wing, help them to grow, loan out players yes but pay their wages don't make the financially struggling club pay them.
I urge you to take up your pens and write to the Premier League, the BBC, your local or national newspaper and even your MP, lets try and take football back for the sake of our game and our national team because more television and global exposure will lead to more foreign imports taking places in teams that home grown players should be filling.
The Premiership Flying Circus should be set adrift to ride around the globe on their magic carpet of banknotes, we will be better off without it.
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Observing the Rules
Brussels, what does the name mean to you? is it a cosmopolitan city in Belgium or does it mean Europe and the handing down of rules and regulations that only us British seem to impose and observe?
"Welcome to Smoke-Free Brussels" proclaimed the sign in the Eurostar terminal and again in the Marriot Hotel near the Grand Place. But somewhere along the line the bars have managed to evade this rule, every bar I visited (and they were numerous) during my three day trip was full of smokers. Now, I have been a smoker but managed to kick the vile habit in the year 2000.
I was at Cheltenham Racecourse and had bought sixty Lucky Strikes for the three day trip, found slumped under the statue of Dawn Run with acute loss of legs and speech, I had smoked all three packets in one day which also means I had drunk more than the recommended two months units of alchohol for an adult male in a single day.
I recovered slowly and after five days I realised I hadn't had a cigarette since Cheltenham, I surmised then that I obviously didn't need to smoke and from that day on I have (thankfully) found the whole smoking thing very unpalatable.
There's nothing worse than a reformed smoker so I've been told but if you've seen the light and are a much healthier and wealthier person for it then you shout it from the rooftops. I have some very dear friends who I constantly bully for their smoking, I don't know if it helps them or if it just makes them do it all the more?
The smoking ban in England has been welcomed and abhorred by thousands, pubs are now cleaner fresher smelling places but the outside areas are no-go zones for a non-smoker, why didn't the government give pubs the choice? It wasn't a ruling handed down by Brussels but the government went for it wholeheartedly and in the same old knee jerk reaction as if it was a european parliament decree. The pubs I use always tended to have less smokers than non, I wouldn't choose to go into a backstreet local or a working mens club and I doubt the regulars in there would want me to anyway, but give them the choice. Those pubs and clubs have a majority of smokers among their clientele, they're not normally well known for being food pubs so where's the problem? Let the smoky pubs continue and let those that don't rely on the smokers to be pleasantly smoke free.
Brussels does have smokeless zones in some bars but most are full on, smoke where you like and I have to say it was pretty nasty, after months of enjoying smoke-free establishments in England it came as a shock, the smoke drifting upstairs in one jazz cafe was too much for me to bear, so too in the trendy but old world Cafe Cirio when the man on the next table pulled out a foot long Montecristo and proceeded to ignite it, that was the final straw. I don't suppose this country will ever become like our continental chums who enjoy a pavement table, any outside seating area I see in England is occupied by smokers, so come spring and summer will I be forced to drink inside? There are many favourite boozers of mine that have outside areas to enjoy, living on the south coast the views from some pubs are a real joy but I fear that sitting outside one will not be the pleasurable experience it once was.
Brussels is also home to some of Europes worst drivers, on Saturday the 5th of January the police held an operation to target drink drivers and an astounding one in ten of those stopped were over the limit. Mind you if you popped in for a beer on the way home from work in Belgium and that beer was an 8.4% abv Duvel, you'd be significantly over the limit.
I enjoyed my Brussels experience very much, I wouldn't want to drive in the city though, just crossing the road on foot is a mission that requires careful planning and tactics especially if you've been on a bar crawl, the little green man lights up and off you go only to have a car come flying into your path, a stressful place and it's no wonder all the locals smoke.
I'll be returning to Belgium soon, Eurostar is the future, what a civilised way to travel without the security nightmare of Heathrow and none of the drag of a trek to Dover to catch a ferry with your car which will probably get rammed by a ten year old BMW the moment you fail to spot the traffic lights have turned green.
"Welcome to Smoke-Free Brussels" proclaimed the sign in the Eurostar terminal and again in the Marriot Hotel near the Grand Place. But somewhere along the line the bars have managed to evade this rule, every bar I visited (and they were numerous) during my three day trip was full of smokers. Now, I have been a smoker but managed to kick the vile habit in the year 2000.
I was at Cheltenham Racecourse and had bought sixty Lucky Strikes for the three day trip, found slumped under the statue of Dawn Run with acute loss of legs and speech, I had smoked all three packets in one day which also means I had drunk more than the recommended two months units of alchohol for an adult male in a single day.
I recovered slowly and after five days I realised I hadn't had a cigarette since Cheltenham, I surmised then that I obviously didn't need to smoke and from that day on I have (thankfully) found the whole smoking thing very unpalatable.
There's nothing worse than a reformed smoker so I've been told but if you've seen the light and are a much healthier and wealthier person for it then you shout it from the rooftops. I have some very dear friends who I constantly bully for their smoking, I don't know if it helps them or if it just makes them do it all the more?
The smoking ban in England has been welcomed and abhorred by thousands, pubs are now cleaner fresher smelling places but the outside areas are no-go zones for a non-smoker, why didn't the government give pubs the choice? It wasn't a ruling handed down by Brussels but the government went for it wholeheartedly and in the same old knee jerk reaction as if it was a european parliament decree. The pubs I use always tended to have less smokers than non, I wouldn't choose to go into a backstreet local or a working mens club and I doubt the regulars in there would want me to anyway, but give them the choice. Those pubs and clubs have a majority of smokers among their clientele, they're not normally well known for being food pubs so where's the problem? Let the smoky pubs continue and let those that don't rely on the smokers to be pleasantly smoke free.
Brussels does have smokeless zones in some bars but most are full on, smoke where you like and I have to say it was pretty nasty, after months of enjoying smoke-free establishments in England it came as a shock, the smoke drifting upstairs in one jazz cafe was too much for me to bear, so too in the trendy but old world Cafe Cirio when the man on the next table pulled out a foot long Montecristo and proceeded to ignite it, that was the final straw. I don't suppose this country will ever become like our continental chums who enjoy a pavement table, any outside seating area I see in England is occupied by smokers, so come spring and summer will I be forced to drink inside? There are many favourite boozers of mine that have outside areas to enjoy, living on the south coast the views from some pubs are a real joy but I fear that sitting outside one will not be the pleasurable experience it once was.
Brussels is also home to some of Europes worst drivers, on Saturday the 5th of January the police held an operation to target drink drivers and an astounding one in ten of those stopped were over the limit. Mind you if you popped in for a beer on the way home from work in Belgium and that beer was an 8.4% abv Duvel, you'd be significantly over the limit.
I enjoyed my Brussels experience very much, I wouldn't want to drive in the city though, just crossing the road on foot is a mission that requires careful planning and tactics especially if you've been on a bar crawl, the little green man lights up and off you go only to have a car come flying into your path, a stressful place and it's no wonder all the locals smoke.
I'll be returning to Belgium soon, Eurostar is the future, what a civilised way to travel without the security nightmare of Heathrow and none of the drag of a trek to Dover to catch a ferry with your car which will probably get rammed by a ten year old BMW the moment you fail to spot the traffic lights have turned green.
Friday, 18 January 2008
Dear oh dear oh dear BBC
Dear BBC, Match of The Day Dept: Messrs Lineker, Hansen etc
I have to say I am extremely disappointed that you chose to cover the FA Cup replay between Manchester City & West Ham as your live game on Wednesday. Millions of people do not have the luxury of Sky sports and so rarely get to see a live game on proper telly, furthermore those of us who can afford pay per view tv do not want to see two premiership clubs play each other in an FA Cup tie. We can see this kind of game week in week out, no disrespect to either club involved in the incredibly awful match but what possessed you to opt for the so called "big game"?
The FA Cup is extremely close to the heart of the nation, why choose that game when surely the most obvious choice was to cover Havant & Waterloo v Swansea. It was all there for us, yes us, the licence paying public, this game had it all to offer, the part-timers, the romance, the giant killing expectation, the high flying lower league club against the non league side who are on a journey of fantasy.
The half time Newcastle United/Alan Shearer sideshow was extremely galling, those people who were interested in the story knew about it, Shearer had already spoken to the press and those of us who'd heard all about it had our little chuckle and got on with our lives. That half-time break should have been devoted to the fantastic efforts of Havant & Waterlooville, we saw the highlights from St James Park why not from West Leigh Park?
The tie you did show is repeated as a premier league fixture this weekend, god forbid it's not as brain numbingly dull as the cup match. I hope you are kicking yourselves, you missed the chance of a live game between two clubs full of players and fans who care and believe in the importance of the greatest cup competition of them all, it produced six goals and those people deserved their evening on the box.
No doubt the fourth round game against Liverpool will be live on tv but I for one feel cheated that we didn't see what will prove to be the Hawks greatest achievement, oh yes they will have their day out at Anfield but the performance that got them there, now that is what I and so many thousands of other football fans in this country wanted to see.
I have to say I am extremely disappointed that you chose to cover the FA Cup replay between Manchester City & West Ham as your live game on Wednesday. Millions of people do not have the luxury of Sky sports and so rarely get to see a live game on proper telly, furthermore those of us who can afford pay per view tv do not want to see two premiership clubs play each other in an FA Cup tie. We can see this kind of game week in week out, no disrespect to either club involved in the incredibly awful match but what possessed you to opt for the so called "big game"?
The FA Cup is extremely close to the heart of the nation, why choose that game when surely the most obvious choice was to cover Havant & Waterloo v Swansea. It was all there for us, yes us, the licence paying public, this game had it all to offer, the part-timers, the romance, the giant killing expectation, the high flying lower league club against the non league side who are on a journey of fantasy.
The half time Newcastle United/Alan Shearer sideshow was extremely galling, those people who were interested in the story knew about it, Shearer had already spoken to the press and those of us who'd heard all about it had our little chuckle and got on with our lives. That half-time break should have been devoted to the fantastic efforts of Havant & Waterlooville, we saw the highlights from St James Park why not from West Leigh Park?
The tie you did show is repeated as a premier league fixture this weekend, god forbid it's not as brain numbingly dull as the cup match. I hope you are kicking yourselves, you missed the chance of a live game between two clubs full of players and fans who care and believe in the importance of the greatest cup competition of them all, it produced six goals and those people deserved their evening on the box.
No doubt the fourth round game against Liverpool will be live on tv but I for one feel cheated that we didn't see what will prove to be the Hawks greatest achievement, oh yes they will have their day out at Anfield but the performance that got them there, now that is what I and so many thousands of other football fans in this country wanted to see.
Wednesday, 16 January 2008
Behold The Messiah
"You are the Messiah oh lord, I should know, I've followed a few". Wise words from The Life of Brian but I wonder how many Newcastle fans will be brandishing the Special K packets when King Kev is told to clear his desk at St James Park after yet another false dawn in the history of what must be the biggest "sleeping giant" in English football.
To label Kevin Keegan as The Messiah is sheer folly, I wonder what is now expected of Newcastle for the remainder of this season, top six finish perhaps? Harry Redknapp was wise to turn it down, was he wise to entertain the offer? perhaps a simple "sorry, it's nice of you to ask but I have a comfortable job down here and it's a lot warmer climate, oh and the majority of the fans still love me even though I went off and managed (albeit badly) their biggest rivals". This is where former Newcastle managers could take note. If Ruud Gullit or Big Sam were to go and take Sunderland back to the championship they'd be offered a ten million pound three year deal to go back to Newcastle? No? ok probably not, but then Harry Redknapp, hero or villain, depending on your views has managed to despatch Southampton into the wilderness and return triumphant to Pompey having saved them from almost certain relegation in "The Great Escape" season and establishing them as a top ten premier league club. Now that is a Messiah, not a false prophet who by his own admission stated that his life had taken a different route and will not be going back to football management, good luck Kev you'll need it when the fickle fingers of fans point at you.
Portsmouth themselves are guilty of the "Sleeping Giant" moniker, when I first watched them play I was only 11 years of age and knew nothing of back to back first division championships in the fifties nor the fact they held the FA Cup for six years, ok so the second world war had a part to play in that. They were appallingly bad that in that 1975/76 season and were relegated to the old division three , then slipping further into the fourth division but that brought some incredible away trips. 2,000 Pompey fans at Rochdale for example, matchday programs sold out at mid-day. The sleeping giant tag was bestowed by many a hack on Portsmouth for many a season right up until 1987 when World Cup Winner Alan Ball guided them back to the top flight. The tag continued to be worn for another decade and more spent in the second tier. But the history is there and so are the fanatical supporters, the noise at Fratton Park is awesome, Redknapp would have been a fool to throw away what he has at Pompey to be the next failure at St James Park.
Whatever happens next at Gallowgate, I for one am pleased that Harry is not the Magpies manager, it must be the most difficult job in domestic English football, success must be earned, a great pedigree and a massive fan base is something all clubs aspire to but success just doesn't come to you because you were once a big club who won something, you need a special person to make it happen.
To label Kevin Keegan as The Messiah is sheer folly, I wonder what is now expected of Newcastle for the remainder of this season, top six finish perhaps? Harry Redknapp was wise to turn it down, was he wise to entertain the offer? perhaps a simple "sorry, it's nice of you to ask but I have a comfortable job down here and it's a lot warmer climate, oh and the majority of the fans still love me even though I went off and managed (albeit badly) their biggest rivals". This is where former Newcastle managers could take note. If Ruud Gullit or Big Sam were to go and take Sunderland back to the championship they'd be offered a ten million pound three year deal to go back to Newcastle? No? ok probably not, but then Harry Redknapp, hero or villain, depending on your views has managed to despatch Southampton into the wilderness and return triumphant to Pompey having saved them from almost certain relegation in "The Great Escape" season and establishing them as a top ten premier league club. Now that is a Messiah, not a false prophet who by his own admission stated that his life had taken a different route and will not be going back to football management, good luck Kev you'll need it when the fickle fingers of fans point at you.
Portsmouth themselves are guilty of the "Sleeping Giant" moniker, when I first watched them play I was only 11 years of age and knew nothing of back to back first division championships in the fifties nor the fact they held the FA Cup for six years, ok so the second world war had a part to play in that. They were appallingly bad that in that 1975/76 season and were relegated to the old division three , then slipping further into the fourth division but that brought some incredible away trips. 2,000 Pompey fans at Rochdale for example, matchday programs sold out at mid-day. The sleeping giant tag was bestowed by many a hack on Portsmouth for many a season right up until 1987 when World Cup Winner Alan Ball guided them back to the top flight. The tag continued to be worn for another decade and more spent in the second tier. But the history is there and so are the fanatical supporters, the noise at Fratton Park is awesome, Redknapp would have been a fool to throw away what he has at Pompey to be the next failure at St James Park.
Whatever happens next at Gallowgate, I for one am pleased that Harry is not the Magpies manager, it must be the most difficult job in domestic English football, success must be earned, a great pedigree and a massive fan base is something all clubs aspire to but success just doesn't come to you because you were once a big club who won something, you need a special person to make it happen.
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Conspiracy TV?
Here I am at home resting after having had an operation under local anaestetic, overseen by a fantastic Nigerian nurse who kept telling me "you are being very strong", am I? "Ho yes, you are a very brave man", hmm, I knew the truth, I was scared to death, my blood pressure was 147/103 which must be up there with Alex Ferguson when United are only one nil up.
I recovered to 132/88 after the op but the theatre staff said "you bled a bit", thankfully I didn't see the fountains of blood gushing out of my head and probably shouldn't have looked at the wound quite so soon afterwards as I went into shock and needed medicinal rum to stop my body from shaking.
So taking a week off work to recover and feeling rather bored as I'd watched all my DVDs and even resorted to watching videotapes (for those of you born in the early 90s have a look on Wikipedia for a description). I turned to the television for a bit of inspiration, BBC1 from 10a.m to 1p.m Homes Under the Hammer, To Buy or Not to Buy, Cash in the Attic, Bargain Hunt. I was beginning to wish I was back in the office, then I thought "maybe that's what they want".
Had I uncovered a Government conspiracy to force people back to work? If you only have the four or five channels to watch, (five being notoriously difficult to receive a signal from) you really don't have much choice. But I then started surfing through the cable channels and discovered that you can watch pretty much non-stop Only Fools... or maybe you fancy back to back Keeping up Appearances? Not for me thank you, although I have now seen every episode of New Tricks four times, oh dear, I'll be wearing comfy shoes and a beige coat before long.
Luckily for me the History Channel was a lifesaver, Titanic is a subject that is seemingly an inexhaustable vehicle for documentary makers. The second world war is also a much used topic and I have been enlightened, for instance I didn't know that Somalia was part of Britains Empire and was invaded by the Italians and that Catholics and Protestants were killing each other in Paris in the 1600s. So if these history programs were on terrestrial tv just think of the numbers of people who would go off sick, unthinkable, anyway I digress.
The whole thing of making money from antiques or objet d'art that may be knocking around the house has come about from the greed that has been deep set in our psyche for two decades now.
If you have got up the property ladder as far as you can go, what's next? Attic conversion perhaps? yes, and what to do with all the stuff from the attic, of course, you take it to an auction where a slightly northern gent with a posh voice and a moustache will guide you through the process. Or worse still an orange skinned wide-boy in a silver double breasted suit will spit his thoughts and obversations all over you. It's a circle that doesn't look like being broken for some time which is a shame as the television can be a very educational medium, as for me I'll reach for a book until the next History Channel documentary at 2p.m, the Loch Ness Monster-Ultimate Experiment.
I recovered to 132/88 after the op but the theatre staff said "you bled a bit", thankfully I didn't see the fountains of blood gushing out of my head and probably shouldn't have looked at the wound quite so soon afterwards as I went into shock and needed medicinal rum to stop my body from shaking.
So taking a week off work to recover and feeling rather bored as I'd watched all my DVDs and even resorted to watching videotapes (for those of you born in the early 90s have a look on Wikipedia for a description). I turned to the television for a bit of inspiration, BBC1 from 10a.m to 1p.m Homes Under the Hammer, To Buy or Not to Buy, Cash in the Attic, Bargain Hunt. I was beginning to wish I was back in the office, then I thought "maybe that's what they want".
Had I uncovered a Government conspiracy to force people back to work? If you only have the four or five channels to watch, (five being notoriously difficult to receive a signal from) you really don't have much choice. But I then started surfing through the cable channels and discovered that you can watch pretty much non-stop Only Fools... or maybe you fancy back to back Keeping up Appearances? Not for me thank you, although I have now seen every episode of New Tricks four times, oh dear, I'll be wearing comfy shoes and a beige coat before long.
Luckily for me the History Channel was a lifesaver, Titanic is a subject that is seemingly an inexhaustable vehicle for documentary makers. The second world war is also a much used topic and I have been enlightened, for instance I didn't know that Somalia was part of Britains Empire and was invaded by the Italians and that Catholics and Protestants were killing each other in Paris in the 1600s. So if these history programs were on terrestrial tv just think of the numbers of people who would go off sick, unthinkable, anyway I digress.
The whole thing of making money from antiques or objet d'art that may be knocking around the house has come about from the greed that has been deep set in our psyche for two decades now.
If you have got up the property ladder as far as you can go, what's next? Attic conversion perhaps? yes, and what to do with all the stuff from the attic, of course, you take it to an auction where a slightly northern gent with a posh voice and a moustache will guide you through the process. Or worse still an orange skinned wide-boy in a silver double breasted suit will spit his thoughts and obversations all over you. It's a circle that doesn't look like being broken for some time which is a shame as the television can be a very educational medium, as for me I'll reach for a book until the next History Channel documentary at 2p.m, the Loch Ness Monster-Ultimate Experiment.
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