The angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said’. – Matthew 28:5-6
He Is Not Here; He Has Risen!
Category: Ripping Yarns
Gigi Riva: A Tribute
RIVA…GOAL! Came to be a regular cry in the late 1960s when the ‘Rombo di Tuono’ (Rumble of Thunder) blasted yet another explosive shot into the back of the net and so I was saddened to receive news this past week from my friend in Sardinia of the passing of a boyhood idol of mine, Gigi Riva, the great Italy and Cagliari centre-forward. Gigi remains the Azzurri’s leading scoring by some way with fully 35 goals in just 42 appearances, but it is not just his impressive footballing abilities that mark him as the great man he was.
(Image: Per Sempre News)
Up until the 1970 World Cup, names such as Luigi Riva and Gianni Rivera were legendary and magical Italian footballers who my friends and I in the UK had only ever seen photographs of in magazines. Gianni was a glamorous figure who played football in a memorable and romantic way in his role as playmaker with Milan and Italy and yet it was ‘Gigi’ that captured my rapt attention. There was just something about his steely, determined expression that appealed to me, he looked so confident and formidable as he posed in that famous and storied Azzurri shirt. He almost seemed to have an aura all his own that elevated him above other players.
As the TV pictures relayed him playing live in 1970, It was noticeable to me how extremely left-footed he was, his powerful and accurate shooting with that left foot, like a laser beam, almost unerringly culminating in a distressed and bulging net. As children, my friends and I would play football endlessly in the parks in the summer and on the roads in winter under streetlights for hours and hours. We would pick our hero to emulate and for the left-footed boys, including me, we all fought to ‘be’ Gigi Riva.
(Image: ilnobilecalcio.it)
Much later in life, at the suggestion of my friend, I happily came to name my dear and faithful Bengal cat, ‘Gigi’ as a humble tribute to my hero as a youngster. On the day of Gigi senior’s passing recently, my pet looked a little uncharacteristically forlorn. I actually talked to him to say ‘don’t look so sad, Gigi’. It was only an hour later that I learned of the passing of Gigi Riva that day.
Gigi in his pomp helped propel Italy to the European Championship in 1968 and helped the Azzurri to the World Cup Final in 1970 where they met, arguably, the best football team in the world at any time in the Brazil of Pele, Jairzinho, Rivellino and all. It was all enthralling.
It is what I learnt about this man later in years that perhaps most impressed me for he was a man of humble beginnings who fought passionately and never gave in from his difficult start in life to be a champion. Gigi was born on November 7 1944, in Leggiuno, on the shores of Lake Maggiore. Ugo, his father, was a tailor and barber who came to find work in a factory. Tragically, Ugo died in an industrial accident when Gigi was just nine years old. Young Luigi’s mother, Edis, went to work in a mill doing desperately hard work for little money. Edis struggled to look after Gigi and sent her child to a strict religious boarding school for three years. Gigi recorded his time there as being very unhappy. I noted interestingly that it was at this school that he was forced to write not with his natural left hand, but with his right, just as I had been at school. It was probably in these hard times for Gigi that his natural character was formed and honed.
Further tragedy ensued when Gigi’s mother died of cancer when he was only 16. He then lived with his sister, Fausta, left school, and went to work in a factory. It was at this time that Gigi began to make his name in local football, playing at times in bare feet until the time he could afford to buy boots. Gigi came to play for the factory owner’s Serie C team, Legnano for a year before being bought by Cagliari, the beginning of an extraordinary love affair between Gigi and the people of Sardinia. The population of the island came to adore him and I’m told that it was many a household that would own a portrait of Cagliari’s famed number 11.
(Image: ultimouomo.com)
Gigi drove Cagliari to a previously unimaginable Scudetto, winning the title in season 1969-70. The player was regularly courted by the huge Italian giants, Juventus, Milan and Inter, more fashionable, heavily supported and funded clubs. He never left but stayed faithful to Cagliari and Sardinia for the rest of his playing career and beyond, a type of dedication and faithfulness which is seldom seen in these times. This relationship with the people was reflected on by Gigi in his earlier days in Sardinia, ‘Fishermen would invite me to dinner, and they would treat me like one of them, he would say. ‘I realised that not just a city, but an entire region was supporting me like a second family.’.
Gigi came to enjoy the unwavering and enduring love of both Sardinians and nationally in Italy. He had an emotional appeal that captured fans’ hearts like no other. His on-field exploits are detailed more widely elsewhere but notable was his performance in the 1970 World Cup Semi-Final against West Germany. Dubbed the ‘Game of the Century’, with Italy running out 4-3 winners, helped by a third goal scored by Gigi.
After his playing career, Gigi ran a soccer school and assisted in coaching Cagliari for several seasons. He also operated as Team Manager for Italy for several years. Later on in life, it was sad to record that he suffered from depression and osteoarthritis. Gigi was a smoker and loved his fast cars. Certainly, he didn’t want for female attention in his day and in the late 1960s controversially lived with a married woman, Gianna Tofanari. Gianna was separated from her husband at the time, in an era when divorce didn’t really exit in Italy. It was, however, a lasting relationship which produced two sons. No longer a couple nearing the end of Gigi’s life, still, they continued to see each other every single day.
Gigi’s funeral in Sardinia saw 30,000 people attend to pay respects to their hero. Former players acting as pall bearers included Gigi Buffon and the other members of the Italy team of 2006. Gianluca Buffon became overcome by emotion, shedding tears during the funeral. God will bless Gigi Riva.
Gigi Riva, born November 7 1944, died January 22 2024.
Brian Wilson: The Birth of Perfection
On this day, 20th June 1942, the genius that is Brian Wilson was born. Just two days after Sir Paul McCartney came into this world. A momumental, earth changing week for popular music. When I think of musical perfection I think of Brian Wilson, note perfect but so much more than that, those notes come from deep down in Brian’s soul.
Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder) from Pet Sounds was recorded by The Beach Boys in 1966. Some say it was Paul McCarntey’s favourite Beach Boys song. It still sounds as utterly beautiful as the first day we heard it, just magnificent and effortless.
Happy 80th Birthday Brian
Sir Paul McCartney is Eighty
Sir Paul McCartney 80 years old today.
Paul has a wonderful wealth of gorgeous ballads created by his inimitable songwriting skills. Just think for a moment of some of the titles: The Long and Winding Road, Here, There and Everywhere, Yesterday, Blackbird, She’s Leaving Home, Hey Jude, And I Love Her and Eleanor Rigby.
And then there was this one. A song so touching and emotional it hurts. A song that can remind you of your own dear mother,
Let It Be.
Happy Birthday Paul
He Is Not Here; He Has Risen!
The angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said’. – Matthew 28:5-6
Good Friday 2022
Good Friday Prayer
O Jesus, Who by reason of Thy burning love for us
hast willed to be crucified
and to shed Thy Most Precious Blood
for the redemption and salvation of our souls,
look down upon us here gathered together
in remembrance of Thy most sorrowful Passion and Death,
fully trusting in Thy mercy;
cleanse us from sin by Thy grace,
sanctify our toil,
give unto us and unto all those who are dear to us our
daily bread,
sweeten our sufferings,
bless our families,
and to the nations so sorely afflicted,
grant Thy peace,
which is the only true peace,
so that by obeying Thy commandments
we may come at last to the glory of heaven.
Amen.
Torquay United 5 – 1 Notts County (Magpies promotion hopes falter)
As some may know, I’m a casual observer of goings-on in the Nottingham football world, sometimes as a spectator of both Nottingham Forest and Notts County.
It’s been greatly pleasing to witness Forest’s incredible turn around in season 2021/22. After seven games they looked to be dead and buried and rushing headlong down towards League 1. Now they have a season ending full of hope and great possibilities. Good luck to them and I hope upon hope they make it back to the Premier League after a quarter of a century away. It is however about the black and white side of the city that I speak today. Notts County, spending their third season out of League football, flattering to deceive at times, toiling at others as they hand around and outside the lower reaches of the play-off spots.
(Image: Dan Westwell)
Not particular meaning to rubbish Head Coach Ian Burchnall in the wake of a shocking result and display yesterday and I certainly don’t subscribe to the bi-polar method of watching football these days but I find his preponderance of importance to the importance of what happens on the training field a strange aspect to his work and signs of it have been noticeable at various times. He extremely often talks about and seems to take great store in a player ‘training well’ and ‘doing well on the training ground’ – more than any coach/manager I can think of. Now the guy is an experienced professional and I’ve only ever been an amateur player and fan so he undoubtedly has forgotten more than I have ever known about the game, but I find his attitude a little disturbing.
Surely it’s all about what happens on match day? That’s what every player trains for, it’s the culmination of their working week and the very thing they are judged on – not how good they looked in training when it ultimately doesn’t matter. Can they do it on the day? Can they perform when it’s demanded and necessary? Can they be winners, not just show ponies weaving pretty patterns on the pitch?
Watching footage of some of his training sessions with the players it he appears a very technical coach. That’s fine but does the accent on that work help when you’re 2-0 down in a crucial match and getting your back side kicked all over the park? Will that concentration on the technicalities and complicated tactics and systems in training and selection of players help you stand up on the other side of those white lines, be a leader and drag your team forwards?
As for him finding match days ‘stressful’ as he states, it might be questioned if he’s in the right job because whether he enjoys it or not, that’s what the hell this game is all about.
It’s been said many times in so many different ways but basically Notts lack sheer courage and character at times. We all enjoy ‘nice’ football but make no mistake, this is the fifth division of football and it’s high time Notts adapted to it in order to get the heck out of it.
Canada’s Newfoundland Dog
There was an item on the TV this evening about Newfoundland dogs. I’ve always had a special regard for these amazing animals. Bred as working dogs originally in the east coast Canadian Province of Newfoundland their characteristics of water resistant coats and large webbed paws make them wonderful swimmers.
They actually don’t swim by the more usual doggie paddle but use a stroke much more akin to a human front crawl. In Newfoundland, fisherman would use them to swim out and bring their nets in, they also have a great propensity for water rescue and have saved countless lives over the years, one of them being Napolean Bonaparte no less. One Newfoundland dog was recorded as saving 92 lives from a single distressed ship off Newfoundland in the early 20th century. In more recent times the breed has been used as a therapy dog for people with mental health problems.
Classed as Giant dogs, they can often grow to approximately 150lbs and some have been known to grow to over 200libs. One particularly famous owner from the past was romantic poet, Lord Byron whose best friend he named ‘Boatswain’. Boatswain is interred at Byron’s former ancestral home, Newstead Abbey in Nottinghamshire. A monument stands there still with an epitaph by Byron which begins:
Near this Spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferosity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
Boatswain, a Dog
who was born in Newfoundland May 1803
and died at Newstead November 18th 1808.
A fine and loving epitaph for any of these noble animals.
Postponed!
Really, who would be a football fan? I note that local team, Notts County today had a 3pm fixture away at Dover which is approximately an eight-hour return journey. Notts contacted the home club at midday and were told there were ‘no concerns’ and no pitch inspection due. This was communicated in good faith by the club via Twitter to its travelling fans.
Not much over an hour later, the match referee calls the game off with an ‘unplayable’ waterlogged pitch. An unfruitful (and expensive) journey for those fans and a pretty much a waste of a precious Saturday.
This follows a very similar occurance for that club recently. Football clubs are often culpable for treating their lifeblood – the support – with complete disdain and disrespect at times. No wonder I personally don’t go to nearly as many live games as I used to do.
The Work-Life Balance
Many are these days considering how the Covid-19 pandemic has affected them regarding that fine balance between earning a living and living an enjoyable life outside of working hours. I’m not necessarily sure how to answer this for msyelf as there have definitely been pros and cons for me. In general, I enjoy working from home, it’s something I’ve done regularly in the past offering telecounselling, working in forensic psychology research, proofreading and copywriting so I’m really no stranger to it.
Through the various lockdowns and restrictions I felt fine with things, no hot and stuffy, crowded public transport or indeed queueing for that, being two hours a day to the good due to the lack of a commute, general flexibility of work and breaks and so on. I have lots of space and peace and quiet to work in and a garden to relax or occasionally work in. Most of all, I felt settled into a much less stressful routine. There were no decisions about whether to do much in the evening or not as there was little choice so I’d just settle into relaxed evenings of reading, writing, TV, radio and web browsing. My Bengal cat loved it too! All good so far.
What was more difficult for me was the inner clamour to get out and socialise again once that became possible with venues opening. Only now do I feel I’m exerting some control over that. It was how I imagine being released from prison feels.
Professionally I’m fine with it. I miss seeing clients face to face sometimes though, they numbered around 50% of my caseload previously. I did embrace telecounselling though and feel it’s strongly how therapy is going to end up being offered more often than not. This has happened to a greater extent in North America where it can often make sense to carry out the work this way when over greater distances and this is where it is being lead from in my view.
A problem can be not being able to process the thoughts about some of the tough stories during the day, the attempted suicides, calling emergency services, generally distraught people and so on. At the office it wouldn’t be migrated home but chatted about with my colleague over a coffee, followed by locking the office doors and a relaxed walk through the city, letting go of that swirl of thoughts. Working from home though could potentially see those feelings only shiften to another room.
My job was ‘safe’ but I did in fact get TUPEd to a larger charity last month. I knew my previous colleagues well and considered them friends, having met them for training and meetings in Birmingham many, many times. Some of my new colleagues I may never meet so it’s naturally more difficult to have that ‘closeness’ and kindredness.
I’ve recently been informed that it may be a little time before returning to a hybrid working system. The lease on my office in the city has not been renewed by the new company though there is a probable intent to do that. In the meantime good old Nottingham City Council insisted all the furniture was removed so sadly, it’s probably ended in a skip somewhere which is a total waste. I’ve handed the keys back and feel a long way from working in an office again at this time.
In conclusion, I’ve benefitted from the change in working practices, financially, time-wise and in generally less stress. The main challenges have been in adjusting back to whatever normality is now and in living the days as a more lonely existence.
See Three Sporting Heroes In The Flesh?
I responded to an interesting internet forum question recently which really set me thinking, ‘If you could witness any sportsman/woman in history in the flesh…’ (who would you choose?) There have been countless sporting individuals over the years who I could consider for that – from my own particular passions of ice hockey, football, distance running and beyond. After five minutes of thought I came eup with these these brilliant performers in their chosen disciplines of hockey, running and cricket. Well that’s the choice for today at least. An honourable mention should go to those of my heroes who I’ve actually seen perform live. Coming to mind are football’s Denis Law, George Best and Joe Baker and cricket’s Sir Garry Sobers.
Guy LaFleur ‘Le Demon Blonde’ right-wing for the Montreal Canadiens 1960s/70s. A French Canadian with huge charisma, smooth skating, lightening fast reflexes who was a predator in front of the net. All with a staggering career points tally. Guy had a playboy lifestyle and was idolised in Quebec. He had great style and for many was the ultimate Montreal skater.
Lasse Viren ‘The Flying Finn’ a middle-distance runner who won Gold in both 5,000m and 10,000 events at the Munich Olympics in 1972 and at the Montreal Olympics in 1976. One of his gold medals was won after falling on the track, recovering and running past the field to hit the tape first. A devasting front-runner who destroyed the opposition, when it really mattered, in an era of great middle-distance runners.
Harold ‘Lol’ Larwood the Nottinghamshire and England fast bowler who destroyed Australia on the ‘Bodyline’ Ashes tour of 1932/3. The tour – where he bowled his ‘leg-theory’ to captain Jardine’s order overshadowed his career. Extreme pace – many would argue the fastest (and most accurate) of all time Harold was but 5ft 8ins tall but tellingly a former Notts pitman who was bred tough. His teammates at Notts named him ‘The Silent Killer’. They said that when Lol was on fire his run in to the wicket was completely silent. It was then that they feared for the opposition batsman’s safety.
Friends Beside You
I loved this Facebook posting below and at the same time was staggered to read that around half a million brave little cats served as mascots, giving comfort to the troops on the Western Front during the Great War. Maybe it’s not so surprising, that Gigi, my little Bengal cat pal ‘found’ me and as soon as he felt trust and confidence showered me with love and affection every single day. Through long lockdown days alone and all. I have felt humbled by that and the connection we have, truly soul to soul. A relationship that has a ‘knowing’ quality to it.
It brought to mind the unlikely relationship with a roaming cat that my father struck up in his latter working years at the local Home Brewery. Never really much of a pet-owning family were we but I recall walking into the brewery later one evening to take his forgotten packed sandwiches to him which would sustain him during his nightshift. Walking into the toasty warm, winter boiler house which was his workplace, I saw him sat with his own cat pal who had crept in and found his favourite resting place between those big biceps of my dad – ones that softly cradled him like a baby. A touching tenderness that was a somewhat rarely observed outwardly in John. They became firm and faithful friends for many a year.
Unusually, the actual owner of the brewery would often wander down to the boiler house in the early hours and keep John and his little friend company over hot tea and toast and good craic. A tender and warm scene, one replete with friendship and kindredness.
‘Peter Barnes 22nd July on Facebook – Posted this before but liked it so much I am posting it again.An endearing photograph of a Lewis gunner of the 6th Battalion, the York and Lancaster Regiment with the Regiment’s cat mascot, in a trench near Cambrin, 6th of February, 1918.Interestingly, there were around 500,000 cats who served as mascots on the Western Front in WW1. Soldiers would share their rations with the cats.As well as being a comfort for soldiers in a very horrible and dangerous environment, the cats helped keep the rat population down in the trenches.
Lest We Forget.’
Henry Newton and ‘King’ Joe Baker
It’s 1967, I’m nine-years-old and have recently been in an accident with a large Ford Consul hitting me and smashing both legs in several places. I’d been taken to the Children’s Hospital in Nottingham and was now enduring a long recovery, laid up at home with plaster casts from toe to top of thigh. Spending those never-ending days in my single bed, brought into the living room of my parents’ home in Redhill, Nottingham. Football was nevertheless a passion. Nottingham Forest’s terrific and tenacious midfield dynamo, Henry Newton, who went on to play for Evertonwas a particular favourite. It just so happened that he was seeing my older sister’s friend who lived nearby. Henry, hearing about this, offered to come to the house to visit this youngster who in a bit of a state. Kind man.
Henry took my autograph book away and passed it around the Forest dressing room to the array of stars in there and brought it back to our family home. He also brought the gift of a beautiful Christmas tree for our family. I was dumfounded and pretty well speechless at this star sitting talking to me and encouraging me in my recovery.
Who was who the star number nine was in that side too? ‘King’ Joe Baker of the Trent End, ‘Zigger Zagger’, world-class centre-forward, formerly of Hibernian, Torino and Arsenal.
I was completely overwhelmed by those visits and have never forgotten the kindness and inspiration of Henry Newton. Those autographs are still treasured andin my possession of course. Bonus points for any of the older fans that can recognise the other signatures there from the superb team that finished runners-up to the great Manchester United team of Best, Law and Charlton…
‘Freedom Day’ June 21st 2021
Currently, featuring significantly in media reports each day is the phrase ‘Freedom Day’ when referring to June 21st and planned banishing of restrictions which will again see us in ‘normal’ times pre-Covid-19. Apart from being a tad silly and immature, I believe its use is politically driven. an example of posturing as in ‘look how we’ve delivered you through this’. It doesn’t help the moral of the people but rather, slowly crushes it. Does anyone remember the ‘Fine by Christmas’ phrase last year? To be fair, the government didn’t state which Christmas.
For me, it has never seemed likely that these forecasts and half-promises would come to fruition, although I know some will feel very let down. There can be no single day when ‘normality’ will click into place, enticing though that may seem it’s a process and so shall it evolve.
Through some fifteen months of the pandemic, a consistent lesson has been to expect the unexpected, that’s what precedents will provide us, with one positive development after another seemingly being confounded. Better to be in acceptance of this, it’s an easier way to live than constantly being lifted with somewhat flimsy hope, before being almost inevitably disappointed.
We can think of the pandemic as a virtual tug-of-war with the virus the opponent on the other end of the rope. As a layperson, it’s exhausting to keep up that mental battle with it constantly when there is only so much control we can have over it. A better and more sustainable approach is to ‘lay the rope down’. Take a reasoned approach in observing precautions and live our lives that way, without timelines or deadlines. For there lies anger, frustration, depression, disappointment and a whole host of other negative reactions.
A Return To Normality: The Golden Fleece, Nottingham
The day came – 12th April 2021 and a return to hospitality opening – albeit al fresco. It was eagerly awaited. After two nights out I’m now in need of another lockdown!
A few observations about getting out again for those with the interest and patience to read.
Monday evening was on a large outdoor covered and heated terrace. There were around 100-120 drinkers (no food) on tables of six. Waiter service, pay electronically. There was music from a DJ and deck which rang through the surrounding streets.
Customers were probably about 95%+ students from the nearby university which made it something of an outlier where considering general behaviours are concerned. One young lad on the next table who was having a famous time on his coincidental birthday, we considered was the spitting image of 1970s Notts County stalwart right-back, Bill Brindley. (Bill knew his way around a pint too). At one point Billy 2021 version threw up twice into a bucket and amost tipped most of the drinks off the table while doing it.
It was loud, raucous with several celebrations going on, characterised by hugging, handshaking kissing, whilst moving between tables. Non of this bothered my crew who like me, were grateful to get out and see each other and socialise again. I’m commenting here, not criticising. We were all young once and i’m pretty sure I’d have been acting similarly at that age.
To summarise, well, I’m somewhat relieved that I had the relative protection of a Pfizer jag. I can’t make a case for any of this stuff being ‘safe’. This wasn’t the business’s fault who had done a sterling job of laying on a good, safe situation if it was used as such. The problem is alcohol and the effects of it isn’t it, and that was starkly shown all through the protracted time I was there. To say that it promotes some risk-taking behaviour is not a revolutionary statement.
Probably more interesting (to me at least) was the really nice chat I had with a group of lovely, friendlyfourth year design students during the latter part of the evening. Excusing themselves, they said they had wondered what kind of job I do and I guess were betting between themselves on the outcome. The reply ‘I’m a Psychologist’ brought about a stunned silence (believe me, some people incorrectly imagine you’re immediately about to carry out a psychoanalysis on them when you say that). When their mouths eventually closed we had a great chat and a main theme, sadly, was how they felt shunned by the local community, that nobody wanted anything to do with them since adverse reports about some students over the past year. They were actually really grateful to be acknowledged and engaged and thanked me over and over for this. What on earth have we come to?
The group said they all loved living in Nottingham and mentioned the true minority percentage of people misbehaving in the local parks, that press photographers were following people around, taking shots from various angles to enhance what appeared to be a complete lack of social distancing and prevalence of drinking alcohol which is forbidden in Nottingham’s open spaces.
I’m left a little sad about all this. I have worked in both Nottingham universities,studied at one of them and my ex remains a lecturer at one of them. I’ve friends in them and even work adjacent one of them. It’s easy and natural for me to feel connected to them, unlike some others, who fill the local ****-stirring rag with hateful, anti-student comments. I wonder where we are all going with this.
As for the two nights in general, there was generally a much more celebratory and gung-ho attitude noticable among people on both nights out including a second one which was much more staid by comparison. I can only think it is the psychological effect of being partly immunised for many. I have no idea if all this described will rebound on us and I’ve just decided to have gratitude for it while I can.
A genuine ‘thank you’, The Golden Fleece, Nottingham.
That First Night Out
Cat, waiting in the hallway after me returning home late after a first evening out for several months:
Cat: Where you think YOU’VE been young man?
Me: Aw, did you miss me?
Cat: Got any grub?
(Gives cat large bowl of Whiskas)
Cat: chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp…
Me: Was that nice then?
Cat: Meow…got anything else?
Me: How about some tuna? (serves fishy treat)
Cat: chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp…
Me: How was that?
:Cat: Bye
Back To Freedom
Well, the first day of ‘freedom’ tomorrow at last and I can say that despite the cool weather forecast (a low of 3C) I’m so looking forward to seeing friends again after six very long months.
For me, life has been pretty much about being in the house day and night, working, sleeping, eating, the usual stuff. For that reason, it will feel novel just to do the simple things, catch a bus into the city, have a pint or two, catch up with friends. I feel a lot of gratitude for it. It’s probably the most inspiring time in over a year, along with a first dose of Pfizer some weeks back.
t’s been a very lonely existence, in spite of counselling clients on the phone each working day and calls with friends, not really me at all as I’m the sociable type end very much enjoy being amongst people.
Some sanity has been preserved due to my little pal, the beautiful Bengal cat, Gigi, who adopted me two years ago. Every evening he sits close to me, listening to music and the radio, watching the TV (he loves watching Hibs!) Each night he comes and sleeps on the bed next to me, keeping me company. Every day he makes me laugh. How can you possibly be lonely with such a great pal and companion?
It’s a booking for six on a rooftop terrace at a Nottingham city centre pub from 7pm tomorrow.
Hoping you all get the same opportunity to do something you enjoy too, the very first moment it’s possible.
May We Have A Little Freedom Now?
‘Warned’ not to go into my own local city centre by the police? I’ve done things by the book for thirteen months now and I’ll now do what the heck I like regarding entering the city thanks.
As it happens, I have an outdoor table booked with friends for the coming Monday evening and will be complying fully by sitting outside in predicted 3C temperatures (my choice) in order to have the pleasure of seeing friends I haven’t seen in six months. After staying home day after day, as has been requested for most of a year of my life, I resent being told to stay away from the city if I cannot book a table, basically in case the police have to do a little policing, other than chasing a few students out of their house parties. I’m being facetious but you get the point
What this command fails to recognise is that numerous pubs and bars are accepting walk-in customers alongside booked tables in order to maximise often meagre outside capacity from Monday 12th. Some are ONLY accepting walk-ins and no bookings. One or the other was the case at practically every venue I personally checked. How would the police propose that these (mostly struggling) businesses manage to trade with no people allowed into the city without bookings?
The police are overstepping the mark here. Perhaps they overestimate their powers too with the new authoritarian society opportunistically ushered in by this idealogically woeful and anti-working class government. The public are tired, exhausted indeed, damaged both mentally and physically.
People are depressed and anxious, needing some relief from iincessant bad new over the past year. I hear this message loud and clear in my own work, sometimes feel it too. Many are now impovererished also due to the very necessary lockdowns. Please now give us a small break and allow us to walk around our own streets in peace.
Redhill Barracks – Ansell Terrace, Redhill Nottingham
A little local history today. ‘Redhill Barracks’ – Ansell Terrace, in Redhill. So named I believe due to the large number of ex-soldiers and their families who were housed there after World War One. Ansell Terrace is long gone now but here we remember it. Ansell Terrace – ‘Redhill Barracks’, Redhill Nottingham (Image: unknown) The…
He Is Not Here; He Has Risen!
The angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said’. – Matthew 28:5-6
On The ’30p’ Trail
’30p Lee’ Anderson embarked on his World Tour of Ashfield today otherwise known as his ‘Day of Action’ – fittingly, on Red Nose Day. ’30p’ thinking about some stuff today (Image: The Spectator). Such ancient Wonders of the World as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt were eschewed…
Gigi Riva: A Tribute
RIVA…GOAL! Came to be a regular cry in the late 1960s when the ‘Rombo di Tuono’ (Rumble of Thunder) blasted yet another explosive shot into the back of the net and so I was saddened to receive news this past week from my friend in Sardinia of the passing of a boyhood idol of mine,…
‘Blue Monday’: Never felt more like singing the blues?
We’re told that the third Monday of January is the most depressing day of the year. Reasons given include, the prevalence of post-Christmas debt, gloomy weather and failed New Year’s resolutions. (Image: Canadian Mental Health Association) Only it isn’t, it’s a myth, it’s completely fabricated This nonsense was first inflicted on the public by a…
An Evening With John McGovern
I had the pleasure of attending a talk by former European Cup-winning captain of Nottingham Forest, John McGovern recently. The event was held at the pleasant Embankment pub situated just off the opposite bank of the River Trent from the City Ground, scene of many of John’s triumphs with the team under Brian Clough and…
As it happens, I have an outdoor table booked with friends for the coming Monday evening re-opening of hospitality in England and will be complying fully by sitting outside in predicted 3C temperatures (my choice) in order to have the pleasure of seeing friends I haven’t seen in six months. After staying home day after day, as has been requested for most of a year of my life, I resent being told to stay away from the city if I cannot book a table, basically in case the police have to do a little policing, other than chasing a few students out of their house parties. I’m being facetious but you get the point.
What this command fails to recognise is that numerous pubs and bars are accepting walk-in customers alongside booked tables in order to maximise often meagre outside capacity from Monday 12th. Some are ONLY accepting walk-ins and no bookings. One or the other was the case at practically every venue I personally checked. How would the police propose that these (mostly struggling) businesses manage to trade with no people allowed into the city without bookings?
The police are overstepping the mark here. Perhaps they overestimate their powers too with the new authoritarian society opportunistically ushered in by this idealogically woeful and anti-working class government.
The public are tired, exhausted indeed, damaged both mentally and physically. People are depressed and anxious, needing some relief from iincessant bad new over the past year. I hear this message loud and clear in my own work every single day, sometimes I feel it too. Many are now impovererished also due to the very necessary lockdowns. Please now give us a small break, allow us to walk around our own streets and have something to eat or drink with our friends in peace.
A Generation of Racists? I Don’t Think So
I’m sorry, but this current trend of maligning a whole generation by suggesting ‘everyone’ used racist terms and displayed racist behavour in order to excuse the late Prince Philip’s racism and generally abject behaviour throughout his life as a matter of course is not acceptable.
My father was born in 1921, the very same year as the late consort and would NEVER use those offensive terms or act in that way. That was a general family condition too and for many, many others. We aneed not all be judged by our supposed ‘betters’ whose behaviour remains consistently questionable, to put it mildly.
The fact that my father, although also born in 1921, was lost to our family fully thirty-seven years prior to his hugely priviliged contemporary meeting his maker is not lost on me either.
Mind you, my father worked hard for a living from 14 years-old and didn’t rely on handouts from servile sycophants.
Arrivederci Piers Morgan
Thank god for that. If he hasn’t been, he really needed sacking after his tirade about Meghan Markle on GMB. This was a step too far. As far as I am concerned, the challenging and disbelief of any person’s suicide ideation is dangerous and totally out of order. I speak as a person with a late partner who after being discharged deemed as not requiring support by a mental health crisis team, went out and took her own life in a most violent way less than twenty-four hours later.
Morgan’s interviewing of politicians has won him points in various circles throughout the pandemic, let the point be remembered though that the Tory politicians he has been showing his faux disgrace are the same ones he actually supports and votes for. There remains for me a doubt over the sincerity and purpose of his numerous rants. The man long has form for being a despicable human being and has never essentially changed.
As for Good Morning Britain, I’m not particularly a fan of the programme but each snippet I’ve set eyes upon resembles a pantomime with Morgan’s shouty ‘performances’, talking over everybody, including his co-presenters being a complete embarrassment. If the TV company grew better judgement they could do a lot worse than promoting the excellent Alex Beresford to a more prominent role.
Gregory Isaacs – Extra Classic
Gregory Isaacs passed on over ten years ago and left us with a legacy of beautiful, timeless music. A fine example of this was the sweet and mellow ‘Extra Classic’, a track who no less than Rolling Stone, Keith Richards declared in his top ten of all time.
Described once by a prominent New York journalist as ‘the most exquisite vocalist in reggae’ and being credited with the origination of ‘Lovers Rock’, the man who came to fondly be known as ‘The Cool Ruler’ began his career as Winston Sinclair and recorded under the production of legendary Jamaican musician, Byron Lee.
By the late 1970s, peaking in fame, possibly only Dennis Brown and Bob Marley could challenge his popularity as he regularly toured the US and the UK. Gregory opened his Cash and Carry shop and label at number 125 on the famous Orange Street, Jamaica, next door to another Jamaican music legend, Cecil Bustamante Campbell – better known as Prince Buster.
Charitable work was always close to Gregory Isaacs’ soul and his widow, June Wyndham, set up The Gregory Isaacs Foundation to carry on her husband’s charitable legacy. After living the last three years of his life in Harrow Weald, his remains were interred in Dovecot Cemetery, Jamaica.
A Pfizer Vaccine
I had my first vaccination dose today at Nottingham’s Queens Medical Centre as a health and social care worker. Extremely well organised by cheery and excellent staff from beginning to end. It was the Pfizer version.
Ushered in, given a surgical mask to replace my own face covering.
Joined a ten-minute socially-distanced queue obeying a marked out floor.
First desk took my NHS number and evidence of status.
Second desk, a health professional asked a few rudimentary health questions.
Directed straight in for the jag. Very quick and painless.
Next desk to make second appointment in 12 weeks.Asked to sit in a waiting area for five minutes and time myself before letting myself out.
Arrived home and no reaction at all (as yet) after six hours.
I’ve not been out of the house nor spoken to anyone much face to face in a good while due to working from home and I was beginning to feel slightly threadbare. Therefore, it felt inspiring and galvanising, stepping out in the world a little once more and seeing the faces and the positive, cheerful and indomitable attitude of the NHS staff in the vaccination unit.
I thanked each one profusely. You are all greatly appreciated. Thank you so much
Snowy Hucknall, Nottinghamshire
My mother’s home town, Hucknall, Nottinghamshire, pictured 24th January 2021, blessed and adorned with a delicate sprinkling of snow.
A proudly down-to-earth former mining town which boasted two pits and Rolls-Royce as major employers. Hucknall lies approximately seven miles north north-west of Nottingham and was the kind of unsung town that kept the country’s lights burning through the hard graft of its people.
Hucknall Aerodrome, which used to host a memorable was an RAF base which featured in WW11 and hosted the legendary story of Luftwaffe pilot Franz von Werra ‘The One That Got Away’. In later years the aerodrome was a test establishment for the first vertical take-off aircraft, ‘The Flying Bedstead’.
The town has much expanded over more recent years due partly to it’s rail and tram links and near proximity to the M1 Motorway. The conurbation is surrounded by pretty countryside and cheek-by-jowell with the attractive small villages of Linby and Papplewick, both of which have an illustrious yet sometimes harsh history due to their former industrial histories which saw many children put to work there in the mills. History that lessons were learnt from.
The picture shows St Mary Magdalene Parish Church which was my mother’s family church, looking over the town’s market place. Inside, interred in the family vault, the great and world famous romantic poet, Lord George Gordon Byron’s body is laid to rest. The town was greatly loved by my mother and Lord Byron revered.
A humble yet special little town.
Banana Republic – Sceptic Isle
We live in a country where you can break your foot and be left to lie helpless and shivering, on a cold pavement for six hours then die there before an ambulance can attend you.
(Image: ITC.com)
One where 700 people have dialled 999 for emergency assistance and there are no ambulances available to help them.
There is a pandemic, we understand the pressures of that, we also understand it’s in a global form and yet similar reports from other countries are not prevalent.
Don’t be palmed off with this as an excuse for this serious risk placed on your lives. This government does not have the mental capacity nor the political ability to govern in such frightening and fearful times. They too, have a distinct lack of will or caring about the population’s welfare and well-being, as we are so starkly seeing.
I think ’21 is Going To Be A Good Year
IN 1921 our planet had just lived through World War One (1914-1918) with a resultant more than twenty million lives being lost. The worldwide Spanish Flu (1918-1920) had also had seen a further fifty million people perish.
The great relief felt around the world led to what came to be called ‘The Roaring Twenties’ a decade of great economic growth and widespread prosperity, driven by recovery from the devastation of war, deferred spending and a construction industry boom. In addition, there was rapid growth of consumer goods in Europe, North America and other developed countries.
As people now turn their thoughts to 2021, we may indeed consider some of Townshend’s lyrics, written for his 1969 rock opus ‘Tommy’ as highly relevant today.
Happy New Year.
Happy New Year, Grace Marian and John
Happy New Year, Grace Marian and John.
Thinking of you at Hogmanay and every day, mum and dad. It feels like forever since we hugged and kissed at New Year. One day we will be together again.
Whatever I am, you made me and gave me the determination and strength to carry on when life was ebbing. Thank you. Love you.
Stuart
Shopping In Safety
I’ve been reading of a few peoples’ negative experiences of shopping in supermarkets and am genuinely curious to understand why some people who feel the need to persist with it, given the dangers from poor behaviour in those environments.
The current time, I feel, is very reminiscent of how things felt back in late March and April, quite threatening. At that time I decided to move online for my food shopping. This was prompted by a couple of necessary Sainsbury’s visits that felt distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t the queueing to get in, it was the ridiculous behaviour of people in the store – remember this too was pre-masking wearing for most people.
Even then, when it felt a little scary and unpredictable, people were pushing past and reaching over each other and hardly anyone was observing social distancing. it was like a group social at times with assemblies of people stopping for a chat and blocking aisles, people were visiting in family groups, handling goods and putting them back. Queues for the checkout were a joke, also with no soial distancing.
I felt very insecure and actually couldn’t wait to get home.
Since that time, I haven’t needed to go to any supermarket and it’s been online all the way for nine months now. At times it hasn’t been easy to find a delivery slot, especially in the early days and pre-Christmas but I set to understanding how best to do it.
Warehouses are being opened by supermarkets now which are not open to the public and specifically for pickers to prepare your order. That’s also potentially a few less pairs of mitts on your groceries.
For those who have concerns as i do, i would urge you to give it a shot. I will not be going back to going in supermarkets any time soon, or at all.
A few pointers from my own experiences:
Open accounts in all the supermarkets accessible to you
Log on each day and spend a few minutes locating a slot
Be prepared to have a delivery at an unsociable hour, these are cheaper or free and more readily available
Think ahead and have two or three deliveries on the go at a time, update the contents/delivery date as you get nearer the time
The last slot of the day (22.00-23.00) is sometimes free will often come much earlier if you’re home when they call.
It gets easier and quicker, Favourites folders will show all the regular things you tend to buy.
You can see exactly how much you’re spending
You can quickly see what the current offers are.
If you agree to sustitutions and they’re more expensive supermarkets will give you a refund. If you don’t want the replacements simply hand them back to the delivery person.
December 2020: Out Of Control
We’re now at unprecedented levels of infection in England and awaiting possibly similar results from Scotland and Northern Ireland. Increased hospital admissions leave healthcare in a very vulnerable position.
Compliance is arguably as poor as it’s been and worsening. Too many are shunning personal responsibility.
The government is consistently reactive and behind the curve, in spite of their protestations to the contrary. There appears no real plan. There is however constant confusion.
I feel that a complete lockdown in all four home countries is what is required. I believe that Sage are now recommending children don’t go back to school and agree with that. Nor should students going back on campus happen. In practice, a real lockdown where people can at least make plans on how to cope. Of course, this has to be supported financially to avoid the public and business suffering further.
Vaccinations are progressing now and when completed vaccinations are at a favourable level, lockdown restrictions should only then change. These are the first stages of an endgame. We have been chasing after this virus throughout, not doing enough, swiftly enough. There has been one false start after another which has especially, hugely impacted on businesses with wasted stock, and investment in safety procedures for little recompense.
People are absolutely sick and tired of regulations changing seemingly every few days. Many have given up even trying to understand them. Many more fail to take them seriously.
What was actually required at the beginning of this emergency was co-operation by way of a political coalition. Party politics have been an obstacle.
There is still time to pull this situation around, we have blue sky visible in the distance. We need a real plan and that should encapsulate restrictions to get us through to when vaccinations tip the balance. It is going to take courage and selflessness from politicians and the public. Firm discipline too, enforced if necessary.
Appreciate there might be few that agree with these ideas but that would be my current assessment.
Merry Christmas, Buon Natale, Joyeux Noël
Christmas is not cancelled…
for love cannot be cancelled.
Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Riding Through The Glen
A little like Dennis ‘Terry McCann’ Waterman, I do love a good theme toon. So much in fact I’ve a whole playlist of them on Spotify with many favourites. This one I like as much as any other I guess is the theme of ‘The Adventures Of Robin Hood’, you know, the one with Richard Greene ably playing Nottingham’s infamous outlaw.
I’m pretty certain that Robin really looked quite a bit like Errol Flynn I reckon, however, Richard’s version was a nice, wholesome character who I’d run all the way home from school every Friday as soon as that bell rang to see him and his merry men foil the Sheriff yet again. It was like shelling peas.
Junior school pencils, pens and ruler all neatly stashed away, ‘marble machine’ inside the school desk duly disabled for the weekend, to be reconstructed on Monday morning.The next stage was seeing who could stand the most still in order to receive the welcome nod from the teacher to leave for two whole days’ freedom. In my case back to Redhill at warp speed as I didn’t want to miss a single second of what the heck was going on in Sherwood Forest that week.
I read somewhere that there were over 140 episodes of The Adventures of Robin Hood which surprised me a little, I’m not sure why. I’d been practising the sound of Robin’s ‘arrer sinking into that great oak tree boooiinnnggg! All week by trapping that 12” wooden ruler in the school desk lid. I particularly wanted the Sheriff to catch another ‘arrer straight through his ‘at.
Of course then there were the days at the City Ground, being swept over Trent Bridge by a family member, seemingly always in a keen, swirling permanently February wind. In the bustling crowd, the moment would arrive and then the clarion call to all Nottinghamians everywhere around the world sounded, the sounds thadduck, boooinngg, ‘Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen’ ringing out. My hero, Joe-Joe-Joe Baker would then sprint out with the lads and I’d almost faint with excitement at seeing ‘Zigger-Zagger’. He’s been gone a good while now but I still worship him.
They were happy and innocent days and this jaunty little theme tune brings back many a cherished memory to me. Play it, go on – you know you want to!
‘Oh To Be In England Now That April’s There’
A recent survey suggested that seventy-two per cent of respondents believed that ‘pubs are important places for lonely people over the festive period to come together with their community.’
Nottingham is now in Tier 3. My own Christmas will consist of being at home alone every single day. I don’t like this at all but I’m not worried for myself, I know I have the strength to cope. I really fear for those that don’t though and what’s more they are numerous and growing in number.
So much for looking after people’s mental health. So much for ‘It’s okay not to be okay’. There is a real lack of caring, despite fine words to the contrary.
Johnson has said he is confident the situation will have improved by the spring.
‘I am convinced that by April things will be much, much better,” he told a Downing Street news conference.
Ah, that’s alright then. Just the four months of isolation, not being able to see your elderly or sick relatives, people’s mental health rapidly deteriorating, sometimes to the point of suicide and the consequential suffering of their loved ones.
Four months of hundreds of thousands of ordinary working people losing their livelihoods, the political sacrifice of their jobs, their constant anxieties around this both before and after, bills not being paid, struggling to put food on the table, relationships breaking and fractured families.
Seeing no future.
It is all so incredibly sad, and unnecessary.
Don’t worry yourself though, it will all be ‘much, much better’ in April.
A Christmas Fair?
A Christmas Fair is a mass gathering is it not?
In Nottingham’s case it’s also a bunch of wooden sheds converted from their summer ‘beach hut’ guise with some spray-on snow from Wilkos.
It’s about ripping off people with ever more difficult financial situations because they are in sore need of a little Christmas (or any other) cheer. A fiver for a hot dog anyone? Seven pounds for a glass of mulled wine? It’s about selling junk food and goods at extortionate prices.
Outdoor skating, cancelled at Nottingham’s Winter Wonderland for 2020. (Image Nottingham Post)
It’s also about James Mellors Entertainments being in bed with Nottingham City Council and lining that business’s own pockets with low-brow cheap-ass ‘entertainment’ every time you open your eyes in this city. Controlling the public’s Old Market Square and anywhere else they can get their clutches into.
Meanwhile, during this pandemic, decent business such local pubs and restaurants that the community like to gather in have the shutters up and are being sold down the river, possibly into oblivion.T
This fair has nothing to do with Christmas or its spirit and it should especially not be happening this December.
The Tiers Of A Clown
A reported further 1,024 cases in 24hrs in Nottingham yesterday. Numbers further afield into the suburbs and wider county have taken an alarming jump also.
I made a (probably final) visit to my ‘local’ in the city last night under Tier 2 restrictions which include no mixing with other households. The manager expressed that he would now prefer to close up completely and that to continue staffing the pub, even with just a single person didn’t make sense. There had been very few customers in the two days since new restrictions.
The experience? Well I sat listening to the Down The Slope Hibs podcast featuring an interview with Super Joe Tortalano, on my bluetooth earbuds, sipping pints of Bitbuger. Pleasant enough, but I can do that at home. In fact the pub that I know which is invariably lively with an interesting mix of folk felt more like Seafield Crematorium.
Streets and businesses in the city and local towns have all but emptied it appears. A popular public opinion is to impose a ‘complete’ lockdown. It feels very much like March again here. That’s me done, I’ll be imposing a self-lockdown – for the winter if necessary. Grim maybe, but it might be as well to find acceptance of this now.
University Challenge
A few figures surrounding the city’s university population as we wait for our fate regarding lockdown today.
University of Nottingham
Students: 35,000
Staff: 10,000
Active confirmed cases (students): 1,510
Comprising:
Students in private accom: 677
Students in university halls: 523
Students in purpose-built accom: 310
Increase in infected students in last 7 days: 1,085
Active confirmed cases (staff) 20
Nottingham Trent University also has over 33,000 students but has declined to publish figures for infection rate among student/staff. (There are no prizes for guessing why.) The above figures can therefore most likely be doubled.
In addition:
City tops the UK for new infections
Median age of people with Covid-19 (city): 21
7-day rolling rate of new infections at Sept 4th (city): 71
7-day rolling rate of new infections at Oct 8th (city): 830
I’ve no wish to vilify students – quite the contrary and I feel they’ve been badly treated – but whilst local authorities and the government continue to ignore these types of stats, closing hospitality, shops and their attendant services is never going to make sense to the public. They’re clearly not the only reason for the dramatic increase in infections in this city but at the beginning of Sept the city’s figures were some of the lowest in the UK. It’s now at the paramount for infections since the large student population returned.
Lockdown Two?
SEPTEMBER 11TH 2020 and here we are, awaiting our cue from Westminster in the morning. Doubtless this will mean more severe restrictions to a wide range of the public. One wonders about compliance in these days.
The amount of people who don’t appear to be subscribing to social distancing, mask wearing and so on is widespread and rife. I stepepd off a bus in a quieter part of the city last night at 7pm and was immediately confronted by scene with 15-20 older teens huddled up together in a tight group. Not a single mask between them. This is not unusual in my experience. It’s like those people are completely oblivious to the situation or think it doesn’t affect them in any way and is not relevant to them. It’s by no mean exclusive to that particular age group either.
Three young females, students judging by their conversation, were walking around the pub with no masks on. All got up to visit the bathroom at the same time…and took their drinks with them, almost unbelievably.
I anvassed a group of friends in the pub about the idea of forming a support bubble between two of our households. Not one person was aware of how they worked. Nor were they interested.
My bus service is pretty decent regards people following safety procedures. It helps that it travels to a rarer route and so has few passengers on these shorter eenings for hispitality. However, a passing tram was rammed to the rafters with students without a mask between them again. The University tram stop was also packed with those waiting for another service.
Probably like many, I feel tired and disheartened with the situation. I personally went through 5-6 months of working from home, living alone whilst barely seeing a single person. Doing my bit like so many others and now here we are again, facing a potential full lockdown in essence. The days are becoming colder and the nights longer without even a few warm summer days to cheers us. The government simply have little idea what to do, they missed their big chance earlier in the year. I don’t even have the energy to be angry at the significant amount of people ignoring the rules. Those without a single care for the health and lives for others. I have no idea of the way out of this but I’m certain that their way isn’t the correct one.
Tipping Point
THE BELOW was written prior to the storm now blowing through about students being confined to their rooms in thir residences – a truly shocking development I consider. The Government’s Test And Trace system has also now staggered into life, albeit with attendant problems.
I’ve maintained for some time that there will be a ‘full lockdown’. It will be dressed up as something other than that, something with a snazzy new name, say, a ‘circuit breaker’, combined with a spiffing new world-beating three-word slogan to accompany it. (It’s understood by the Government that the public cannot take on information without it written in three parts on a lecturn).
The two-week period variously mooted really doesn’t mean too much. When the two weeks are drawing in another two weeks will be announced – after first being leaked out to break it a little more gently of course – and so forth. They did this in one-month periods on the first lockdown with people becoming increasingly upset each time it occurred. A point about locking down in any form might be to provide breathing space to get the crucial track, trace and isolate sytem going. The problem is the government have had six months to come up with this majorly important tool but decided to give the job to mates and ignore those digitally illiterate Luddites, Apple and Google. Actually criminally negligent.
I know that there are great difficulties and I have much sympathy with parents but for me the children should not have returned to school just yet. Teaching should have been rolled out 100% digitally with various support given to parents to facilitate it, along with a suspension of school term(s) or even a full academic year if necessary.
Similar for the students in higher education. Teaching should be conducted 100% digitally for now. This would have been preferable for the students who now, as well illustrated by recent reports, face a potentially fairly miserable and restricted experience at university. It could also cost many of them a great deal of money being tied into accommodation for an academic year that has arguably only a thin chance of being actually delivered face-to-face. More money needs to be found (but won’t be) to support not only furloughed workers and parents but also the businesses that are nearly on the brink of extinction.
It’s a question of priorities, the UK government can find outlandish sums for Trident (£200b), for bailing out banks (£500b) and so on. Those issues have their own arguments but it illustrates that money is always found when deemed ‘necessary’. It will allow the country’s citizens to suffer though, to lose their jobs, to go without food and lose their homes. To see people experiencing great mental health difficulties to the point of suicide. To witness the significant growth in domestic abuse.
Yes me too, I’m glad I don’t have to now make the decisions on the way forward in this dire situation. One thing for sure though is that if the UK government hadn’t made consistent and continual mistakes – sometimes almost wilfully – throughout, those decisions wouldn’t now have been so difficult or acute. A problem is that apart from not appearing to care all that much they’re really not all that bright. They simply lack the ability, thinking and industry to deal with the huge problems facing the UK.
It’s 10pm And All Is Not Well
I’M SURE the thinking that some people become increasingly drunk later in the evening and less observent of social distancing measures is a logical and reasonable point. However, significantly, it’s a moveable feast.
I wouldn’t particularly argue one way or the other regarding closing times in pubs in particular but certainly, someone who wants to get innebriated won’t allow an early closing time in public houses to change that. They’ll go out earlier, go on to homes afterwards, drink stronger drinks or drink them faster to achieve the same effect.
These things are indicated to me through treating drink dependent people for a good while. A top down, directive approach rarely works that well in these things beyond a certain point. Far better that people become educated and actually want to exhibit these behaviours without being ‘forced’ or ‘blocked’ into doing so.
There are strong suggestions from scientists and health experts that the Government have not consulted with them regarding the likely benefits or otherwise of adopting this latest policy. So much for ‘following the science’.
Unfortunately, many of the general public have stopped listening to or wanting to acquiesce to the UK government’s constantly changing instructions. They have no faith in them, nor do many trust them due to their incompetence, weekly u-turns and abject failure as much as anything else.
The genie is already out of the bottle I’m afraid.
Good Luck, Magpies
BEST WISHES to Notts County in their Play-Off Final against Harrogate at Wembley Stadium today. Just one year ago, this club looked like it was about to become history. Huge tax bills, a winding up order, staff not paid in two months and a transfer embargo in place. Asset strippers were circling. Less than a week before the first game of the season Notts had just a handful of players and had to bring in around thirteen bodies in order to field some kind of team.
Today, after surviving these times, the hard-working players, their excellent manager, Neal Ardley and the modest and skilled young club owners, Danish brothers Alexander and Christoffer Reedtz, the club has an opportunity to return to the Football League at the first opportunity. Whatever should happen during the ninety minutes, the past year has been one of stability and growth for the old club
Good luck Notts,
In Nature’s Lap, We May Relax
Again. I read reports of huge queues outside my local Sainsbury’s supermarket with attendant forty-minute waits to enter the store. It’s been a pattern, particularly at the weekend recently, to the point that the car park entrance has been closed off and bottles of water being handed out to the long line of people standing outside the store in the hot sun.
Meanwhile, I’m sat in the garden with my cat buddy by my side, sipping a cup of Italian coffee and listening to some vintage songs on the radio, relaxing after a busy working week. I’m taking in the scent of sweet honeysuckle, something I look forward to each summer. A breeze gently rustles fresh green foliage on the trees. It is an idyllic situation in a most simple and fundamental way.
Technology! I have an online Sainsbury’s grocery order with a helpful supermarket ‘colleague’ placing two weeks’ worth of food and drink on my doorstep this evening at 8pm for which I’m grateful.. It takes me all of five minutes to store if I’m dawdling. I now fail to understand the allure and attraction of spending precious time queuing to enter a supermarket, on a beautiful day especially. Of course, doing so also owns its anxieties too at the current time as many people have expressed.
I will not be heading back to trudging around supermarkets in the future, social distancing present or not. Experiencing change via a lengthy lockdown has finally allowed me to see the light on this little chore, quite literally.
Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father
O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious rev’rence, and attend!
Here lie the loving husband’s dear remains,
The tender father, and the gen’rous friend;
The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that fear’d no human pride;
The friend of man-to vice alone a foe;
For “ev’n his failings lean’d to virtue’s side.”
Robert Burns
John Archibald Frew 1921-1984 b. Musselburgh, Scotland
THE TEARS OF A CLOWN 