Cyril Squirrel

Young Cyril squirrel was very cheeky
He ignored his mother when called back to a tree
His brown bushy tail was large for his age
Very easy for dogs to see

He buried nuts out in the open
He rarely did as he was told
He jumped on legs of people he saw
This young squirrel was very bold

He took one nut then hid another in his mouth
Asked for another then ran away
Young Cyril was a selfish boy
He would have to learn the hard way

One day he took a chance too many
A dog called Jack caused him to stumble
Cyril got bitten then cried to his mother
His wound slowly healed and now he was humble

Helping Hands

Don't lose sight of all you've learnt
Take your eye off the ball, your fingers get burnt
Recall your mistakes then don't make them twice
Make your own luck when you roll the dice

Never lose sight of attainment and success
Keep your strength when problems press
Minimize your troubles to maximize your days
Stay focused, sharp and out of the maze

At no time lose sight of those you love
Don't let go of those gifts from above
Count your blessings until you reach ten
You can use your fingers, or even a pen

If you do lose sight and are blinded by woes
It's temporary, not permanent, seek friends, banish foes
Don't give in to life's pressures and demands
Learn where to find those helping hands

U2 - The Tube - Red Rocks - 1983

Everyone has their moments in life when they remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when a significant event occurs in their lifetime that they weren't directly involved in. In my youth, the deaths of Elvis Presley and John Lennon fall into this category, not so much as the effect the news had on me but more the reaction of the people and the world at large around me. My own musical "death" epiphany would come much later on with the demise of Kurt Cobain. However, in my bedroom in the family home one early autumn evening in 1983 I bore witness to a live performance from a band  I was previously indifferent to, which transfixed me in a way that has never been repeated since. It was the first broadcast of U2's Red Rocks performance on the seminal Channel 4 music show The Tube.

We have to remember that in 1983 Britain only had 4 TV channels, one of which, the edgy and innovative Channel 4, had only been on air for 12 months. The Tube was it's flagship music programme, one and a half hours of must-see live TV for the 16 years old me. In the family home we had our main television downstairs and a small "portable" TV upstairs on a trolley that was wheeled in between my siblings bedrooms. At the end of a disastrously brief day at college one Friday I returned home rather depressed and immersed in teenage angst. After my early evening meal I headed upstairs for my fix of The Tube. It was broadcast from 5.30pm-7.00pm. In the weeks prior to this day, The Tube had been advertising this U2 night as they were going to dedicate 1 full hour to the Red Rocks show. They hadn't previously given any band, let alone these young Irish upstarts, such airtime before so I was curious to see what all the fuss was about. Some well informed people must have worked at CH4's music department at this time as they clearly knew they had something special "in the can".

Anyway, my impressionable, but also cynical, self lay down on my bed and awaited this hyped performance. What followed was truly spectacular. This performance has since become a best-seller so you don't really need the likes of me to bang on about the setting, the stormy weather, a young band on a steep rise, an electrified audience etc but it was all those things. From a prone position I gradually eased to the edge of the bed and sat transfixed by each song and the energy and sheer enthusiasm of everyone involved. I was thoroughly smitten with the band and remained so for the rest of the decade.

These were innocent times, of course. Pre-internet, no satellite(cable) TV and all the other 21st century bombardments, so maybe this helps put into perspective just how this one hour of my life is so vividly recalled 30 years later. Even now when I watch the "Under a Blood Red Sky," show again I still get a tingle down my spine and feel 16 again (without the angst and spots).

Build A Future

Church bells ring out on the morning of Sunday
An ancient sound across a contemporaneous landscape
The faithful few answer the call to pray
As the seventh day begins to take shape

This once sacred day no different to the rest
No let up in the frenzy of modern living
This once sacred day was a day of rest
A time for reflection, prayer and giving

A cold world of isolation thrives
Bowed heads, fixed stares at a brightly lit device
What on earth are we doing with our lives?
No sense of virtue, indulging in vice

Too many distractions, we're losing our soul
A human racing to a robotic void
No sense of purpose, no ultimate goal
Filming everything, no moment left enjoyed

We don't need to think anymore
We've got the whole world in our hands
We aspire to wealth, only losers are poor
We can't build a future on sinking sands

Zero Hours Contract

Sign right here for the zero hours contract
Live your days in a mysterious void
Wait all day for calls that never come
Bills unpaid when you're under-employed

6 hours here and 4 hours there
No guarantees of work or pay
Honest workers trying to earn a living
Thousands of people struggling each day

Wealthy politicians say this suits the hoi polloi
You can't claim benefits, you've got a job
How can you live on 50 quid a week?
You have to laugh or else you'd sob

The contract with no hours is worthless and wrong
All smoke and mirrors, anxiety and stress
The future's uncertain, we need divine intervention
Can somebody please help us out of this mess?

Poverty in 1930s County Wexford

My mother was born near Camolin in County Wexford in the 1930s in what was then known as the Irish Free State. She lived through a childhood which was so deprived it makes Frank McCourt's account of his early childhood in the lanes of Limerick in Angela's Ashes seem positively privileged.

My mam lived in a rural location in a house with no running water and very little food and today's so called "poverty line" would have been luxurious compared to her family's genuine hardship. She had a daily 4 mile round trip on foot to the nearest school in all weathers dressed in little more than rags. One anecdote I can share with you is the time she returned home from school one afternoon with her usual hunger pains. Upon arrival into the freezing, poorly lit house she noticed her mother stirring a huge steaming pot in the kitchen. Mam's excitement was barely contained as the prospect of a feed of hot potatoes on this day was heaven sent. As she sat down at the table she asked my Granny when the spuds would be ready as she was in great pain with the hunger. Granny looked at her as if she was stupid and replied "These aren't potatoes, I'm washing the bed sheets". Apparently, all the spuds had gone and Granny was simply passing the time cleaning the bed linen in a pot over the ancient stove from water procured from the nearby river.

Now that WAS poverty.

Maine Road, Manchester - Pink Floyd, Simple Minds, Fleetwood Mac, also Transvision Vamp

The title of this post is self explanatory. No catastrophic occurrences during these 3 gigs, just an overview of the events and a look back in time to the performances of these extremely successful bands at Maine Road, Manchester.


First up, Pink Floyd. The year was 1988 and Maine Road was now being used as a stadium concert venue. I attended my first football match here in 1975 and 13 years later it had changed very little, only perhaps more dilapidated. The facilities then compared to the 21st century all seater, no singing, no dancing football grounds were crude to say the least. What, no perfumed hand gels in the toilets? Well for the male toilets at the back of the Kippax Stand you had to wade through a river of urine and God knows what else just to reach the crumbling brick block.What, no Jamie Oliver cuisine? errr...no, have a horse-meat pie and like it!  For football fans of my generation, we didn't know any different and for gigs the facilities were not much different from the match days.

Anyway, on to Pink Floyd. The stage was built at the Platt Lane end of the ground and the band had installed all their usual lights, props, big screens and so on. This was the Momentary Lapse of Reason tour. Roger Waters had departed acrimoniously a few years earlier and, for me, this diluted their set and performance. I hadn't seem them live before but knew that the 3 remaining original members were not the most demonstrative musicians in the world. This didn't concern me at all. However, the addition of 3 female backing singers and several other back up musicians was not to my taste at all. My only other vivid memory of the show itself was all the flying pig props etc flying over the audience and semi impressive lights but it all felt a bit weird and dislocating for me to be stood on the plastic covered hallowed turf in the middle of Moss Side watching what remained of this legendary band. I'd give it 6 out of 10.

Second, we have Fleetwood Mac. This concert was again staged at Maine Road and again in 1988. I quite liked Fleetwood Mac but was more of a fan of their earlier stuff and not so much the pop mainstream Tango in the Night glam 1980s era. Unusually, I attended this show with my sister, Marie. This was the first concert I had ever attended with her but would not quite be the last. I will digress slightly here as 12 months on from this show I went to see Transvision Vamp( I know, sorry) at the International 2, fronted by the blonde minx Wendy James, with some mates. The gig was packed to the rafters on a warm summer evening and I got very drunk indeed before the show. I joined the heaving throng near the stage and ended up ripping my shirt off and seeing out the performance bare chested (look I was 22 and playing football so my body can't have been that bad) and was convinced Wendy was impressed. Anyway, leaving with the packed crowd (still bare chested) I , incredibly, bumped into my sister (she'd left home and was living the student life so I didn't even know she was at the gig). In front of her and her mates I shouted incoherently towards her, undoubtedly looking the complete bare chested balloon. I could hear one of her mates say "who's that?!", to which she replied, "errr, that's my brother".  I think I may have responded with "Whoooaaahhh, Go on! Get in! You know it makes sense!" or some such nonsense.

Anyway, back to Fleetwood Mac. Similarly to Pink Floyd, they were also missing a valuable member, Lindsay Buckingham. He had refused to tour their current album and again the show was diluted for me. The rest of the night was only memorable for the vocal performance of the delightful  ex-cocaine enthusiast Stevie Nicks. 5 out of 10 for this one.

Finally, we move on to August 1991 and another live concert visit to the crumbling old ground to see the Scottish stadium rockers Simple Minds. The audience for this show was markedly different to the other 2 in this post. The Pink Floyd crowd was largely male and older than me at the time, blokes in their 30s and 40s. Fleetwood Mac was more of a mixed affair with men and women of all ages. SM, however, was largely an under 30s crowd of beery lads, of which I was definitely one at the time. I wasn't a massive fan of SM but was familiar with a few of their albums and was told they came into their own in a live show. This proved to be the case. Unlike the aforementioned static 1988 shows this was an audience who wanted to bounce...and bounce a lot. I scrambled down to the front with my associate and joined the heaving masses for the first hour. I have to admit, Jim Kerr and the band were very, very good.  The atmosphere was rowdy but controlled and songs such as Waterfront, Don't You Forget About Me etc were made for performing in front of a stadium audience. Mid set my mate and I took a break and headed over to the Kippax Stand to sit on the terraces where I had stood countless times before. We later joined the masses again to see out the show. Unexpectedly, this had proved to be the most enjoyable night of the three I spent at Maine Road concerts. 9 out of 10 for this one.

 I later turned down the chance to see Oasis here in 1996 .I had seen a rather shambolic performance by them pre-Noel Gallagher in 1993 (see post elsewhere on my blog site) and have never been a fan.
 

Words of Wisdom

2 years ago today I embarked on an inner voyage of discovery with my first blog post, imaginatively entitled "Bonfire Night", a devil's advocate type post on all things Guy Fawkes etc. Since then I have used it to showcase my thoughts and observations in poetic form, together with memories (good and not so good) of my chequered working life and tales of other parts my life to date.

I have found it to be very cathartic and would recommend it to anyone who can find the time and inclination to share a slice of their world with the population at large. Initially, my thoughts were "why would anyone want to read about my sad life?", but then as the views increased (6000 to date), I found the confidence to delve deeper into my psyche and unload my inner thoughts to the general populace.

It would please me greatly if anyone I knew personally did the same as I find one generally only scratches the surface of the multifaceted personality of those around them. I find social media does serve a purpose but is also greatly inhibiting, i.e, how much can you really get out of 140 characters? I also believe that most people have a social media "persona" and very often it gives no indication of what the person is really like in real life. A blog broadens that horizon and, for those who are interested, gives a better understanding of what makes the blogger tick. It's not the be all and end all of course but is a marked improvement on Twitter's "My toe nails need cutting #iamveryboring", "My football team is better than your football team #whocares", "I have just re-arranged my sock draw AND fed my goldfish #givemeanobelprize " and other such yawn-provoking guff.

I wish to thank all who have taken the time to read some of my stuff and nonsense. In today's world the pace of life seems to move faster then ever before with so many distractions using up time, so I do greatly appreciate your readership. Whatever life throws at you, keep your sense of humour and perspective. When times are good, take a second to breathe in the moment to savour later and in times of sorrow call on the people you love and trust. You know it makes sense.

Debs Reunited

Early years spent in Manchester11
I first knew her when I was7
When we were 8 she wrote me a letter
I'd been in hospital, she hoped I was better

Moved on to the same high school
Never hung out together but I knew she was cool
At 16 our paths went separate ways
Good times, bad times, happy and sad days

Decades passsed and I found that letter
Nearly forty years since I first met her
To trace school friends I asked the Evening News
They printed my e-mail, nothing to lose

Mother Malone read my email and called her offspring
An e-mail arrived from the girl who can sing
Re-united again after such a long while
Debs is her name with the winning smile

View From The Working Class

Unseasonably warm at the top of the wood
An azure sky on this Spring day
The lush Lancashire hills vie for attention
Amid the mighty oaks barring their way

An estate of detached houses across a busy road
Where once stood a reservoir to slake folk's thirst
The gated community now perched on this hill
The pampered haves always putting themselves first

Audis and 4x4s driven by suits and dealers
They own the roads in their own corrupt mind
Selfish, arrogant, narcissistic and soul-less
This beautiful view wasted on their kind

Bay horses graze in the middle distance
The sun on their backs, noses in grass
A deep breath taken while savouring this moment
This view expressed from the working class

Search Your Soul

Ten months passed on another year
A chill in the air now Autumn is here
October's leaves lie brown and sodden
Limp and lifeless on paths well trodden

Golds and yellows in rustling trees
Squirrels gathering nuts before the freeze
A time for hibernation as cold winds blow
Many seeking warmth by their fire's orange glow

Melancholy descends as daylight wanes
Reflective thoughts of losses and gains
Comfort in wisdom, once bitten, twice shy
Never too old to learn, to love, to cry

Closed wounds, open eyes, open arms, open mind
Gravitating to those who are affable and kind
Locked doors to happiness, but still aiming to please
Try searching your soul, you will find the keys

Ozzy Osbourne School Speech Gone Awry

During my last year at high school I studied for exams in 7 subjects.
Well, when I say "studied", my 2 years in Technical Drawing classes were largely spent staring into space, throwing paper planes made out of my crap drawings at classmates; wondering why my beloved Manchester City FC  were sliding towards relegation (how times change) and generally not understanding the whole concept of technical drawing.

I mostly enjoyed the English Language classes. I was taught by Mr Cockett (insert your own jokes) and he wasn't a bad old stick. Part of the exam was a spoken word  section where the pupil had to conduct a talk on a subject of their choice in front of the class. My classmates had already read on such life changing topics as Culture Club, the Rubik Cube and microwave ovens

The pupils had 2 attempts at a talk,  mock one then the important one for marks towards the final exam. I decided to go all "junior scientist" for the first one and give a talk on the subjest of eclipses, a more nerdish topic it would have been harder to find.

The comprehensive school bullies were lining up to chin me after that one. My talk on this subject was so boring I fell like beating myself up halfway through it. The feedback I got from my class mates were along the lines of "mate, what was all that shit about?"

I decided my second attempt for the final mark would be on a more interesting subject. However, I over compensated ever so slightly and decided to give a talk on...Ozzy Osbourne!

I kept my plans under wraps until my big day. My research was conducted by reading through copies of  Sounds, NME and Kerrang magazines. Around this time Ozzy had become infamous for various atrocities far too gruesome for a daytime audience so I decided to share them in explicit detail with Mr Cockett and my 15 years old classmates. I was determined to lose the “boring” tag for good.
.
The class reacted with a mixture of laughter, gasps and hands in front of mouths. Undeterred, I continued to the end. As I returned to my seat I glanced behind me to see a speechless looking Mr Cockett taking his place again in front of the class. All he could utter was that he "distanced himself" from the content my talk.

Later,  the feedback I received from the class was a mixture of  stunned admiration, scorn and the odd "well you've f***ed that up haven't you mate". I was marked down on my talk but did pass the overall English Language exam with a "B" mark.

If it wasn't for Ozzy and my own immaturity I may have got my only "A" mark in my exams.  He’s got a lot to answer for that Osbourne!

Rosary Beads Miracle of County Wexford

Most people are interested in mystery. Events that occur with no logical explanation. Well, allow me tell you the true story of the rosary beads miracle of County Wexford in Ireland.

My maternal family roots lie in the rural "sunny south east" of the Emerald Isle. It is a beautiful part of the world, rich in history, rich country air, pleasing landscapes, smells of burning turf and people always ready for the craic. A few years ago something happened here which defied all known reason and is still astounding a local community in it's wonder. 

My mother's cousin (my auntie) and her husband live in County Wexford and are people of devout Roman Catholic faith. They are a delightful, warm and friendly couple. One night a few years ago Mam's cousin used the rosary beads for prayers as usual then retired to bed with her husband and left the beads on a bedside table. This was a routine occurrence. The following morning when they both awoke, the beads were missing from the table. After a short time they noticed the beads were wrapped around the light fitting above the bed.

They both searched their thoughts for an explanation. Neither of them are practical jokers and they were alone in the house when the beads were placed on the bedside table. Nothing disturbed them during the night, the beads were on the table, then when they woke up the same beads were tightly wrapped around the light fitting. Once they had time to think, they left the beads where they were and started to tell a few people what had happened. Unsurprisingly, the locals wanted to see the beads so they have stayed where they are to this day.

A year or so after the event, my mother visited her cousin and during the stay asked to say a few prayers alone in the bedroom with the beads. Nothing life changing happened to her but she has said that she had an unusual spiritual feeling during her prayers. I haven't personally visited the house in question but I have seen photographs and was surprised to see just how tightly wound the beads are with the crucifix at the top.

Earlier this year I spoke on local radio in Manchester about this occurrence and the presenter was mildly flippant with some of his remarks including that it all sounded "a bit Father Ted" and he "wasn't sure I would be happy with a procession of people marching into my bedroom" but I think I got my point across that this was genuine and, so far, no one has found a rational reason how or why this happened.

Delivering

A different time, a long gone era
Duties in providing, duties in delivering
Mouths to feed and children to clothe
Rarely taking, always giving

Delivering bread a source of income
Six days a week, unyielding and relentless
Charming birds from their trees
Another sale, another meal I guess

A man of the people, a respected shop steward
Paid in cash then straight to the table
Working through pain, tragedy and loss
Still delivering, willing and able

A selfless worker, morally steadfast
Even tempered, friends many and loyal
Failure to deliver was never an option
Supporting his family through years of toil

All who knew him still speak of him fondly
The best role model I ever had
Delivering his legacy through those that followed
This was a special man, he was also my Dad

Bay of Naples

Vesuvius soars over the landscape
In it's shadow lies Naples in a bay of paradise
The Amalfi coast, Sorrento and Capri
A vision of beauty with so much to entice

The Italian language lingers in the air
The rhythmic words dance and sing
Olive skin covered in stylish attire
Young and old answer the church bells ring

The finest foods savoured in the bay
The fruits of the land devoured with delight
Warm and friendly, demonstrative greetings
Impossibly romantic on a clear,starry night

Tourists flock to this part of Italy
For history, conviviality, sunshine and cuisine
Passion runs through the veins of it's people
With a graceful aura that's rarely seen

Kindred Spirits

Kindred spirits are rare and few
Making you smile when feeling blue

When shrouded in gloom and needing a lift
Wrapping empathy in a surprise gift

Picking you when feeling down
Providing comfort when wearing a frown

Not to judge or ill advise
Sympathetic, friendly and wise

A shared pain has a healing feeling
A soothing word can stop you reeling

A respectful, caring, considerate friend
Will always be there to the very end

River Flow

Busy lives are lived with life flashing by
Never a chance to enjoy a clear blue sky
Precious moments in time can be savoured and stored
Left for a while, perhaps even ignored
Sunrises, sunsets, hills and lakes
Spirits are lifted when the soul awakes
Fresh air, green fields, bales of hay
Always believing every dog has it's day
Anxiety and worry throughout many years
Realisation and clarity as the mist now clears
With age comes wisdom, a focus on inner peace
Meditation and calm a welcome release
Knowing what you love and loving what you know
Breathing in life itself while watching the river flow

Love Conquers All?

A union of mind, body and soul
Their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace
Rhythmically they move to new heights of ecstasy
Climax achieved after the thrill of the chase

Dark clouds empty their cleansing water
Hypnotic sounds of raindrops above
The couple lay gazing into each others eyes
Acts of lust slowly turning to love

The ticking clock, a wake up call
Back to a world of blood, sweat and tears
Hurriedly dressing, checking out then checking in
Their minds a maelstrom of hopes and fears

It wasn't meant to be like this
Energy sapped from the mess they're in
No light in the tunnel, just an oncoming train
One drowning in whiskey, the other in gin

All relationships have their ups and downs
Troubled times can bring a price to pay
An imperfect world full of human frailty
Love conquers all, or so they say

Folly of Royalty

I've opted out of your subject folly
The past was yours, your future's uncertain
An unwanted stage with your airs and graces
It's time to draw your final curtain

A privileged birthright from a by-gone age
A pointless and powerless waste of money
God save our tourist industry
I'd laugh at your silly ways, but it's really not that funny

We're all born equal with freedom of choice
Unless you're a king, a queen or a duke
"Your Majesty", "Your Grace", "My Lord" and "My Lady"
All these titles just make one puke

Send me to the tower and off with my head

For my treasonous words many centuries past
But millions like me share these views
Queen Elizabeth, my dear, may you be the last

Sean, Denise & The Monkey Towel

Sunday 23 June

Sadly, our last day.  Other guests had left our accommodation the previous day so we ate breakfast alone this morning with Denise (for the 7th time this week) enhancing our dining experience. We chatted briefly to Denise to express our gratitude and how much we had enjoyed ourselves. After breakfast, we packed straight away (sadly having to leave the "monkey towel" which Sean had designed for us) and headed down to reception to conclude our week at 2 Heath Cottages. I have written a Trip Advisor review for our experience in this B&B and would strongly recommend staying here if you are ever in the Wareham area. 

It had been a most enjoyable week. The weather was kind to us. Sean & Denise were even kinder and Dorset was as resplendent as ever. Our beach walks were particularly memorable. We hope to return to Dorset again in the not too distant future.





A Frome, A Piddle & A Baker's Arms

Saturday 22 June

For our last full day of the week we decided to split the time into 3 sections of morning, afternoon and evening.  During the morning we drove into Wareham town centre. The weather today was cool and cloudy but still no sign of rain so we decided to have a stroll around Wareham's "walls". There are no actual walls left but the path follows the line of where the town walls once stood. Wareham is a relatively small town so the circular walk only took around an hour. The most picturesque part of the walk is where the Rivers Frome and Piddle(!) meet.

We later had a hot drink in the Salt Pig cafe, then I had a look in the museum whilst Connie browsed the shops. We left around lunchtime after visiting a local supermarket to buy some provisions to take into Monkey World for an afternoon picnic. Another marvelous afternoon was had in this Ape Rescue Centre.  The work of Monkey World is now well documented but it is worth reiterating that it is NOT a zoo. Every primate there has it's own remarkable story and the legacy of the late, much missed Jim Cronin who created the centre is now more successful than ever in the work they do rescuing abused and neglected primates from around the world.

We left Monkey World around 5pm and headed back to Heath Cottages. We still hadn't fixed up a place to eat for our last evening so after making a few phone calls we managed to get booked into a marvelous. thatched roof pub/restaurant called The Bakers Arms which we had passed many times on our travels during the week.  We caught the bus there and our dining experience in this establishment was first class.  There are/were some negative reviews on Trip Advisor for The Bakers Arms but our experience was delightful.  The food was excellent, the staff were friendly and efficient on a busy Saturday evening and the atmosphere was lively but not rowdy.   It was the perfect end to a near perfect week. We caught a late bus back to Heath Cottages and, due to the long drive back home the following morning, we had a relatively early night



Weary Weymouth

Friday 21 June

We decided to visit Weymouth today. There was no direct bus route, however, so I drove. There is a relatively new park and ride service now in Weymouth so we took advantage of this as parking is notoriously difficult in the town. We disembarked the P&R bus near the harbour area, whereupon we walked around the harbourside to the Brewers Quay shopping development. We last visited here in 2007 and was impressed then, but not so now. Unfortunately, the recession seems to have hit Weymouth particularly hard as half of the shops had closed down. The sun was shining brightly again so we decided a better bet would be to head for the beach.

We took our shoes off and walked along the slightly pebbly beach, taking time to splash in the ice cold waters of Weymouth bay. It felt good to be breathing in the fresh, salty air on another warm (if a little windy) June Dorset day. We proceeded to enjoy another ice cream (it's rude not to) then lay down on a less pebbly part of the beach where we stayed for a few hours. Again, it felt good to lose oneself in the view of a south coast bay.

Later, we moved onto the main shopping area in the town and browsed for a while. The positive side to Weymouth is it's bay and it's a traditionally lively town. However, it has a significant percentage of less than desirable residents. We noted this last time we were here. It really isn't in keeping with the other resorts in Dorset (Poole and Swanage in particular are very easy on the eye) and it's not somewhere I would be comfortable walking around after the sun goes down(in this neck of the woods the unsavoury element have that distinctive west country pirate tinged accent which adds to the threatening tone).

The weather turned slightly later in the afternoon and became cool and cloudy so we headed for the local Wetherspoons(again!) and as it was Friday ate the inevitable fish and chips. We then caught the P&R bus back to the car and drove back to Heath Cottages. We both felt a bit lacking in energy at this point so stayed in our room for the rest of the evening, watching a bit of TV and chillaxing



Wareham Wedding Anniversary

Thursday 20 June  -   Wedding Anniversary

Today was Connie and I's wedding anniversary so where is the obvious place to spend it?  Monkey World Ape Rescue Centre of course! We spent most of the day there, listening to all the keeper talks and generally enjoying ourselves.

Post Monkey World we had to decide where to go for the evening so on the way back we stopped off at a pub/restaurant just outside Wareham with the possibility that we would eat there later. We ordered a drink and sat outside in the beer garden as, yet again, it was a warm, sunny evening. The menu, however, wasn't to our tastes so we returned to Heath Cottages, then showered and changed. We decided to return to Wareham via the bus as there are plenty of places to eat in the town.

We called into a small, traditional pub called The Kings Arms. Whilst we were ordering a drink and deciding what to eat, another couple, who were staying at Heath Cottages, walked in  They were going to eat there also. Small world ! We ate together and had a pleasant meal chatting with them. Also at an adjacent table were another couple who had overheard some of our conversation and joined in as it turned out they were from Manchester as well. Even smaller world !

After the meal, the other couple from Heath Cottages were going for an evening stroll so Connie and I visited The Old Granary pub/restaurant which has an enviable location next to the River Frome. We ordered some drinks and sat in their garden which overlooks the river. This was a truly idyllic scene and a perfect way to spend our anniversary evening. Later, we had a further drink in a nearby pub called The Quay Inn then it was time to catch the last bus. Nightfall had now arrived revealing a clear, starry sky and crescent moon. The bus stop was next to the river which had some ducks settling down for the night. I had a chat with them (much to Connie's chagrin) until the bus arrived.

Within 15 minutes we were back at Heath Cottages and so ended another wonderful day. This felt like truly living an enviable life.

Corfe Castle, Steam Train & Peveril Point

Wednesday 19 June 2013

Our agenda today included Swanage, via Corfe Castle, via bus and steam train. Again, the weather conditions were warm and sunny. We disembarked from the bus in Corfe Castle then purchased a return ticket on the delightful steam train service to Swanage. On arrival we headed straight to the beach and paddled in the sea whilst walking from one end of the bay to the other. Wonderful.

We enjoyed the inevitable ice cream then returned along the promenade to the small shopping area. Unlike Bournemouth, Weymouth or, to a lesser extent, Poole, Swanage is relatively unspoilt with more independent shops and fewer generic high street names. In early afternoon we stopped off at the Ship Inn again and enjoyed a delicious light lunch. I suggested a walk up to Peveril Point, where we have been on a previous visit to Swanage, to walk off our breakfast and lunch. We reached this most stunning of beauty spots and, unlike the previous time, it was quiet. We sat down on a bench and marveled at the scene before us.  I have written a short poem about this area elsewhere in my blog (see Peveril Point post). The word "tranquility" could have been coined for this moment, so much so that Connie had a short nap. The sound and smells of the sea, together with birdsong and the view of the Dorset coastline made for a quite beguiling experience.

Later, we made our way back to the station for the steam train back to Corfe Castle. As well as the castle ruins, of course, Corfe Castle is also the name of the village in the shadow of the stunning spectacle of the once magnificent castle. We didn't have time to visit the ruins this time so we settled for a quick stroll around the village.  It was now early evening so we ate in the Greyhound pub. The food in here was very agreeable, together with friendly, efficient service. 

We still had an hour before our return bus journey to Heath Cottages so we strolled over to another pub called the Fox Inn.  This is a most unusual establishment. There are no pumps, just 2 spirit optics and beer served from barrels behind the bar. I settled for a pint of foaming ale, whilst Connie settled for a soft drink from under the bar. In the centre of the floor in the main bar area was a large well covered by a glass top.  We headed outside to the beer garden which was long and narrow.  Indeed, it went on and on and on and on!  There was a small army of volunteers helping out with some planting and general garden maintenance whilst we were there so once we reached the far end of the gardens we chatted to some of the workers whilst we supped our drinks.  We later caught the bus back to Heath Cottages.

This had been a particularly enjoyable day.

Bournemouth Cross Dressers

Tuesday 18 June

Today we visited Bournemouth. We traveled there by bus via a connection in Poole. We arrived in the town centre in warm early summer sunshine so we treated ourselves to an ice cream whilst we watched the Bournemouth Balloon (a hot air balloon in a central park one can ride in) going up and down. Neither of us fancied going up in it partly due to the excessive price and the poor safety records of balloons generally. 

Off to the beach we went next but no sooner had we kicked off the shoes and paddled in the sea that a mist rolled in and the temperature dropped by about 10 degrees. Back on went the shoes and off we went for a walk on the short promenade side of the pier. Just a slight whinge about the pier at this point. Why do Bournemouth charge admission to walk to the end of their underwhelming pier when places such as Southport and Llandudno have free access to their far superior piers? 

After our walk we headed into the town centre and browsed the shops. By late afternoon we were getting peckish so went to the ubiquitous Wetherspoons for some chicken skewers with chips and salad. Whilst in the pub I noticed 2 cross-dressing men getting served at the bar. 10 minutes later, 3 different cross-dressing men also entered the pub and sat down (but not with the other 2)  It was around 4pm on a Tuesday afternoon. Is Bournemouth the cross dressing capital of the UK ?  If so, then if I ever fancy donning a dress, wig and lipstick I will know now where to head for a good time.

We returned back to Heath Cottages, again via Poole. It was a warm sunny evening so Denise and Sean allowed us to pass through their back garden for entry on to a tranquil nature reserve called Sandford Heath. We followed a few tracks but reached a point where I felt there was a serious danger we were going to get completely lost so we returned back to base.We briefly chatted again to Denise & Sean and headed back to our room for the evening where I selfishly watched a Confederations Cup football match whilst Connie read a book. We weren't always middle-aged you know!

Poole, Swanage & Tattooed Kids

Monday 17 June

This morning we breakfasted for the first time at Heath Cottages, and what a joy it was. A varied menu to suit all tastes wonderfully prepared by Sean and attentively served by Denise. This is the only time I will mention breakfast as the quality stayed the same throughout the week. 

After breakfast we decided to visit Poole. The cottages are on a major Dorset bus route so we bought a weekly ticket and mostly left the car in the drive. On arrival in Poole we browsed a few independent shops and headed for the harbour area. The sun came out and lit up our view of Brownsea Island and the surrounding area. Beautiful. We walked by the harbour and found our way into Poole Park which has an adjacent shelled beach. Connie spent some time "borrowing" some shells. 

After taking in the fresh air and tranquility, we leisurely strolled back to the town centre. We lunched on chicken wings in Wetherspoons then returned to the harbour front for more sightseeing. We later caught the bus back to Heath Cottages then, after showering and changing, headed straight back out and caught a bus to Swanage for the evening. We ate in an Italian restaurant in the town then had a delightful evening stroll around Swanage's seafront. As the evening chill arrived we took sanctuary in a comfortable, friendly pub called The Ship Inn in the town, where we relaxed with a few alcoholic beverages. We returned to the bus station for the last bus back to Heath Cottages.

Whilst waiting for the bus, 2 young girls wandered into the station looking rather worse for wear. Both were dressed inappropriately and one had a large tattoo on her back.We tried to guess their age but as one was tattooed I assumed she must have been at least 18 (but didn't look it).  Upon boarding the bus they both requested child fares. They were clearly drunk and dressed like adults but also wanted to be treated as children. Ridiculous. Astonishingly, the driver accepted this and let them on with child fares without requesting any ID. Even more ridiculous.

Dorset, 2 Heath Cottages & Monkey World

Having recently spent a wonderful week in Dorset, I wish to share my experiences in a day by day account of the time. Don't expect tales of drunken debauchery; substance abuse and naked sunbathing (I did all this the week before) so here goes:

Sunday 16 June

After a 6 hour journey, my wife and I arrived at 2 Heath Cottages (B&B, 2 miles from Wareham) at approximately 3pm. We were met by Denise & Sean (owners) and shown to our delightful en suite room which was to be our home for the next week. My wife (we shall call her Connie from now on) suggested we leave the unpacking and head straight for Monkey World Ape Rescue Centre. We have a yearly pass which includes free admission.  We spent an hour there catching up with our adopted chimps then headed into Wareham town centre for something to eat. We ate a Sunday roast in a pub which shall remain nameless.  The food was OK but the service was dire. Unfortunately, we had a waitress who was more interested in smoking and laughing outside with other customers than serving us. Fortunately, this would turn out to be our only poor dining experience in the whole week. Later, we returned to Heath Cottages, unpacked and stayed in for the rest of the evening. End of day 1.

Ode to Paddy

Patrick was born in the Irish Free State
To Edward, Mary and a sister called Kate
For 13 years County Wexford was home
A rural landscape with places to roam



Emigration to England and Manchester beckoned
A good place to find work it was reckoned
A baby was born, now he had a brother
He was christened John by his father and mother

Paddy worked hard for a drink and a song
As humble and honest as the day is long
His favourite tune was Raglan Road
He always attended Mass, wherever his abode

A well read thinker who liked a bet
There may be a statue of him built at Aintree yet
In his life England played a major part
Ireland remained forever in his heart

Accepting, likeable, knowledgeable and fair
Qualities he possessed as we remember him in prayer
Paddy retained his Catholic faith to the last
We pray for his onward journey now he has passed

Peveril Point. Dorset

Blue sky above on a warm spring day
Shimmering sea fills the south coast bay
Chalk cliffs give way to lush green hills
Wishing life could always feel this way

Birdsong delights amidst the tranquil scene
A look to the left reveals pebbles and sand
The view ahead of sea kissing sky
To the right, waves gently lap into dry land

Savouring this vision for future splendour
A moment in life never to forget
No concept of time, just joyful wonder
Anticipation palpable for the coming sunset

Sea salt smells now fill the air
Returning to base with a contented mind
Thoughts of this day nourishing the soul
A more beautiful view would be hard to find

Poole's Word On The Street

Whilst visiting Dorset recently, the following exchange was heard in Poole town centre:

A middle aged couple were sitting nearby on a bench on the high street. It was a Monday. The woman said to the man, "Let's go and have a drink in Wetherspoons".  The man replied, " You know I don't drink on a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday".  The woman responded, "Right then, you can go and look around the pound shops while I have a pint of lager".

Manchester's Word On The Street (Spare Underpants)

After a recent night out in the city centre I caught the bus home and the inevitable flurry of phone calls were taking place on the journey. The following phone conversation was audible to most of the passengers :

"Can I stay at yours tonight?  Only if I bring a spare pair of underpants?  Listen, I am on the bus and I'm not going to get into this again with you".

Manchester's Word On The Street (Shameless Checkout)

Whilst at the supermarket checkout today I was an inadvertent party to the following from a twenty-something female...

"I'm sick of waiting for him, he's had his last chance off me. I'm having the divorce now. Anyway, I've seen a fit lad on Facebook, my mate knows him so I'm gonna get off with him then it'll all be sorted. OK then see ya"

Pippi Longstocking of Blackley, Manchester

Where do I start with the flame-haired legend Carmel Stubbs? I have never met anyone quite like her in my life to date. It's impossible to do her justice with just a few words in a blog so I could sum her up as a "character with a heart of gold".

Our paths through life crossed in the less than thrilling surroundings of a local authority office. She worked in a different department to me but her legend had reached me within a few months of my start date. She was variously described as "nuts", "a one off" and "once met, never forgotten". She is indeed all these things. My first impression of her was a bit off-putting. She was loud, opinionated and highly demonstrative but I quickly realised she was not like anyone else I'd met from council life so in this sense she was refreshing and a raging storm of fresh air. She was a rebel without a cause and I grew to admire her for it.

I named her Pippi Longstocking as she occasionally wore an outfit straight from the fictitious girl's wardrobe. With her flowing ginger hair and unruly manner she was this character brought to life. My personality is as far removed from hers as is humanly possible, however, the old adage of opposites attracting surely summed up our unlikely friendship.We started to chat more often (when she wasn't distracted) and I noted she seized upon small details that were important to me. Occasionally, she has angered me but she is impossible to fall out with and from being colleagues we became friends. She also has a unique sense of humour. Her wit is sharper than a flashing blade.

The world is a far more entertaining place with Carmel "Pippi" Stubbs  in it.

The Bolton Belle

After I switched jobs at the council I took up a "back office" position. My new role involved working closely with Liz Bell. Liz is 20 years younger than me but her outlook on life and wisdom belied her youth. She was charged with training me (not an easy job for anybody) but carried out this task with effortless efficiency. Previously, I'd had some bad experiences with younger people training me (see Housing Trust Babysitter post) but this wasn't one of them. Liz was kind, patient & friendly. Her selflessness was remarkable and we forged a surprisingly successful team of 2. 

I worked with Liz for just 9 months but this would prove to be the happiest time in any job I'd had for a number of years. Everything was going swimmingly for me until she found a more suitable job nearer to home so she left with my very best wishes. However, it also left me with a very heavy heart. When I started in the role working with her, my confidence was at a low ebb but by the time she left I felt much more secure and better placed all round to tackle future tasks in this workplace.

Liz is a truly lovely girl. I am still in occasional touch with her and continue to wish only good things for her. 

Affable Carole

I left a job in local government over a year ago now. I left voluntarily. My informed decision was not taken lightly and like most jobs, it had it's good and bad points. I wish to use the next few posts to highlight a few colleagues who enriched my time in the authority and I feel deserve lavish praise for the part they played in this period of my working life.

First up is Carole. Upon joining the local authority I had to endure a week long induction. That's correct, a WEEK long. A day would have been more than sufficient as the roles we were going into didn't require a  bombardment with unnecessary information we were never likely to need for the job in hand. Anyway, there were 2 other new starters with me for this week of attrition. One of them was Carole Jones.

I warmed to Carole straight away as she had a friendly smile and a affable personality. We helped each other along with confidence boosting encouragement and friendly advice if and when needed as the week unfolded. I was completely at ease in her company and if it wasn't for her I would have struggled and may even have questioned taking up the forthcoming role.

Once we started the role we were "customer facing" on opposite help desks. This proved to be the wrong role for me at the wrong time. However, in the 3 months I worked opposite and alongside her she made a huge impression on me (all positive) and I continued to chat with her regularly after I switched roles within the council. She is marvelously non-judgmental and a wonderfully warm person.

New Dawn's Light

Towering trees soar high above
Reaching up to leaden skies
Clouds emptying droplets of rain
Thoughts of bridges burnt and severance of ties

Toxic leaves flower from seeds of doubt
Buried demons rise through poisoned ground
Nettles grasped, then freed in pain
Opportunities lost and never found

Conflicting collisions of body and soul
Sands of time slip through frozen hands
A daily struggle to fill the voids
Energy sapped by expectation and demands

The cycle of life can puncture and stall
Never lose faith, hope and belief
Out of darkness into a new dawn's light
Finding love can be welcome relief

Ode to Suarez

Luis, Luis, why did you do it ?
You bit his arm like a rabid dog
You're unhinged, disturbed, your canon is loose
Now you've even made it into my blog

You're South American with rabbit like teeth
Protruding from your mouth like small tombstones
Next time on the pitch you'll have to wear a muzzle
Instead of pasta, your diet's now bones

Keep your mouth shut Luis, you're self destructing
Ivanovic's rabies shot should ease his pains
You score goals for fun but wasting your talent
You're not an egghead, you have sludge for brains

You're barking mad with issues unresolved
No doubt in my mind you are a bad seed
Accept your ban and stay where you are
You're only allowed out now when you're on a lead

12 months on and your team blew the title
Blame your captain, you know he slipped up
Oh Suarez, please stop your sobbing
You can play handball again in the World Cup!

You Ain't Seen Ruthin Yet

I have stayed in JD Wetherspoons hotels many times over the last 10 years in places as diverse as Salisbury; Monmouth and Chesterfield. They have all had individual characteristics and all had good and not so good features. However, last weekend my wife and I stayed in a recently opened Wetherlodge in Ruthin (pronunciation rhymes with "muffin") in North Wales. I am unable to fault any aspect of this hotel or indeed this delightfully quirky town.

Like most other people from the North of England I have visited North Wales countless times down the years.  However, I have tended towards the coastal towns of Llandudno etc. Of course, this coast has beautiful scenery and has pockets of Welsh speakers but also vast amounts of tourists which always seems to dilute my enjoyment of any trip. Ruthin, however, lies in the shadow of the Clwydian hills and is unspoiled.

Upon arrival at the friendly, economically priced Wetherlodge, we decided to leave the unpacking and head straight out to see what the town had to offer. We were based in St Peter's Square which is the historic centre of the town. I was immediately impressed by the "other worldly" nature of the buildings and surrounded on 3 sides by the beautiful Clwydian hills. After spending some time browsing the independent shops and taking a tour of the fascinating Ruthin Gaol (closed as a working Gaol since 1916) it was apparent that the first language of most of the inhabitants was Welsh. This felt like a true step back in time and made the whole visit a greatly enjoyable experience. Tourists in any great numbers appear to be uncommon to this area. However, it is clear the Wetherspoons hotel is likely to change this state of affairs in the near future.

The rest of the weekend was spent exploring the surrounding area. It literally felt like a huge breath of fresh air. All the local people we came into contact with were friendly and welcoming and just as happy to converse with us in English. Many people's families have obviously lived in this town for many generations and I found their everyday use of the native Welsh language very refreshing. 

This town has a remarkably low crime rate and, personally, was the perfect way to unwind and relax with a few drinks in a wonderfully scenic location.

Well done Ruthin!

Uwe Rosler - Mistaken Identity

I have a face that throughout my life seems to have lent itself to looking like well known people. These have ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Of course, as we live our lives and get older our appearance changes, and in line with this, the fame of people we are likened to comes and goes.

At school, amongst the more printable nicknames I had was "Brezhnev", named after the Soviet Union leader at the time Leonid Brezhnev. My eyebrows were (and still are to an extent, although I discovered male grooming products some years ago) of a naturally rather bushy nature and Brezhnev was one of the most powerful men in the world in the 1970s and possessed the most powerful eyebrows known to mankind.

Upon leaving school, my next major lookalike, apparently, was Ian Marshall, the former Oldham Athletic footballer. He owned the finest mullet of the late 80s/early 90s. He was also known as NOT being the most handsome of fellows so this comparison greatly perturbed me. This was followed by Statto from the football show The Fantasy Football League, another chap who failed his male model interview. There then followed the lookalike that stuck around the longest and, at one stage, threatened to get out of hand.

In the mid 1990s a German striker joined my beloved Manchester City FC named Uwe Rosler. He was little known outside Germany at the time but the City fans took to him immediately as he scored regularly in a struggling City side and his goals saved City from relegation in his first season. I was a regular visitor to Maine Road at this time and after about 2 or 3 of his games, a mate turned to me and said "You look a bit like Uwe you know". I scoffed at this remark but inwardly was rather pleased as this was the first person I had been likened to who wasn't pug ugly! 

I never thought much more about it but then in the workplace a few others latched on to this and started calling me "Uwe" (pronounced "oo-vay"). This reached it's peak after an away FA Cup replay against Newcastle on a freezing midweek night. I traveled to the match at St James' Park with a few mates and City overturned the odds and won the match 2-1. Rosler was superb that night and was man of the match by some distance. The following day at work when I walked in there was a chant of "Uwe! Uwe! Uwe!". I loved it.

A few weeks later I was returning home from work when a kid in the street where I lived approached me as I got out of my car and said "Eh, you look dead like that Uwe Rosler what plays for City". Just for a laugh I said "What do you mean lad, I am Uwe Rosler". He looked gobsmacked and speechless, then ran off down the street. A couple of days later, as I ventured to the local shop, a group of lads including the aforementioned kid were having a kick-about in the street. As I passed them one said "Eh look!  It's Rosler, I told you he lived in our street"!  They then launched into the City chant of the day "UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER ! UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER!" etc etc. This was becoming ridiculous. I lived in a post code not even remotely like an area a Premier league footballer would be living in. My innocent jape with an impressionable child had clearly backfired.

There followed many more excitable sightings of me by the local children, despite me apologising to them and saying I wasn't actually Uwe Rosler. Eventually, one day as I was passing a group of them again in the street, a couple approached me and one said "My dad said you aren't Uwe Rosler".  I told them I wasn't several times before but they now finally believed me. After this, they pretty much ignored me except for one final time when one of them said "Eh there's that man who THINKS he's Uwe Rosler".  The cheeky little scamp!

In more recent years I have been likened to Frank Skinner, James Anderson (cricketer) and even that I have the "mannerisms" of Simon Gregson (Steve MacDonald in Coronation Street). As I get older I dread to think who will be next.

Chased By A Penguin

So there I was washing the dishes in the kitchen. Just like any other day really.  The Fairy Liquid entered the bowl to be met by a stream of hot water.  The bowl filled and I placed the unwashed glasses in to the bowl.  I proceeded to wash the first glass when it happened....

The kitchen window looks out onto a patio area behind the house.  Whilst carrying out this menial task I occasionally glanced out of the window to view a passing bird, cat or......Emperor penguin !  Yes, you read that correctly reader.  This tallest of penguins had stopped outside the aforementioned window and was now staring into my eyes.  I froze in shock.  The penguin then slapped it's beak against the window in a most threatening fashion.

Panic took over and foolishly I decided to run out of the back door and head for the front garden.  I looked behind me and the fish eating monster was now bearing down on me.  I ran as fast as I could out into the street but my predator was now waddling towards me at unfeasibly high speed.  Suddenly, I saw a bus ahead and fled to the bus stop.  The Emperor was now closing in on me.  As I reached the bus stop the driver stopped and opened his doors.  I leapt on board and to my huge relief the driver closed the doors in the nick of time, as a huge beak was now pounding at the doors of the bus.  As the driver sped off I turned around....and woke up.  It's another one of my vivid nightmares.  I've booked myself in for therapy...

I Met My Love By A Fax Machine

I met my love by a fax machine
A backdrop of colleagues with ridiculous hair
When mobiles were carried in huge cases
Tories in power who never did care

A soul-less business in the era of the yuppie
Sharp suits, sharper lies in offices of deceit
Ripped jeans and curly hair was my look of choice
Shoulder pads, pencil skirts, stilettos on her feet

An Irish/Italian union
Boiling blood, harsh words, little saving grace
Too much teasing, immature, displeasing
An insult too many then a slap across my face

Wounded and bruised, my ego in tatters
Notched down a peg or two, maybe even four
Solace found in football and beer
When love knocked on my door

The olive-skinned girl tamed her temper
Her warm heart revealed in my second sight
My life changed forever when consumed by her love
From out of darkness to eternal light

Jewel

Reaching out for ancient spirits
Concealed souls of bygone eras
Seeking comfort from ghostly thought
Seeing no reflection in mirrors
Life's meaning shrouded in clouds of doubt
Why we are here and questioning faith
None are as blind as those that won't see
The grace of God alone keeping them safe
Fickle fingers of fate toy with emotions
Heart laying heavy with the weight of the mind
Darkness enveloping but a light on the horizon
Waiting for tranquility sealed and signed
Complex meanings with cryptic words
Self preservation paramount when low on fuel
Patience, understanding, virtuous beings
In life's rich tapestry there's always a jewel

Talking Teddies

On an adjacent chair to the main seating area in the lounge of my house is a collection of toys or "teddies" as you may know them.  Apparently, it's so they can watch the TV as well. Anyway, amongst them is Rory the Irish bear, Cheers Chimp, Floppy the brown dog and a whole collection of fluffy pigs.

Recently, my sleep was disturbed by yet another wholly disturbing dream. The above collection of inanimate creatures came to life before my eyes and started talking to me. They even had their own accent. Rory sounded like Father Dougal from Father Ted; Cheers Chimp, unsurprisingly, sounded like Woody from Cheers and Floppy the brown dog took on the voice of Dale Winton (?!). In my dream I was shouting to my long suffering wife to come into the room to see this amazing sight before me. When she saw them, they all stopped talking, then started again when she left the room. This repeated itself 3 or 4 times. Finally, in my dream, my head must have gone completely as I exclaimed something so loudly that I awoke the aforementioned wife who in turn woke me up. I was sweating and my heart was racing. I told her the talking teddies were annoying me....

September 11th 2001 - Fictional Short Story

She awoke with a feeling of anxiety. This morning was not going to be easy. She lay in bed and allowed her thoughts to drift back to a conversation at her parent's house the evening before.
"I'll pick you up at 8 in the morning" said Ciara
Her mother sighed. "The flight's not until 10.30 you know".
"Yes, mum, I know but it's the morning rush hour and the motorway can be a nightmare"
"Look, Ciara, you can be here at 8 if you want but we won't be leaving until 9", her mother replied
Ciara's father took her to one side and spoke quietly into her ear. "She's having one of her bad days, love.  Maybe I can persuade her to be ready for 8.30 if you can get here for then"
Ciara nodded discretely and reluctantly agreed. "Half 8 it is then".

She looked again at the clock. 06.55. Her agenda for the next few hours included driving her husband to work, then taking her elderly parents to the airport in time to catch a flight to Cork. She quickly showered, dressed, then gulped a few mouthfuls of coffee. Breakfast was going to have to wait today.  She opened the front door and walked briskly down the front path into a cool September morning. Her husband locked the door behind them and joined her in the car.
"I'm not looking forward to this at all, Andrew", said Ciara
"Just take a few deep breaths and take your time" replied her husband of 7 years
"Lack of time IS the problem today, though",
He shook his head and gave her a knowing look.
They reached his workplace with few further words spoken.  He brushed back her long, black hair and gently kissed her cheek.
"I'll see you later, darling"
"Yeh, see you later", she replied disconsolately

She checked the clock on the dashboard. 08.04. She headed straight for her parent's house.Upon arrival at 8.20, for the second time that day, a strange, unexplained feeling of foreboding overwhelmed her. She quelled her emotions, composed herself, and knocked on the door. Her stressed looking father opened the door and she stepped inside. "Sorry, love, we're not quite ready yet"
As she entered the front room, she sensed a frosty atmosphere. Her parents had clearly had an altercation with the aftermath now delaying her proposed departure time. 

The following half hour passed in a frenzy of last minute packing and short, sharp exchanges of words.
Despite Ciara's best efforts, they departed the house at 0900 as her mother had intended. With ideal traffic conditions, it was a 20 minute drive to the airport. This particular morning, however, conditions were far from ideal. They reached the motorway at 09.15 and joined a long tailback of traffic. The flight departure time was now only 75 minutes away. Ciara seethed for a few moments then could no longer contain her frustration.
"This is exactly why we should have left at 8!", she exclaimed.  Her parents sat in silence.
Ciara maneuvered the car from lane to lane, to gain a few hundred yards, then gradually picked up speed as the vehicles started moving again.
"It looks like we're going to miss the flight" said her agitated mother.
"I'll get you on that bloody flight if it's the last thing I do!", she retorted.

They arrived at the airport at 09.45. She ignored all the parking restrictions and abandoned the car as close to the flight departures entrance as she could.  She grabbed 2 items of her parent's luggage and ran with them, shouting behind her for them to follow her.  As they reached the departure area, she looked around again and a warden was already looking at her car. "Oh for God's sake", she muttered under her breath.  Without ceremony, she shouted "See you in 2 weeks!", to her bewildered parents as she ran back to the car.  She explained her predicament to the warden, who reluctantly, and not without warning, accepted it. As she drove off, she had no idea whether her parents would make the flight or not.  At this point on this day, she couldn't care less. She had important errands to run and had to be in work for 1pm.

She arrived back home around 10.30, made a cup of coffee, buttered 2 slices of toast, then tried to settle her nerves.  She made a short shopping list, then finished her refreshment.  Her next destination was the local town.  As she walked down the hallway, she paused momentarily to brush her hair in the mirror.  "Oh Ciara, pull yourself together.  You look worse than you feel", she said to her reflection.

As she walked along the high street, her mind was still in a state of flux. She just couldn't understand why she was so wound up today. It wasn't the first time in her life her mother had been difficult and traffic problems in this city were the norm. There was just something different in the air today. She paused momentarily outside a well known store. She hadn't planned on going in there but, for reasons unknown to her, felt compelled to enter.  She browsed the shelves, then as she was leaving without purchasing anything, she glanced across to the payment counter. A tall, dark haired, square shouldered man stood with his back to her. He was speaking to the assistant in a barely audible, but remarkably, distinctive and recognisable voice. She stopped in her tracks. Her heart started to palpitate.  Her palms were sweating and her spine tingled.  "Is that who I think it might be", she thought to herself. She was rooted to the spot as he slowly turned around.  Suddenly, his familiar piercing blue eyes met with hers as they stood facing each other only yards away. In unison they both exclaimed, "OH MY GOD!"....

"Joe, is that really you?!"
"You look really well, Ciara", said Joe
"Ha ha, you should see me on a good day then"
A broad smile crossed his face
"Let's go outside and chat for a minute, I'm on a flight to Barcelona in 3 hours, though, so I haven't got long", said Joe
"Oh, I'm due in work shortly anyway."
"Are you still with Andrew?"
"Yes, we finally got married ,7 years ago now"
"That's grand news, I'm in a new-ish relationship now.  Her name's Fiona, that's who I'm flying off to Barcelona with today"
"Listen, Joe, I'm really sorry with happened with Lucy...."
"No, No", Joe interrupted her.  "That was 15 years ago now, Ciara.  It wasn't meant to be in the end.  It's all in the past.  I've moved on."
"I heard you'd had a daughter together, though?"
"Yes, her name's Tara.  She's beautiful.  She lives with her mam now though"
Ciara was hanging on his every word .  Hearing him say "mam" again reminded her of his roots.  Joe left Ireland with his family aged 10, but traces of his Donegal accent still shone through.  Ciara's own family had Irish roots and they had swapped many similar stories of their upbringing when they were at college together.

"Listen, Ciara, I really do have to go now but here's my mobile number.  Text me and I'll get in touch when I'm back from Barca"  He warmly embraced her then walked away briskly and was gone.  She stood where he left her for a few moments trying to absorb what had just happened.  On numerous occasions over the years she had practiced what she would say if ever she saw him again, but she never envisaged this scenario. She rushed around the shops for her provisions and then returned home.  It was now 12.15. She quickly changed into her office clothes and was soon back on the road to her place of work.  She had studied chemistry at college with Joe but in all the madness of the last few hours had neglected to ask him how he was employed now during those precious few moments when their worlds collided again.

She arrived at work slightly late.  There was some gentle teasing from her colleagues regarding her tardiness which she responded to with "Don't even get me started on the morning I've had!"  Her mind was not on the job this afternoon.  Part of her brain space was taken up with her parent's late arrival for their flight, the rest of it was taken with the 5 minutes spent with Joe and what he had told her.  She never  previously knew his daughter's name, Tara.  She was genuinely happy for him that he appeared to have found a new love.  She always knew her erstwhile friend, Lucy, was not meant for him.

As she thought back to those college days again and just how much she was in love with Joe at the time, a colleague suddenly shouted across the office.  "F****** Hell !  Have you heard this?!".  Their music radio station of choice had been interrupted with some extraordinary breaking news.  Her colleague shouted her over to him.  As Ciara chastised him for his profanity, he shouted over the top of her.  "They were reporting on a plane crashing into the side of the World Trade Center in New York when another plane crashed into the other tower !  They'll have the TV on in the canteen, let's go and have a look what's going on".  Ciara followed him into the crowded canteen and watched the unfolding events from the United States with her colleagues.

They were reporting more planes had been hijacked but currently couldn't locate them.  They weren't even sure at this stage if planes in other countries had also been targeted.  This, on a day when both her parents and a former love were all on flights, left her cold.  The rest of the afternoon passed with very little work done in Ciara's office.  A general feeling of doomsday had taken hold of proceedings.  As the towers collapsed and the other tragedies of the day unfolded, a feeling of great sadness enveloped her.  She couldn't wait to be home and in the arms of her loving husband.

Ciara and Andrew spent the evening, like most of the rest of the world that day, glued to the TV.  The human death toll was mounting and by late in the evening, it was apparent that in one way or another, the world would never be the same again. Footage of the towers' collapse was replayed over and over again.  In Ciara's world, the symbolism of this day was not yet apparent.  Her thoughts eventually turned to Joe again.  She opened her bag and found the phone number he had given her.  Now was not the time to decide what to do with it.

The feelings she had for him were 15 years ago, many years before she had even met Andrew.  The actions she had taken back then had catastrophic consequences on those around her at the time but her reaction to seeing him today had shocked her to the core.  For a fleeting moment those dormant feelings had stirred once more.  The battles between her head and her heart was a war yet to be won.

She would make her own decisions in her own time.

Frozen Thoughts

Memories of childhood frozen in time
An eastern wasteland now riddled with crime
This inner city district never lacked soul
Now vanished through time into a deep hole

I wish it was like when I was young
Remembering faces, still hearing songs sung
Thriving shops and characters on the vale
Deserted now with cheap houses for sale

Landlords exploiting new arrivals plight
My once streets of play gone, nothing seems right
Sinister figures in shadows selling their wares
Watchful and guarded, even dogs walk in pairs

Be gentle with cherished childhood thoughts of play
Frozen memories could thaw and melt away
Rose tinted worlds should never be explored
A boat to be cared for, but always moored

Lady of The Lakes

Like a heaven sent angel she arrived in his life
With a wounded heart his troubles were rife
Sinking in a sea of anguish far from dry land
She steered him to safety with a guiding hand

Who was this woman from the Cumbrian hills?
Embroiled in her own battle of wills
A good listener, vivacious and pretty
An infectious laugh, intelligent and witty

Their selfless friendship blossomed and grew
A strong mutual respect found in few
A painful vacuum filled with time spent together
Walking and talking, whatever the weather

Their platonic bond like a gift from above
Fate played it's hand and she found new love
His brittle heart healed, love returned to him once more
Once trapped in a room of sorrow, he now found the door

Circumstantial changes and they parted ways
No longer as close as they found better days
Her life-changing role in his life forever set
Their destiny fulfilled on the day they met

A Big Thank You!

I wish to thank anyone and everyone who has read posts from my blog so far (just type "Chris Neilson Blog" into Google and a plethora of ridiculousness will appear, depending what mood the Google search is in) I always try and make my posts as varied as possible, be it poetry, stories of old or my sideways look at the world. I don't necessarily aim to provoke emotion but if you have experienced laughter or re-ignited happy memories from even just one line of my writing over the last 3 years then it makes it all worth while. I seem to have an endless stream of memories and thoughts that I feel I need to share with the world so thanks also for your patience and interest. Anyway, we live in a rapidly changing world but the things that mean the most to us usually remain the same. Never lose hope for a more peaceful world. I wish you all a joyful Christmas whatever you do and please try and spare a though for those less fortunate than ourselves.  I've been Chris Neilson, making angels sing from summer to spring. God bless..or for the atheists, good luck..and for the agnostics, who knows? Good night

DJ Dave Ward

When I was 16 I had a brief flirtation with a girl from school at a house party (not my house). This girl was vivacious and popular. When trying to talk to her a few days later (thinking she was probably now smitten with me) she ignored me. I felt humiliated.

My last school year coincided with a very popular local late night radio show presented by a local DJ called Dave Ward. For a while everyone in my year at school seemed to listen to it and it was a regular topic of conversation in class. "Wardy" had a regular feature called "Under The Bed Clothes" where listeners could write in (this was 1983), profess their love for someone and ask Wardy to play a suitable song. Also at this time there was a lad in some of my classes who used to piss me of.. Let's call him Derek. At this point I have to confess I did something which I am not proud of, but I was 16 and very immature. I decided to write a letter to Wardy as if it had been written by Derek professing his love for the girl who had spurned me, including that he would be interested in getting "Under The Bed Clothes" with her. I posted the letter, then didn't think much more about it. Around a week later I tuned in as usual to Wardy's show and listened to it in bed. I always liked the Under The Bed Clothes feature so when it came on this night I was as attentive as ever.  He announced "tonight listeners we have a letter from Derek". I nearly fell out of bed!

My heart was pounding and my head was spinning. I thought "for the love of God what have I done?!"  He went on to read my letter word for word from start to finish. You were always supposed to end the letter with "I would like to cuddle" ,whoever your love interest was, to the song of your choice. However, I changed the word "cuddle" to "fondle" for a laugh and he even read that out! I wasn't even smart enough to change their names. What a complete dimwit.

Anyway, I didn't sleep very well that night and went to school the next day with some trepidation. Sure enough, dozens of people had heard it and were giving Derek all kinds of grief. He hadn't heard it and was bewildered. Overnight I had thought through how I could remedy the situation so I immediately put my emergency plan into place. I leapt to Derek's defence and told everyone it was me who had wrote the letter and I was very apologetic for any distress I had caused(or words to that effect). After the dust settled, Derek even started to see the humour in it but the girl never spoke to me again.

For the record I am really grown up and very mature now....

Lee's Lidkoping Fortune

I first met Lee Fortune back in 1989. This was at the telecommunications company based in Cheetham Hill where I met Connie, my long suffering wife.   had been with the company just under 3 years when Lee appeared on the scene. The company had grown rapidly since I joined them in 1986. This resulted in an influx of new employees. I had moved on from warehouse work and was now employed in "customer service" along with my erstwhile colleague Julie Thompson. Basically, "customer service" meant dealing with customers to whom we had supplied faulty goods. As I had developed my "blarney" by this time, this was a role to which I was suited. One of the new employees worked in the warehouse so one day I was introduced to the skinny, long haired lad who had just started. His hair was "crimped" and dyed red. Now, don't misunderstand me, I was the master of mullets at the time and was into rock music etc, but his appearance even startled me. He said "Hiya mate, I'm Lee. Lee Fortune".

When I heard his full name I matched this with his appearance and thought this was some kind of stage name.  I mean "Lee Fortune", come on do me a favour.  It's true, though, Fortune is his real surname.  Anyway, over the next few months I got to know Lee quite well and he fully integrated himself into the company. One early chat I had with him was about music and he was telling me that he had gone to see the filming of a live music show called The Tube (presented by Jools Holland and Paula Yates) around a couple of years earlier. It was a "Heavy Metal Special" and Ozzy Osbourne was the headline act. He said he got on camera at least once. I couldn't believe it as I had recorded this show on tape at the time and still had it. I went home that night and watched it again and sure enough there was Lee on camera as someone was being interviewed alongside him. I was impressed.

There was always great banter among my colleagues. We were all of a similar age and of similar interests, mainly drinking and winding each other up. However, one day I had a major sense of humour failure and was being wound up by the warehouse lads, including Lee. Connie (bless her) got involved as she was passing and started giving some stick back to them on my behalf. She then disappeared back into her office.  I went back to my desk. Within minutes 3 or 4 of the lads (including Lee) grabbed hold of me and dragged me kicking and shouting to a huge box of shredding in the warehouse area.  I was thrown into it, then all kinds of crap was thrown in on top of me. I eventually got out to be taunted about my "bird" fighting my battles for me. Connie ended up leaving this company several months later then I followed around 3 months after that.

Fast forward 10 years and I was now working for a different telecoms company and had completely lost touch with Lee. I then saw him once at a Manchester City home game via mutual friends. I only spoke to him briefly, but he told me he didn't stay at our old company much longer after I left and he had been all over the world for various reasons.  e left it at that then in 2001 I bumped into him again at a mutual friend's wedding.  This time we had a proper catch up and he told me he was in work but was looking for something better paid. At the same time as this my company were recruiting more staff so I gave him my number and told him to ring me. I mentioned this to my boss and within weeks Lee came in for an interview. This was very strange for me as I was jointly doing the interviewing. I pulled a few strings and within a few weeks Lee had rejoined me in the same employment but with a different company 12 years on from when we were last colleagues.

Just as fate put Lee and I back in touch we simultaneously went through our own individual troubled times in our personal lives. We became really good mates and leant on each other for support over the next 2 or 3 years. My "career" at the company we both now worked at imploded and I departed leaving Lee there. Our friendship continued on unabated, however, and he continued to offer me support.

During 2003 Lee began telling me about another mate of his who lived and worked in Sweden. The quality of life over there seemed a big improvement on the UK and it was somewhere he would like to know more about. To cut a long story short, Lee moved to Sweden, found work, met and fell in love with the lovely Anna and now has 3 beautiful Anglo-Swedish children. I have been over to see him a couple of times in his hometown of Lidkoping (2 hours drive from Gothenburg) and he has been back to Manchester a handful of times also (usually for City games). Sweden really is a beautiful country and a complete departure from the UK.  It has fresh air, space, tranquility and multitudes of beautiful blonde (and dark haired) people. It is a cliche but I genuinely found the Swedish people I have come into contact with so much more chilled out than those in our overcrowded nation. I don't mind admitting that at times I envy him but his story to date is a heart warming tale and no one could be more pleased for him than me.

Footnote:  Lee no longer has long, crimped, dyed red hair.

Ping-Pong Ding-Dong

The house I grew up in with 6 siblings had a front room which we turned into a "games room".  This room included a dart board (with the obligatory holes in the wall around it); a "den" in one corner made by my younger sister and I and a large multipurpose foldaway table. Amongst other things, this table was used for dining; school homework; playing cards; board games and, most memorably of all for me, was used as a table tennis table.

We always had table tennis bats in the house as well as ping pong balls but never actually owned a bespoke table. This was no barrier to our inventiveness so when in the mood for a game we cleared the table, pulled the flaps out from underneath to bring it to it's maximum size, and used books in the middle of the table as a net.  This made the game all the more interesting as the unevenness of the "net" made for a lot of ridiculous ricochets much to the annoyance of the player on the receiving end. The other peculiarities of our table were the cracks where the foldaway parts were. This meant that when the ball hit the crack it skewed off at a mad angle usually resulting in the player who had hit the crack winning the point.  The loser of said point would then rant that the other player had deliberately targeted it.  This was the era of John McEnroe so there would be rants about replaying the point etc. In hindsight, I believe the oddities of the table actually made me a better player.

When I was 14, there was a competition advertised on a noticeboard at school.  It was for a Manchester U-15 table tennis tournament to be held in a couple of months time.  It invited applicants and gave information including details of a local sports centre where applicants could practice in the build up to the tournament.  I liked the sound of it so I applied, ignoring the "geek","dork" "bushy eye-browed little freak" etc taunts of my school mates. My application was accepted, then I started to practice at the sports centre.

At my first practice session I was asked if I had played on a tournament table before.  I scoffed and replied "course I have".  The truth was I had never even played on a real table tennis table before never mind a tournament one! I was paired up with another lad and we practiced for a while before starting a game. I could not believe how easy this felt. We obviously used to have our "book net" too high at home as this net seemed really low to me and the table was as smooth as silk.  No foldaway cracks or angry brothers on the other side of the net was also helping of course. Anyway, I won quite a few games in practice over the next few weeks then it was time for the big tournament.

The tournament was played on a Saturday in a large school hall in Manchester. On arrival I had never seen so many table tennis tables in one place before and there were hundreds of boys and girls assembled. We were split into 2 large groups (boys and girls competitions were separate) and gave our names, school name, age etc. The organisers carried out a draw and I was told which table to go to and the name of who I would be playing.  I had to wait a while for my first match.  It was best of 3 games, first to 21. I won the first match 2-0 so progressed to the next round. 

The noise in the hall was deafening as the tables were all tightly packed together. Eventually, I completely stunned myself (and our PE teacher) by reaching the semi finals. The lad I played in the semis was easily the toughest I had played so far.  It was 1 game all, then 20 all in the final set.  The rallies had been long and I started to tire. I was physically fit enough but had no real experience of controlling my upper arm strength and wrist action (?!). Somehow, I got through by the skin of my teeth to the final.  I was told I was now guaranteed at least a medal.  I was very excited.

We had to play the final almost immediately after the semi. I was knackered!  The other lad in the final was of Chinese origin and a couple of the other lads whispered to me that he was "shit hot".  They weren't wrong as he smashed me off the table.  I lost 2-0 and only won about 6 points in the whole match.  My nerves got the better of me a little as well as we had the whole hall watching us. It was a disappointing end to what had been a great day.  They held a short presentation at the end and I felt very proud going up to receive my runners up medal and certificate. I still have the certificate to this day (saddo!) but lost the medal along the way somewhere but after this tournament I hardly picked up a table tennis bat again, not even on the "wrong pong" table at home.

Sea Lion Goldfish

Well, it's dream time again.  Last night's dream was so disturbing I will only cope with the day ahead if I share it with the world. Those who know me well will know that I have a goldfish. I used to have more than one but this one (Fred) is now 12 years old and has survived multiple moves and has steadily grown in size down the years. I currently house him in a globe style tank with several amenities. He's not got a bad life has Fred. Overnight he turned into a sea lion. Let me explain.

I'm feeling slightly under the weather again today (sore throat etcl) and when I am not feeling 100% my dreams always appear to be more anxiety driven. During my REM (Rapid Eye Movement, I used to know a lad who hilariously thought it was an acronym for Rapid Ear Movement) sleep this morning, I returned home to find that the fish tank had grown considerably and so had Fred. I thought maybe I was imagining things then the next day he grew again, as did the tank, and so on and so on. Eventually, one day I got home to find he had leapt out of his now enormous tank, was now the size of a sea lion (with his original face and colouring) and had grown legs.

As I tried to catch him he threw himself back in the tank again and was using his new sea lion goldfish legs to swim around.  I decided to leave him to it and watched the television for a while.  I then decided to switch the television on (sorry, old gag I know). Finally, he threw himself out of the tank again. I'd tired of him now so tried to grab him in an attempt to heave him back in the tank. OK, after this catharsis I feel a little better now. 

Peace Plea

17th century; Tudor to Stuart; plantation in Ulster
Seeds are sown laying trouble ahead
Displaced subjects in the Emerald Isle
Cause and effect would leave thousands dead

Praying to one God but divided in belief
Bigotry blinding the faithful's sight
All wrongs blamed on the other side
Neither believes they cannot be right

Famine; one million starve, another million leave
Centuries old disputes fester in bad blood
A rising at Easter, men imprisoned and shot
While thousands lay dying in world war mud

A war of independence and a border created
Each side entrenched like never before
Civil war in the Free State; Collins is killed
Can this ravaged isle take any more ?

An uneasy peace until the late 60s
Civil rights protests and order breaks down
Bloodshed and violence return once more
Hearts broken again in every city and every town

This beautiful land's history still stains the present
Troubles still threaten but much work has been done
Each new generation must find the common ground
Where lies lasting peace without the bomb and the gun

Gale Force Humiliation

In my first year at high school, aged 11, I had the daily task of a half hour walk to and from my school through less than salubrious areas. Sometimes I would have a couple of mates for company or occasionally I would walk solo. I was small for my age (I still am) but this didn't prevent me from lugging my school books in a large Adidas bag. My spindly arms would struggle with the weight and by the time I reached the school gates I would give the appearance of having been dragged through a hedge backwards (my appearance hasn't changed).

One particular winter's day, there was a huge storm blowing through Manchester and I had to make the arduous walk home all alone. The tempest was literally taking my breath away. I staggered along with my homework laden bag. My route home took me over a canal bridge and as I approached I could hear a group of girls from my school walking behind me. They were older than me and maybe15 or 16 years old.

I wasn't the most confident of boys and my 11 years old self-esteem wasn't the highest. As I crossed the canal bridge a huge gust of wind hit me side on and literally blew me off my feet. I crashed into the side wall of the bridge still gripping onto my bag. As I hit the ground the bag landed on top of me, leaving my sparrow like legs sticking out underneath..I could now hear the hysterical giggling of the aforementioned girls who were now standing over me laughing and pointing at my perilous situation. Not one of them helped pull the bag off me.

I managed to wriggle free of my bag and stumble back on to my feet. The girls remarks included "eh, kid, that's one of the funniest things I've ever seen" and "aww, look at the size of him, if we blow on him he might fall over again. hahahaha " etc etc. They continued their journey still laughing hysterically. I stood my ground for a minute or 2 to count my bruises and compose myself. I reached home with a feeling of total humiliation.

The humiliation didn't quite end there either as, over the next few months, if any of those girls saw me they would shout "eh you! you're the little fart that blew over in the wind aren't yer?!" and so on. It didn't mentally scar me for life....honest.