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Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life…5 Things that made me smile in September.

If I’m brutally honest, I didn’t feel much like smiling in September. As if summer wasn’t bad enough with mental and physical health issues we also had months of pretty tragic weather. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t fully expect weeks of bright sunshine and searing heat, but constant rain and an average temperature of about 14 degrees isn’t exactly food for the soul! And of course, September is the month that us teachers get to start a new academic year all over again!

However, there were still just about enough reasons to be cheerful, so here they are.

I got my running buddy back! When he was much younger, my son used to come out running with me on a regular basis. He showed a real talent for running and although he might have the odd grumble, he was able to cover good distances without too much trouble. And then he became a teenager! Despite having real potential as a runner, he simply stopped doing it and I was left running on my own, an kind of X-Box widower, if you like. Fast forward about 3 years and as part of his Silver Duke of Edinburgh he’s chosen to do running as a sporting option. The funny part of it is that he doesn’t want to come out on any evening runs because he might see people he knows! Sadly for him, that means he’s got to be up at 6.30am every Saturday now, but he’s done it without too much grumbling. It’s lovely to have him back though.
Claude the Koala. I read a brilliant story about a koala bear in the news at the start of last month. It really made me laugh! Apparently an Australian garden centre owner was left completely without answers about who or what was eating his seedlings. It could have been goats, it could have been possums, but he didn’t actually know. And then one morning he discovered the culprit, lying somewhat ‘food drunk’ in amongst the eucalyptus plants. A koala, eating the very plants that were being grown to help out his own endangered species in the region! Even when they moved him on, he came back night after night. So now, they’re having to build koala proof fencing to keep him out. There can’t be anyone who doesn’t manage a smile at Claude looking incredibly guilty below!

3. Being back among friends at work. I’ve written elsewhere about summer being a tough time for me mentally. I’ve never felt so sad. And despite my dread of going back to work after the summer break, it’s been wonderful to be back amongst my friends. Hard work, but they make it lovely. So many people have enquired as to my health and been genuinely kind, but being back among our English Department team has been the best part of it. Plenty of laughs, loads of cynicism and just a lot of fun. Thanks ladies! 4. The World Stone Skimming Championships. How have I never heard about this before now? Apparently the World Championships are held each year on Easdale island in the Hebrides. For the uninitiated, stone skimming is exactly what it sounds like. You get a preferably flat stone and throw it in a particular way so that it skims across the surface of the water. It’s always been a cracking seaside tradition in the UK. So, reading about the fact that there’s a world championships for such a dad skill made me smile! It also made me remember that just this summer, on several beaches in Wales, I introduced my son to stone skimming, meaning that for a few days, every time we went anywhere near water the both of us would be scanning the shore for the perfect skimming stone. He got the hang of it quite quickly, but it made me smile to remember that I was still the best! Dads, eh? 5. Year 7. Another year and another group of young people make the transition to high school. Bright eyed, smartly dressed and kind of ready to learn. They’re sat up straight in your lesson, not complaining about English, being tired, the weather, the temperature of the room, the lights in the room or literally anything else that might just put them off doing any work. For a while, they’re an absolute joy to work with. Yes, some can be a bit needy, but that’s ok. This is a big old change they’re making. I have two groups of Year 7s in English this year, plus a group for History and one for PHSCE and I’m genuinely enjoying teaching them. Perhaps it’s the heightened positive approach I’m deliberately taking this year, but those year 7s are a little pool of light in an ocean of darkness at the minute!

So there you go – even when it’s been a tough month and you’re not feeling particularly enthusiastic and bright, there are always a few things that might just make us smile!

Running: The Morley 10k, 2023.

Last Sunday, the 8th October saw the second ever Morley 10k race. It marked a quite significant date for me personally too though, as it was almost 11 months since I had the heart surgery to have my pacemaker fitted.

It’s been something of an eventful (almost) year. Sadly more downs than ups too, but all of that has been well documented in other blog posts throughout the last 11 months. However, when I was in hospital I made a vow that I’d complete at least three 10k races by the time my one year pacemaker anniversary came around. Sunday was the third and it was significant because it had also been the last one I’d done before everything went wrong for me in October and November of last year. Here’s how it went.

I felt sick with nerves as I stood on the start line. My family were a only few metres away on the pavement and on more than one occasion it crossed my mind to go and join them and tell them that I couldn’t do the race. People felt too close, it was too warm and the hill that we were starting on looked as daunting as hell, even though I’d ran it countless times before. The day before I’d been genuinely excited about it, but now, around an hour and 10km away from the finish line almost everything was telling me just to walk home.

Start lines of races can be funny things for me. Sometimes, I stand there feeling genuinely intimidated. Everyone seems fitter and younger than me. They’ve got much better trainers. And when I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself, none of them have health problems like me, either. Stupid really, but that’s how it can be. On other occasions, you get the feeling that everyone wants everyone else to have the race of their life. The excitement is palpable and the atmosphere is infectiously positive.

Thankfully though, I talked myself out of any silly decisions and got myself across the start line bang on 9am!

It’s a hilly course and while I won’t talk you through every step, there’s a lot to talk about and almost all of it involves running. Firstly, quite a few of the town came out to show their appreciation of the nine hundred and odd of us who thought it was a good idea to be up and running so early on a Sunday morning. Perhaps they were a bit bewildered by it all and who could blame them, but I really hope that the event grows and grows and becomes a staple for both runners and residents, because it was genuinely lovely to see people out cheering us on and from a personal point of view, it’s a real boost. I still don’t believe the stewards who shout out stuff like, ‘You’re looking good!’ as I pass, but by God their positivity helps! For the record though, I generally look like a tall, skinny bloke whose head has been replaced by a sweaty red balloon when I’m running, so cheers to anyone who puts a positive spin on that!

On Sunday, it quickly became apparent that my legs weren’t feeling too powerful. If you’ve seen them, you’ll know why! But I’d put the training in; plenty of runs, lots of hills, lots of 10ks and lots of other exercise. So, it was a bit of a puzzle, but I just put it down to my mood more than anything else and tried to relax as best I could.

Having got through the first long climb, we turned right and ran through Morley town centre and then down the hill towards Morley Bottoms. The flat and the downhill was much appreciated and gave me the chance to gather my thoughts a little bit, as well as picking up a little bit of pace. By the time we came to another long climb I was well into my running and it felt like I was coping well. It helps knowing the route so well, although I hadn’t ran it this year in preparation, but I’d had plenty of practice at hills as it can feel like that’s all Morley is at times!

Once we’d climbed said hill it was time to double back on ourselves and the race takes to the other side of the road and back down again. By this point several of the leaders had long since passed us as well as probably a couple of hundred others who all looked like they were coping better than me! I opened my stride a bit on the downhill section and, realising that we had at least a mile of downhill or flat sections, decided that it was time to start finding a bit of pace. Halfway back down the hill I spotted something on the other side, still climbing the hill that spurred me on even more – someone running in a T-Rex suit! Dodgy heart or not, I was not being caught by that!

I knew that picking up the pace could be a risky strategy though. I didn’t feel quite right and was wary of simply running out of steam by the end when, surprise surprise, you head up a really steep incline to the finish. That said, I knew my family would be waiting anxiously at the end of this section, given my health issues and so I felt it was better to get to them sooner rather than later.

Morley Bottoms on race day is fantastic. Just a wall of noise and smiling faces. It felt great to run through and although I couldn’t see my family for a while, I spotted them eventually and gave them the thumbs up as I actually wasn’t feeling too bad. Shortly after passing them was the halfway point and knowing the route, it felt like the end was almost in sight.

My plan from the start was to try and run around 55 minutes, but it wasn’t long before the pacer had passed me. However, by the time we’d got to around 4 and a half miles I’d caught him again. Sadly, as we began to climb another hill, I lost him once more! I stayed optimistic by reminding myself that the T-Rex still hadn’t caught me though!

By the time I got to Morley Bottoms for the second time and almost the finish, the place seemed to have got even louder and more enthusiastic. I was feeling genuinely sick though, so the noise and the fact that a couple of people – cheers Steve and the lass that I didn’t recognise! – called out my name, which again was a timely boost. I was almost there.

The hill up from Morley Bottoms turned into my own personal Everest! It’s so steep! Virtually all strength drained away from my legs straight away and it was a case of just keeping moving. I almost convinced myself to stop and walk, but kept going as there was so much encouragement and I was utterly relieved to reach the point where it evens out a bit.

As we passed the town hall I heard my family before I saw them and again it provided a timely boost. Bizarrely, it prompted a sprint finish from me too, something I didn’t realise I had in my locker any more at my age. The heart didn’t matter, the tired legs and aching body were of no concern and by the time I crossed the line I was catching the few people in front of my having gone past one or two in the last hundred yards!

I thought I’d be emotional, but wasn’t. I was just elated. The time wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it wasn’t half bad for a bloke with a dodgy heart and pipe cleaners for legs. And anyway, when everyone looks so pleased and the whole town is out cheering you on, it’s kind of difficult to start crying in front of the post office!

So clutching my medal and my bag of sweets – they’d ran out of water, apparently – I scanned the crowd until I found my family again, reassured the kids I was ok, had some photos taken and then we all wandered off happily back down the inevitable hill to go home.

Big thanks to Morley Running Club for everything they do to put this brilliant event together. Same time next year?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes – Number 1; John Burridge.

There’s an old saying that always gets trotted out when talking about what we’ll politely call ‘journeymen’ footballers. You know the one, ‘more clubs than Jack Nicklaus’. Funny eh? See what they did there? Anyway, the first player I’m going to look at kind of sums up exactly why that old saying exists as he had more clubs than the pro shop at St. Andrews, let alone Jack Nicklaus! My first Gallowgate Cult Hero is goalkeeper John Burridge.

Universally known as ‘Budgie’, John Burridge signed for Newcastle from Southampton in July 1989, leaving almost 2 years later. To this day, he remains the only player I’ve ever turned up specifically early to watch warm up! But more of that later.

Burridge started his league career with Workington Town in 1969, when they were still a league club, before moving on to Blackpool a couple of years later. He then moved around a lot of clubs including, Aston Villa, Crystal Palace, QPR, Wolves and Sheffield United. By the time he’d signed for us he was 38 years old and had been playing for 20 years and had 10 clubs. Newcastle were in the old 2nd division or the Championship, as it’s now known and Burridge had come in alongside other new signings like Micky Quinn and Mark McGhee. Hopes were high for a possible promotion campaign.

Hopes, however, were ultimately dashed and having failed to gain automatic promotion Newcastle famously crashed out in the semi finals of the play offs to the old enemy, Sunderland. In the first leg of the semi, we played away at the old Roker Park and Burridge had his finest cult hero moments in black and white, diving down to his right to save a late Paul Hardyman penalty. But the drama didn’t end there as Hardyman then ran to where Budgie was lying, clutching the ball, and kicked him square in the head! He was immediately sent off, but Budgie was rightly raging!

Despite skiving school and standing in a very early morning queue, I remember that I couldn’t get tickets for that away leg – you see, ticketing isn’t just a modern day problem! However, we managed to get tickets for a beam back of the game at Whitley Bay Ice Rink of all places. In the hysteria following Budgie’s save, I missed the kick in the head entirely and remember just being delighted at the sending off, but completely in the dark as to why Budgie looked like he wanted to kill someone!

Burridge was a maker of spectacular saves, starting with one in the first minute of his debut against Reading when flew across the goal to tip an early header over the bar. So, a good shot stopper in today’s language. He possessed a confidence like no Newcastle goalkeeper I’d seen before too. But with that confidence came many rushes of blood to the head and while Burridge was a keeper who liked to command his area, there were a few terrible errors in there too.

As I said earlier, I quite liked getting to home games early in Burridge’s time, just to watch his warm ups. I was 17 at the time and had never witnessed anything like it! Burridge, who described himself as “a clean living lad” was a big advocate of being in the best condition, fitness wise. If I remember rightly he practised yoga, which was something I hadn’t even heard of in those days! But his warm ups were something else. While others would just be pinging footballs around the place, Budgie would be like a contortionist, stretching himself into ever more painful looking positions, before walking on his hands, one armed push ups or doing something that just looked like he was dancing really, rather than warming up. Follow the link below and you’ll see what I mean. It’s from his Palace days, but he was still warming up in a similar fashion when he played for us.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRulE9858eE

Speaking about his fitness and what was needed to play in goal, he once told a reporter, “You’re not a football player, you’re a handball gymnast”. He was a specialist goalkeeping coach at the time and was still making occasional appearances on the bench, despite being 43 by this time.

Another Budgie tale that sticks out for me was when the Toon visited Elland Road to play Leeds in that heartbreaking ’89-’90 season. Leeds would eventually go on to take the title, but we’d beaten them 5-2 on the opening game of the season, so the home team were determined to flex their muscles that day. To that end, as the Toon players walked into Elland Road legend has it that they were greeted by the sight and sound of Vinnie Jones screaming and bench pressing in a weird attempt to intimidate our boys. Budgie’s response was to add 10 kilos to each side of the weights and quickly do ten reps, before telling Jones, “That’s how you do it

By the time Kevin Keegan arrived as manager in 1992 Burridge had departed, heading to Scotland to play for Hibs. He briefly rejoined the club in 1994 as a back up keeper and goalkeeping coach, but despite declaring his loyalty to Keegan in typical Budgie fashion – “I would give the guy my eyes!” – he was soon on the move again.

In all, Burridge had 29 clubs, 19 of which were in the football league. He continued to be a colourful character wherever he went and still holds the record for being the oldest Premier League player of all time. He was 43 years and 162 days old when he played for Manchester City against QPR in May 1995. If my memory serves me rightly, he even played against us in that same season and had an absolute blinder, keeping a clean sheet. Later, whilst player manager of Blyth Spartans Budgie was convicted and fined for selling fake leisure wear and just last year, aged 70, he played in a friendly for Hibs. He even claimed not to be retired in a recent interview.

Perhaps the best Burridge story that I could find though, was the one where Budgie played a whole game for Wolves in a Superman outfit against us in the ’82-’83 season, after making a £100 bet with Kevin Keegan that he’d do it.

Clearly, Budgie was a one off and the type of character that has drifted out of the game in recent years, but it was always a pleasure to watch him play for Newcastle United!

Poetry Blog: A Poem for National Poetry Day

I’ve taken a different direction for this latest poetry blog. Where usually I’d have already written a poem and just dug it out from a notebook, today I’ve written a short poem especially for National Poetry Day. I gave myself a deadline before writing some of it down. Any changes or additions were then made when I typed this whole thing up. I hope you like it.

I only gave myself a short time to think and after trying to write something about Autumn, I abandoned it in favour of writing something about why I write poetry. So, here you go.

The words I'd never say

Usually, it's the words I'd never say,
too self conscious to just let them fly
and only too aware of the stutter, the nerves 
and the glowing cheeks that would greet
the rush of blood telling me that it was safe to speak.

Sometimes, I'm lost in thought,
my own little world and things I'd rather not share out loud.
Futile really. Probably not even anything that
anybody else would need to know,
but it has to come out somewhere, somehow.

Scrawled inky lines crawling across the page,
filled with scribbles, arrows and asterisk
allow the expression that otherwise would stay silent
it could be the birds in the park or fears about health,
or just about a day out that might have left its mark,
this shy boy can still have his say.

I was never a one for writing poetry. There had been the odd one or two over the years, but they were never kept. And then lockdown happened and the words just began to flow. Now there are multiple notebooks with poems in various stages around out house. Hopefully, the poem fills you in a little bit as to why that is.

The Pacemaker Diaries – summer’s been a bummer.

A bit of a cathartic post, this one. I’m aware that I’ve written a lot about my heart surgery last year and I’m aware of the fact that it might just be getting boring. It’s getting that way for me too. But despite my many quiet vows to not let the pacemaker define me, it’s kind of a tough one that! So this post is sort of cathartic because it allows me to vent my frustrations as well as publicly celebrate my successes, however minor they might have been.

So, my recovery continues. I’m still very aware of my pacemaker; you can literally see it when I take my top off (steady ladies), there’s a scar that looks red raw when I’ve done any exercise and more than anything else, I can just feel it sitting there in my chest. It doesn’t hurt or anything like that, but it does get sore after exercise or if I’ve had to take on any lifting.

Thankfully though, I’m now running regularly. I manage to get out twice a week and have been pretty much exclusively running 10ks recently in preparation for an upcoming race. That race is the Morley 10k, which I ran in October of last year before collapsing a few weeks later and then finding myself in hospital a few weeks after that. So all the omens are good! At the time of running it, I felt good and strong and despite the fairly undulating course and the fact that I was actually very poorly, managed a time of 54 minutes! I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that this time around!

That said, for a recent hilly 10k that I ran around town, I clocked a time of under 57 minutes, so I’m not actually too far short of pushing for a similar sort of time as last year. Maybe, with a decent tail wind for the last couple of miles, I can achieve something worth shouting about. It would certainly help me get past the whole ‘woe is me and my pacemaker ‘ thing!

My body continues to frustrate me though. As far as I’m concerned, I’m out of shape and carrying a bit of a belly, although my wife tells me I’m being ridiculous. When I’m feeling more rational I can put the aches, the pains and the belly down to middle age, but I still feel unhappy with it and I’m fairly sure that had I not had the health issue that I’ve had, I would be in a lot better shape physically. Four months off work with nowhere near enough exercise and far too much snacking has clearly taken its toll and I’m struggling to get back into shape.

I found summer really tough and for long periods felt as low as I can remember ever feeling. As is my habit, I tried to hide it from everyone and seemed to be getting away with just being labelled occasionally grumpy, but if I’m honest, I just couldn’t cope with it. Running kept me sane and when I was out on those early mornings I hardly had a care in the world. But at home, on holiday, visiting family, I just felt awful. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. I felt impatient with those around me and angry at what’s gone on since last year with my health. In terms of recovery, being so frustrated and angry really doesn’t make things easy and I’ve genuinely felt like I couldn’t move on.

The peak of it came when I just felt I had to talk to someone. Not like me at all, but I knew I had to try. I tried repeatedly, but something always got in the way and then one afternoon while she was at work and I was at home, my wife called me about something and I just confessed to how incredibly sad I felt. She’s been brilliant!

Talking a lot has certainly lightened the load, but I’m still considering counselling or just joining some kind of support group. I did this when I first got my pacemaker as I really struggled with what felt like the injustice and the worry of it all and it did me the world of good to hear from other people in the same situation and just to share a few things.

Part of the reason for the summer being such a tough time was that I stepped down from coaching my junior football team. The club wanted me to get rid of 4 players in order to make space for others that they were dropping down to us from our A team and I just wasn’t going to do it. I hoped they’d see reason, but when they didn’t I walked away on principle. I’d always tried to be a totally inclusive coach and when the club decided to release players based on ability, that was enough for me. They tried to dress it up as something else, citing players commitment as a reason, but it simply wasn’t anything to do with it.

I’d coached the team for 7 years and loved it. It had always helped me with my physical fitness and mental health too and so to lose it hit me hard. I managed to get a couple of the players that were dropped fixed up with a new club, but the fact that I could no longer coach kids I’d coached for years and years – including my own son – knocked me for six and just deepened the sadness I was already feeling.

The issue dragged on a bit because parents were actually on my side and so there’s been a lot of complaints flying around. However, the club have actually emailed one of the parents of a lad who was dropped and told some rather creative lies about me while being incredibly loose with the truth about what actually happened. I could have got very angry, but I’ve just decided to leave it. If it makes people feel better about themselves to tell blatant lies, I haven’t really got the time for that in my life. Not at the moment. Talk about kicking a man when he’s down!

I still go to watch the team, as my lad still plays and most of the squad are still ‘my’ players, but I just won’t have anything to do with the people at the club now. One or two in particular should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves, but I guess that some people are just never in the wrong! Karma can be a bitch though, so we’ll wait and see!

For now, I’m just trying to be as positive about life and recovery as I can. I’ve thrown myself into work and whether I’m happy or not, I’m trying to be as positive as is possible. So, I’ve dug out my Disney teacher voice for the new year 7s so my natural grumpiness doesn’t scare them and I’m putting positive comments on our ClassCharts whenever I think someone’s done something good. I’m trying to make sure that I explicitly praise as many students as possible whenever they’ve gone beyond the ordinary and I’ve not sent one email about how pointless a meeting is yet! I’ve even been early for a few of them as well. Inner me’s not particularly fooled, but the positivity is genuinely helping. It probably sounds stupid, but while I’m being positive, I’m not being negative and not feeling sorry for myself. Does that make sense?

So life, as ever, is full of ups and downs. And while there are a few too many downs for my liking at the moment, I’m hoping to work my way out of the way I feel before the end of the year. In November I’ll have had a pacemaker for a whole year and if I’m honest, it is a comfort. As far as I can tell, the old issues with my heart are fixed. Now, however difficult I find it at times, it’s just time to get on with life again in the best way that I can.

Poetry Blog: Roots

This one is an autobiographical poem. It’s about a lot of things in my life, but mainly things that have happened, or feelings that I’ve felt since I left home to go to university. It was a long time ago, but due to the upheaval it’s something that I probably still think about every day.

I’m from a city in the North East of England called Newcastle Upon Tyne. If you’re from the U.K no doubt you’ll know of it. If you’re anywhere else, you may still have heard of it and if not, give it a Google; have a look at the bridges and stuff, because it’s a wonderful place. For my money, it’s the greatest city on the planet, but then we’d all make that claim, wouldn’t we? Trust me, I’m right though because it’s a city that seems to make an indelible impact on its people and it certainly did on me.

I lived in Newcastle until I was 19 and can vividly remember, aged 18, telling my Year 13 form tutor that I’d never leave. I genuinely couldn’t envisage a time when I’d leave the place. There just wasn’t going to be a reason to take such drastic action. And then there was, so I left. After 3 years away at university I spent another 5 or 6 months back at home, trying to find a job that never came my way. This was ’90s Newcastle and it felt like I’d never get a break in a city that seemed like it was being cut adrift by a government that had all but destroyed all of our industry. So, I headed south to the Midlands to move in with the girl that later became my wife. We’re still together and nearly 30 years later I still live away from ‘home’, but closer now at least, in Yorkshire.

Roots

Geordie jeans and a head full of dreams
you left your home town, not even suspecting
that you'd never return.
The bridges, the monument, the shops and 
even the river would lose their warm familiarity
and before too long become almost alien,
making you feel strange, yet not a stranger,
displaced, without roots 
and never quite at home, wherever you went.
Every turn presented another stage of 
cultural change and gentrification
while you stood still, a statue without a plinth,
slowly shrinking into yourself 
until you didn't really recognise who or what 
you'd become, functioning behind a mask.
No direction and the wrong turn at every junction,
when the road forked you found the dead end,
falling into a self made trap, again and again
with only glimpses of light to keep you from the dark,
so that even the way ahead was stumbled upon
and even then only chance would keep you from being 
back to square one.
The beacon at your side the only part
of those last ten years,
to stave off the loneliness and put you
back together when,
you'd fallen off the wall again and again,
so that now, still Geordie jeans and a head full of dreams,
there's a reason to face each new day
and a heart to call a home.

The poem is about moving away and then watching the city change. That might have been changing in that I lost my sense of belonging there but also lost the ‘geography’ of the place, if you like so that however often I went back there would be more and more times when I just couldn’t remember my way around or couldn’t place things anymore. Add in the fact that my parents moved from my childhood home to a new village and it all led to me feeling a little alien in and around Newcastle.

The city also grew and was given a bit of a facelift in certain areas, making it far less recognisable and far more difficult to feel at ‘home’ in. Gradually, while I didn’t fall out of love with the city, I began to feel like I just didn’t really know it anymore which was heartbreaking given how attached to the place I had been growing up.

The Geordie jeans bit is about clothing, but heritage as well. There’s jeans and genes in there. The genes are obvious, I suppose. ‘Geordie Jeans’ however was, shall we say, a clothes shop when I was growing up that was a bit ‘budget’, but it was all that my parents could afford. So, I’d be kitted out for home and school in their stuff and very self conscious about it as a teenager.

The latter end of the poem is about all of those feelings coming together to have an adverse effect on my mental health. When we first moved away I knew we wouldn’t stay there, it was just after leaving university too, so there was career uncertainty too. If I’m honest, that’s stayed with me right up until the present day, as much as I love my job and the place where I live.

There’s a little bit of optimism towards the end of the poem. I still retain those dreams, however far away they might seem and as I said earlier, I still have my wife by my side looking after me and giving me strength wherever I go and in whatever I do.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the poem. It’s opened up a few ideas along similar lines in my head, so I might write more about those times if I can find the time.

Group of Death or Just Another Reason to be Cheerful?

It was inevitable wasn’t it? If anyone was going to be drawn in anything that might lend itself to being labelled the group ‘The Group of Death’, it was Newcastle United. Throw in the fact that Sandro Tonali is granted a swift return to his boyhood club and this one can rightfully take its place on the ever increasing list of ‘most Newcastle United things ever’.

Obviously, there’s been a huge amount of attention on us since the draw. The media seems split; some rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of us getting dumped out of the competition early, while others have spoken up and declared that we’ll qualify from the group.

It’s been pretty one-sided where opposition fans are concerned. That loathing that the likes of Sunderland, Manchester United, Liverpool and others have has been well and truly fed and their fans are everywhere with their crying laughing emojis, salivating at the prospect of our impending Euro-downfall. Strange really, but there you go.

But should we be going along with the ‘Group of Death’ narrative and fearing our Champions League campaign? Or should we just be lapping it up?

I’ll be honest, when I watched the draw, I was reduced to a kind of well rehearsed sigh when we were placed in Group F alongside AC Milan, PSG and Borussia Dortmund. It made me laugh because it was so predictable. In a way, we all kind of knew that we’d end up in this sort of group.

Group F is undoubtedly a tough one. But is it tough in terms of being a group we’ll struggle to get a point out of? Or is it just a challenge? We’re in against three European giants, that’s for sure. Two of our group are previous Champions League winners, Dortmund with one and AC with 3 as well as 4 European Cups. All have made it to a semi final in the last 4 years. And AC Milan have had 13 Champions League campaigns since ’02/03, having gone past the group stages in all but one of those. Meanwhile, PSG have made it to at least the last 16 every year since the ’12/13 season and were runners up in the 2019/20 season.

Then you can add in just some of the names that our lads will come up against. Reus, Adeyemi, Sule and Schlotterbeck at Dortmund, Leao, Musah and Giroud at Milan and then just the likes of Donnarumma, Hakimi, Muani and Mbappe at PSG! But don’t forget players like Botman, Bruno, Joelinton, Tonali, Isak and Wilson who’ll all be desperate to pit themselves against such illustrious opposition.

There can be no doubt that we’re in illustrious company! It would be nice to put our record over the last 10 or so years up in contrast, but it makes the stats above even scarier reading!

However, maybe we should look to Eddie Howe in all of this. When we were putting several noses out of joint last season Eddie famously said the following; “We’re not here to be popular and to get other teams to like us. We’re here to compete.” What better time to remember that mantra?

We can either fear this campaign or relish it. I mentioned some of our ‘star’ players earlier and it can’t be denied that we’ve got some squad of players! So, even as a naturally pessimistic football fan, I choose to relish our Champions League campaign. It excites me to see Newcastle United mixing it with the best like this and I can’t wait for it to start.

It can be viewed as a bit of a free hit, where everyone else is expecting us to fail and indeed hoping for it as they follow the recent trend of Geordie hate, simultaneously denying rivalry or even interest, while rabidly informing various social media formats of their hatred for this small club. So what better way to get even further up the noses of those often misinformed idiots than going to places like the San Siro and the Parc des Princes and having a right old go.

However, the free hit theory could also be viewed as a bit of an insult to what Eddie Howe and his team have built over the past 2 years. While we might not have started quite as well as we would have liked this year, we still have one hell of a team. And then thinking back to last year, there were so many games where we just battered teams. We mixed it with the best that our league had to offer and finished up with a Cup Final appearance and a Champions League spot. And if we’d converted one or two of those draws into wins, we’d have been top 3! Make no mistake about it, Newcastle United can get out of this group, however ‘deathly’ it might be viewed. It’s no good doubting ourselves!

It’s a well known fact that we’ve waited two decades for some more Champions League action and while there have been some UEFA Cup games in between, life at the very top level has been sorely missed. Even the Intertoto Cup win in 2006 and Scott Parker’s clear delight at lifting the ‘trophy’ couldn’t really satisfy the thirst for success! (That’s sarcasm by the way, for anyone who missed it).

Whether it’s a difficult group or not, this is an opportunity not to be missed for several reasons. For starters, it puts us firmly in the spotlight. A harsh spotlight, but something of an opportunity all the same. Kieran Trippier talks of pressure as a privilege; well we’ve got loads of that privilege coming our way now and it has to be viewed as an opportunity to let the rest of Europe and to some extent the world, know what Newcastle United is all about.

Being in the spotlight opens up much needed revenue streams too. It’s the kind of money that will help us to keep moving forward and you can bet your life that those in charge will be working hard to maximise the potential that’s on offer.

Let’s not forget also that their are players watching too. So, when we approach top European talent in the future we can point to this campaign – and hopefully more – as a reason to join the club. We can show anyone watching the passion of European nights under the lights at St. James’ Park and you’d hope that there can’t be many players who wouldn’t fancy sampling the kind of atmosphere that we’ll create.

And then there’s us, the fans. I still vividly remember watching Andy Griffin conquer Juventus in 2002, Bellamy scoring at the death against Feyenoord, Shola in the Nou Camp and of course Tino. Now, we get to do it all again, heading to some of the finest cities and stadiums in world football. Dortmund with Signal Iduna Park, 81,000 fans and the famed Yellow Wall, the Parc des Princes in Paris and the famous San Siro where we once took over 10,000 fans on a night when we probably should have beaten Inter as well.

So, yes, the Group of Death represents a scary prospect. But if our players aren’t excited by these games, then you’d have to ask why not. I fully expect them to be completely up for the challenges ahead. And if we thought we’d get an easy ride in the biggest club tournament in the world, then we were kidding ourselves.

At times, you’ll be on the edge of your seat, both physically and metaphorically. At others you might be utterly euphoric and there’ll be moments where you might well be watching it through your fingers or chewing your nails down to your elbow. However you watch it and whatever you expect from the Group of Death, let’s just enjoy it!

Howay The Lads!

No planner, a chimp, naps and IT problems: It’s Back to School ’23/24

September is not my favourite month, it’s safe to say. It’s the end of one generally lovely part of my life and the beginning of something very different. Time for a lot of us to turn what has become a rather pleasant routine on its head. Time again for early starts and rainy commutes. Time for what seems like constant noise where there had been solitude for much of the days that had spread out in front of us. Yep, these last couple of weeks have meant that it’s been time to go back to school.

For once, I didn’t get the full treatment in terms of ‘The Fear’. Of course, I didn’t want to go back and thoughts of chaos in the classroom seemed to permeate almost everything I was trying to concentrate on. My mood worsened and I was ranting and grumbling even more than usual. As usual, I tried to turn the return to work into a positive by doing stuff like taking the occasional trip to the shops to search out some new shirts, as even if I may not actually look good, I think it’s important to at least try and kid myself that I do. However, for once, I didn’t suffer with back to school nightmares where I’m standing in front of a class who simply aren’t listening and are talking over me, whatever I say or threaten them with. So that was a blessed relief and a nice change.

However, when I realised on the afternoon of the last day of the summer holidays that I still hadn’t ordered a planner, it became clear that I just wasn’t really that organised or even slightly ready for what was to come. Still though, despite their attempts to take over the world, Amazon proved its worth and with a few clicks I had exactly the same planner as last year on order. It wouldn’t arrive until the Tuesday, but I’d muddle on through…

If you’re a teacher reading this I’m sure you’ll share my absolute hatred and horror at the first INSET day. If you’re SLT reading this, then that last sentence was for comedic effect; we’re all delighted to be there and hanging on your every word. But maybe, on that particular high note, you should stop reading now.

Few things in teaching can feel as futile as the first INSET day. A friend tells me that he’s rarely listening that day and that he often finds himself hating three quarters of the people in every room that he enters. Apart from his own department, who are all wonderful. I’ll keep him anonymous, because that’s quite a bold statement, but just so that we’re clear, he’s definitely not me, but a friend.

Our set up dictates that we all head over to the lead school in our academies trust for the morning and so, on the first Monday back, I was in a car share chatting to a pal, while listening to The Smiths and wondering why the people in the back had definitely just mentioned that someone they knew might just be a swinger. It’s the kind of 20 minute journey that feels like it takes 4 hours and almost every road is about 6ft wide and undulating. And this year someone was talking about swingers.

On arrival at our INSET day, it’s a bit like being a pilot as numerous ‘important’ people in high viz jackets attempt to steer you into exactly the right parking space, as if parking where you want would represent a level 9 security breach, whatever that is.

Then, it’s breakfast with staff from every other school in the trust – I estimate that we have 804 schools by the state of the canteen as we walk in – and my compliments to the chef have to go to the individual who served up my orange juice and pain au chocolate as it made me feel like I’d just arrived at a luxury spa in rural France…sort of.

I’ll spare you anymore great detail of the morning, but suffice to say it was a delight to share reading strategies that I introduced to the staff of my own school around 4 years ago as well as those from partner schools and see them greeted with the kind of enthusiasm that indicated that no one had been listening four years ago. I’ll look forward to see someone else introducing them as their own some time soon and resolve to try very, very hard not to scream or shout obscenities.

There was also mention of Steve Peters, the psychiatrist made famous for his work with many of the UK’s top athletes. It reminded me that it’s entirely possible that I only have the chimp part of my brain that functions. And if you haven’t read the book, that won’t mean anything to you. Basically , Dr Steve says that it’s the chimp part of your brain that makes you do stupid stuff. Don’t worry though; it’s not a real chimp.

Looking round at lunch I noticed that one of our new starters didn’t get the casual dress memo; a lone young man in shirt and tie while everyone else in in jeans, t-shirts and the like, which is always brilliant and I also spotted the worst deputy head I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with, as he now seems to be employed by our trust. A number of years back I had to be restrained by a friend to prevent me having ‘a chat’ with said deputy after he simply forgot to turn up for an observation I’d spent untold hours preparing for. So, it was lovely to see him again.

At the end of that first day, I left work late feeling exactly the same way as I do every year – unprepared for the rest of the week and wishing that someone would grasp the importance of giving teachers time on these kinds of days rather than just workshops and speeches.

The rest of the week actually wasn’t that bad though, although I’m teaching three different subjects this year and would relish the chance to warmly thank our government for their assistance with this development. Without your ineptitude and inability to fund the creation of attractive working environments that might attract and keep new staff year in year out, I wouldn’t get to challenge myself with bottom set Year 9 PHSCE, so thanks for that. It wouldn’t be the same just being an experienced English teacher tasked with just teaching English.

One irritation about the rest of the week was that it was conducted through a heatwave, which if you’re a teacher you’ll know is exactly the same thing that happens every year, without fail. Five and a half weeks of rain followed by weather that would be more at home in the outback. My classroom is air-conditioned, so it’s quite nice, but it’s never fun when every class that comes in gives you a weather report, then points out that my room is lovely and cool before giving it ten minutes and informing me that they’re too cold.

It felt like a long week and I must admit it was a struggle in terms of tiredness – I nearly wrote fatigue there, but it was 5 days, for goodness sakes – and as I adapted to my routine for the 24th year, there were a few late finishes.

Happily, I managed to fit in two impromptu naps – don’t worry they were at home, not at work – so perhaps it’s right what they say about every cloud as it was a joy to re-discover my ability to fall asleep while reading. It may not be a skill to add to a CV any time soon, but it’s definitely something that I excel at and am really quite passionate about.

More joy came with the number of students who pointed out that I now had a beard. It was great to be reminded of this fact, especially as I’ve had said beard for around 9 months now and would have paraded it in front of almost all of them for several of those months last year. So, if anyone wonders of it’s a problem for teachers to get students to retain information on any number of complex subjects from Shakespeare to trigonometry, that might just help with the answer.

There have been the usual snags over the last couple of weeks. Every teacher surely knows that every photocopier in the building will break within 24 hours. And we’ll all still try to fix them or use them, despite the sign telling us they’re knackered.

In further technology news, my board is still making the same noise (it literally goes ‘doodly doo’ loudly and repeatedly) at random points of every lesson as it did in July. A temporary fix was put in place then; so temporary that it just never worked and the noise just continued. I was promised it’d be fixed. I was also promised that the wire that runs from my computer to my board would be replaced as it meant I had to hurdle it to get around that part of my classroom. Reader, I’m still hurdling.

There have been the delights of shared classes too. This year it feels like I share 94 groups, although it’s only three. But this still means the need to locate your books when needed as well as the sheer nightmare of working out where each class has got to while they’re with the other teacher. Often, this is just solved with an email, but it never fails to make things awkward! It also means that for the umpteenth year running, I’m an entire class’s least favourite English teacher and I get to hear that ‘Miss doesn’t do this’ or ‘Miss is nice’ at least 14 times a lesson.

Finally came a personal snag highlight in that where I park there are a few trees and it’s at this time of year that they seems to shed some kind of white sap. So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been possibly quite unique in being the only bloke driving a black and white polka dotted Mazda through West Yorkshire for the last two weeks.

As we edge towards the end of the second week I at least have reason for some optimism. My desk is roughly two metres wide and 1 metre deep. As I type, I think you can still see actual desk over approximately half of that area. Knowing that the piles of paper and books will inevitably grow, that 50% of desk is very much a reason to be cheerful!

Book Review: ‘Tick Tock’ by Simon Mayo

There’s a dedication in the front of this book that reads, ‘It’s another page turner, Mary!’ and it’s not wrong. Put simply, this is just a great read; the kind of novel that you just don’t want to put down.

‘Tick Tock’ is the latest novel from Simon Mayo, best known as a radio DJ in the UK. It’s what I suppose you might call pandemic literature, inspired as it undoubtedly is by what we the kinds of things went through with Coronavirus. This time though, the mystery virus seems to be a rare strain of tinnitus and as such, pretty harmless. But soon and with information being drip fed from various angles, we learn that this is something far more serious and life threatening.

Kit Chaplin is the head of English at a small and fairly exclusive high school in central London. Rose, his daughter goes to the same school and Kit’s presence there is an irritation to say the least and Kit knows it. Lilly, a vaccinologist, is Kit’s partner and her daughter Jess also goes to the school, meaning that there’s yet more workplace awkwardness. Little do they know that soon life at the school will provide a great deal more to think about than whether or not they might bump into each other in a corridor during the change over of lessons. Life as they know it, is about to change in a big way.

‘Tick Tock’ tells a tale that in a way, we all kind of already know. The tale of a pandemic, of ignorance, pain, misinformation and more. And it’s the more that makes this well, more than just a pandemic story. Suddenly, in among the science, there’s also an espionage shaped twist as ‘Tick Tock’ takes us in a direction that we might not have seen coming and it’s a race against time to try to save lives.

I remember reading my first Simon Mayo book, the YA novel ‘Itch’, and for what seemed like hours of reading thinking, ‘Oh, I didn’t see that coming’ as I hung on for dear life. ‘Tick Tock’ has the same thrilling qualities. It’s really well researched too, so as I reader I found myself wanting to read on in order to find out more about the burgeoning pandemic, the possibility of a vaccine and the research behind it. It all adds up to – as I said at the top of the page – a real page turner.

Mayo’s characters are excellently written too and I found myself empathising with English teacher Kit, as someone who does the same job with the same loves and frustrations. Being the father of two teenagers I felt familiar with his home situation too and found myself smiling at every rolled eye and worrying for him when he and Rose were caught up in the hysteria of the pandemic. The stress of the pandemic is obviously all too familiar given our situation a few years back and yet the narrative still feels compelling and original.

The virus moves at a fast pace, as does the narrative and you’ll find yourself feeling desperate to know what’s going to happen next, what fresh twists might be taken and perhaps more importantly, who will make it through. Tick Tock’s cover tells us ‘your time is running out’ and with the somewhat breathless pace of the book, it really does feel that way at times, as you immerse yourself in the increasing sense of panic that is gripping the nation.

‘Tick Tock’ is a brilliant read and another triumph for Mayo. Not only is it an excellent thriller, it’s one to keep you thinking too. So, while you’re trying to figure out who might die, you’re also left with a number of underlying sub plots, wondering how it all fits together. But fit together it does, brilliantly, constantly making you ask questions; the kind of narrative that might just keep you awake at night!

If you love a thriller, give ‘Tick Tock’ a read. However, if you simply enjoy a good yarn, I’d say give it a go too. Complex at times, worrying at others, but a fantastic novel every step of the way.

I give ‘Tick Tock’

Isaac Hayden; where did it all go wrong?

So Isaac Hayden has left the club for Standard Liege of all places. And while it might only be on loan for the season, it’s clear that his future lies elsewhere and that you possibly wouldn’t expect to see him in the black and white stripes again, even though his contract runs all the way through until June 2026.

Hayden joined Newcastle from Arsenal in July 2016 having spent the previous season on loan at Hull City in the Championship. His experience in the division would prove key to a newly relegated Newcastle team, who at the time were losing quite a few stars who weren’t so keen to drop down a division after we were relegated. He signed a five year contract and quickly became a favourite of both the fans and Rafa himself, who Hayden told one interviewer would wait for him in the car park in order to impart more advice on his game!

Isaac established himself as a defensive midfielder who wasn’t shy in the tackle, was physical, athletic, hard working but also had an eye for a pass. At a time when we were losing considerable talent in the midfield department with players such as Moussa Sisoko and Andros Townsend departing, Hayden felt like a bit of a godsend. As an established England Under 21 player and at a bargain £1.5m, it looked like Rafa had unearthed a gem!

Benitez flagged up Hayden as a player with real potential when he signed for the club and in that Championship winning season, he was a key performer. Making 38 appearances and scoring 2 goals, including a beauty away at Cardiff, Hayden had a strong first season, showing himself to be a leader in the team. In fact, he would make himself at home at the club over the next few years, despite some problems settling at first. It was to his credit though, he knuckled down and stayed and it was this type of determination that made him a bit of a fan favourite.

When Rafa left in 2019 and we ended up with Steve Bruce, even that wasn’t enough to force Hayden to leave! In fact, as he’d played under Bruce at Hull, Hayden continued to improve. In 2020 there would be another Toon highlight for Isaac when he scored a late winner with a header against Chelsea at the Gallowgate end; cue crazy scenes of unbridled joy around the ground!

By 2021 though, Isaac had picked up a serious injury and his Newcastle career wouldn’t ever be the same. When he wasn’t named in the Premier League squad for the second half of the 21/22 season, things looked pretty bleak. Consequently, in June 2022 Isaac joined Norwich on a season long loan, but injuries continued to dog his progress and he only managed 12 appearances.

For me, Hayden represents a bit of a puzzle. I rate him as a player and always enjoyed watching him play in black and white. I genuinely thought he had enough class to continue in the Premier League, but he never quite made his mark.

However, given his athleticism, intelligence and strength I’ve wondered if, given a break, he could have been a classic case of a player that was ripe for what we might refer to as a proper ‘Howeing’. If you look at what Eddie has done with players like Joelinton and Sean Longstaff, you could be forgiven for thinking that Hayden could have been another who would have benefitted from Howe’s coaching. Then again, perhaps Big Joe and Longstaff’s gains have just come at the expense of players like Isaac Hayden. And of course, there’s also the matter of fitness, which Hayden has struggled with for the past couple of seasons.

Furthermore, when you look at the standard of our midfield these days, it’s just very clear that we’ve moved on. So while Hayden was a player that many liked, I suppose we have to ask whether he’d get into our team, having been Howed or not. The short answer is probably no and exactly why he’s on the move. As good as Hayden was on his day, was he a Bruno, Longstaff, Tonali, Joelinton? Again, no and with younger players such as Anderson and Miley coming through, I guess it’s clear to see that Isaac Hayden just couldn’t stay.

Whatever has happened at Newcastle for Isaac Hayden, I think it’s a bit of a shame. However, as we all know only too well, this is a very different Newcastle United to the one that he joined back in 2016 and so there were always going to be casualties of such immense change.

Now 28, Hayden moves to Liege no longer a young player with potential. With almost 200 career appearances, the Belgians are getting an experienced player who could make a real difference to their season if he can stay fit. Let’s hope it works out for him.

Good luck for the rest of the season, Isaac.