Uncategorized – Middle Age Fanclub

Film Review: ‘Jules’

A bit of an understated gem this one. ‘Jules’ tells the tale of pensioner Milton Robinson (Ben Kingsley) whose life changes overnight when a UFO crashes in his back garden.

Milton is a widowed 79-year-old living rattling around alone in his great big home. His daughter, a local vet, is worried about his mental health, suspecting that her dad is showing signs of early onset dementia. Meanwhile, Milton busies himself by attending the same local council meeting week after week after week and having his requests for more pedestrian crossings turned down. Luckily for him, two other pensioners make the same weekly pilgrimage and both might just be fighting for his attention.

Only when the aforementioned space ship crash lands in his back garden do things start looking up for Milton. He finds the injured alien and after a day or two manages to get it strong enough to enter his house. From that point on the two busy themselves watching daytime TV while Milton tries to figure out what to do for the best. But he’s getting nowhere fast. The local police put him down as some sort of crackpot and his daughter takes his plea for help with the alien as a sign that her dementia diagnosis is correct. But at least he has a cure for his loneliness now.

Things begin to move at pace when his two female admirers get involved with one naming the alien ‘Jules’. But Jules’ fate is nowhere near safe.

While Jules clearly needs to return to his home planet, government forces are working tirelessly in the background to find the alien and his craft, which they know has crashed to earth somewhere in Pennsylvania. Together these pensioners and their adopted alien must find a way to keep Jules hidden while also outwitting the agents that are hunting him down.

‘Jules’ is a really heart warming tale. The bond between Milton and Jules is an unusual one to say the least, but it helps the film deal with issues like ageing, loneliness and mental health quite beautifully. There’s a really subtle undercurrent of dry humour too, which is brought out brilliantly by some excellent performances.

‘Jules’ features a quite wonderful cast. Kingsley is fantastic as the curmudgeonly Milton and is aided and abetted brilliantly by Harriet Sansom Harris as Sandy and Jane Curtin as the feisty Joyce. There’s plenty of life left in these three old timers, that’s for sure, especially when it comes to keeping a lost alien safe!

As with any alien film, you have to suspend your disbelief a bit here. I mean, the fact that no one notices the loud shuddering smash of an alien craft crash landing has to be ignored for starters. But that said, there’s never a great deal of point in picking holes in a plot, is there?

With crusading pensioners, bungling federal agents, a mute alien and a whole host of dead cats, ‘Jules’ is definitely one to watch and it might just turn out to be the favourite film you never knew you needed! A quirky, funny and warm film that is guaranteed to at the very least raise a smile!

I give ‘Jules’…

It was a bittersweet July.

It’s been a little while since I’ve actually written anything. In fact, this is the first time I’ve got my hands on a keyboard in the month of August. Suffice to say that July was a bit of an emotional one and as a result, it took its toll on me.

The most bittersweet part of it all was leaving work. I’d worked at Thornhill Community Academy in Dewsbury for 9 years, having trained there – it was my second teaching practice school – 25 years ago. All in all that’s a long time to be associated with a place of work and a community. I always felt like I’d go back there and when I did, I didn’t think I’d leave before retirement.

Nothing lasts forever though and having suffered with my health over the last couple of years I was finding less and less enjoyment in my work. Having all but collapsed there in 2022, my classroom made me feel uncomfortable and at times really quite sad. Add that to a raft of other problems and I knew I’d have to leave. So, when an opportunity to work with some of my friends came up, I eventually applied and was lucky enough to get the job.

Leaving a job I’d been in for almost a decade was a real wrench though. I’ve made lots of friends, had the professional pleasure of working with some brilliant people, loved the school and hopefully had a positive effect on some of my students. I was almost moved to tears during my leaving speech, but just about managed to keep it together – if you were in the room, I can confirm that there were no tears, just a really ugly crying face!

I’ll miss so many people and September is going to feel very strange indeed, but I hope that my new start will serve to inspire me a bit and whet my appetite for teaching once again, as well as helping me to get over what really has to be the final hurdle in my recovery from illness! I mean, how long can it take?!

Despite the upheaval, I actually feel positive. I’m probably far too old to be making a fresh start, but I feel like I have the energy and the people around me to make it a success. More to the point, I feel like I want to make it a success. I feel enthusiastic, while also feeling like there’s no way I want to let people down. So in September, I’ll be enjoying a far shorter commute and throwing myself into it all at an entirely new school while working with more than enough familiar faces to allow me to feel fairly comfortable from the off.

Of course, the end of an academic year signals the start of summer for those of us in education. And so, as sad as I felt to leave my job I had the benefit of 6 weeks holiday to cushion the blow and mix some sweetness into the bitterness.

First up in the break was heading to Wales for a family holiday and that never fails to raise a smile and make me feel relaxed. The weather wasn’t perfect, but we still managed a few days on the beach, as well as trips out to Barmouth and Pwllheli. All in all, to finish work on the Friday and then be on a beach the next day made for a lovely couple of days. Then, to add in lots of fun in the week that followed added up to a genuinely brilliant break.

A personal highlight for me was being able to fit in two runs. I run on every holiday and have done for a while now when we go to Wales. However, usually I head up some nearby hills before running down to a nearby coastal village and then looping back around again towards our cottage. This time, feeling tired, I decided to take a flatter route which would enable me to do something I’ve never done before; run along the beach.

The beach at the end of the road is a couple of miles long and then, if you’re lucky and the tide’s out sufficiently, you can clamber over some rocks onto a beautiful, peaceful little cove. I was able to do just that on both of the occasions that I ran. Both times I went out early in the morning and both times there was barely another soul to be seen. It was amazingly peaceful, while also being really hard work as sand just saps the strength from your legs.

On the morning of our last full day, not only did I run along the beach, but when I got round to the quiet cove there were two herons feeding in the shallows and I was able to sit and watch them for ages while having the whole place to myself. More than enough to make you smile!

So, having left behind a place of work that gave me a fantastic 9 years and felt all the sadness that you’d expect, I was able to spend a wonderful week with my family and experience the kind of calm coupled with genuine elation that I’m guessing doesn’t come along too often. Like I said, it was a bittersweet July!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: number 7, Hatem Ben Arfa

Every once in a while, whoever you might support, a player arrives at your club and changes everything. The rules are thrown out of the window, the script torn up and the unpredictable becomes a part of your weekly diet. These players are just…different. Mavericks, renegades, geniuses, ballers, call them what you want, we’ve all had at least a couple over the years.

Hatem Ben Arfa was very much a maverick and for a short time he changed what we thought was possible from a player wearing the black and white stripes and gave everyone who watched him a chance to rub their eyes and wonder if what they’d just witnessed had really happened. His time lacked consistency and even a decent ending, but he left us with a ton of amazing memories.

Ben Arfa was signed in August 2010, from Marseille, initially on loan. It became evident quite quickly that we’d signed someone pretty special. There were flashes of inspirational skill, even though it took the player a while to find his feet. But find his feet he did when we played Everton away in the September of that season. As the half was coming to an uneventful close he took a pass to feet from Wayne Routledge. He then ignored the winger’s overlapping run, preferring – shock horror – to keep hold of the ball. At first he seemed unsure of what to do, but then, having turned this way and that, he faced up his marker, swerved to the left and hit an unstoppable shot from about 25 yards into the far corner of the net. A star was born.

Sadly, less than a month later, Ben Arfa’s season was over when he was the victim of a shocking tackle from Nigel de Jong in our game away at Man City. A broken tibia and fibia would mean that we wouldn’t see Hatem in a black and white shirt for another year.

Perhaps understandably after such a massive injury. Ben Arfa’s second season started rather quietly and he failed to really dominate games at first. However, he would really make his mark in January of 2012.

For those in attendance, Ben Arfa’s goal against Blackburn in the FA Cup may well go down as one of the greatest goals we’ll have witnessed live. As he received the ball in midfield there were three defenders in close attendance. But still, he turned and ran at them. It felt like fraction of a second before he was in the box at the Gallowgate end and despite what felt like half of Rover’s defence surrounding him, Ben Arfa continued to wriggle through. Finally, with opposition defenders pretty much surrounding him, he managed to drag the ball back onto his left foot and hammer it high into the net from the edge of the six yard box.

I’d seen plenty of players who could dribble over the years, but Ben Arfa felt different. Yes, he was inconsistent, but at times it felt like he had the ball on a string. The goal against Blackburn was very much one of these occasions.

Ben Arfa briefly lit up the Mike Ashley years. It felt like an un-Ashley type signing when we got him. He came with a reputation as a little bit of a trouble maker and was said to be on strike when we took him from Marseille. Subsequent years and multiple clubs would prove this to be the case. Why else would Marseille be letting him go out on loan? And yet, perhaps with re-sale pound signs in his eyes, Ashley sanctioned the signing and Hatem became an integral part of the team that also contained Coloccini, Cabaye, Tiote, Gutierrez, Cisse and Ba and would go on to finish 5th in the Premier League.

But, having fallen out with teammates and management left, right and centre at both Lyon and Marseille the writing was surely on the wall from the moment he signed.

Hatem was one of those players who created a buzz. Whenever he got the ball there was an expectancy that something was about to happen. It became apparent that Hatem himself didn’t always know what that something was, but he was tremendously exciting and frustrating in equal measure. Often, when he should have passed he went off on some fruitless solo endeavour, but then there were times when, just as it looked like he’d lost possession, he’d somehow create a yard of space and do something breathtakingly brilliant.

For me, he had a little bit of a Jack Grealish quality, in that he was just as likely to slow play down and turn back with the ball than he was to produce a moment of magic. But in his time at the Toon, we lived for that magic!

Ben Arfa though, will always be remembered for one moment; that goal against Bolton. He took the ball from Yohan Cabaye fairly deep in his own half, but what came next took the breath away. An outrageous flick and turn took him past his marker who was left flailing around on the turf. Then it was all about power. Ben Arfa evaded a desperate tackle midway into opposition territory, somehow managing to keep his feet as his ankles were clipped. Then he just ran for goal, running through two half hearted challenges on the edge of the box before poking the ball past the onrushing keeper with the outside of his foot.

The initial turn was balletic, the drive with the ball all about brute power and speed and the finish almost an instinctive flick. If you watch it on YouTube, there’s an angle where he’s running at the camera and when he’s challenged in their half he cries out, as if he’s been hurt and might take a tumble. But it’s in the blink of an eye and rather than go over, before you know it, the ball’s in the Bolton net and the Gallowgate are up in celebration. From receiving the ball to it hitting the net took around 8 seconds and it’s something that won’t be forgotten for a long time for those that were there. What a goal. What a moment. Ben Arfa at his thrilling best.

Sadly, it wasn’t to last. Almost inevitably Hatem would clash with those in charge. Injuries would disrupt the rest of the 2011/2012 season, as well as a lot of the following year. Rumour has it that, like at other clubs, Ben Arfa fell out with his fellow players, with club captain Fabricio Collocini particularly irked by his behaviour. It’s said that Colo even went to the manager and asked for Ben Arfa to be benched for fear of a player rebellion. Once again, the Ben Arfa attitude had led to him finding himself out of favour and on the move.

There were fan protests about Ben Arfa’s absence from the squad – a Che Guevara style banner with Hatem’s face and the word Hope was regularly seen at St. James’ – and his plight become a bit of a focal point for general fan unrest at the Ashley regime and the running of the team by Pardew. He even appeared sitting with the fans for the home game against Cardiff that year. When Ben Arfa was finally loaned to Hull City, his career with the Toon was over. We would never truly see the man at the peak of his powers.

Ben Arfa’s time at Hull was short lived – amazingly he failed to find inspiration under Steve Bruce – and eventually Newcastle terminated his contract, leaving him as a free agent. His story at Newcastle was sadly over. But his story as a footballer would have much more to come with eventful spells at Nice, PSG, Rennes, Valladolid, Bordeaux and Lille following as well as an unexpected recall to the France squad. But at almost every turn, there was controversy and conflict and at present he remains a free agent.

Overall Ben Arfa made 86 appearances for Newcastle scoring 14 goals, and he never really fulfilled his potential. Still though, there can’t be many of us who wouldn’t have a goal from Hatem in their Top 10 Toon goals of all time.

As you’d expect though, there is one final twist in the Ben Arfa tale. What is he doing now? Not content with waiting things out and looking at finding another club, Hatem was last heard of as embarking on a career as a professional padel tennis player and was reported to be ranked in the top 1500 players in the world!

Never a dull moment, eh?

Spring, where the first cut is the deepest, noisiest and the smelliest!

Well, it would appear that we’re well and truly right in the throes of Spring! The weather is largely warming up – although we stood out in hail while volunteering at ParkRun this weekend – and the days are getting lighter all round. There’s colour in the garden and I’ve also been able to get some washing out on the line, which always makes me feel a bit more optimistic about the time of year…I don’t really know why.

Today though, I thought I’d write a little bit about my morning and the sights, sounds and the feel of Spring that I got to experience. Let’s just say that none of it really stuck to the stereotypes!

So, this morning, seeing that we were going to have dry weather until early afternoon, I took the opportunity to give our back lawn its first cut of the year. It’s always an arduous job as by the time the weather is good enough, the lawn has always grown to a good few inches in length and is soaking wet, meaning that it will take hours to get through. In truth, I despise having to do it!

At this point, I’ll introduce my neighbour. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a lovely, well meaning elderly gentleman who’d do anything for us. He’s also very hard of hearing and loves to chat. The job of listening to him generally falls to me and believe me when I say that sometimes this can be even more arduous than cutting the lawn as he never really hears what I’m saying and has a tendency to repeat a lot of what he’s already said to me!

Anyway, having got the mower out of the shed and put it back together – it’s over 10 years old and very much on its last legs – I started to mow, kind of knowing exactly what would happen next. I was still surprised by the immediacy though!

After no more than 20 seconds of mowing I heard the click of the neighbour’s gate – one of the first sounds of spring round these parts. And when I looked up, there he was. My neighbour. He didn’t really wait for me, just set off talking. So the mowing got delayed for a while!

Our back garden is bordered by houses on both sides. My aforementioned neighbour’s garden runs parallel to ours, but on the other side, the end of two gardens back onto us. One of these neighbours has a terrible habit of clearing his throat and nose, very loudly. He seems to save it all up for the moment he sees me in the garden as well. It’s not something I hear much of through winter as I’m not outside anywhere near as much. However, this morning just as I’d reached the end of the first couple of strips of the garden, there it was. Another delightful spring sound. A wonderful hacking of the throat and nose sounding like it had been played through Glastonbury’s PA system, all the way from inside his house to the middle of my garden. And every time I stopped mowing, there it was a again! This must have gone on for about 10 minutes! So, no nightingales singing, just the sound of phlegm!

I had the wonderful Spring experience of clearing fallen blooms away too. We have an enormous camellia that gives us an abundance of huge bright pink flowers from February. It’s genuinely stunning. However, the downside is that by the time I come to cut the lawn, hundreds of flowers have fallen from the plant and litter the garden. And I get the job of having to pick them all up, as if I mow them they splatter all over the place. In turn, picking them up gives me the wonderful sensation of soaking wet flowers in my hands and also quite a few slugs, who seem to find the flowers far too good to resist. I hate anything on my hands, so this genuinely makes me feel queasy.

Later, sounds included a really annoying crow, some girls walking along the footpath that borders the back of my garden and swearing loudly and my neighbour’s wife asking if he wanted a cup of tea – she didn’t extend the offer to me. I also managed to unearth some cat poo in the long grass, before sliding through it a little later and suffering the stench of it every time I went near!

Finally, the sounds of spring reached a wonderful crescendo when my neighbour came to talk to me twice more; once to rant about the price of the new England football shirt and the modifications made to the flag of St. George on the back of it – capitalism, mate – and then to talk of something that seems to be uniquely him!

He’s a keen gardener and tends to order his plants off the internet. However, I swear that every time he does, they seem to mess up his order. And then, when he complains, the companies always seem to send him more than he needs. This isn’t just restricted to plants; he’s had plant pots too. And he always offers us his cast offs, which is nice, but even when we politely decline he just doesn’t listen and brings stuff around anyway! This happened again today, which given that we’ve only just started ‘garden season’ is quite some going! Anyway, to cut a long story short, despite turning them down we’re due to get a load of free mystery plants in a few weeks. Lord knows what we’ll do with them!

So, Spring has indeed sprung. But round these parts there’s no delightful birdsong or the smell of budding roses; no, just elderly neighbours, coughing and sniffing of Olympic proportions, wet and dirty, slug laden hands and the feeling of almost pulling a hamstring as you slide through hidden cat poo!

Reader, I hope your Spring is going better than mine!

Book Review: ‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’ by John Osborne

I’ve always loved the seaside. Newcastle, where I was brought up, is close to some of the best coastline that the UK has to offer, so there was always an easy access day trip whenever one was needed. We’d spend entre days there as kids during the summer holidays. Further to that, being born into a family that placed a high value on the power of a bracing walk meant that windy beaches were our regular stomping grounds. In fact, we went every year on New Year’s Day as a family tradition!

So, it was a pleasure to read this book, as well as a nice trip down memory lane. John Osborne’s ‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’ is a celebration of the charms of the British seaside and when I caught sight of the cover and two primary school aged kids in decidedly 70s clothing eating ice creams at the beach, I was always going to buy it. And it proved to be money well spent.

While working in Scarborough for a summer, Osborne is struck by a feeling of nostalgia for the traditions of the British seaside. And so begins an often rainy odyssey of trips to a variety of UK seaside spots.

John’s trips begin in Scarborough, which if you aren’t aware, is a classic British seaside town. A long, sweeping sandy beach, a harbour, gift shops, amusement arcades and various bars and pubs dominate a town where thousands flock in summer in search of seaside fun and entertainment. These days it’s slightly run down, although still a great destination for a few days at the beach, but Osborne finds much evidence to support the fact that the nostalgic activities he remembers from childhood are still very much in play in Scarbs.

From Scarborough, Osborne journeys down and around the country taking in a variety of seaside destinations. I was really disappointed that none of my old North East haunts were visited, but with such subject matter you’re never going to please all of the people all of the time, given the sheer amount of coastline that we have on our little island. That said, a chapter on Whitley Bay or Tynemouth would have been much appreciated!

There are various tales here though. From historical tales of Skegness to the arcades in East Anglia, following the suicide watch at Beachy Head right through to the ‘ultimate’ sandcastle competition and a remote western lighthouse. The British seaside provides Osborne with a wonderful collection of experiences to immerse himself and the readers in, as well as a selection of wonderful people to spend time with.

The result is a fascinating read. It might be quite a niche subject and possibly of much more appeal to us Brits than anyone else, but I’d still thoroughly recommend it.

‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’ provides a wonderful dose of nostalgia about a slightly faded British institution. Millions of us grew up looking forward to days out at the seaside; some of us still do. But the typical British seaside town has changed immeasurably from what we’d see in their heyday. The rise of first the package holiday in the 60s and 70s and then budget airlines in the early 2000s signalled a death knell for many of our resorts. However, the popularity of ‘staycations’ mean that they are making something of a comeback. Still, most of what Osborne finds just isn’t the same.

That said, he finds joy and hope in most of the places that he visits. Sometimes, it’s nostalgia based, sometimes it’s fleeting, but it’s joy all the same. And that’s the thing about the British seaside; there’s always at least a sliver of joy to be had. It’s just that sometimes you have to take a little more time to look.

Osborne’s writing is excellent. As he describes the people and places that he finds on his trips, you’re transported there with him. He’s sympathetic to the plight of our seaside towns so that everything has a positive outlook and while it doesn’t serve as some sort of propaganda, the work that’s going on is highlighted and praised appropriately. The resorts are treated with a genuine affection as Osborne reveals that when you scratch beneath the surface there’s a lot going on in our seaside towns. He clearly loves them, like a lot of us Brits still do. And that’s what makes ‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’ such a great read. Osborne’s subject matter has something for everyone; whether your ‘of a certain age’ like me and looking for a trip back in time to a different age and time or you just live a long way from the seaside and only take trips there ever so occasionally.

It would have been easy to write a book that was sniggering, cynical and sarcastic about the UK’s seaside towns. But thankfully that hasn’t happened here. Instead, ‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’ emphasises the positives and the diversity that you’ll find, touching also on the glamour of the past. And I for one absolutely loved it!

I give ‘Don’t Need The Sunshine’

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: ‘Routine’

It’s been a while since I wrote any poetry. Anything complete, that is. There are several pages of notes and drafts in various notebooks and on my phone, as it goes and I definitely need to find time to get some of them finished. I know that there are notes and stuff because I’ve just looked. Every so often when I look I find one that I remember little or nothing about, although they’re usually from some stage of my time at home recovering from heart surgery last year.

Today’s poem is one of them. On first view it looked more or less complete, but once I read it again I made a few changes and additions and came up with what’s below. It’s a poem about the frustration of the every day routine, when the every day routine is slow, dull and painful.

Routine

As the gulls cry above
they seem to mock you,
gliding as they do, freely,
uninterrupted across another slate grey sky
almost laughing at the state you're in.

Beneath there is no flight, no such freedom
as you struggle through the curtained drizzle,
checking your pulse, taking deep breath after deep breath,
careful to slow your steps 
and evermore conscious of how helpless you must look,
knowing that you will collapse like a man at the end of a month long expedition,
somewhat gasping and groaning at your discomfort,
but trying to hide your fatigue 
as you return indoors
where only the slow death march of daytime TV
and snacking await.
The beard, the boredom and the bitterness
that come with early onset uselessness slowly grow,
the ticking of every clock in the place 
the only soundtrack to both your thoughts and your days,
while you sit, restless, clueless about how this all came to pass.

I’ve no idea when this was written. It could have been any of several weeks where I just couldn’t see an end to the weakness and fatigue that I felt. What I do know is that I felt angry. Livid at the fact that while having a pacemaker fitted was undoubtedly essential for me, it came with no real warning. I never would have suspected that the palpitations and dizziness I’d been experiencing on and off for months would have needed anything more than tablets to be sorted out. Maybe that’s why I’m an English teacher and not a cardiologist!

While I’m still a little angry and frustrated, the days of freezing cold, lonely walks are long gone. And while I’m not as healthy as I’d like to be, I’m a lot better than whenever this was written.

I’m gradually coming to terms with the changes that surgery has brought about and slowly recovering, although I think it’s going to be a lot longer before I feel quite myself again. So the poem is reflective of the kind of bleak times that I rarely, if ever seem to have anymore, but it intrigued me when I found it.

Anyway, I hope it made for a decent, interesting read! Feel free to leave a comment.

Poetry Blog: ‘A Familiar Face’

This is another poem about being poorly. I’m conscious that I’ve written quite a few poems and articles around this theme since the run of the year, but I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me for getting a little bit obsessed with the failure of my heart.

Luckily, people are always very complimentary about these poems and I’ve received some incredibly supportive messages as I’ve been recovering, which has been a real help. I keep finding these poems tucked away in notebooks on scrap paper and figure that I might as well put them out as a blog. I’ve said this before, but if I don’t they’re just words on a bit of paper that no one other than me will read. Well, what would be the point of a blog in that case?

A Familiar Face

Amazing how, after all this trouble and time,
the answer could be hiding in plain sight.
The thing you feared the most, yet least expected,
the solution to the mystery you'd never have suspected
has come back to haunt you, bring chaos where there was relative calm.

For some time now, you've sensed its approach,
felt the uncomfortable sensation of its hot breath on your neck.
The thing you wouldn't name, but still recognised,
the terror that you lived with, but couldn't look in the eyes
lands a blow to leave you weak at the knees
and grabbing at thin air for balance.

So now, a new danger from a familiar face,
as you fight against yourself, your own failing,
knowing that whatever you do, whatever changes you make
may not be enough
and while all around you wish you well,
offer love, support, concern,
you have never felt so helpless, so frightened, so alone.

There were question marks, asterisks, scribbles and arrows all over this poem when I found it, which suggests that it was another one written in the early hours. The scribbles tell me that it might have been one I wrote after first deciding to go back to bed, but then sitting back down aware that there was another idea or another line still stuck in my head. I’d have been more sleepy than I realised, hence the mistakes and scribbles.

It’s another poem about being ill. This one focuses on the frustration I felt at the fact that my heart worries had come back to trouble me and the fear I had about just how bad I felt post operation.

When I first got poorly having had an episode of palpitations and dizziness in May of last year, I remember explaining to my wife that it frightened me and that I was determined not to end up back in hospital. A month later I was in hospital having tests on my heart. And then, just the other day I read a Facebook memory about a run I’d done in training for the last 10k race that I ran. It was early October of last year and I’d just done my last training run of about 12k and commented that I’d do anything at all to avoid anymore trips to the cardiologist. Sadly, less than a month on, I’d not only collapsed, but had been admitted to hospital to be told the next day that I’d have to have my pacemaker fitted. Life comes at you fast, as they say!

Fingers firmly crossed, but I feel better than I’ve felt in a while, despite a small setback about a month ago. Here’s to less heart-related poetry!

Always Look on the Bright Side: Five things that made me smile lately.

It’s been a while since I wrote one of these posts. The delay hasn’t been because I’ve not been smiling, but let’s just say that the last few months have been complicated! Regular readers will know why and at times there’s not been a great deal to smile about, try as I might.

I write these posts mainly to remind myself that life is pretty good at least most of the time. Of course things will test us and our ability to raise a smile and it’s easy to descend into a bit if a fug about it all. Work, kids, obsessions with sports teams, relationships, taxes, traffic…they’ll all test your patience. Every so often though, when I have time to reflect I’m able to realise that there’s plenty to smile about. And every time I write one of these, people let me know that it’s nice to be reminded of the simple things that let us know that it’s not all doom and gloom!

So here we go…what’s been making me smile lately?

I’m running again. Before the last few weeks I hadn’t been out running since the middle of October. I’d missed it desperately. However, a combination of knowing that I needed to be patient with my body (how frustrating!) and the fact that going running genuinely terrified me, had kept me in my slippers rather than my running trainers. Not even getting a fancy new pair of runners for Christmas could tempt me back. While I was poorly I made sure that I went out for a walk most days. I built this up slowly and by mid January was out every day for around an hour. It would wipe me out for the next few hours of the day, but it felt wonderful. As time went on I would go for a walk/run combination on a Saturday morning, but that would mean running probably less than a mile all told. It didn’t really feel like it counted. Then, on Valentine’s Day, with the weather looking wonderful I went out for what was supposed to be a tentative run. I wouldn’t be going far – a couple of miles at most. I even took my son out as a bit of mini support. We ended up doing a 5k in just over 32 minutes and I was beyond thrilled. And beyond exhausted! Since then I’ve done three more runs, gradually moving on in distance each time. My latest was last Wednesday when I managed to run 3.75 miles (just over 6km) in 32 minutes. I clocked my 5k time as 27.49, which I’d normally be disappointed with. But, for the last few months things have been far from normal. Being able to run again and feeling even a little bit of confidence doing it has felt absolutely wonderful.
An unusual location for a jingle. Part of my new running route takes me through a business park. Twice now I’ve found myself grinning from ear to ear as a pie truck has arrived at the park and sounded an ice cream van type jingle to let office workers know it’s ‘pie time’! For those of you who remember the show, it plays the Benny Hill theme tune, which makes me wonder if the boss runs out with all their workers following them in some kind of slapdash column to get their savoury treats!
A snow day! I’ve only been back at work for a few weeks and on a very partial timetable at that. However, when school was closed because of snow at the back end of last week, I couldn’t hide how thrilled I was at getting a free day off! It was a Friday too, meaning a 3 day weekend…unbeatable!
Care Home Movie Posters. Now not only is this a great name for a band, it made for an excellent story too. This was something I read about on the BBC website; the story of how residents at a care home in Bristol had been recreating posters of some of their favourite films. You can read about it – and view some of the images – on the link below, but basically, if you’re not smiling at the octogenarian Godfather or Jean, 92 as Maria Von Trapp from The Sound of Music, then you’re taking life far too seriously!

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-bristol-64866813

I won’t spoil the story for you by putting the images up, but in looking for further information on the story I did find that they’re not the only care home to have had this idea. Below is a picture from another care home that did the same thing, but with different films. Again, if this version of Reservoir Dogs isn’t making you grin, then I genuinely feel for you!

5. Kids being kids. The final thing that has made me smile lately – that I’m writing about anyway; I’ve smiled more than 5 times lately – came on our snow day. In the afternoon I went for a walk in the snow with my wife and daughter and it made me smile a lot. Firstly, our town looked amazing blanketed in white, as did our view of Leeds. Secondly, watching my daughter attempting to navigate snow, ice and mud in trainers and a pale blue pair of joggers made me laugh a lot. Eventually, she tucked her joggers into her bright blue novelty socks, worn for warmth, not to be seen and slithered her way through the terrain like that. Unmissable.

Towards the end of our walk though, we cut across the bottom of a hill that runs around the edge of the estate where we live. Above us, on various positions around the hill were dozens of children and sometimes parents, sledging and throwing snowballs. It felt like a bit of a throwback to my own childhood with not a mobile phone in sight and instead, just kids being kids and enjoying throwing themselves around in the snow. We even came across my son, messing around with friends that he’s known in primary school, but had since lost touch with a little bit when they went their separate ways at high school. It seemed the snow was uniting us all and not just by imprisoning us in cars stuck in traffic jams for once. Even later on that afternoon, thinking about it made me smile.

I hope you enjoyed reading and that maybe my experiences made you smile a bit too. Whatever you’re doing over the next week or so, make sure that you try to find a moment to allow yourself a smile.

Book Review: ‘Mix Tape’ by Jane Sanderson

They say that you never forget your first love, don’t they? I mean personally, I’d like to wipe the entire thing from my memory, but it’s pretty much impossible due to the nature of that particular car crash of a relationship! But I’m guessing it’s very different for lots and lots of people who manage to cling on to those warm and pleasant vibes for life.

Dan and Alison are two such people. And despite the somewhat life-changing nature of their break up and the fact that they’ve made successful lives separately elsewhere, both retain strong feelings that unbeknownst to them, are just waiting to be dug up.

‘Mix Tape’ is a story that millions of us can relate to. First love, first lust, first dates, first kiss, first fumbles. Whatever romantic firsts they were, they’re all in the back of our mind somewhere just waiting for an image or a film or just a phrase to release them back into our consciousness for even a few minutes. With Dan and Alison it’s music that’s the key to their past as well as their future.

Having fallen headlong into teenage love and discovered a mutual passion for music as well as each other in the 70s, fate intervened and life, however painfully, moved on. Now, many years later and into a new century while living in new countries, social media and music could be about to intervene and spark old feelings back into life.

If you’re a music lover, you’ll love this book. It was the link to music that prompted me to buy it in the first place. I even wrote a blog about mix tapes (link below), having listened to Jane Sanderson being interviewed about the book on BBC Radio 6 Music with Lauren Laverne. But it will appeal to the social media devotee in us all too, as well as those who are just soppy enough to enjoy a good love story.

Whatever Happened to The Mix Tape?

In their younger years together Dan had made mix tapes for Alison as a way of expressing himself, while also introducing her to new music. Years later, via social media their choice of songs will serve to help them get to know each other once more, as well as giving oxygen to a flame that never quite died out, despite the way their time together had ended.

Beginning in 1970s Sheffield, the story jumps from back then to the present day throughout, showing us the various contrasts in the lives of our two protagonists. We learn that after leaving Sheffield, Alison somehow ended up on the other side of the world in Adelaide. She is successful and seems happy. Meanwhile, Dan’s life has changed too and he too has moved away from his home town, now residing in both Edinburgh and London. He has turned his passion into a career and is now a successful writer as well as a music journalist. Both appear to have made good lives for themselves and moved on from their passionate teenage time together. But appearances can be deceptive.

‘Mix Tape’ is a lesson in the power of both music and social media. It shows how one simple click can change lives, both for better and worse. Music is the bond that keeps Dan and Alison together, however far away they might be from each other and so when Dan rediscovers Alison via Twitter and sends her a song as a reminder of the old times, we sense that it won’t stop there. We know that this first love is one that still has unanswered questions. It’s just a case of whether they’ll remain unanswered…

The characters are really relatable and I found myself really liking both Dan and Alison. But away from the characters, the story may test your morals too. But I’ll leave you to discover that for yourself. Sanderson’s brilliant descriptions of sights and sounds also bring her locations to life too. So it was nice to be informed of both a Sheffield that I hadn’t visited – as opposed to the modern day city that I’d say I know quite well – as well as the delights of Adelaide with its flocks of parrots, natural beauty and year round heat.

The use of songs as a narrative device to help Dan and Alison reconnect is brilliant too. Not only does it give us a real sense of what the characters are about and who they really are, but it has an effect on us as readers too. I found myself connecting with the songs that became the playlist for the narrative. Where I already knew the song I’d invariably have a memory connected to it and when I didn’t know the song, I looked it up, so ‘Mix Tape’ has now added some new songs to my playlist.

‘Mix Tape’ is a brilliantly written piece of fiction. The story will keep you engaged throughout and you can’t fail to get involved in Dan and Alison’s journey. The music, social media and geography of the story also give you a lot to get your teeth into as a reader. But, most importantly this is a tory about good people finding each other, despite the barriers that their lives put in place. I’d thoroughly recommend ‘Mix Tape’ – a really well written page turner that you’ll only put down so that you can listen to some of Dan and Alison’s favourite songs!

I give ‘Mix Tape’