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The Second Coming of Miggy Almiron.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was beginning to think he didn’t have it in him. I’d seen the jibes by fans of much smaller, insignificant clubs referring to him as things like Forrest Gump and was starting to wonder if they might have a bit of a point. As each game passed where he didn’t assist or score, I reviewed my previous backing of a player who I welcomed with open – and metaphorical – arms when he first arrived at the club. He seemed to be without any confidence whatsoever and whenever chances arrived and whatever they looked like, it felt like Miggy would squander them.

Yet, through it all there were positives. Miggy had things going for him. That ever available smile was good currency with us fans. Personally, I loved the fact that when he ran there were times when he was like a nodding dog, as if when he nodded his head, however involuntarily, it was giving him added energy. He does a thing where he’s between a trot and a gallop – a trallop? – in order to make sure that he’s first in line for the press…as well as the second and third at times. Again, this makes me smile and helps to show the urgency he feels to help the team.

I’ve always been a fan of the slimmer, more diminutive players, given my own stick-like build. I think I speak for a lot of Toon fans when I say that with Miggy, despite any doubts, I was 100% on his side and really, really didn’t want him to fail.

I’ve got history with the underdogs who’ve worn the black and white shirt. Darren Jackson was a personal favourite. As my dad would say, “more fat on a greasy chip” but he was a player that I loved instantly. We looked similar, so getting mistaken for him a couple of times during his time at the club helped! The same applied to Michael O’Neill – bought for a pittance, stick thin and with that hint of flair and determination that had me rooting for him, despite never really producing the goods consistently. Kevin Brock was another hero. And God knows I was beyond desperate for Kevin Dillon to score for us, despite growing evidence that not only was he a mackem, but he was shite as well!

So, watching Miggy have his break out season this year, in what is now his 5th season at the club, has been nothing short of wonderful.

Everyone must have read or heard the statistic that when he’d scored 9 goals earlier this season, Miggy had got as many as he had in the previous four seasons. In a way, it’s a pretty damning stat. Although Almiron’s chief job isn’t to score goals you’d have expected him to score more than he had. Personally, I thought that the floodgates would at least be left ajar after he scored his first Toon goal in December 2019 against Crystal Palace. And I reckon most of the fans in attendance would have imagined the same. But it didn’t and he would manage only 3 more goals that season. It’s been a trickle on the goals front ever since from a player who I personally would have expected to be pushing for double figures every year.

I wrote an article about Almiron when he signed. I couldn’t wait to see him play, because the snippets of him I’d seen on YouTube coupled with the things I’d read from fans of Atlanta Utd, made me think that we were getting something very special. I normally wouldn’t have got carried away with things like YouTube clips, but this was deep into Mike Ashley’s era and signing Almiron for what may or may not have been a club record, depending on what you believed, had the same impact on me as if we’d somehow cloned peak Maradona and signed him!

Miguel Almiron: A New Hope?

In preparing to write this I read back through that first article and a few things stood out. Firstly, I said ‘with fingers firmly crossed, I’d say we’ve bought a proper player’. I mean, it took some time, but I was proved right, eh?! Like a proper pundit! And as if to add to my application for Soccer Saturday (or maybe just my very own self important YouTube channel to go with all the others) I also said ‘for any player coming into a fight such as ours there will always be a question mark’. Spooky. And it was a question mark that lasted – however faintly it was written – for a few years. Almiron clearly struggled for any sort of consistency for a while and suffered – as most did – under Bruce.

I couldn’t help but wonder if things could have turned out differently sooner for Almiron. If you remember his debut there was that moment at the Gallowgate after he’d been played through on goal and he dinked the ball past the keeper, but onto the base of the post. Would a goal on debut have boosted his confidence enough for us to see the kind of player we’re now watching a few years earlier ? We’ll never know, but certainly his debut performance hinted at the player that was eventually to come. And then I suppose we should ask whether Miggy’s progress was stunted by Rafa Benitez’s over cautious ‘short blanket’ approach. Certainly, if you take his willingness to make runs into the box this season as anything to go by, then you’d have to say yes. There wasn’t a great deal of that type of thing under Rafa. That’s not knocking Rafa, but I wonder if it was more Miggy’s work rate that was the attraction in the first place.

Miggy’s rebirth has been a joy to behold. The smile has returned to his face and he seems to have a particular affinity for playing alongside Bruno. Long may it continue! He seems to be continuously making forward runs in the hope of grabbing another goal and it’s an appetite that never fades.

For me though, the moment that showed that Almiron was a player reborn came as he scored what proved to be the winner against Tottenham at their place in October of last year. If you remember, the ball is nodded down to Miggy out on the right hand side, about 30 yards from goal. He’s actually fouled twice as he runs through a couple of different challenges and in my opinion, the Miggy of a couple of years back would have thrown himself to the floor under either of the challenges. But he doesn’t. I remember screaming for him to pull the ball back across goal because we had numbers in the box, but no, Miggy simply scooped it over Lloris to score. Clearly, confidence was key and for me the main reason for this must be Eddie and his staff.

If memory serves me right, Bruce called Almiron ‘a manager’s dream’ and he was right, although how I remember this when Bruce’s words would invariably send me to sleep, I’m not sure. Typing out that Steve Bruce was right was pretty hard too! But Miggy is a manager’s dream. Hard working, positive, a good level of football intelligence and a willingness to work for the team. It’s a shame that Bruce couldn’t inspire a great deal from the player other than hard work, but a relief that Eddie Howe has come in and seemingly tweaked one or two things in his game and worked wonders, unearthing the player that lurked within.

At the moment, Miggy is Newcastle’s top scorer this year, with 9 goals. Not bad for a winger who does more than his fair share of defensive work. A decent proportion of those goals have been absolute beauties too. His goal against Fulham won him the Premier League Goal of the Month for October. He also claimed the Player of The Month prize for the same month. But then there were his goals against Everton, Spurs and Aston Villa, as well as his diving chest finish at home versus Manchester City!

I think a lot of credit for Miggy’s rejuvenation lies with Kieran Trippier, another player who he’s linked up brilliantly with. You can see that Tripps talks Miggy through games and I feel sure that there’s been a lot of advice imparted on the training ground too. He’s encouraged to make those marauding runs and if he’s not getting through on goal he’s making life hell for defenders.

It’s great to see Almiron thriving. He’s just the kind of lad that you almost can’t fail to want the best for. The infectious smile, the willingness to work for the team and the sheer quality of some of the finishes, especially this season, all combine to make him a fan favourite. When Eddie Howe first came in I’m sure there were lots of us who could have seen Miggy leaving, especially given the financial muscle that the takeover promised. So, it’s brilliant to see that he’s survived. He clearly loves the club and I think the club, including us supporters love him right back.

As we move into the second half of the season, with a Wembley final to come, it would be brilliant to see his form continue. Having ended his mini goal drought on Saturday night against Bournemouth with his 10th of the season, I’d hope this means that we’ve got a few more to come. And wouldn’t it be nice to see him get back amongst the goals at Wembley! Perhaps the biggest stage there could be for everyone’s favourite Paraguayan to be grinning from ear to ear and screaming “Gooooaaaallll!” like a madman!

Film Review: ‘Another Round’

‘Another Round’, directed by Thomas Vinterberg and starring Mads Mikkelsen is a Danish language film that investigates the fine line between enhancing your life experiences and ruining them entirely.

When actual science gives you permission to have a couple of drinks every day, that’s a chance that most of us would take, right? So, when four bored Danish teachers discover that, according to a psychiatrist called Finn Skarderud, life is just better when your alcohol levels are kept at a certain level, they’re happy enough to take the plunge. I mean, surely when you’re pleasantly tipsy all the time life really is a just a lot more bearable.

When Nikolaj (Magnus Millang) suggests to his friends that they’ll enjoy life more with a constant blood alcohol content of 0.05%, it doesn’t take them too long to agree to give it a try. I mean, boys will be boys, eh? And each one of them has their problems in life, so it’s eventually an easy enough decision to make.

Our main character Martin (Mads Mikkelsen) is stuck in a rut with both his teaching and his marriage. Nikolaj himself has a new baby and a young family, so the stress of everyday life make Skarderud’s theory almost too good to resist. And then there’s single Peter (Lars Ranthe) who just has nothing much to lose and elder statesman Tommy (Thomas Bo Larsen) who simply seems to be looking for an excuse to get drunk.

‘Another Round’ veers between serious issues and serious fun; as you’d possibly expect with four friends intent on keeping their blood alcohol content up. At first, their experiment is positive. They’re all more relaxed and seem to be suddenly enjoying life much more than before. Martin’s classes are going brilliantly and he’s enjoying teaching more than he has in years and Tommy is coaching his football team with some success, despite the alcohol making him slightly more ‘shouty’ on the touchline than usual. And so, the lads decide to up the ante somewhat, adding more alcohol content to their blood and beginning to flout their own rules in the process.

The characters here are great. Not only did four teachers drinking on the job take me back to my own school days, when I suspect that kind of thing had to have been rife, especially in schools like mine, but it exposed some very interesting people. We’re on Martin’s side, regardless of the drinking. Mikkelsen presents us with someone who just seems to be a good bloke who’s lost his way a little bit and I’m guessing that lots of can relate to this. Nikolaj and Peter are great fun and Tommy provides us with something more complex and dark.

The film will give you lots of laughs, as you’d probably expect when you’re watching four men lose their inhibitions via a campaign of prolonged day drinking! There’s plenty of messing around while drunk and even a bit of phenomenal jazz ballet dancing, which was not only unexpected, but a thing that I previously didn’t even know existed. But while you get all of the tomfoolery that you might expect from four drunk men who you could argue possibly just need to grow up, the film has a much darker side to it, which crops up on a few occasions through the action before hitting hard near the end.

However, despite the darkness, I’d like to think that the overall message of the film is that we sometimes need to relax a little more; let go and to not to get too bogged down with everyday stress. Whether that’s by adding a constant stream of alcohol is a matter that I’ll let you decide on. Each to their own…

I’d thoroughly recommend ‘Another Round’. It’s a film that will easily give you a few laughs, while retaining the ability to bring a tear to the eye. With the hilarity of several drunken nights and days out mixed in with ideas about friendship and how we might find happiness in life, I’d say that you won’t go far wrong in giving it a go.

I give ‘Another Round’

New Year’s (quiet) resolutions!

It’s that time of year again. Time to put the last one behind you and start kidding yourself that everything will be a great deal better for the next 365 days simply because one year rolled over into the next one. A new year, a fresh start, time to make some changes and all that.

As it happens, things have been so bad for me lately that the turn of the year is actually just convenient for change in my life. My previously documented health problems mean that things need to change and I’m now just about well enough to start changing them. On top of that, I think I can be more than hopeful that next year will be far better than this one was!

I’m keen not to set myself too many big targets though, hence the quiet resolutions. And I know that there are previous targets and goals that I’ve set and then never really done anything about, so I’ll stick to a manageable number this year. I mean, it’s still very early in the year and healthwise, I already feel shattered, so let’s keep things in perspective!

Here goes…

Stop keeping secrets. An important one, this. It’s not me blatantly telling anyone who reads that they can’t trust me, by the way. However, I kept my heart problems to myself last year, in the hope that they’d go away and that I wouldn’t have to bother anyone. Fat lot of good that did me! Hopefully, there won’t be much to report, but if there’s any action in my chest, I’ll be sure to let someone know. Anything more and I’ll blab to the nearest medical professional. Common sense, I know, but that’s not always been my strong point where health is concerned.
Get fit…again. Heart problems blighted last year for me, culminating with time spent in hospital and the shock of having to have a pacemaker fitted. It’s been a long recuperation and it’s left me feeling decidedly unfit and still pretty poorly. I’m breathless and wobbly on my feet if we walk too far! Just before Christmas though, my cardiologist gave the all clear to start running again, albeit really gradually. I’ll freely admit that this is something that scares the living daylights out of me, but once I find a bit of courage, I’ll be back out there getting fit. Hopefully, come the Spring time, I can start taking part in races again. Baby steps for now though. I’ll keep you posted!
Get healthy and stay that way. I’ve been off work now for around 7 weeks and to be honest, while I know when my latest sick note ends, I’m really not sure when I’ll be well enough to go back to work, although I hope it’s sooner rather than later. And then there’s the matter of getting back to normal life. It’s not just been about being off work. If I run upstairs, I’m out of breath. If my clothes are too tight, I struggle to get them on or off and it hurts to do so. Tying my laces still hurts. If I take one thing too many out of the cupboard, I struggle with the weight on my left hand side. I can’t think fast and I struggle to get my words out quite frequently; I don’t know why. And I’m genuinely quite scared when I feel any kind of activity in my chest. So it’s not just the physical side of things that need to get better. It’s all too easy to tell people that you’re ‘getting there’ or whatever other platitude I might use when asked how I’m doing, but I’m not coping anywhere near as well as I’d like. So, getting healthy is going to continue to be a big old job!
Finally send some poetry to somewhere other than my blog. I’ve had this ambition for a while now, but although I write poems on a fairly regular basis, I always seem to end up just adding them to my blog. I’ve resolved to enter some poetry competitions before now, as well as looking into sending stuff into literary magazines. I’ve just never found the time or I suppose, the courage to do it. However, I have a few things that I’m working on at the moment and a few finished poems that I’ve done nothing with, so 2023 has to be the year that I break my duck in this area.

And that’s that. Part of me wishes I had a fifth resolution, just because it looks like a better number. But then, if I’m trying to lessen the burden a little bit, adding a fifth would just be counter-productive and I’d be even less inclined to actually do anything about it. Anyway, that top three is going to keep me pretty busy, I reckon!

I’ll keep you posted about how things are going. In the meantime, perhaps you could let me know about your own resolutions in the comments? Maybe someone might yet inspire that fifth one for me!

Christmas Films: Five Underrated Gems.

It’s that time of year again. The nights have closed in, there’s a fair chance of snow and really, you should be out doing some Christmas shopping. But, out there in the not too far distance you can hear the annual call of the Christmas film. Or, if you’re American, the Christmas movie. It’s telling you to ease your way down onto the sofa, snuggle in with family or the dog, grab some snacks and something warm and cast those eyes over something you’ve seen umpteen times before.

So off you go, repeating all of the catchphrases in Elf, signing along to The Grinch and howling at the festive funnies in any or all of the Home Alones. But what do you do when you’ve exhausted those old favourites? Allow me.

I thought I’d offer you some Christmas film options that you might not have heard of or even have rejected if you’re one of those people who rely on reviews. Here, in no particular order are my 5 most underrated Christmas films!

A Christmas Carol (U). Yes, I know that this is not an unknown film. I’m more than aware of the popularity of the film and of course the Dickens novella. However, I’d suggest that you watch a different version of A Christmas Carol than you possibly already do. Lots of people will watch the animated version with Jim Carrey being brilliant as Scrooge or even the Muppets Christmas Carol. Plenty more will enjoy the brilliant old Alistair Sim version too. But what about the 1984 made for TV version starring George C. Scott as Scrooge and Edward Woodward as the Ghost of Christmas Present? I mean, the bloke who played General Patton and the bloke who played the original Equalizer! What’s not to like? Scott plays Scrooge perfectly; gruff, cold and with a little bit of a sadistic twist in the way that he seems to thoroughly enjoy telling people “Humbug!” or when he’s just scaring the bejeezuz out of random children on the street. Better still, Scott is equally brilliant in redemption, carrying Tiny Tim around town on his shoulders and laughing like a drain! And then there’s Woodward playing his ghost like some kind of deranged Yorkshire Santa Claus! Trust me, it’s great stuff and well worth a watch.
Daddy’s Home 2 (PG13). With a 6.0 out of 10 rating on IMDB and a Rotten Tomatoes score of just 21%, you might well ignore this one. But, in my opinion, you’d be missing out on some fantastic comedy and a bit of a classic Christmas tale. Co-dads Brad and Dusty (Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg) take their families away for Christmas, along with their own dads Don and Kurt, with disastrous and often hilarious, if a little bit predictable results. If you’re a fan of Will Ferrell, you’re going to get what you’d expect here and alongside the comedy, there’s a heart warming Christmas tale, just as soon as everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. A must watch for us, every year!
Fred Claus (PG). Another one where you’d be better off ignoring the reviews. This one is another 21% scorer on Rotten Tomatoes and only gets 5.6 on IMDB. However, all I can say is that the ratings are wrong. Vince Vaughn plays Santa’s slacker older brother Fred, who couldn’t give a figgy pudding for Christmas, but ends up in the North Pole against his better judgement. And just when it looks like that Christmas spirit might fall flat, Fred is there to save the day and see the light. Another family film with a big chunk of redemption running through it. A comedy with some interesting takes on what Santa’s home and workshop at the North Pole might actually be like. The kids will love the elves and hopefully you’ll laugh along too.
Arthur Christmas (PG). This time, we’re focused on Santa’s son, Arthur, who while he’s a well meaning, friendly sort of chap, is a bit of a disappointment when compared to his dad. Mind you, who wouldn’t be? So when Arthur and a team of oddballs end up on a mission to deliver one last forgotten Christmas present at the last minute, perhaps this is the very time that he proves himself worthy of the Claus name. A fantastic cast, an excellent and at times ridiculous story and some amazing animation. This is a funny and original feel good film that puts a twist on the Santa Claus story and comes out as a classic underdog tale. Well worth your viewing time.
Bramble House Christmas. A bit of a different one to end with. I suppose that in amongst the cheesiness in this film, the overall message would be something about showing good will to all men. But in between that, this one’s got a lot going on. When a wealthy man leaves his young nurse a big chunk of money in his will it leads to suspicion, fear of treachery, a mystery Christmas trip to what would appear to be the perfect town and at then end of it all, a love story. In the end, Christmas cheer is the big winner and your cheeks might just ache from all of your smiling if you’re so inclined! I like this one – even though I’m not that big on smiling – because although it’s a little bit cheesy and a little bit predictable, it’s just a nice, harmless film to watch at this time of year. A good one to watch with the kids too!

Hopefully, there’s at least one film on my list that you’ve so far overlooked, meaning that you might get the chance to add a little bit of variety to your Christmas. So here’s to, picking one out, settling down with some hot chocolate and snacks and enjoying a good, new Christmas film on me!

Ward Wisdom – Stuff I learnt in hospital

As anyone who reads my particular brand of nonsense will know, I’ve spent a little bit of time in hospital recently. And it was quite a serious situation. However, if you’ve ever spent any time on a hospital ward you’ll possibly agree with me when I say that there’s often lots to smile about.

While I was in hospital I got my wife to bring a notebook in, as you never know when inspiration might strike and I spend enough time scrawling things down on the backs of envelopes and scraps of paper. I thought it best to have somewhere where things would get written and not lost.

As well as notes on more serious articles and bits of poetry, I was able to write down the stuff that I learnt and that made me smile, knowing that as long as I could find it again there’d be something I could do with it. So, here you go; some ward wisdom for you!

The worst pain is found via the canula. After a number of heart operations, I know what it’s like to be opened up and it’s uncomfortable to say the least. It hurts while the scars and bruising are healing too. However, without doubt the worst bit accompanies the canula. This time, my canula was placed in the top of my right hand early on Monday afternoon. I thought it would be out on Monday night after they’d discharged me with some tablets. They finally took it out on Thursday afternoon about an hour before I went home! By that point my hand was bruised and every movement that my hand made caused me pain. The worst of it was when they pumped antibiotics through the canula. The nurse told me that it wouldn’t be bad. However, just before my operation and I had to really clench my teeth to try and disguise the horrible pain as the fluid went in. I’ve never faked a smile like it!

You never know what to expect on a ward at night. My first night was alright really. Quiet, apart from the bloke in the next bed who snored and talked in his sleep. Hearing him groan the words “Come on, I won’t take long” will perhaps haunt me forever and I truly hope he wasn’t having the dream that it could sound like if you use even the tiniest bit of imagination. Mid-way through the second day of my stay I remember thinking that things would be alright. My ward mates were all quiet and that would mean I could read, write or just relax without interruption. And then the bloke opposite was sent home… Cue a certain level of mayhem. I was awoken not long after midnight that night by a man with a foreign accent shouting, laughing and crying in equal measure. He was from various Eastern European countries until he finally decided that he was actually from Slovakia. And even then, he was claiming to be Romanian a couple of days later! He was unhinged for the rest of my stay on the ward, sometimes nice, friendly and polite, other times ranting and raving and even deciding to put his shoes on with his hospital issue pyjamas on a few occasions to leave the place entirely! He even befriended me a little bit and at one point claimed that the other two men on the ward got preferential treatment because they were both ‘the big boss’, while intimating that me and him were just common or garden scumbags! We’ll hear more from him later.

Medical science is incredible. My pace maker is about two inches long, stores data about my heart and while I was on the ward managed to solve my heart palpitations wirelessly! When my post op heartbeat was over 200bpm a technician appeared and told me he was just going to have a chat to my pacemaker. He did it via a laptop that looked a bit like a child’s toy. Within minutes my heart was beating normally and I was having a well deserved nap. If that doesn’t make you smile, then nothing will.

NHS staff are wonderful. When I was growing up, if anyone asked my mother what she did, she’d tell them bluntly, “I wipe people’s arses.” Why, I’ll never know. She was a dentist, after all. I’m joking. She was an auxiliary nurse and this was indeed part of her job. But it was far from what her job amounted to. Nurses wiping other people’s arses happened regularly on my ward. Not to me, I hasten to add. And it wasn’t being done by my mother either. But nurses cleaned up anything and everything that leaked out of their patients! They also lifted us, helped us walk places, provided endless cups of tea and coffee, plumped up pillows, laughed at our attempts at humour, came running every time a monitor went off (usually every ten minutes or so and usually mine!) and were relentlessly nice and caring, regardless of what they were faced with. If you live in Britain and don’t realise how amazing NHS staff are, why not?

You cannot treat a stomach ulcer with pop. This came courtesy of watching my Slovakian ward mate. When he wasn’t sleeping he was calling out. This usually took the form of moaning and sounding like he was pretending to be in a lot of pain. Then he’d beg the nurses for tablets, often asking for stuff he’d heard other patients talking about taking hours before, which given that we shared our ward with two gentlemen in their 80s, was a wide range of tablets. However, when he didn’t just get given tablets other than those already prescribed he’d throw his shoes on and leave the ward, against the nurse’s advice, returning later with several two litre bottles of bright green limeade and what looked like a bag of oranges. He’d then spend the next part of his day guzzling the limeade while demolishing the oranges. Shortly after this, he’d inevitably lie there clutching his stomach, squirming around on the bed complaining even more loudly about the amount of pain he was in. It turned out that as well as his heart trouble, he also had a stomach ulcer. And guess what? Carbonated drinks and citrus fruit are not an effective way to treat a stomach ulcer. Oh, and it also turned out that he was smuggling in paracetamol to take with all of this too! None of it worked!

Being in hospital wasn’t any fun. It was frightening, it was painful and it was mind-numbingly dull at times too. But, it’s always important to try and find something to smile about! I hope you enjoyed reading.

Poetry Blog: ‘Fog’

For around about the last month I’ve been off work, spending all day, every day at home courtesy of my latest brush with the cardiology department at my local hospital.

As part of my recovery, for almost all of the time that I’ve been at home, I’ve been going on a daily walk in order to build my fitness back up. Living in northern England means that it’s very cold at this time of year, so I’ve been forced to brave all weathers. When it’s rained and been freezing cold at the same time, it’s been horrible to walk in, especially when your body doesn’t want to be bothered. But, on days like the last couple when it’s bright and sunny, there’s something amazingly refreshing about walking in the cold.

Last week it felt like we were shrouded in fog for the entire week. It was cold, but not unbearable. In a way it was miserable too. But what struck me most was how lovely and kind of mysterious everything looked. And so it was, that while I was sat up, wide awake in the early hours of one of the mornings, I wrote a poem about the fog.

'Fog'

Looking up the hill towards town, you appear, 
a blot on the landscape,
tough shoes to fill given the presence of a paint factory 
at the side of this particular road,
but you fill them and blighting a beautiful day
you begin to strangle the light 
a creeping of the cursor down the screen,
deleting the optimism of a crisp winter's morning,
cancelling the order of light
and replacing it with not quite darkness, but a curtained haze
that disastrously alters the appearance of everything.
Later, diving out for some morning exercise
I try in vain to catch the sun through your veil, achieving only rare glimpses that turn this familiar sight
into an alien land, an unexplorable planet.
Still, it feels good to be alive, caught in the glare  of any number of incongruous headlights
and while dog walkers emerge unnervingly from the low cloud
their calls deadened by this slate grey wall,
I follow the path home to shelter once more from a different storm
and amble my way through another aimless day.

So, those particular days looked different and as a result of the fog, felt different too. In a way, the fog broke up what was becoming a bit of a boring routine, when my health meant that I wasn’t able to break it up myself. It meant plenty of opportunities to stop – and in truth, catch my breath – and just have a gaze at how unfamiliar this familiar landscape now looked. So, although I would be walking a similar distance each day, I was able to stay out a while longer!

As ever, I hope you enjoyed the poem. Feel free to leave a comment, as they’re all much appreciated!

My name is Graham and I’m part robot…

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a bloke in possession of what he thinks are a perfectly good pair of legs, will NOT be allowed to walk up to a cardiology ward from his A&E bed, no matter what reason he gives or how ‘ok’ he feels. And so it was that I found myself clinging to an overnight bag while a porter wheeled me through the eerily quiet hospital corridors up to my new temporary home.

Having spent around 7 hours working my way through the various stages of A&E, I’d almost got sent home. Almost. Then, minutes after the cardiologist doing my ‘final’ echo scan had mentioned discharging me, he found a problem and performed a rather neat about turn, admitting me to a ward.

So, having had my sleep disrupted on several occasions during the night, either by a nurse checking a monitor or taking my blood pressure or by a fellow patient making loads of noise in their sleep, I woke next day to the wonderful hospital sensation of a nurse turning on all the lights, yanking the curtains open and asking if I fancied tea or coffee! This would be the first of several occasions that I’d be woken from a slumber, hospital wards being both great places to nap and probably even better places to get woken up.

Now this was most unexpected when I started my working week. I thought I’d just be clinging on for Friday to arrive, as usual, and now here I was clinging on to the hope that I might still go home with just some tablets to take.

However, as the day went on things just seemed to get gradually worse, culminating with the visit of the head cardiology honcho, who broke the news that I’d be having a pacemaker fitted. Despite my relative youth for such a procedure, my condition just meant that it was the common-sense decision. Staggering. A pacemaker wasn’t on the menu as far as I was concerned; not for at least another 20 years. Yet, when everything was explained, it made perfect sense. I could either carry on not knowing when I might black out again – and have my driving license taken away – or I could have a pacemaker.

I was told that I’d have the operation that day, meaning that I could even be home that night. But in the end I never even got my next echo scan and so was told that there’d be another night in hospital.

To be fair, this didn’t much bother me. I think I was still quite stunned by what was going to happen to me and so the thought of having a bit more time to think was quite welcome, really. So, the rest of my day was spent mulling things over, reading, napping and snacking until it was time to go to sleep.

I got to sleep that night without a problem. Truth be told, I was shattered. The latest episode with my heart had worn me out and the news that accompanied it had been mentally draining. However, it wasn’t to be a quiet night and I was woken up by a new patient being admitted to the ward. Clearly drunk, my new Slovakian friend veered between laughing or crying hysterically, insulting the staff and praising them and telling anyone who’d listen that he’d been homeless for the last 6 nights as well as having been wrongfully imprisoned at the same time. Welcome to the ward my friend! I felt sure that I’d never get back to sleep, yet I did.

The next day was a whirlwind of activity that will stay with me until the day I die. And for a short time, it felt like it would be just that; the day I died.

Having had some breakfast, I was taken down by the now familiar wheelchair to another part of cardiology where I would have my pre-op echo scan. On my return to the ward I imagined that I’d have a bit of a wait for my operation, so I called my wife just to explain what was going on. However, within about a minute a nurse appeared with a gown for me. It was pacemaker time!

Thankfully, for this operation I managed to avoid the paper underwear that the NHS usually insist on, but even wearing my own pants, the gown and NHS slipper socks didn’t really do a great deal for my dignity.

The operation itself was successful – or at least it seemed so from my experience – so I won’t bore anyone with a blow-by-blow account. Rather, let me tell you a few interesting things that either struck me while I was there or have done since.

It always surprises me how many people are involved. Mine was quite a routine operation, but I swear there were at least 8 people present. In fact, at one stage a random man appeared in an adjacent room and began talking to my team via some kind of intercom. It was a bit like he’d just wandered in to have a look, like a competition winner. Perhaps someone on the team had told him, ‘Hey, we’ve got that bloke from the Middle Age Fanclub blog in again’ but I highly doubt it.
The sheer talent of these people is awesome. At one point they were chatting about the songs on the radio while one of them had my chest open and was concentrating on turning me into a robot. Meanwhile, I still stick my tongue out of the side of my mouth while concentrating…on anything.
My gown made me look like something from the hot counter at Greggs, such was its colour and design. I’d like to think that the operating team also had me down as something from the hot counter. Again, I very much doubt it.
Knowing that the area around my scar was numbed, the surgeon just kept dropping his instruments on to my chest. It wasn’t that numb and I felt every pair of scissors as they hit my collarbone!
They have to make a kind of pocket in your flesh to put a pacemaker in. To do so, they drag your skin and flesh around like you’re a particularly heavy and stubborn bit of furniture and although it’s not painful, you are fully aware of what’s happening! So, you’re kind of lying there thinking, ‘Ooh, he’s ripping my flesh!’
While pulling stuff around in my chest, I could feel the sensation in my throat. My voice has changed slightly since my op. No, really, it has! I take it this is not a coincidence.
They cover you up completely in a kind of big sleeping bag and have you face the right, leaving a gap you can see out of. It’s to protect the wound from your own germy mouth!
While looking to the right through my sleeping bag gap, I could watch my own heartbeat on a monitor. It goes unrecognisably mental when the pacemaker is switched on and looks nothing like a heartbeat anymore. I was also able to watch – in some horror – while my heart stopped a few times as the pacemaker started to get used to its new home! Coupled with the fact that, prior to the op, my cardiologist told me, “You’re heart stopped for 4.2 seconds this morning”, this was a development that I didn’t need to see. Indeed, it was at these points where I had the dubious pleasure – and not for the last time that day – of quietly telling myself, “Just breath and you can’t die”.
My feet were freezing for the whole op.
The whole thing took around 45 minutes, during which time the team involved chatted, danced (I think) and sang, while also telling me exactly what was going on and why. These people are incredible.

It was a relief when I got back on the ward and I was fairly sure that they’d send me home within a few hours. But not every story has a perfect ending, does it?

Having messaged a few people to tell them I was back on the ward, I sat back in my bedside armchair to relax. But, in what now feels like some kind of twisted tradition, my heart had other ideas.

Without warning, my heart began to race again and it didn’t feel like it would stop. I told myself that my pacemaker would kick in and take over, but that didn’t happen either. Suddenly the alarm on my heart monitor was going off and within seconds there were nurses and doctors at my bedside and the curtains were being frantically pulled round. If you’ve ever watched a film that has any kind of hospital-based emergency, it was just like that. Bodies everywhere!

No one was panicking, but clearly there was a problem. And I was it.

My heart wouldn’t slow down. In fact, it was getting quicker. A doctor told me that they were in touch with the people who’d fitted my pacemaker, whose customer service was thankfully as good as their operating skills, and that this would be sorted out and my heart would be slowed down. In the meantime, it seemed that lots of them would ask me how I was feeling, and I would reply as calmly as I could, that I was ok. I wasn’t ok, I was terrified and reduced to telling myself that I couldn’t die if I just kept breathing. So, I kept breathing.

Sadly though, my eyes were still fully functioning and the last time I saw a monitor my heart was hitting 209 bpm. They took the monitor away after that, but I’m led to believe that it went higher.

The ending of this particular episode still seems slightly surreal. After what seemed like a couple of hours, but was probably only 7 or 8 minutes, a man from the pacemaker team arrived at my bedside and ushered everyone else away. Then he uttered something incredible in both its calmness and ridiculousness.

“Hi Graham. I’m Dan from the pacemaker team and I’m just going to have a chat with your pacemaker.”

I think I laughed, which in the circumstances was great, given that I was fairly sure I was going to die, whether Dan was going to have a chat or not.

But then, he got to work. Dan pressed a few keys on what I swear looked like some kind of Fisher Price My First Laptop and then strolled around my bed doing I know not what. As he went back to his laptop, I noticed he’d placed some kind of device on my bed. It looked just like e Wi-Fi router. Then, he said,

“OK, we’re going to chat to it wirelessly now”.

After this he tapped a few keys on his Fisher Price toy and within seconds I could feel my heart slow down. So, I told him I thought it was working, to which he replied – cool as you like – that he knew it had worked. At this point I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d made himself a martini.

The rest, as they say, is history. I think I had a major brush with death. Dan from the pacemaker department probably hasn’t thought about it since. However, for at least a few of those minutes I thought my time was definitely up. I didn’t panic, I didn’t see any light (people have asked!), I didn’t cry or shout. I just kept thinking that I should keep breathing.

My cardiologist decided that they’d keep me on the ward for the night, so that everything could be monitored, so again it meant that I wouldn’t be going home. For once, I was delighted. The ward was safe. The ward had Dan or a Dan alternative that could sort me out if anything happened again. So, I called my wife to let her know what had happened before having a bit of a nap. When your heart’s been beating at over 200bpm, you’re going to get tired out.

I’m now a few weeks down the line in my pacemaker journey. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t think of anything better to call it, by the way. It’s not been easy. I’ve not spoken to many people about exactly what happened, because it’s quite a difficult thing to talk about. Easy enough to write about and crack the odd joke about though. I can’t do much and what I can do tires me out. I feel guilty for not working and I miss being around my ‘big sisters’ and my students. I can’t hug my wife and kids and I’m not allowed to kiss them as I can’t shave and have grown a very tickly beard! And I really feel for them, because none of this is easy for them. I hope none of them ever finds themselves wondering when the next episode will happen, but I think they will and that might just be the saddest thing to come out of all of this.

On the bright side, I’m alive. I have a future, even if I don’t really know what it looks like yet. There’s thinking to be done. I also have a couple more stories to tell and a lump in my chest where me pacemaker is, meaning that in years to come I can lie to anyone and everyone about what that is and how it came to get there. Live a day in my shoes and then tell me that’s not one of the best things ever!

Be thankful for what you’ve got, tell people you love and cherish them daily, listen to your body and try to enjoy life as best you can. Stay safe everyone.

Making the most of December.

It’s silly to ask how it happened. I get the concept of time and I know how it happened. Still though, time seems to have flown since the warmth of August. Summer feels like it was mere days ago and yet somehow, we’re already in the last month of the year. It’s time to make the most of December!

It promises to be an unusual December for me this year. Where usually I’m coming to the end of a gruelling half term at work, pushing classes like my Year 11s as much as I can with both a new year and their exams looming and trying to help with Christmas preparation at home, this year is really very different. I’m recovering from heart surgery, have been off work since early November and every day seems to just revolve around my daily walk and the number of steps I can take! Like I said, unusual!

Regardless of the changes, the need to set myself some end of year goals is still very much the same as it ever was. So, what am I targeting then?

Fitness and strength – given what most of November involved, I’m in huge need of a great deal more fitness and strength. If you’re new to my particular brand of nonsense, you’ll have missed the fact that in early November I was fitted with a pacemaker to help manage the curious rhythm that my heart had decided to adopt. If you’re a regular reader, you can’t have avoided it. Apologies for that and the fact that I’m still banging on about it. Anyway, the whole thing has left me a bit short on fitness. And good health, I suppose. Where before I coached a football team and was a regular distance runner, with a healthy level of fitness for a man of my vintage, now I’m much more akin to a little old man. Since leaving hospital, for all but the first two days at home, I’ve managed to get out and walk every day. This started out with probably no more than a few hundred steps and I’ve built from there. For the rest of December I’ll be working on upping my walking distances, while always staying close to home. However, my real goal will be to start something else, which at the moment I think will be either yoga or working with resistance bands. The trouble with both is that I still can’t really use my left hand side that well, but I have to start somewhere. I fear that it’ll be uncomfortable, perhaps even a bit painful at times, but I have to have a go. My ultimate goal is to get back to running, but I fear that may be mid-January at the very earliest.
Wrapping – as a well-informed man in the know, I can reveal that it’s Christmas soon. And that is the kind of nugget of insight that has you reading my blog avidly, dear reader. Anyway, every year – and I’m a bit ashamed to say this – my wife becomes Santa in our house. She doesn’t command a team of elves or reindeer or anything like that, but she does get busy with the laptop searching out deals and bargains so that our kids have a wonderful Christmas when it comes to presents. She usually does the lion’s share of wrapping them all too. However, this year, with an abundance of time on my hands, I’ve vowed to do a great deal more in order to take a bit of pressure off her. My left side not working as well as I’d like – have I told you I had surgery recently? – is a problem here though, yet not as much of a problem as the fact that I’m absolutely appalling at wrapping. So, while I’m definitely vowing to help out a lot more, I can’t say that I hold out a lot of hope for this goal. What I will say is that if there’s a sellotape shortage, it could well be me that’s to blame.
Mental preparation for going back to work – I’m going to find this tough. In early January, barring some kind of disaster, I’ll be going back to work. Physically, I think I’ll just grind this out. No problem. Mentally, I might struggle. Firstly, I need to know what work will ‘look’ like for me. I’m hoping for some kind of phased return, simply because I’m wondering if I’ll cope with just being thrown back in to teach all of my classes full time, attend every meeting, do duty, attend training etc. So, while I’m fully aware that work have been great and that I will have had over a month off, I’m really quite scared about what work holds for me. The other aspect that worries me is still mental. I fell ill in my classroom, during a lesson. I then sat in our office surrounded by friends and colleagues who did everything they could to help me while I apologised for not telling anyone how poorly I’d been. Going back means revisiting that as well as fielding who knows how many questions from who knows how many people. I also feel guilty for leaving my friends and colleagues to pick up the pieces, as well as for just not telling them and possible giving them a bit of a fright too. And I feel guilty for leaving my classes. I’m going to have to be ready for all of this.
Work out a way to pay people back – The British Heart Foundation has always been my charity of choice. When I ran my first Great North Run as a kid I knocked on every door of our local area to ask people to sponsor me and ended up raising quite a lot of money for them. As far as I was concerned back then, their work, along with the NHS, had saved my life. I’ve sought sponsorship on many occasions since then too and even make sure that everything we take to charity shops goes to the BHF. In the last four years I’ve had two lots of surgery on my heart and I think I owe them again. So, I’m going to spend some time this month having a think about what I can do to raise more money. No doubt I’ll try to get sponsored when I eventually get back to doing 10k runs but given that I have the whole of summer off I think I’ll be able to plan something bigger too. Time for a think…
Enjoy the festive period – simple really. In terms of my health, it’s been a tough year, but there have been a few other things that have taken their toll on us as a family too. With just short of a month to get prepared, it’d be nice if we could just relax and enjoy the day itself and the time around it with smiles on our faces

I think it’s easy to have some time in front of you and then over extend yourself with the things you’d like to get done. So, I’ve kept my goals as minimal as I can. Essentially the next few weeks just needs to be about getting better. It’d be nice to be able to go back to work and just not be out of breath so much! Nicer still to be able to think that I was as ready as I could be, having had a good Christmas.

Enjoy your December and I hope you’re all ready for the big day when it comes round! And of you have any December goals of your own, then let me know!

Fighting Fit; an occasional diary.

If you’re a regular reader you’ll no doubt know that it’s been a pretty rough year for me, healthwise, culminating with the fact that I’ve been forced to spend some time off work. I’m pretty sure that the two sick notes that I’ve submitted to work in the last few weeks have been the first I’ve ever had in almost 30 years of working for a living, so it’s all come as a bit of a shock!

If you don’t know – and let’s keep it brief – earlier on in the month, following quite a while of being poorly and stupidly attempting to hide it, I had to have a pacemaker fitted in order to regulate my heartbeat. It’s meant that I’m not really very well, which I’m finding very frustrating. I’m not one to enjoy just sitting about and am pretty desperate to be fit and well again. However, I’ve had to realise that I can’t just be flat out exercising and that there has to be a lot of compromise. In short, at the moment there is actually more sitting about than exercise and a lot of time to fill each day!

I thought it might be nice to diarise what’s happening to me. I imagine it’ll help me think it all through because although it’s actually a fairly routine procedure, it has definitely taken a toll on me. I don’t think keeping it a secret for such a long time has really helped either, as it just enabled me to get progressively more poorly and ultimately more tired! So maybe occasionally writing about it will help me make a bit more sense of what’s happening.

Therefore, today marks the start of exactly what the title says it is; an occasional diary.

So far, there’s not a great deal to tell. I can’t do a lot of exercise because it means that I’m absolutely knackered afterwards! However, I have made a point of trying to get out for some kind of walk almost every day since I got home from hospital. I think I got home on the Thursday and managed to get out for a short walk on the Sunday and I’ve just kept going since then.

It’s definitely making me feel better and stronger. It’s good for mental health too as it means I’m getting fresh air and not just sat watching telly and feeling sorry for myself. And, possibly because I can’t go far and I can’t race around the place, I’m looking at my local surroundings a lot closer. Which brings me to today’s post.

I’m lucky that I live within about 100 yards of quite a lot of green space and that is bordered by a farm, which means more green space. So while I’m literally walking around my block a lot of the time, it doesn’t always have to be in residential areas.

We’ve been hit by fog for the last couple of days here in my bit of West Yorkshire. So, where normally I’d take a picture of myself out on my walk and post it on social media, for the last couple of days I’ve been taking pictures of the area and what it looks like shrouded in fog and I thought it might help put a different slant on my diary, rather than just telling you that I went for a walk and it tired me out! These pictures are just a few minutes away from my front door.

As well as making it a bit more difficult for this asthmatic to breath, I think the fog always gives the place a kind of other-worldly feel. It’s been so thick that you can’t really see a great deal of what surrounds you and walking round the quiet streets, any voices that might be heard become quite detached and hard to track down. It’s been bloody cold too! But, I won’t let it put me off as I’m determined to get myself fit, healthy and back into the swing of normal life as soon as I can.

I genuinely thought I’d be back at work within a few days and the realisation has hit me hard. I’ve lost track of time but can safely say that it’s been a number of weeks now that life has been completely altered for me. No work, quite a lot of pain and discomfort, little sleep, I can’t move well on my left side still and the reality that I really have to sit down a lot!

However, I’ve started to feel a great deal more human in the last couple of days and it’s meant that rather than just go out and concentrate on the number of steps I’m managing and whether or not I might pass out, I’ve been able to have a bit of a look around, especially as I think the place can look so dramatic when surrounded by the fog. I thought it might be a nice angle for this diary, rather than just telling you that I’d been for a walk and it had tired me out, so I had to have a nice sit down!

This next picture is of the top of the road that runs past our house and I just thought it looked pretty amazing (especially when you know that if you turn a little bit to the right there’s a big Aldi supermarket at the top of the hill!) The sun is doing its best to fight through the fog, but you sort of know that it’s not going to win!

Tomorrow, I’ll be back out again for another walk as I try to just build up a bit of strength, resilience and a great deal more fitness. It’d be nice to get to the second half of what will be a reasonably short walk and not be out of breath, but I know that’s unlikely for a while yet. Hopefully tomorrow though, the fog will lift and there’ll be a bit less of a chill in the air.

Until next time, stay safe, listen to your body and be nice!

Doctor, doctor…I wish there was a joke to finish up with!

So, there you are, a forty something year old man, living your life, minding your own business when all of a sudden, your heart decides to stop working properly. While at hospital, you think you might die and when you don’t, one of the things you decide to do is start a blog. At the very least you’ve got a sob story to tell…

Fast forward four years and hundreds of blog posts later and everything seems peachy. You’re fit, healthy, love your job and family life, you coach a football team and really enjoy going out running. It’s like some kind of Disney film, if you want to watch a Disney film that’s probably in black and white and is about a bloke with a very normal life who occasionally pushes the boat out and tries out stuff like smiling and having useful ideas in those meetings where he’s not in a semi-comatose state.

Then, a few months after your 50th birthday, you start to realise that you don’t feel that well. Work leaves you almost constantly tired. You’re having to cut down on the running. Your heart’s beating a bit funny and you’re lying awake at night listening to it do just that. You see a doctor, go to a hospital and have your heart monitored, but the results are pretty inconclusive.

Fast forward some more to October half term. We’ve booked a very last-minute holiday to Majorca, hoping to soak up some sun and just relax. Having not felt well for weeks, this felt like the right thing to do. Just go and sit by a pool and laze around on a beach, with not much pressure to do anything else. And that’s exactly what we did.

However, this was partly because I think we all felt too scared to attempt anything else.

At Manchester airport I’d felt rough, but had kept quiet. I figured that we were almost on the plane and that a little bit of sun would make me feel a lot better. And then, it happened. One minute I was in the queue for security and shuffling forward while my wife tried to retrieve the passports from her bag. Next minute, everything went black.

There were voices disturbing my dream. And they were getting louder.

“Are you alright mate? Are you OK?”

I wasn’t sure who they were talking to, but he wasn’t responding. It didn’t matter though, because I was asleep and still dreaming.

“Are you alright, mate? Do you need help?”

Suddenly, I could see my wife and kids. But why was I looking up at them? Why was the voice still asking those questions? Why did it sound like more voices had joined in? And more to the point, where was I?

It took a short while to figure things out but it turned out that I’d blacked out. I remember feeling dizzy and trying to hold onto a wall for balance, but nothing else. The airport ambulance was called for and we were reassured that we’d still make our flight if I was ok. We were moved over to one side and the queue diverted in the other direction while the security staff got me a seat and some water. Then, when the ambulance staff couldn’t attend because of an emergency, we were allowed through security on the understanding that if I felt poorly, we’d ask for help. We made the flight, but it’s very much a blur as I slept for much of it.

A few days later, there was another dizzy spell and although we had an amazing holiday, I felt poorly for much of it. I just hoped that it would pass and that I’d get back to work and begin to get better. I did manage to cop for a few emergency ice creams as well, so the dizziness wasn’t all bad!

Back at work, I didn’t tell anyone what had happened. Sorry pals; that didn’t turn out to be my best decision, did it? But I didn’t want anyone to worry, and I really don’t like a fuss. Pretty selfish and pretty stupid, eh?

I think I failed with the fuss and the worry stuff as well.

On the following Monday, I was giving out some texts at the start of a Year 10 lesson, when I felt the now familiar dizziness. I knew before I felt it that my heart would race and I crossed my fingers that it would be over within seconds. Not long after common sense prevailed, which it doesn’t often do where I’m concerned. I got myself sat down and continued on with the lesson while writing a short email to my department. Someone needed to come and help. I couldn’t black out in front of my students.

It felt like hours before someone arrived, but it was probably less than a couple of minutes. I closed the door on my classroom, quickly explained what was happening and then headed into our main building, not knowing what I wanted to do. I did know that I felt awful though. I was too hot, dizzy and felt sick.

I don’t remember much after that. I know that I saw my friend Gemma (yes, she of ‘Educating Yorkshire’ fame) and that in our office people rallied round and made stuff happen. I also know that I was apologetic and just felt really upset with myself. And I do know that I’m eternally grateful to everyone who helped me out.

As I sat there, I was still hopeful that it would all fade away and that I’d be back at work by the Wednesday, but my friends insisted that I was going home and that I shouldn’t worry about work. They also stopped me from driving home; a good idea given my dizziness and the fact that I’d have tried to concoct a story about not feeling that bad to tell my wife when I arrived home.

Instead, I was made to call my wife and confess! Not long after she collected me and, after we’d called at home to change my clothes, we headed into Leeds to go to A&E.

Once there, there was another dizzy spell and a bit of a fall into a nearby seat, which actually righted my heart rate. But I wasn’t getting out of this one. Instead, we were taken through various stages of Accident and Emergency and tended to by several amazing people. And just when it looked like I’d be able to head home, a last echo scan revealed a problem with my heart – a leaky valve apparently – and I was told that I’d be admitted.

This made me feel equal parts sad and relieved. I’d told my wife that I didn’t want to be back on a cardiology ward, but the news that I was going to do just that meant that whatever the problem was, it was hopefully going to get sorted out. But it was incredibly frustrating to know that my heart was letting me down once again.

The next day, after more monitoring and scanning, my latest wonderful cardiologist broke the news that I’d be fitted with a pacemaker and I have to admit, it felt like my world was crashing down around my ears! My heart’s abnormal rhythm would need to be controlled and a pacemaker was the answer, despite my age. But, pacemakers are for pensioners and here I was in the prime of life! But there was no point wallowing in self-pity. After all, what did I know about heart health?

It’s a bit of a big one to write about just now, so I’ll do the detail in my next blog, but it’s safe to say that it’s been a weird last month or so. On October 9th I ran a 10k race here in Leeds and ran it well, feeling fit and strong throughout. Just over a month later, I was on an operating table having a device fitted to control my heart for me. Writing about that another time isn’t some dramatic cliffhanger ploy, it’s just still a lot to take in. And I’m too knackered to do much at the moment!

For today, I just wanted to write something to update people and to say a heartfelt thanks to the friends and family that have got me this far. So, from the bottom of my poorly, electronically controlled heart, thank you! And sorry for not saying anything sooner. Boys will be boys though, eh?

Until next time…