Always look on the bright side: Five Things that Made Me Smile in March.

Despite March being a bit of a dull month, there have actually been more than the usual number of things that have made me smile this time around. So, it’s a bumper month for this particular series, which may or may not make you smile in turn.

My daughter’s off travelling. A double edged sword this one. In actual fact, it’s made me a bit sad. She’s a bit of a whirlwind, my daughter, and so the house is far less noisy and chaotic without her, which is both a blessing and a curse. Put it this way; she’s easy to miss! Essentially though, my little girl is far out of reach and that is a huge worry, as well as being something that I admire her for. I’m very proud of her for doing something so adventurous and so brave. So, it makes me smile. In the build up to going travelling she’s worked three jobs (if you include her successful social media career which does actually bring the money in) in order to save up the funds for the trip. She’s gone with a friend and despite the fact that it feels like maybe they should have done more research and it’s all very scary as a parent, they seem to be coping with life in South East Asia and it makes me smile that they’ve had the guts, determination and imagination to get on and do this. Just under two months until we see her again though…

Applestump Records. I read a brilliant and rather inspiring story about record collector Steve Cook on the BBC website this month. As COVID restrictions hit and Steve and his wife were no longer able to indulge their hobby of touring record shops in the pursuit of elusive vinyl, they came up with a plan; bring the record shop to them! Initially they started a website with just 80 records to sell, but when a chance to sell at a pop up market came along they realised that they might well be able to start a shop. And so, Applestump Records was born and now sells not only records and merchandise, but also stages intimate gigs too. Once upon a time, I’d wondered about starting up a book shop, but never did, preferring the safe option. Steve’s story made me smile…but I probably won’t be following his example any time soon. Not this close to retirement!

Youngest Brit to surf the infamous big waves of Nazare. I’ve been fascinated by surfing for as long as I can remember. I even tried it a few times while on holiday in the Algarve. The waves weren’t the best – more like big ripples at times – but for a few days a bit of a storm hit and we were treated to something that made things a bit more of a thrill. Mainly though, my interest was limited to reading books and articles as well as watching documentaries and films dedicated to surfing and surfers, which is how I happened upon the story of Garrett McNamara and the 100 foot waves of Nazare in Portugal. If you haven’t seen it, Google him and Nazare and have a watch. Anyway, to cut what could be a very long story short, 18 year old Robyn Larg from Scotland recently surfed Nazare becoming the youngest British person to have done so. If you’re any kind of fan of surfing you’ll understand the achievement. If you have five minutes to Google ‘Nazare’, you’ll be amazed by its story.

The Wakefield 10k. Another race done, another step taken in adjusting to life with a pacemaker. I didn’t run as fast as last year, but have been shaking off the effects of a winter bug for what feels like a couple of months. However, I was less than a minute slower than last year’s time, so I’ll take that as it was way faster than I expected. I don’t really care what people think about me banging on about my health or running; every time another race gets completed, I smile because it’s nice to still be alive.

The Dropped Wallet Experiment. I watched a short film the other day that really gave us all cause for optimism. A reporter in Belfast decided to conduct and experiment to judge the levels of kindness in the city. In each wallet he left his phone number on a note to ask people to call it if they found the wallet. Soon he was taking calls from concerned members of the public who’d found his wallet. When asked why they’d called the number the overwhelming response was that they wanted to be kind or that it was the right thing to do. So, the first thing we find out here is that there are definitely kind people around. In fact, all 10 wallets were returned, which is a definite reason to smile. This made me think of a recent time when I lost my credit card. I hadn’t lost it at all, just misplaced it in my wallet. However, when I asked staff at the shop I’d been in I found myself passed from department to department, all seemingly not too interested in helping. Having finally got a security guard to review his camera footage, I made one last check in my wallet and found the card behind another in a totally different part of said wallet. Suffice to say, the kindness that I witnessed on film from Belfast didn’t seem to exist in my corner of Leeds. I still managed a smile though…this time at my own stupidity!

A rogue ‘eagle’. This one comes via a local Facebook group, so given the extent of the madness found on these, we can reserve judgement on whether it’s true or not! However, having read many of the comments, there have been numerous sightings. Anyway, apparently an enormous eagle type bird has been spotted close to our local area. People assumed it was a red kite that we see locally on a regular basis, but apparently it’s not. It’s actually around where I work, but that isn’t too far from home. There are various reports of various sightings, ranging from just flying around to swooping down and eating local cats. Who knows the truth? Anyway, whatever the truth I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled, scanning the skies in the hope of seeing it. So far, just the usual sparrows, magpies and pigeons though!

Michael Sheen. Michael Sheen is without doubt an excellent actor and frankly, a bit of a national treasure. But a story I read this month has elevated his status even more. Sheen has been busy setting up a debt acquisition company in order to help people in Wales. He used £100,000 of his own money to buy debts of £1m and then just write them off, saying that it seemed like ‘a good thing to do’. Apparently the debts are often ‘bundled up’ and sold off for less than their worth, so Sheen realised that he’d be able to help out. What a fantastic thing to do! Not all heroes wear capes.

And so ends another edition in this optimistic series of blogs. A bumper one too, with 7 stories for the price of 5…which actually cost nothing anyway.

It’s brilliant to find out that there are so many good things going on and so many good people to be thankful for, when at times the world can feel like a cruel, harsh place where only the heartless seem to thrive. I hope you enjoyed reading!

One trophy, two buses and three hundred thousand smiling faces!

In the past, I’ve laughed at train spotters. Standing there, jotting down names and numbers while possibly freezing to death and breathing in numerous different types of fumes. Surely that couldn’t be any kind of fun, could it? Well, on Saturday, I kind of understood where they were coming from because on Saturday I stood and waited hours for a couple of buses to come past and thoroughly enjoyed every last second!

Saturday of course was the Carabao Cup trophy parade and what a day it was. As a resident of Leeds I was up and out relatively early, calling in on my parents before heading across the river and along Scotswood Road to meet friends in town.

I was aware it would be busy, but seeing queues of people standing at bus stops in Sunniside, Whickham and Swalwell was still a bit of a surprise. I felt lucky that I wasn’t using public transport. And then, I got to the outskirts of town where it took me ages to park and when I eventually did I was right down by the river on Monarch Road, opposite Dunston Staithes. Almost a 2 mile walk to Monument where I was meeting my friends! Suffice to say, I was late!

The walk through town, turning into a run at some points to lessen my lateness, felt brilliant though. A sea of black and white, everyone in a good mood and a proper buzz about the place. The positivity felt tangible and after a while I realised that I was just walking along smiling.

At Monument there was a big hug from my best mate, who greeted me with a great shout of “We did it, we did it!” We’ve waited a while for this moment, travelled up and down the country watching our club and although astonishingly there were no tears, it was a close run thing. However, fully expecting to bubble like a baby when the bus went past, I was keeping my powder dry!

The atmosphere continued to gather energy and volume as we made our way through town. We settled on a spot by the new university building on Percy Street, smiling and gawping at the crowds as we went. Despite the fact that the council seemed to have removed the roofs of bus shelters, people were ingenious in their vantage points. The multi storey car parks full of people were a site to behold and then opposite us a load of lads had clambered up onto the Fusilier’s War Memorial, while others had climbed up into the tower of St. Thomas’ Church! All to watch a couple of buses come past!

It was gone 5pm when they eventually did come past. But the wait – we’re good at waiting – was well worth it. We could see Dan Burn from a mile off; in fact I spotted him only seconds after I’d spotted the bus! A beaming colossus, all shaking fists and screaming out his approval of what he saw before him. I didn’t spot Ant and Dec mind. Can’t think why!

A few photos, some applause and a bit of shouting later and they were gone, off into the distance. That was that. We followed everyone else up to the Town Moor, but didn’t last much more than 15 minutes, being as we were about a mile away from the stage. It didn’t matter. We’d come to see the parade, to let out decades worth of raw emotion, to sing, to smile, to laugh and maybe even to cry a bit more! Job done.

This was a city that lives and breathes football and has clung to its team for decades, sometimes in celebration, a lot of the time in blind faith and hope and at others just because the team was the brightest thing we had. Now though, we’ve tasted a little bit of success and I’m sure there’s a healthy appetite for more in the not too distant future.

For now though, there’s the small matter of finishing as high up the league as we can this year before hopefully building on our success with a few decent signings over summer. I’ve always said that there’s never a dull moment supporting the Toon. These last few weeks have been a little bit special though, haven’t they?

NUFC: Reflections on a Wembley win.

So, finally we did it. After over 55 years of hurt – 70 if we’re talking about a domestic trophy – for the club and however many years it was for you personally, we won a trophy.

“We won a trophy…” words I never thought I’d say or type. Even after the takeover, I still found it hard to believe. This was Newcastle United after all; a club of the past almost, we just didn’t win things anymore. I’d spent my whole life hoping for something, but every time we seemed to get anywhere near close, fate intervened. And then Sunday happened.

I wasn’t lucky enough to get a ticket for Wembley. I guess being in Pot Z for the ballot will do that though. I was ok with that. I’d be a nervous wreck at Wembley, I’d be a nervous wreck at home. It genuinely didn’t matter.

There were stories everywhere you looked on Sunday. Be it the players, the management, Ant and Dec, Shearer and family or just the people of the long suffering support. Stories just leapt out, left, right and centre. And while I could bang on – again – about what it all meant to me, I thought I’d focus on some of the stories instead.

I have to start with Eddie, as important as Ant or Dec might be. Now the most successful manager in the club’s modern history, it’s fair to say that he achieved legend status on Sunday. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer, more deserving bloke either. A grafter who instantly ‘got’ the club and who has been taken to the hearts of supporters and the city itself. I’ve said before that he had restored pride to the city and the region, but on Sunday, as the leader of that squad of players, he made the world sit up and take notice. He broke the hoodoo, lifted the gloom and broke all of the curses that we might have wanted to imagine existed – traveller’s curses, Wembley curses, London curses, cup final curses…all of them banished by Eddie John Frank Howe.

Now Eddie is usually pretty cool and calm on the touchline, but he was visibly invested and visibly moved by the events at Wembley. Fists shaking for every goal, joking in the interviews afterwards and brandishing that trophy in front of his adoring public in as animated a way as I think we’ve seen him in his 3 years at the club. It was a joy to watch.

The Carabao Cup Final served as a exemplar for how the club has changed in Eddie’s time. The build up felt different this time. Personally, I was no longer relying on blind hope and although I never told a soul, I genuinely felt quietly confident. I believed that we could do it. Belief; that’s Eddie again, that.

Newcastle United has become a culture, a movement, a belief under Eddie. As supporters we’ve had it for years, albeit at times somewhat fractured, but under Eddie the club is well and truly united.

What struck me as being most illustrative of this unity was the team photos with the trophy. When the squad gathered for the traditional champagne spraying shenanigans, there were something like 23 members of staff aside from payers. When it was done later, elsewhere, even the club photographer was urged to join in. Unity, a culture of winning and belonging right there. Newcastle United is no longer about individual stars, nor is it to be known patronisingly for its ‘magnificent’ fans. And it could be seen all over the place at Wembley on Sunday.

Those photos have been a feature of Eddie’s time in charge from the very start and it’s always been the same – everyone is involved; team, squad, injured players, staff. This is everyone’s effort and the trophy on Sunday was down to every last one of them.

Another story for me was that of those not quite so involved. Firstly, there were youngsters Lewis Miley and Sean Neave. Both looked a little bewildered at the end of the game, but both played their part. As squad members they were shown trust at the highest level. Miley has already experienced a lot in his time in the squad but for Neave, this must have been an incredible boost. It was good to see that this trust was given, rather than just taking the option of naming two keepers on the bench and I’m sure this will pay off in terms of the development of these two players in years to come.

It was a similar story with Will Osula, someone who seems to have settled into the squad very well and was at the centre of the celebrations on Sunday. It’s worth remembering that he’s still a very young and inexperienced player and yet there he was after the first goal in the thick of things with Dan Burn and again at full time carrying and spinning Alexander Isak around the pitch. A definite sign of the unity within the squad. At the other end of the scale was Mark Gillespie, rarely involved in what we might call ‘active service’ but always part of the group and obviously a valued member of the culture that has been created. Even Sven Botman, fresh from surgery, hobbled his way onto the pitch at full time. Everywhere you looked, the pitch was filled by those who had been working hard to get us to this point.

The final story for me belonged with the fans. But it wasn’t just those that were lucky enough to be there. 70 years is a long time to wait and for some, time just ran out. There weren’t many who could say they were alive the last time we won a domestic trophy. Bruno picked up on this in his pitchside interview afterwards. “People have died” he said, referencing the fact that not everyone had got to cherish this moment. This was far more than just a trophy. It meant everything to everyone and I’ve no doubt that there were many of us letting those we’ve lost know what happened this week. So while there were many tears of joy, there was plenty sorrow too. But while many of us spent time looking back on Sunday, we must remember that Eddie and the lads have now given us reason to look ahead.

Like many of you, I was in floods of tears at the whistle. I was fighting them for the whole of the second half, physically shaking for the last 20 minutes. Slumped on our living room floor I was mobbed by my Leeds supporting wife and son, who knew exactly what this meant. Minutes later, my phone rang. My 85 year old dad. I picked up but could barely speak. I wanted to say thank you for taking me to St. James’ Park in the first place and handing this on to me, but couldn’t find the words. Three days later and I still don’t think I can speak to him without emotion!

Now, after decades of hurt, Newcastle United are the latest club to win a trophy in English football. The wait is over and didn’t we enjoy celebrating? Same again next year? I’m sure we’d all love that, but let’s not build our hopes up just yet, eh!

An open letter to Eddie and the lads.

Dear Eddie, Mad Dog and the lads,

Chances are you won’t read this. Some random Geordie pouring out his heart in what might well sound like a bit of a sob story. Why would you want to read that? However, on the off chance that you catch sight of it and find yourself with a spare 5 minutes, here’s my ten pence worth about the final.

I think I speak for the majority of Mags when I say that this cup final matters more than almost anything else. It’s not about glory or bragging rights or anything trivial like that. It’s about dreams. It’s about pride in what and who we are.

Like many others, I’ve supported Newcastle United for a long, long time. In my case it’s well over 40 years. Others have served the cause even longer. It’s like an addiction, Eddie; a birth right and for a lot of us it’s been a cruel curse to be handed down to us by dads, grandads, elder siblings and the like. Like it is with any team. Many a time I’ve joked that I wish my mam and dad had lived in Barcelona or Madrid, giving me a legitimate chance at glory, not glory hunting. But it’s only ever been a joke. I wouldn’t change my allegiance to that badge and that black and white shirt for anything.

Some of my earliest memories are tragically Toon related. I still have a vivid memory of waving my dad off to Wembley in 1976 and then waiting at the window for him to come back home the next day. He’d gone full of hope if not any sense of fashion, dressed in black and white tartan flares and wearing a black and white Tam o’ shanter, no doubt drunk before he got into the passenger seat. That might explain his outfit as well! He returned deflated, a shell of the man who’d walked up the drive the previous day. I now know that it was probably more to do with a raging hangover, than the defeat, but at the time I just thought he was heartbroken. At least he’d seen us win in ’51, ’52, ’55 and ’69. He’d tasted the ultimate victory, sampled silverware.

My dad took me to games from an early age. I was born with a heart complaint and during one of several hospital stays I was sent a letter from the club, telling me how brave I was and rewarding my bravery with free season tickets whenever I was well enough to take advantage of them. I was already in love with the club. Now, I was obsessed. There was not going to be a chance that I’d ever be anything other than black and white from that point. I’d be miserable about it all for a lot of the time, but I’d be black and white. And that’s the point for loads of us. We didn’t get a choice, we didn’t need to be winning all of the time and we’d be loyal without a great deal of reward, but we’d stick with it and we’d never give up hope.

In my early years as a Newcastle fan, I thought it was only a matter of time before we won something. By the time I was a young adult I was already desperate to see us win anything at all and the nagging fear of ‘not in my lifetime’ was already eating away at me. King Kev gave me hope and glory, but in the end we couldn’t even win the Anglo Italian cup. It was Keegan who said that the fans had followed Newcastle through “thin and thin” and he was spot on!

Some years earlier, in 1989 I’d been glued to the radio as Newcastle played in the Football League Centenary Trophy, a tournament played over a weekend at Wembley. Our first game was against First Division champions Liverpool, so I held out little hope. Lo and behold though, we somehow won the game on penalties. This was it…silverware beckoned, I was going to be rewarded for my loyalty. I was finally going to be able to say that my team had won something, even if I didn’t really know what it was. And then we lost the next game against Tranmere of the Fourth Division! Typical Newcastle United!

I learnt to not get my hopes up pretty fast. Supporting Newcastle didn’t need to be about trophies, after all. Good job, really. It became about loyalty, community and a sense of belonging. Newcastle United was a huge part of my identity and year in year out I would give it the majority of my attention. Year in, year out, it let me down. Many managers and board members didn’t seem to care about us and it never really felt like a lot of the players understood what it was to wear the shirt. But I clung to the ones that did; Beardsley, Keegan, McDermott, Quinn, Kelly…the players of my youth. Your lads all seem to get it, Eddie.

We’ve seen Wembley appearances before, of course. Glorious failures in the 90s and the semi final in 2000. And then a couple of years ago against Manchester United. But at some point it can’t just be a day out anymore. In my time I’ve seen West Ham, Wigan, Leicester, Portsmouth, Coventry and even bloody sunderland win at Wembley, albeit it in the pizza cup. But if them, then why not us?

We follow Newcastle because it makes us feel like we belong and it’s a massive part of who we are. It’s rare I’ve felt as welcome as I do stood behind a goal surrounded by fellow Geordies singing my heart out. We support Newcastle because it’s our city, insular and fighting to make itself heard, yet welcoming to almost all. The best city on the planet. We support this team for hopes, dreams, friendship and pride. We support them because it makes us feel good; even when we get beat there’s a certain level of feel good factor. There’s enjoyment to be had, mates to see, strangers to bond with over a common cause.

Just for once, it’d be nice to feel rewarded in the more traditional sense though – being able to watch our players parade a trophy around the pitch. We don’t demand a team that wins, but just this once it feels like it might be the only thing that really matters.

Eddie, you’ve given us back a huge amount of pride. Given us a competitive team that just gets it, like we do and who are loved by the city as a result. Your team has rewarded those who travel thousands of miles to watch their team year in, year out. It’s added even more pride to wearing those famous stripes. It would be beyond words to see us win on Sunday. But I’ll still probably write about it, if you fancy a read!

On Sunday, the opposition doesn’t matter – we demand a team that tries, so get into these! Leave nothing on the pitch, lose your voice on the touchline and get back to Newcastle with no regrets.

Good luck, Eddie. Good luck, lads.

Five Things That Made Me Smile in February.

I try to write this piece every month, firstly as a reminder that whatever stress and nonsense I’m faced with, there’s always something to smile about. It might help serve as a timely reminder for anyone who reads too. I guess you can’t have enough positivity, can you?

Woman buys her husband a chimney. This was a story I read online about a woman who bought her husband a chimney for his birthday. Strange, I know. But this wasn’t just any old chimney stack. It was, in fact, a 42m high chimney stack that’s also a Grade 2 listed building in Derbyshire. The woman said that her husband had always dreamed of owning either a chimney or a water tower that he could then convert and so when she saw one at auction, she decided to bid. The building cost a surprisingly low £3000 ansd the hope it is that it will now be converetd into some kind of “quirky studio space”, which is good because I genuinely thought they were going to try and live in it. I mean, imagine getting an invite for a sleepover and being told you’d got the loft room! A night of terror at 42m up! Anyway, it made me smile because I just thought that the whole thing was very cool.

My cookery adventures. I’ve been branching out with my cooking and expanding my range for a little while now. One thing that I’ve never really cracked has been a decent curry though. Put simply, I’m rubbish at them. However, I wanted to keep trying and so when I found a couple of simple looking recipes I thought I’d give it all another go. The result was a pretty tasty chicken dhansak. There was a snag with it however, in that I didn’t use fresh ginger and so the granules I used made for a bit of a grainy curry. At least I know how I’ll improve it next time! My other culinary experiment was a chicken arrabiata with penne. Again, it was really tasty, if a little spicy, so maybe I’ll be a bit less free and easy with the chilli next time!

I had a haircut. Now this may seems like no big deal and certainly not a reason to be smiling, but it was. Firstly, it was the first haircut I’d had away from my regular hairdresser for probably around a decade…and I survived. But secondly, because my hairdresser has been in hospital I hadn’t had it cut for just short of ten weeks. Suffice to say, I wasn’t looking my best. So, the sheer relief of seeing myself looking a great deal more tidy was enough to crack that smile!

Almost the ultimate Football Manager dream. As a once avid player of the ‘Football Manager’ game this news story couldn’t fail to make me smile. ‘Football Manager’ is a game where you basically choose a team and manage them, controlling tactics, recruitment etc in the hope of bringing success. Aaron Hunt is a Twitch streamer who basically streams his exploits on the game, Football Manager. On the game, he’d played as manager of his local side Daisy Hill and his exploits had been noticed by the club themselves and basically they got in touch to ask him to become their chairman. Now Aaron is tasked with helping Daisy Hill overcome their financial problems and start to move up the league. Like I say, the stuff of dreams for football fans and for someone who was thoroughly addicted to the game years ago, more than enough to make me smile!

My first 10k of 2025! OK, so this one made me grimace more than smile, but it definitely brought that smiley feeling! I’m currently training for a 10k race in the middle of March and have been slowly but surely building up my distances with that in mind. It’s been quite tough as I’ve not really been myself and feel that I’m still suffering the after effects of a flu bug that I had in January. So getting up to my required distance has been a bit of a chore. However, with a week off for half term I took the opportunity to go out for a morning run, rather than the after work variety that I’ve been subjecting myself to since early January. It was a chilly, but sunny day so I went out in long sleeves, gloves and running tights under my shorts, but it was fantastic to be out in the daylight for once. It felt like Spring was edging ever closer. To cut a long story short, I wasn’t quick – clocking just over 55 minutes – but, despite the hills around where I live, I got that first 10k of the year under my belt. Despite not really feeling that good, I’d broken down a big barrier. With a bit more training, I’ll be quicker at least! Roll on March 16th and the upcoming Wakefield 10k!

So, there you have it; five more reasons to keep smiling, even if sometimes it involves putting yourself through some kind of Hell to get there!

NUFC: The ones that got away – Florian Thauvin.

The old saying goes that ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try , try again’. Florian Thauvin was definitely a case of the saying being put into action. Signed from Marseille for £15m in August of 2015, Thauvin was finally joining Newcastle after what felt like years of us trailing him.

From memory, I think we’d tried to sign him from Bastia two years previous, but the player wasn’t keen on the move. Then, when he joined Lille, we were still trying for his signature. Two years later, we finally got our man. He’d forced a move to Marseille, having been in dispute with Lille about a contract and he’d publicly rejected our advances at that time too. We should have know better and just walked away because after just 5 unhappy months on Tyneside, Thauvin was heading back to Marseille on a loan which would then be extended into the next season before being made permanent in a £9.8m move a few months later.

Thauvin made his debut from the substitute’s bench in an away game at Old Trafford. And he came agonisingly close to making himself an instant hero, sliding in at the back post, but being inches away from getting on the end of a cross that flashed across the face of goal. Who knows if connecting with it and scoring might have made Thauvin’s time at Newcastle an entirely different story?

Florian made his first start for the club a few days later in a League Cup tie at home to Northampton. And it was quite the performance as he scored a spectacular, acrobatic goal, getting on the end of a cross at the Leazes end, before bagging three assists. Two of those assists came from fantastic, Lauren Robert style free kick deliveries and the other from a cute pass to play in the overlapping Darryl Janmaat at the Gallowgate.

The future looked bright, but sadly, that was the highlight for Thauvin at Newcastle. He seemingly hadn’t really wanted to join and his form showed that. In all, he made just 16 appearances and scored just the one goal. He never looked comfortable on Tyneside and in the end the club cut their losses and moved him on. He was a player with a wand of a left foot, a bit of pace and the ability to glide past full backs, but it just never looked like working out at Newcastle. The kind of player we love as Newcastle fans; a flair player and a difference maker…just one that never managed to make a difference!

The other abiding memory of Florian comes from the fact that he turned up for a home game against wearing a tuxedo, something that he was widely criticised for. Personally, I kind of liked his style, but each to their own I suppose! The fact was, he joined a struggling team under one of the worst managers in NUFC’s modern history – Steve McClaren. The poor lad was doomed from the start.

Having left Tyneside, Thauvin would go on to show exactly what a talent he was, making a total of 200 appearances for Marseille, scoring 71 goals. Then, in 2018 he became a World Cup winner with France! He was also part of the French Olympic squad in 2020.

Having left Marseille to join Mexican side Tigres in 2021, Florian spent almost two seasons there before joining Udinese in 2022, where he still plays. Overall he has played over 450 career games, scoring 119 goals, but just the one for us!

Clearly, a talented player who could have been so much more on Tyneside. Definitely one that got away, but also maybe a case of Newcastle needing to take more notice of repeated knock backs, I suppose. Thankfully, a lesson we just about seemed to have learned some years later when we were persuing a certain Hugo Ekitike!

It seems you’re never too old for something new.

A couple of weeks ago I had a week off work. Half term for us teachers and a time to try and rest, relax and take stock of how the year has gone so far.

It never quite turns out that way though. Although the older I get, the more I find myself unable to do a great deal other than resting at times. However, the week was a bit different. I felt more tired than usual, something I put down to being poorly at the run of the year with some kind of flu bug that has clearly taken a bit more of a toll than I’d realised. As a result, as much as I wanted to get things done, I found that I just didn’t really have the energy. Thus, the tarpaulin on the garden furniture remains more off than on and the fences haven’t seen a lick of paint either.

As with most old stuff though, essential maintenance is required whenever the chance arises. And so, this week meant that it was time for a hair cut as well as a visit to the dentist. Yep, I really know how to use that holiday time, eh?

Both occasions ended up being far more nerve wracking than I’d wanted. In fact one of them felt slightly traumatic.

I hadn’t had a haircut since the middle of December and so the natural waves of my hair had kicked in and it was really quite the unruly mess. Big hair with the 80s long gone! But this wasn’t the problem. I’ve had the same hairdresser for around 27 years now and had been forced to find someone new, at least temporarily. This had happened once before, about ten years ago when my hairdresser was in hospital and it was a disaster for my hair. I’d gone to a chain salon in a shopping centre and received a clinical haircut that looked like it’d been done by a butcher…using a knife and spoon.

Fast forward a decade or so and my hairdresser – also a good mate – was in hospital again and had been for over a month. He’d been home and then back in hospital repeatedly and while I was obviously worried about him, there was an evermore nagging feeling that I was going to have to find someone else to give me a trim.

This would be only the second time anyone other than my actual hairdresser had cut my hair in getting on for 30 years. Actually, that’s a lie; my wife clippered it in lockdown!

Now I don’t know what you’re like, dear reader, but this bothered me. Really bothered me. Despite doing some research and checking out numerous reviews of local barbers on Google, it just didn’t feel right at all. I asked around about where others got theirs cut and still it made no difference. I didn’t want anyone else to cut my hair. However, I was starting to look like a wookee and my teenage son, who also has his hair cut with me, was beginning to worry about his image! Enough was enough.

Now you’d think it would be straightforward from this point, but no. I’d narrowed my choice down to two places and was even quite sure about which I’d go to. It was closer, better reviews and cheaper too. It made perfect sense to just go there…

We walked up towards this new barber’s as it was reasonably close and yet, I was so nervous about it that I took a detour. Thinking that we could arrive coming down the hill, with the advantage of being able to see if anyone else was in, my plan was immediately scuppered as we turned the corner to find that the owner was stood outside, opening up. This spooked me and for a few seconds I decided that we were heading to our second choice. Then, realising how old I am and how ridiculous I was being I played for time, taking us on another detour…for no reason in particular!

It’s amazing the amount of nerves, self doubt and just general sense of panic something different can create in me!

Eventually, we made our way into the barber’s shop. It was empty aside from the owner and he was welcoming from the start, which helped put me at my ease a little more. I decided to go first just to get it all over with and also because there was no one other than my own son to watch! Explaining what I wanted I envisaged the barber’s interpretation being to clip the sides and back down to the skin and then leaving me with just a clump of hair left sitting atop my head, like you’d see on literally every other British 12-year-old these days.

The result was a decent haircut and a pleasant experience all round. My fears were unfounded and my panic just a waste of time. The barber – Ozzie – was warm and friendly and left me looking way smarter than I did when I walked in. There were still differences that I wasn’t fond of though. Where my usual barber knows that I don’t want any ‘product’ on my hair afterwards, the new guy sprayed my head liberally, first with some kind of setting spray and then, weirdly, with liquid cologne! I was too polite to scream ‘Nooooo’ as he picked it up though!

Later that day we had dental appointments. Now these usually fill me with mild dread anyway. But this time around featured an absolute about turn of a change. Firstly, our dentist practice has relocated from its small, beaten up premises into a shiny new, vast place that’s been converted from a former furniture store in the middle of town. If I say it’s instagramable, I’m sure you can begin to imagine it. So just walking into the place felt a little bit daunting.

The worst thing was that the appointment was with someone new. Yes, another new person and this time messing with my teeth! We’ve had the same dentist for years now and I wasn’t the only one that was a little bit nervous about this change. My wife even made enquiries as to our usual dentist’s whereabouts in the hope that we might be able to change to her!

In the end, it all turned out quite well. Our new dentist was really nice and personable and everything went swimmingly. However, there was one thing that stayed exactly the same and just as unpleasant as ever about the dentist appointment. Usually my teeth get a bit of a clean with some type of electronic device and it’s often a bit painful as she scrapes away at my teeth, occasionally jabbing whatever the instrument is into my gums. This time though, I got the cleaning, but without the electronics. I think this had something to do with my pacemaker and the new dentist being a little bit cautious. So, cleaning my teeth just involved some sort of sharp instrument being rived around my teeth, with bits of stuff being dragged out from various gaps, much to my distaste. Sorry to sound like a child, but it hurt!

So, less than a week after my latest birthday and I’m reminded that nothing can ever stay the same. Like I said, you’re never too old for something new, regardless of whether you want it or not!

Poetry Blog: ‘Before…’

This is a poem about an old couple that I know. 

Before...

Despite your immobility and the hand that you've been dealt
there are still small pleasures to be had.
So while the future may seem bleak and at times futile,
that past reminds you that there was once another life.

So you gaze longingly at the picture from a bygone era,
black and white, faded where it had been folded into a pocket 
and curled on one corner,
you laughing uproariously into the camera,
hands held, heads beginning their thrust skyward
and the lost seaside glamour of a loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt,
sleeves rolled, the best dress, curled hair 
and a handbag dangling from your forearm.
I can hear you cackle, imagine him singing in a club singer voice, 
something he wouldn't sing without a drink.
All before the smudge of violence,
the stain of a temper that lurked on the horizon, hidden away
but always there, ready to remind you that nobody's perfect.
All before the drinking and the smoking, the lack of money and the sickly child that saw you give up your sliver of independence.

Still, the moment is captured, the laughter tangible,
the sense of fun and happiness branded on your face,
and the hope and optimism that you thought could never be defeated, all shouting back at you, a reminder of a life lived
and the simple fact that we must exist for these snatched moments 
of ordinary triumph that still make our day decades on from the event.

So, this poem is about an old couple looking back on a nice memory from when they first met. A photograph is discovered and it prompts some memories of what they got up to when they were younger. The poem is about making the most of the kind of times when you have no ties, no responsibilities and can afford to just let go. It’s about the fact that life doesn’t always go the way you imagined, but that there’s always stuff to hold on to and cherish.

As kids, we don’t really stop to think that our parents or any other older adults we might know, had a life before we came along. Even as adults, it’s an uncomfortable thought. But just like being young and carefree ourselves with all of the risk taking and stupid decisions, they would have done all of this too. Having seen the photograph in the poem, I can imagine the younger side of the old couple, but I also know the older side too. It’s a weird contrast and shows just how much people change and are forced top change, in a way.

This was what I wanted to come out with the poem; the fact that we’re all young once and that however much fun we might be having or whatever plans we put in place, things change.

Anyway, as ever, I hope you enjoyed the poem.

A win’s a win, surely?

The home game against Forest will have made a lot of us sit up and think. There will have been an abundance of questions, lots of mulling over the performance and probably not as much celebration as we’d usually expect when we’ve won. I’m sure Eddie Howe and his coaching team have a lot to reflect on too.

And yet, we won didn’t we? We definitely picked up three points; I know because I’ve seen the league table. So why so much angst, anger and head scratching then?

Before I go on, I understand why there was anger, frustration etc. I don’t necessarily agree with it or subscribe to that way of thinking, but I understand where it comes from.

It’s a shame that it all gets so extreme though. In the stadium the crowd seemed quiet and on edge which I think is understandable. There were still bursts of noise and encouragement though in that second half when we found ourselves improbably under the cosh.

In other places though, things were getting a bit daft to say the least. Online (I know, I know…) the reaction was akin to that if we’d been hammered. There were numerous posts saying that people had ‘had enough’, bizarre takes about tactics, substitutions and player performances and metaphorical toys being thrown from metaphorical prams in every direction. I saw posts criticising most players; some even saying that Bruno needs to be sold. I even saw one post demanding ‘answers’ from Eddie Howe, like he might just come round the poster’s house this morning at some point and explain the thinking behind playing Nick Pope or why he Callum Wilson made a couple of silly decisions late on in the game.

I can’t say that I wasn’t frustrated while watching. The amount of passes that went astray in that second half was mind boggling and why we weren’t clearing our lines when no great subtlety was needed, I’ll never know. I was absolutely fraught at times, screaming and shouting like a lunatic, as many others would have been too. But the reality is that a decent side upped their game for 45 minutes and built up enough pressure that meant they were able to grab a couple of – let’s be honest – scrappy goals. Then, after quite a stressful time for all involved when the ref blew his whistle it turned out we’d won.

There were lots of reasons to be cheerful. Isak scored again. Lewis Hall was outstanding and Lewis Miley continued to look like a seasoned pro. After an injury worry, Sandro Tonali came through unscathed. It wasn’t all doom and gloom.

I’m not an idiot. I realise that we can’t continue to perform like we did in that second half. I realise that better sides would have put us away, although Forest are a very good side according to the league table. I realise that we need to be much more first half than second half in the Carabao Cup Final. Our form has to be more consistent because if not, we risk ending up outside the European spots and ending the season in really disappointing fashion. But I’m happy to leave solving any perceived problems to Eddie Howe and his coaching team, as well as the players who have greatly entertained us time and time again over the last few seasons and who managed to score one more goal than Forest when all is said and done.

I’m really not an optimist where football is concerned. A bad result affects my mood, my day and my week as it does for many others. But against Forest we won. We took three points. No one took any away from us because the second half was poor. And we moved back up the table into 5th position. So yes, we weren’t at our best for a good chunk of that game, but let’s all calm down a little bit and adopt a more realistic way of thinking.

Whatever the result or the performance, we move on. We hope that performances get more consistent of course, but we don’t need to be ranting, raving or demanding answers just yet surely? A win’s a win, isn’t it?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes, number 11: David Kelly

David Kelly changed my life. With one sweep of his right foot he changed the fortunes of Newcastle United and more or less saved them from writing the darkest chapter in their entire history. In doing so, he changed my life. And in doing so he might just have changed the life of yourself or someone you know.

David ‘Ned’ Kelly was signed from Leicester City for £250,000 in December 1991. He would go on to make 70 appearances across 3 seasons on Tyneside, scoring 35 goals.

We were in deep trouble when Kelly signed. This was the 1991-1992 season, infamous for how close we came to dropping into the third tier of English football. Kelly was signed by Ossie Ardiles, but ended the season under Kevin Keegan, scoring 11 crucial goals that would help us get just far enough up the table to avoid the drop by a whisker. It was a close run thing though!

Kelly was a workhouse of a striker, a willing runner and a chaser of lost causes. He wasn’t without ability, was blessed with a little bit of pace and had scored goals wherever he’d been; just what we needed at this time in our history.

The goal that changed the course of Newcastle United history was obviously a memorable one. Anyone who was at St. James’ Park that day will tell you. We played Portsmouth at home in the old second division and were desperate for a win. Keegan’s Newcastle made all the running that day, but with 5 minutes remaining it looked like we wouldn’t be able to make the breakthrough. And then it happened.

Keeper Tommy Wright threw out to Ray Ranson on the right side of the pitch in our own half and he advanced a little before launching a long ball up the middle. Kelly glanced it on to Micky Quinn who saw his strike partner going for the return and hooked the ball into his path. Meeting it on the bounce, Kelly lashed at it on the half volley from just inside the box at the Gallowgate and the keeper didn’t get near it as it rocketed into the top corner! Cue bedlam, mayhem, limbs, whatever you want to refer to it as.

I’d travelled up from university that day and was in the Gallowgate on my own. I felt physically sick at the prospect of us slipping into division 3 and had hated every second of the match. But as the ball hit the net, the place erupted. I don’t remember a huge amount; just being lifted off my feet in the chaos, screaming with sheer relief. The place was just a swell of joy; nobody who was there will ever forget the significance of what had just happened.

We would go to Leicester on the following weekend knowing that barring a disastrous series of results elsewhere, we would stay up. We won and Kelly was confronted on the pitch by angry Leicester fans who had raced on from the stands as we got the winner.

I met Kelly that summer in a pub in Cramlington. He was just sat at the bar with a mate, totally unassuming in a purple shell suit. I was loathe to make a tool of myself but still felt I had to say thanks for that goal. Kelly received my gratitude with a little bit of bemusement, clearly thinking that he’d done nothing special. I hope he knows the truth.

History shows that we were then promoted to the new, shiny Premier League in the following season and Kelly played his part then too. In a memorable season that ended with us as Second Division champions, Kelly was top scorer with 28 goals. Most notably, he scored the goal that clinched promotion in the 90th minute of a win away at Grimsby when it felt like three quarters of the crowd were geordies. He then went on to score a hat-trick as we walloped Leicester 7-1 at home in the final game of the season. It felt like the Kelly/Cole partnership were about the reap havoc in the Premier League. And then Kelly was sold.

Keegan decided to bring back Peter Beardsley from Everton and Kelly was sacrificed, heading to Wolves. ‘Ned’ would never be forgotten though and the love he found from those at St. James’ Park was still strong, even when he’d clearly had enough of proper football and signed for Sunderland. In fact, when he returned with the mackems a few years later Kelly was given a standing ovation as he took the field as a sub. A remarkable, instinctive and quite beautiful show of appreciation for a man who, you might just say, played a big part in saving the club.

David Kelly, take a bow.