Middle Age Fanclub

Liebster Award

I have to say that this kind of thing is generally met with confusion from me. I’ve received a couple of nominations before now and once I get over the beffudlement, I tend to make plans to respond before yet another silly idea for a blog leads me away from being focused. I haven’t much idea why anyone would nominate me for such a thing. And that’s not false modesty – I believe in my writing, but most of the time I’m writing to amuse myself, really. And that’s especially true with poems, where over the past couple of months I’ve written poems about my neighbour’s shed, animal sightings in lockdown. competitive parents and most recently on the blog, how frantic lockdown must have made bucket listers.

That said, I’d like to say a massive thank you to liveparentteachrepeat.com/ for my nomination. You’re too kind. No, genuinely, you’re too kind!

The Liebster Award is by bloggers for bloggers. The award is a great way to “pay it forward” in the blogging community, encouraging us bloggers to keep discovering others in the wide world of the interwebs.

The rules: the nominee thanks (and links to) the bloggers who nominated them, answers their 11 questions, and then nominates other bloggers to answer a new set of questions!

The Liebster Award is by bloggers for bloggers. The award is a great way to ‘pay it forward’ in the blogging community, encouraging us bloggers to keep discovering others in the wide world of the internet.

Apparently, I have to thank and link to the blogger who nominated me – I’ve managed that above, hopefully – before answering their 11 questions. Then I’ll nominate some other bloggers with a new set of questions. (I’ll apologise for my most likely brainless questions in advance).

Here are my answers then.

Do you still have an item from your childhood?

If they count as an itme, I still have the same hands I had as a boy of about 8, I think. Donald Trump’s got nothing on my tiny hands! Elsewhere, I have my childhood teddy bear, but only because my mother kept it. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I named it. Other than that, I don’t think I have anything from early childhood. I do have numerous teen items – records, old magazines, football programmes and memorabilia; lots of stuff like that.

Which word of the English language annoys you?

I used to loathe the word ‘guys’. If I heard people referring to others as ‘guys’ I would shudder. It still strikes me as the kind of label that only children’s TV presenters should use. And even then, they should try not to. Nowadays I don’t really mind it. I use it sarcastically at work all the time and only my close colleagues know that I’m being cynical. I’ve still never stood in front of a class and called them ‘guys’ though, however mellow I might have become about the word. Otherwise, words don’t offend me. Words are fantastic, valuable, powerful. But at the end of the day, they’re only words. Sticks and stones are far worse, in my opinion.

Have you ever switched allegiances?

Certainly not that I’m aware of. I really value loyalty. I’m a Newcastle United fan and have been for over 40 years. If you can still loyal to that football club, you can stay loyal to anything.

Do you dislike something which is extremely popular with everyone else?

Oh, how long have you got? It’s not a cool kind of thing; I’m just very sure of what I like. Maybe the most well known one is the band Queen. I’ve never understood the attraction. I have close friends and family who love them, but they’re not for me (Queen that is, not the friends and family). There are a multitude of reasons as to why. The songs are far too overblown and complicated for me. Too much going on. And that stuff where Freddie Mercury just makes noises? I don’t care if the whole of Wembley would sing it all back at him. He’s wrong and they’re wrong. It’s just nonsense for me. Apples and strawberries for me, as well. I’ve rarely disliked anything as much! Over the years I’ve watched people bite into both, heard their noises, listened as they declare how delicious they are and watched what can only be described as their sex face. All for some fruit! Give me a banana any day!

Did you learn a new skill during lockdown?

Unusually for me, I did. Well, sort of. I’ve been learning Spanish, but only via Duolingo. My wife thinks I’ll be able to chat away to the locals when we eventually get back to Majorca, but I won’t. I’m great on the App, but as a quite forgetful person, I imagine if someone starts talking to me in actual Spanish, I’ll just crumble. I’ll have to ask them to do multiple choice drawings or word banks that I can pair up instead. I’ve also learnt lots of new exercises too. So thanks to lockdown I can squat and plank with the best of them! And the final thing I’ve learnt is that if you find a podcast on Google and click play, you can finally listen to podcasts. A revelation to this particular luddite!

Who is the most famous person you have ever met?

If we fast forward a few years the answer will be my daughter, who is forever telling me that nothing really matters because she’s going to be incredibly famous. I blame YouTube. I’ve met two icons in David Dickinson and Declan Donnelly (off of Ant and Dec). I say met, I actually just walked past them both, seperately. In all seriousness, I’ve met Paul Gasgoine, who if you’re into football, is massively famous. He started my school’s 75th anniversary cross country race and played football with a few of us beforehand. Ignoring his personal life, he’s the single most talented individual I’ve ever witnessed in the flesh. An absolute magician with a football at his feet. While I remember, I also work with the wonderful Gemma Sinclair, who as we all know is famous for Episode 3 of Educating Yorkshire, the popular Channel 4 documentary. She’s mega-talented and will ‘grapevine’ for you on request if you ever have the good fortune to meet her.

Have you ever been mistaken for somebody else?

I have and nearly all of the somebody elses have all been in some way well known. One is actually mega famous. I can’t remember who I was mistaken for that wasn’t famous. It was just some local scrote. It was also a local scrote that mistook me for a local scrote. Anyway, turns out one didn’t like the other and so when they saw me they threw a snowball in my face, grabbed me by the throat, punched me in the face and told me, “No one messes with the army’s snowballs.” True story. I was probably a good five years younger than my attacker. He was an army cadet. I bet he was cataclysmically disappointed when he later realised that the army didn’t even use snowballs in combat situations. Later in life, mistaken identity was a lot more fun. I was mistaken for a footballer called Paul Kitson at Old Trafford once when I went to see Newcastle play. Kitson played for Newcastle. He was injured at the time. So when I turned up in the bar beforehand the stars aligned and someone thought I had to be Paul Kitson. I was then serenaded with a chorus of ‘There’s only one Paul Kitson’ before people gradually realised that while this was actually true, the one Paul Kitson wasn’t standing in front of them having a pint. Finally, when I lived in Stoke I was mistaken for Robbie Williams at the height of his Take That fame. This one has been a fairly regular part of my life for a number of years and even now someone will tell me that I look just like him. I don’t. He’s chunkier than me and I don’t have any tattoos.

Would you consider plastic surgery?

No. I’m reasonably happy with how I look. I don’t look too weathered for my age and I think there’s a danger of ending up looking ridiculous at the hands of a surgeon.

What has been your most extravagant purchase to date?

I don’t really do extravagant. I bought an expensive diamond ring for my wife when I was going to propose, if that counts. That was when I finally realised I was a proper adult! I also bought myself quite an expensive watch a year or so ago, but to be fair it’s not extravagant. A few months ago I bought 5 packets of Black Jack sweets in Asda because I love them and they were reduced. High rollin’ stuff, no? When it was cutting edge technology we bought a Nintendo Wii simply because we fancied playing on it that afternoon. We were years away from having kids and had a bit of money to throw around! I also bought not one, but two sheds at the same time once. That was probably my Sultan of Brunei moment!

Which law would you repeal?

I’d get rid of the one that says cars can’t use bus lanes. It’s not because I regularly want to use them, but I did once receive an £80 fine for driving in one. I was actually going to give a lift to one of the players for my team and his dad as their car was out of action. The sign that said ‘Bus Lane’ was way above eye level and I actually cut across the bus lane to get on to another street at a junction. I didn’t even drive down the lane! I now have an irrational hatred of bus lanes. In all seriousness, I think I’d repeal the law that sends children to school at four years old. Let them play and just enjoy life for at least another couple of years.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Have more confidence in yourself. Stop thinking you’re adopted; you’re not. Become a teacher as soon as you finish university. Write more. Stay in touch with people properly, especially your sister. Don’t go out with that girl in your first year at university. You’ll know which one. She’s mental. Stop daydreaming.

Here are my questions. Sorry!

What’s your favourite cheese?
What is your greatest regret in life?
What three things would you take if you were to be marooned on a desert island for a year?
Who, in your opinion, is the greatest living human?
What’s your go to karaoke song?
Have you ever heard a ridiculous rumour about yourself?
What are your worst habits?
You have to have a song to announce you into any situation. What’s your walk on music?
What do you miss most about being a kid?
What’s the best thing about being an adult?
Do you have any hidden talents?

Here are my nominees.

http://nufchotspot.blog

http://ourfavouritejar.com

http://thecaskconnoisseur.com

http://geordieoptimist.wordpress.com

http://thebookgeordie.home.blog

http://cashforkat.com/blog

http://theokaymommy.com

http://ourfavouritejar.com

http://bluecollarrising.com

http://yorkienotjustfordads.com

http://rachelfoy96.wordpress.com

101 Things I’ve Learnt in Lockdown (give or take quite a few things for the sake of a title)

Given some of the reading of dystopian fiction I’ve done over the years and some of the television I’ve watched, lockdown or quarantine has surprised me. We were ready for the apocalypse. And when I say ready, I mean that my tendency to over-buy, ‘just in case’ meant that we could have existed on a diet of Weetabix and shampoo for quite a while yet. As avid viewers of The Walking Dead over the years, we were also confident about how to stave off zombies or even rival gangs led by over zealous culty types.

So it came as a surprise when none of these skills were needed. There was disappointment too that my son’s baseball bat would not be customised and pressed into some Negan style action. Instead, it became an exercise in ridding myself of guilt at being unable to work and then staving off boredom. We figured out new ways to look at things and also worked out how to get through what was a pretty challenging situation. As a result, I feel like I’ve learnt a lot – about other people and about myself. So here we go; 101 things I’ve learnt during lockdown (give or take quite a few things for the sake of a title).

I love a bit of quiet. I work as a teacher and thus, working amongst 900 children as well as my sometimes over excitable department can sometimes be a bit noisy. At last count I worked in a department of 436 women – or it might have been 10 – and when they laugh, screech or encounter anything drag queen or dog related, it can get loud. I tend to stick to my classroom. I’ll look forward to finding myself right in the middle of it again sometime soon though. I miss those gals! Lockdown, with its lack of people, has meant lots of being out in my garden, pottering with nothing but birdsong for company. We live about a mile away from a busy motorway, but for a few months it couldn’t be heard. The quiet has allowed me to think, to contemplate, and to create, although that last bit has mainly been in the form of mindless poetry, so maybe there is a cloud to this silver lining! Whatever has gone on elsewhere, I’ve enjoyed the silence.
It’s actually not that difficult to lose track of the days. I haven’t worked for months. Not in the actual work environment anyway. As a result, my routine has been knocked sideways and as much as I’ve tutted at people in the past for claiming to not know what day it was, I’ve found that at times I’ve really had to think hard just to work out if it’s a Tuesday or a Sunday. It’s usually been a Wednesday though.
The four of us can actually live together in some kind of harmony. I imagined that we’d kill each other. Or that I might just snap and leave the house, Forrest Gump style and run for a couple of years until I reached Alaska or somewhere. None of this happened. None of it ever looked likely either. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve not been like The Waltons (Google them, younger people) but we’ve been quite the harmonious group. I’ve adjusted to home school-related tantrums, the bouncing and shouting that go hand in hand with Roblox, the daily updates on celebrities that I’ve never heard of and their latest moment of Instagram related glory (you’re cheering on people having their photo taken, young people) and even my daughter’s ever more angry explanations of why her phone is vital for school work. We’ve all adjusted. We’ve all coped. There have been afternoons of board games, TV marathons, family walks, baking, Wii Sing, learning of languages…all sorts to fill the time. And we’ve survived.
I can live without football. Younger me would be appalled. But when football closed own at all levels, I coped. I’ve been around the game all my life – playing, coaching, supporting – and I adore it. But despite my horror at it being taken away, I didn’t find it difficult at all. I missed watching my team, Newcastle United. I missed coaching my Under 12 team. But within a few weeks, its absence was normal. I sought solace in exercise; working out, walking, and running and so the element of competition about me was sated quite easily. It’s helped that as a Newcastle fan, I’m used to information coming out of the club being a rarity. The fans don’t matter at NUFC and so we were fully used to hearing nothing. Even when on the verge of a takeover that would make us the richest club in world football, nobody bothered to speak. And after a while even that became normal. I just occupied my time with other things; something I would have never thought possible. Football? I’ve hardly given it a thought.
I love being able to watch football every day! And then they brought it back and I was hooked again! Since Project Restart began there has been football on our screens every day. I haven’t watched all of it. But I’ve managed to sneak a look at some of it probably most days. The empty stadia haven’t mattered. I’ve even turned off the fake crowd noise in favour of the shouting of 40 or 50 people in the stadium and the occasional hilarious bit of swearing. Grassroots football has also resumed and so my Under 12 team has trained once again, albeit under very different, very strict guidelines linked to Coronavirus. No matter – it’s been amazing to be out on the grass again. Football? Inject it straight into my veins!
Driving your car is now an acceptable eye test If you’re not from the UK or you’ve spent lockdown hiding under a rock, the name Dominic Cummings won’t mean anything to you. Quick explanation – he’s the chief adviser and political strategist to our government. Anyway, during lockdown he seems to have decided to visit his parents 264 miles away while the rest of us were confined to our homes. When he got found out he concocted a story about his wife showing signs of Covid19, which subsequently meant that he had to drive 200 miles to ensure childcare in case she was really poorly. Because, of course, he knew no one with any influence who could have sorted him out an emergency babysitter. He definitely didn’t just think he was above the law and fancied a visit to see mummy and daddy on their country estate. No way. Not a chance. Part of his crazy story involved the fact that he then developed a problem with his eyes – some guys have all the bad luck, eh? – and so in order to test his eyesight out, he chose to drive some thirty miles with his now not ill wife and not destitute child in the car. Thus, in the UK, we all learned that if you have a problem with your eyesight then the government’s chief political adviser says, “Go for a drive!”
Barnard Castle is the new Lourdes. Cummings from number 6 again. Barnard Castle was where he drove to and miraculously cured his poorly eyes. He cured his eyes by spending the entire day there. And did I mention it was his wife’s birthday on that day? So, I suppose it was a fitting present from a loving husband to take his wife somewhere where they could cure her of a virus that was killing thousands of people across the globe. So really, he’s just a regular guy who turned hero in the midst of a global pandemic. Definitely not a privileged dickhead he thought he was a great deal better than the rest of us. So, if you’re ill and don’t fancy all the crowds that would typify a trip to Lourdes, head to Barnard Castle in County Durham. Tell them Dominic Cummings sent you. And if anyone asks, he did nothing wrong.
A surprising amount of people can’t follow a one-way system or read a No Entry sign Despite having to self isolate for health reasons I’ve had to go to the supermarket on a few occasions during lockdown. Sometimes, with my wife’s work commitments, there’s been no one else. It’s been quite harrowing. I’ve had to stand in queues like something out of the Cold War and then when you get into the shop there has been an even colder atmosphere. People don’t look at you. Some practically crawl around the place forgetting that there will be areas where a 2 metre social distance just isn’t possible. And sadly, there are far too many absolute tools that refuse to follow the rules. That’s them, tootling up and down the aisles like they own the place, refusing to follow a simple one-way system or take any notice whatsoever of a massive No Entry sign plastered all over the floor in red. Arrow blindness! My local supermarket had ends of aisles railed off, big green arrows on the floor, and actual No Entry signs in red and white and yet some people still managed to get lost and conveniently wander down every aisle the wrong way. The irony a lot of the time is that they’re the ones wearing the masks! They might as well wear it over their eyes!
I like my neighbours I’ve never been one for cozy chats across the fence. In fact, I’d probably have gladly put up a bigger fence in the past. However, throughout lockdown, my elderly neighbour has found a way to appear noiselessly while I’ve been pottering and then just started chatting whether I’m looking or not. One day, he crept up so stealthily and started talking so loudly that I actually threw what I was holding in the air, such was my shock. He just carried on chatting like nothing had happened. Despite this, I’ve found myself warming to him and I have to say, it’s nice to have good neighbours. Apparently, everybody needs them.
I’ve glimpsed retirement…and I love it! No rules, no routine, no commute, exercise when I feel like it, no suit and tie…I’m more than ready for that pension!
Me and IT don’t get along My work laptop won’t attach to the internet. It won’t let me look at documents from work. Its USB ports are all broken. It is essentially a fancy typewriter. My home laptop picks and chooses which internet sites it will find – you’d be amazed at the number of times that Google is unavailable. It also won’t open Word documents. Or PowerPoints. Or Excel. And it runs as if it’s on dial-up. All of this has made working from home incredibly stressful. Even thinking about it makes my blood boil. Anyway, how either laptop still exists is beyond me. My relationship with IT has seen me develop new and wonderful swear words, but I am yet to attempt laptop surgery with a hammer. I must have mellowed considerably.
When someone knocks at your door in Lockdown it is utterly terrifying. It’s bad enough at the best of times when it might be someone trying to sell you something. However, during a global pandemic, when no one should be out and about and a knock at the door could just be a cunning zombie trying to lure you out with politeness, it’s heart stopping.
Whatever the cause, people banging pots and pans with spoons is actually not all that necessary. Here in the UK the public took to their doorsteps every Thursday night for weeks in order to applaud and show solidarity with our NHS workers, who were putting their lives at risk every day. It was nice; a chance to show some appreciation for our often unsung heroes, while also feeling part of your local community. And then it turned into a competition. People turned out in fancy dress, there were fireworks, air horns…and of course pots and pans. Now I don’t want to be a killjoy here, but I’ll say it anyway. The air being filled with the sound of pots and pans is not nice. It’s not a fitting tribute, either. If, when I die, people turn up at my funeral banging pots and pans together, I will find a way to haunt them. I’d like to think that doctors and nurses thought it wasn’t necessary. I’d like to think they were all just thinking that it was nothing short of a racket!
The town where I live has some real surprises. In Lockdown our government sanctioned an hour of daily exercise for families. So out we went, every day or night, often walking for 3 miles. It meant that we explored our town quite a lot. Without doubt, the best thing that we discovered was that in one of the more well-to-do households, where they have a very big back garden, they’ve got an entire railway track running around it. We’ve got a washing line, two sheds, a very annoying trampoline and a small football goal. Flash Harry up the road has got Thomas the Tank Engine and friends!
The empty roads are an open invitation for dickheads to drive badly. Some people – mainly young men – mistook exercise for going out in their car. Some people – mainly young men – mistook a deserted road for a race track. Some people – mainly young men – are dickheads.

So there you have it. I learned a lot during Lockdown. I think we probably all witnessed human behaviour at both its best and its worst. Or at least its most selfish. But where there are negatives, you’ll most likely find positives. And it’s always good to learn from your experiences.

Did you learn anything from Lockdown? Let me know what you learned and what you thought in the comments.

Poetry Blog: ‘Frozen Bucket List.’

So this is a poem written when an idea forced me out of bed at 2.15am a while ago now. Lockdown, although now being gradually eased, has been like that. My sleep has been like that a lot recently, although not specifically at 2.15am. It’s not some kind of magic time. On this occasion though, I ended up downstairs, head full of silly ideas and scribbling stuff down. The main thing keeping me awake was thinking how people would be coping being unable to tick things off their bucket lists because of lockdown and I suppose more recently, the amount of restrictions that are still actually in place. Hmm, 21st century problems…

Frozen Bucket List

When this is over dolphins better find a safe place to hide from people resuming their quest to live their lives like the Facebook memes demand. Don’t waste a day, hour, minute, second, dance in the rain, smell the flowers, and, best of all remember the storm will pass. When this is over waterfalls need to watch out, Everybody wants to watch them tumble majestically off that cliff and sigh. And bunge cords, run for your lives; a procession of adrenaline junkies is looking to find that ultimate rush once more. Same goes for skydiving instructors. Prepare yourselves for a gush of pensioners looking to show that Colonel Tom he’s not the only dog who’s still got life left. Ironically there’s sure to be a rush on hot air balloon rides. Tall, colourful, graceful, but in a few months they’ll take over the skies with all the appeal of a glut of cold callers eagerly knocking at your door. Soon, African animals will break down the fences that keep them safe on reserves as wave after wave of rich American tourists turn up to gawp and disturb their peaceful lives, all in the name of ticking something else off a list and adding a hundred variants of the same photo to social media. Instyaaawn. Only a quarter of them will actually be able to name the animal… In return Route 66 will become a car park for Europeans all searching for the soul of America or some such nonsense. Beware the over use of the words ‘road’ & ‘trip’ where ‘drive’ would do. Lockdown will end, ‘be kind’ will be forgotten and months of sitting around, staying safe will give way to an almighty period of running for your lives. As the bucket listers invade

You might be able to tell that I’m not a one for bucket lists. There’s nothing that I’m desperate to do before dying. There are lots of places I want to go, things I want to do and try and skills I want to learn, but nothing that I’d regret not doing, I hope.

So there’s not a lot to explain about the poem. It was a genuine thought I had – what will people do about their plans? Some friends had booked a ‘trip of a lifetime’ to Disneyworld or whatever it is they have in Florida (theme parks are just below bucket lists on my bucket list) and then found it had to be cancelled about a month later when the world locked down as Coronavirus struck. I really felt for them; what would they do now?

It’s probably a bit cynical in tone, but hopefully amusing to some. I do hope that none of the things in it are things that anyone has had to cancel! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading another one of my poems. Let me know what you though about it in the comments box. And if you didn’t like it, as always, that’s not a comments box, it’s a cursed rectangle…don’t go near it!

Guilty Pleasures

Photo by Matthias Groeneveld on Pexels.com

Let me start by explaining that I don’t necessarily agree with the label ‘guilty pleasures’. I understand the concept; that some things are just a little bit too cringeworthy to admit to. However, an old friend once told me – in reference to music – not to ever feel ashamed of anything that you like. And they were right. For instance, musical tastes change, but surely we can still like totally different types of music all at the same time. So no, I don’t feel guilty. We’re maybe just talking about the kind of music that you might not associate with a particular person or expect them to enjoy. However, in terms of the blog, well, the label fits nicely so let’s go with it.

In previous blogs I’ve touched on my love of music. I was brought up around music. It was the 70s and the time of eight track cassettes and vinyl. I distinctly remember that we had an old style hi-fi; a tower of a thing in its own cabinet, consisting of a record player, a cassette player and also a radio. There may have even been a deck consisting entirely of knobs, switches and lights designed to make the music sound better. Or I might be getting confused with a recurring dream I have of piloting the Millennium Falcon. Anyway, we also had a radio and cassette player in our kitchen and somewhere in the house there was an eight track player.

In the bottom half of the hi-fi tower was where I’d find my parents’ record collection and where some of my guilty pleasures to this day would emerge from. I went through a very uncool teen phase of quietly liking Status Quo as a result of my mother’s copies of Twelve Gold Bars Volume 1 and 2 and also where I developed a love of Dionne Warwick that lasts to this day and is definitely not one I’m ashamed of.

There always seemed to be music in our house. Even when we weren’t in my mam would insist on leaving the radio on so that any potential burglars might hear it and think that someone was in the house! As a result of being surrounded by it, I developed a love of music; some good and some, while not bad, not the kind of thing I’d admit to in front of friends and peers! Guilty pleasures before guilty pleasures were even invented, I suppose!

It was while listening to a playlist just the other day that I came up with the idea for this particular post. A song that I love came on and I just happened to wonder what the reaction would be to me actually liking it. So, I started making a list of songs that might join it on the list of so-called guilty pleasures. And without further ado, here’s that list!

Shine by Take That – the very song that prompted the blog! For those of you who don’t know, Take That are a British boy band. In fact, given their age these days, it’s only fair to refer to them as a middle aged man bad, really. In short, they’re not really my cup of tea. But this song is something else. From the opening bars of piano it makes me want to sing and dance, which I imagine, is pretty important where any music is concerned. The harmonies are just right, the piano thumps alongside the bass all the way through and the pace of the whole track is great – a proper banger, as I believe young people all over the planet would say. Whatever they might say, I love this track!
Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep by the Middle of The Road – very much a song from my childhood. It was actually released a year before I was born, in 1971, but I imagine I would have heard it via my parents’ record player. The title in itself gives it the guilty edge. I mean no one wants to admit to liking something called that, do they. Oh wait… It’s quite a soulful kind of song; up-tempo and breezy. And then you have a listen to the lyrics and things get even more uncomfortable than they were when you heard the title. It starts with the line “Where’s your momma gone?” which is regularly repeated throughout the song. You even get an answer to this heart wrenching question when you’re told that she’s “Far, far away.” That’s right. Whoever’s asking the question of the child clearly knows the answer and in an even crueller twist, they won’t specify where she is; just ‘far, far away.’ So very quickly in the song, all hope is lost! Then it gets worse as were told that ‘momma’ was singing a song last night, but when the child woke up she was gone. So she was in a great mood, all singing and dancing…about the prospect of leaving her child. But there’s a silver lining, right? The dad will step up and give this child a wonderful and fulfilling childhood, despite the lack of a ‘momma’, right? Wrong! In fact it’s not long before the lyric asks, “Where’s your poppa gone?” and you guessed it, he’s of course gone “far, far away”. So, in many ways, it’s a truly dreadful song, based around the theme of child abandonment. But it is without doubt an earworm and a guilty pleasure of the highest order.
Faith by George Michael – I love a good pop song. In many ways there are few better things in music. From ‘She Loves You’ by The Beatles through to more modern tracks like ‘Wake Up Boo!’ by The Boo Radleys, if it’s poppy, shiny and happy, I’m probably going to like it. George Michael was pretty much a genius. A brilliant writer of brilliant pop songs and a man in possession of that voice. But I never liked him or his previous incarnatiion in Wham. I was probably going through some kind of metal phase at the time of Wham and I think I was into serious arty bands when he embarked on a solo career, so it’s probably more a case of music snobbery from me. I love ‘Faith’ though. Love it! I’ll even confess to indulging in a bit of air guitar along to it in my younger years. It’s almost a perfect pop song – a great beat, soulful voice, brilliant lyrics. Give it a listen – the intro with the organ, the moment the guitar riff kicks in and then that first couple of lines. “Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body/I know not everybody, has gotta body like you.” Goodness me George, you mucky devil! The unmistakable suggestion of it all is just great. How could I not like it?
Jet by Paul McCartney and Wings – Now you might well wonder about the guilt behind this particular pleasure. After all, it’s just a great song. So why is it in this list? Two words – Alan Partridge. If you don’t know, Partridge is a fictional TV presenter created by the great Steve Coogan. Partridge is in many ways an embarrassment. But that’s the whole attraction. Like David Brent in The Office, you just can’t help but like him, despite being so cringeworthy in almost everything he does. Partridge isn’t even particularly likeable. There’s a ruthless and sometimes cruel streak with him, but there’s no doubting his entertainment value. And this is where ‘Jet’ comes in. The song features in a scene where Partridge is leaping around his Travel Tavern room singing to it. However, he only knows the one word – Jet! It’s the least cool thing that you’ve ever seen, topped off by the fact that he attempts to bounce across two beds to get to the mini-bar and falls in a heap on the floor, injuring himself in the process! So now, whenever I hear the song, I’m more than likely going to channel my inner Partridge and completely spoil it.
Sexyback by Justin Timberlake – look, I’m a middle aged man. I’m greying and up until a few weeks ago at least, was out of shape. I shouldn’t like this song. Unlike JT I’m not bringing sexy back. But that’s not to say that I can’t kid myself a bit! I can still listen to the song and imagine myself as a much younger man, who although he still wasn’t bringing sexy back, at least had age on his side! I can still amuse those around me – mainly my wife – by singing along to it and having a bit of a dance. I mean, everyone wants to see a middle aged man gyrating around extravagantly and telling no one in particular, “them other boys don’t know how to act” don’t they? In short, if you can’t dance to a tune like this, then what’s the point in anything, ever?
Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble by PJ and Duncan (aka Ant an Dec) – this song didn’t actually make my original list. When I sat down with my notebook to make a list (as much planning as I ever actually do) it simply didn’t spring to mind. And then, on a long car journey – I’m English, it’s not a road trip – my wife’s IPod sprung this on us. It seemed the most obvious guilty pleasure ever and I couldn’t deny it a place on the list. If you don’t know, this was a track performed by two characters from the successful children’s TV show, Byker Grove. This was quite different as, at the time of release, neither character was still on the show, but they decided to perform as fictional characters anyway. Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble features boxing’s Michael Buffer basically sampled doing his catchphrase throughout the song. It’s up tempo and to all intents and purposes, a rap, although I’m sure some would question that description. It appears to be a song about nothing in particular; just PJ and his friend Duncan introducing themselves and talking a bit about their song – it’s very catchy – and themselves – they sound a bit of a pain in the arse, to be fair. Sample lyrics include, ‘I’m Ant (I’m Declan), a duo, a twosome, so many lyrics, we’re frightened to use ’em! So many lyrics we keep ’em in stores, we’ve even got ’em coming out of our pores!’ So no hard edged, biting political comment here and none of rap’s rebellious streak either. Just the kind of introduction you’d make to your gran and then some outrageous claims about words, including the fact that PJ and his erstwhile pal Duncan have them actually seeping from their skin. It seems that this might have been directed at a grandparent, given that anyone else would have simply dismissed it out of hand, while gran would have at least greeted it with a cursory, ‘that’s nice, love.’ There’s also the controversial line that follows as well as we’re told about, ‘Your father, your mother, your sister, your brother, Everyone’s got to be an AKA lover!’ Classic boastful teen hi-jinks, if you ask me. I can safely say that neither my mam or my sister have ever indicated a love of automatic rifles and I don’t think I know of anyone else who would have to omit their mums from a list of people who don’t love guns. Boys, eh? What are they like? I still love the song though.
Never Too Much by Luther Vandross – I have my sister to thank for this one. She’s six years older than me and so was just at the right age to fall for it when it was released in 1981. It’s classic old school R&B and so in my teen years I should have hated it, given the rest of my musical taste. But I’m a sucker for a catchy tune and a slick lyric and this has got both. Take for instance this section of the first verse, ‘I can’t fool myself I don’t want nobody else to ever love me, you are my shining star my guiding light my love fantasy, there’s not a minute, hour, day or night that I don’t love you, you’re at the top of my list ’cause I’m always thinking of ya.’ Whatever your taste in music, it’d be churlish to deny the beauty of those lines. And at the risk of sounding like an overnight DJ on Cheese FM, if you’ve ever been in love it should make perfect sense. I was probably twelve when I first really heard this song, so I shouldn’t have liked it. Girls were probably to be avoided back then (although I think twelve year olds have come a long way since those more innocent days.) I didn’t hate it though. I loved it. But I wasn’t brave enough, or naive enough to let anyone know. Now, it’s one of those songs that’s just guaranteed to have me dancing around the kitchen – where I play a lot of my music – and I’m not ashamed to admit that I love it!
Single Ladies by Beyonce – as I’ve said before, I just love a good slice of pop and although this is more likely to be classed as R&B, I don’t think you can deny that it’s a pop classic too. Confession time though; I’m not and nor have I ever been a single lady. I can’t empathise with the message here, unlike say with Luther in song 7. It’s just a great song, sung by a great singer and has a brilliant dance to go with it. So what’s not to like? I may well be a middle aged man from the north of England. I may well be a little bit grumpy at times and tend to err on the side of sarcastic. I may not have suffered the heartache that led me to think up a dance routine with a twirly hand bit in it alongside the line that ‘you shoulda put a ring on it’. But I really love this song.
Young Guns by Wham – George Michael again, innit? I’ll be honest, it’s just the fact that this is so over-the-top that grabs me about it. If you don’t know the song it’s about young, rebellious George and the fact that a former friend now has a fiancee. George does not approve, feeling that young guns should be having their ‘crazy days…on the run‘ and that ‘wise guys realise there’s danger in emotional ties’. The chorus is really the only part of the song that is actually sung with the rest of it being rapped, if you imagine what rap sounds like coming from a white Anglo Greek millionaire in the 1980s. The best bit, and the bit that makes me mime along every time is the conversational/argument bit near the end. It’s brilliant and quite the in-song am dram masterclass. George’s friends fiancee doesn’t approve of George and calls a jerk which leads to what can only be rightly classed as some textbook 80s misogyny with the friend telling his wife, ‘Hey shut up chick, that’s a friend of mine! Just watch your mouth babe, you’re out of line.’ So the message of the song – as expressed by young gun George and his former close friend that kept his fiancee a secret – seems to be that young men should be out there ‘single and free’ and that commitment is an absolute no-no. Or as the song says, ‘death by matrimony’.
When a Child is Born by Johnny Mathis – I’ve loved Johnny Mathis’s voice since I was a kid. It’s what you might call distinctive. No one else sounds like him. So I suppose, as an impressionable child it stood out, caught my ear if you like and, being as young as I was, it didn’t matter how old he was. Again though, he was an artist that I never openly declared my love for simply because Johnny Mathis was not someone that any of my friends or peers would have found cool. In fact, I’d have been laughed out of town, so to speak. This is one of those Christmas songs that I could listen to at any time of year. I think there’s a video of a performance from Top of The Pops, where he sits in an armchair, crooning away to a load of children. Classic really. If my memory serves me correctly there’s a Christmas tree behind him with presents under it as well. I’ve no doubt that those kids have been bribed to sit there with sweets or maybe even those presents under the tree. Me? I’d have sat there for nothing but the love of the song; still would!

So there we have it, my list of not-so guilty pleasures. I dfare say that if I sat around for a while longer it’s a list I could triple or even quadruple. I’ve had to narrow it down anyway – my top 13 guilty pleasures wouldn’t have really worked.

I’d love to hear what people make of the list. Are there any of your favourites on it; guilty or not-so guilty? If not, what songs would you add to it? Let me know in the comments.

Film Review: Overlord

OVERLORD | British Board of Film Classification

If you’ve ever wondered what the world would have looked like if Germany had triumphed in World War II, you may well have come up with some or all of the following answers.

Lots and lots of blonde, blue eyed people, like an incredibly efficient version of Baywatch. (Ironically, given his dark hair, David Hasselhoff would still have had a place because of the affection that he’s held in in Germany. He did, after all, single-handedly bring down the Berlin Wall).
Trains that ran on time. All of the time.
The obligatory picture of the family in ledherhosen on every mantelpiece.
Lots and lots of mullets.
Everybody can take a penalty, whatever the pressure. (This is a football gag…soccer, if you’re not familiar with what football actually is).
Of course I jest. The world wouldn’t look anything like this generalised tuetonic view…

What you probably wouldn’t have imagined though, would have been any supercharged zombies. But then, you probably haven’t watched ‘Overlord’.

Directed by Julius Avery and starring Jovan Adepo, Wyatt Russell and Mathilde Olivier, Overlord tells the tale of an American army units’ seemingly doomed mission to take out a vital communications tower prior to the D Day landings. We find our heroes in a plane, heading for Northern France and a remote village where the Nazis have set up some kind of communications hub in an old church. As you do. If the allied troops are to succeed on the beaches of Normandy this tower needs to be taken out. If it’s not, then the Nazis will be able to intercept allied radio communication and will inevitably be slaughtered. Over to you, American heroes.

However, when their plane comes under heavy artillery fire and ends up in flames you realise that this is going to be in no way a straightforward tale of big ol’ Uncle Sam saving the day. A bit like WWII, really. But, some of our parachuting heroes survive – I mean, it’d have been a short film otherwise – and head towards the target village in order to complete their mission. Game on!

If you, rightly, thought that Hitler’s plans for the Aryan race were unpalatable, then you’d be truly horrified by what our heroes find in the village and subsequently the church.

Overlord marries a dystopian vision with some of the most warped elements of horror to give us a quite absurd, yet compelling twist on the classic war film. You’ll find tons of clichés, heroes, villains, a little bit of glamour in the form of French villager Chloe played by Mathilde Olivier, but you’ll also find jump scares aplenty and a horrifically warped version of what the Reich were cooking up – literally – via their crazed scientists. Is it believable? Well, no. Is it watchable? Hell, yes!

Overlord is no emotional roller coaster. There are no life-changing performances here. However, it’s sure to keep you gripped and brighten up a dull day with its sometimes utterly fantastical plot.

If you’re not too bothered about realism, if you enjoy a bit of gore and if you fancy a war film with a twist, then Overlord is very definitely worth a couple of hours of your time.

I give Overlord

Poetry Blog: Prince

Album review: Prince's '1999′ keeps on giving in 2019 - Chicago ...

During lockdown many important things happened. People had birthdays, weddings, funerals even, and all were dealt with in as appropriate a way as was possible, given the circumstances. A notable thing that happened in my world was the anniversary of Prince’s death in April. He’d been gone for four years. What a loss. I loved him when I was younger. His music was ace, never failing to make me smile or want to dance or sing along. As a short skinny fella when I was younger, Prince’s legendary swordsmanship reassured me that you didn’t have to be a conventional ‘hunk’ to get any attention off the ladies. I later learnt that while not being a conventional hunk wasn’t always required, it probably really helped being Prince though! What a guy! So, I wrote a poem for him. As is kind of usual for me, it wasn’t particularly serious. I’d like to think that he’d have the kind of sense of humour that would have appreciated it. Maybe he’d call me up, invite me to Paisley Park to just hang out…

We’re four years down the road without you in a world now where unscrupulous retailers sell hand sanitiser for 19.99, Isolation’s brand of selfishness, a terrible crime. No funk, no sex dwarf to admire and no soul. Everyone’s stopped lovin’ to search for toilet roll. We need a multi-instrumentalist psexopath who used baby oil, not water when he was having a bath, A man turned on by a raspberry beret, a walking erection at any time of day. You told me to jerk my body like a horny pony would, Well, I’d try anything if you said it was good. Purple suits, stack heels and an Errol Flynn ‘tache,a sexy motherfucker, shakin’ that ass. An encyclopedic knowledge of sexy time know how, impregnating anyone with the suggestive raise of an eyebrow. With twenty three positions in a one night stand, that’s sexual flexibility like a rubber band. Lockdown might have been made for you, Prince, but adapted to incorporate a harem and no social distance. PE with Joe, telly, snacks, the odd role in the hay, you put the right letters together to make a better day.

Some Notes

I wrote the poem because I genuinely loved Prince and I was surprised that it had been four years since we lost him. As a much younger man, in a band, we’d been quite heavily influenced by his music, spending hours listening to albums like Lovesexy and Sign ‘O The Times and debating what we thought the lyrics were or what they meant. I wanted my poem to be affectionate, but with a sense of humour. And it had to reflect the times that we were now living through. I couldn’t help but wonder what someone like Prince would have made of being locked down.

That first line about hand sanitiser is referring to the fact that people who had it when it was in short supply were selling it at inflated prices – if you were into awful puns you could say it was a sign ‘o the times…

Is it possible to hear tumbleweed on a blog? I also wanted to reference a Prince song – 1999 – and I never actually saw any hand sanitiser at that price!

I think the term sex-dwarf came from either the comic Viz – and very English institution – or a radio show that I used to listen to. I can’t remember which, but I’ve always remembered it and thought of it as affectionate and amusing, rather than offensive.

The line about toilet roll is again referencing selfishness during lockdown. In the UK some people went panic buying as we were locked down, buying trolleys full of toilet roll, as if chronic diarrhoea was the thing that might get them, rather than a flu-like virus.

I came up with the word ‘psexopath’ and it really made me smile. Prince had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man, so I liked the idea of him just running round frantically having sex with anything that moved…when he wasn’t making music! It’s definitely how I like to think he lived his life and as a young man in the late eighties it was a lifestyle that just seemed to be a great choice! Thre are a few other references to his sex life in the poem too, none of them meant to be judgemental and all written with a smile on my face.

Finally, because I loved his lyrics, I wanted to get some of them into the poem. I managed a few, but I really like the line ‘jerk your body like a horny pony would’ from the rap in Alphabet Street, so I wanted that in the poem, albeit slightly paraphrased. It’s always fascinated me where that idea came from and always made me laugh a little bit.

I hope you like the poem. I hope it made you smile because that was very much the intention – a light-hearted tribute to someone I very much admired. I’d love to hear what people thought, so feel free to leave me a comment.

Poetry Blog – A New Normal

I wrote this one lockdown morning, a few weeks ago in the early hours. I couldn’t sleep, as has been the case all too often lately. I felt creative – what had kept me awake was that phrase, ‘a new normal’ that we’ve all been trying to get used to lately. I had a few lines swimming round in my head and decided to get up and try and write something. It’s no understatement to say that COVID-19 and lockdown/quarantine has changed everybody’s lives immeasurably. One thing that it has done for me is boost my creativity and on this particular early morning, that feeling of having to write something, combined with fear and uncertainty had me scribbling for a good hour. Amongst other things this poem was the result.

A New Normal

And from our fearful hibernation a new normal emerges.
Where faded lines on the ground tell us where to stand and judgemental frowns tell us how to do it.
Elsewhere, no lines are drawn in the sand and crowds flock like fearless pilgrims to beaches and beauty spots.
No one can count to six anymore.
Those we have lost, it seems, are easily forgotten for a burger or an ice cream.
You paid your dues in Thursday night applause, after all. This is the least you should expect.

Meanwhile, some still huddle together, scarred by the past and frightened of this new way of life, feeling our way back tentatively, occasionally forgetting ourselves at the sight of a friendly face, then paranoid that we stood too close.
Our children leave us but remain in bubbles for safety.
Life has to move on, yet we wish to stay this way forever. Confused like a swirl of spinning leaves, we have no answer.
We are passengers, resisting yet blown along all the same. Powerless. Frightened of a silent, faceless foe.

We frown at those who attempt to live again, but know we must submit ourselves back to the crowd sometime.
Sometime.
We don’t know when.
It is a devilish inevitability that awaits us. And we know we cannot shake its hand and be done.
We scold ourselves for feeling afraid, for not daring.
Life, it seems might simply never be the same again.
However brave, wherever you stand in that crowd, the back of your mind will always echo with the voice that warns against the new normal.

Some notes…

I’m not returning to work yet, but have many friends who are. The world scares me a bit at the minute. I keep hearing that phrase ‘new normal’ but I’m yet to discover mine because I’m so isolated. That made me write the poem.

It’s amazed me watching some people, who rather than adapt, seem to think that they’ve been locked down enough and that somehow time has healed things. That’s there in the line about ‘pilgrims’ and the line about ‘Thursday night applause’ refers to the Clap for Carers campaign in the UK, where people have stood outside their homes every Thursday night to applaud and acknowledge the work of our NHS. I think it’s a brilliant gesture, but have always wondered if some see it as some kind of badge of honour that allows them to take the moral high ground and then and go and do whatever they want. The fact that ‘no one can count to six anymore’ references the government ruling that people could gather in groups of six when certain lockdown rules were relaxed and many people seemed to just believe that what they actually meant was groups of over six or just multiples of six!

The line about feeling paranoid was just me referencing the fact that when I have bumped into people on our lovely government sanctioned walks, I always leave the situation wondering if I’d dropped my guard and mistakenly stood too close. I’m not the most tactile person, but nor am I a natural at standing two metres away from people I’m talking to!

The final verse was meant to represent the uncertainty of some people. I know in our house, we’d rather stay locked down, while understanding that this all has to stop somewhere and that things are undoubtedly a lot safer now.

Anyway, I hope you like the poem. It was an attempt to get out some of the frustration and fear that I have felt over these last couple of months and also at the situation that we find ourselves in now amidst the prospect of the ‘new normal’.

Feel free to leave comments – it’s always interesting to hear what people think of something so personal.

Ten Things that Lockdown Exercise Has Taught Me

It’s safe to say that 2020 has been a remarkable year so far. Sure, its story can be summed up neatly with just two chapter headings – COVID-19 and Lockdown – but really that’s what has made it so remarkable.

Courtesy of a global pandemic lots of us have been given a time to reflect and learn. To slow down. I’ve written about the positive side of lockdown before and, as such acknowledged the tragedy of the losses suffered around the globe. While we’ve been locked down, people have fallen victim to a silent killer, while others have put their own lives on the line in order to help. We’ve been living through life-changing times, that’s for sure.

For me, despite finding the threat of the virus quite terrifying and finding the isolation from work both heart-breaking and mind numbingly dull, lockdown has been a positive process. The fear I’ve felt has made me spend more time in touch with my family – I have rung my elderly parents every few days, a great improvement on my usual shameful record of keeping in touch. I’ve been in regular touch with my sister and I’ve been forced to spend more quality time with my immediate family and in turn thoroughly enjoyed it. Furthermore, I’ve written more, connected with friends, relaxed more and frankly, transformed my garden!

By far my favourite pastime in lockdown has been exercising. From the off I’d decided that if there was a likelihood of contracting the virus, I was going to be as fit and strong as possible in order to fight it. A combination of asthma and a heart problem left me vulnerable to COVID and having spent time in hospital in the recent past frightened that this was it, I wasn’t going to go and die from what some were describing as the flu! So I began to exercise.

I’ve learnt a lot about myself over these lockdown months. Exercise has changed me. Don’t get me wrong, I was fit enough to begin with, especially for a man of my vintage, but now, I’m very much Middleagefanclub 2.0!

Here are ten things I’ve learnt about myself via lockdown exercise.

I have abs, I want better abs and I finally understand the fuss about abs! That’s a lot of abs! I can’t help feeling enthusiastic about this though. I’ve spent my whole life learning to be comfortable with my slim build; perilously thin arms and pipe cleaner legs, not to mention my pot belly, developed over the last few years of my forties. And when my wife unearthed a picture of me in my twenties, emerging from a loch in Scotland a la a skinny, lanky Daniel Craig in just swimming shorts but sporting an actual six pack I realised that I’d been taking little or no care of my body for years. Now though, via a daily exercise workout with Joe Wicks on Youtube (70+ workouts and counting) and daily walks (sometimes more than one) I’ve found that, at the grand old age of 48, my body has changed. As well as the abs, I have muscles in my legs (visible ones), pecs (that’s a chest to the uninitiated) and discernable biceps! In short, I’ve learnt that with dedication and hard work my body is far, far stronger than ever before! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still slim, but I’m no longer a stick insect with a belly!
I can exercise through the pain. I’ve always been injury prone. I think being tall and thin has made me fairly fragile, although I’ve never actually broken a bone, and so I’ve always picked up niggling muscle injuries quite easily. I’ve had a couple of serious ligament injuries to my knee and ankle along the way and they say that your body is never quite the same after that type of thing. So it was almost inevitable that when I began to exercise seriously, that something had to give. Needless to say that after a few weeks there was a ‘pop’ in my groin, followed by a bit of a tear in my thigh a week later and then about 5 weeks in my back went. However, I’ve never enjoyed exercising as much as I have during lockdown and so, I was determined to carry on. I was doing the #PEWithJoe workouts as provided every morning of lockdown by Joe Wicks and as such was just determined to carry on, such was my enthusiasm for being there and doing every workout, every morning. It’s meant applying a great deal of Voltarol to my back and mainlining Ibuprofen (other ailment treatments are available) but I’ve managed to just keep going. I’ve even found that whatever pain I’m in when I wake up, once I’m exercising and properly stretched it eases. I might not seem much, but after a lifetime of feeling like I should rest up because of injury, I’m now completely attuned to simply working through the pain.
I have little shame and a lot less ago. For far too long in my life I’ve been too cool for school. When others have dived in and enjoyed themselves immensely, I’ve backed off for fear of losing face. Well, not any more…at least where exercise is concerned anyway. There’s still no chance of me doing dressing up, regardless of the charity or acting in any staff plays – work colleagues, Laura, Gemma, Emmas, et al take note! However, while exercising in lockdown I have found myself doing all sorts of ridiculous things in the name of fitness. I’ve walked like a duck to exercise my quads, done bunny hops, Pikachus and Joeys for cardio and frog jumps and bear crawls just because someone has told me it’ll do me good! And when Joe Wicks has told me to put my hands up like I’ve got bunny ears or to imagine I’m a kangaroo holding a joey in my pouch, I’ve done it and not worried a jot about who might be able to see. My neighbours and postman may well have seen a very different side to me at some point and I have to say that I don’t care!
I still don’t like fancy dress. A man has limits! Friday is Fancy Dress day in my new exercise world and while thousands across the world have joined in, I haven’t budged. While Joe Wicks jumps around dressed as a panda or Spiderman, I’m keeping up my own good work in shorts and a t-shirt. I’m happy to run around the town I live with a face resembling a damp plum tomato, but there’s no chance that I’ll be dressing up like one. I even considered an alice band when my hair was particularly long, knowing full well that any number of friends could walk or drive past, but it’s a long stretch from that to running 5km dressed like a superhero! However evangelical I might get about exercise, there’s a very slim chance that I’ll ever resort to fancy dress. Fitness is important, but dignity more so!
There’s no shame in running downhill! I’ve lived in my present home for over 20 years now and tried to go out running at times times during many of those years. However, where we live is quite hilly. Indeed at the end of my street there’s a main road up a big hill. For years I told myself that I always had to start my runs by heading up the hill. And for years I wondered why my first kilometre of those runs was invariably slow! I’d dread running up the hill, knowing that by the time I reached the top my legs would be like jelly and I’d only really be starting my run. That’s all changed during lockdown. I’ve taken to doing a workout and then heading out for a run a couple of times a week. But I decided to be fair to myself. Thus, on my first run, I ignored heading upwards and ran a little way down the hill, through a local park until I reached a nice flat stretch. It meant that by the time I’d reached my first climb I’d already ran a kilometre and was completely into my rhythm and feeling good. Lo and behold, it’s really helped! I’ve found that I’m steadily building up my distance and retaining some speed, while getting ever fitter and really enjoying my running. There really is no shame in running down the hill – even if it is for a few hundred yards. I only wish I hadn’t been so stubborn and learnt this twenty years ago!
I really like order. In order to give a sense of variation to his workouts, Mr. Wicks has introduced a few gimmicks. The intention here is to add an element of chance or jeopardy if you like, to the workouts. Personally, I have all the jeopardy I need with the fact that my back might just ‘ping’ at any moment, but given that over 100,000 households are listening most days, I’m guessing any complaint would fall on deaf ears! So, rather than letting us know exactly what we’re going to be subjected to, he’s added in a sense of the unknown. The unknown has so far come in the form of a spinning wheel that contains the name of lots of exercises that we could do, two giant dice and also some over-sized playing cards that are used in a game of higher or lower. If I’m honest, I don’t mind the cards at all, simply because there’s always a visible list of the exercise options, so I sort of know what’s coming. There’s order. I despise the wheel. Hate it with a passion. It never seems to roll true and is forever landing on the same exercise, meaning that whatever part of my body is taking the strain will be a quivering wreck by the time the wheel has spun and landed on the same thing three times in succession. Without a doubt, I’m far, far happier when Joe just tells me what’s coming next!
Daily family walks will inevitably be punctuated by arguments. On all but about five days since the start of lockdown, we’ve been out for a walk around our local area, as a family. We’ve walked for miles and miles, which to us adults seems like a thing of wonder. However, to our children, it’s the dullest thing ever. It’s guaranteed to sour at least one of their moods and, given that my children are very much of the opinion that we all need to hear what they’re feeling at any given time, their disapproval will be voiced. Cue arguments! I’ve often said that we provide a traveling soap opera for anyone within hearing distance when we’re out and about, but I daresay there are people in houses around where we live who have counted down the minutes until we pass again in the early evening. It seems to be a tailor-made opportunity for my children to have a good moan or offer an unwanted opinion. Me? I tend to just walk at the back, lips firmly shut, but even then there have been times when I can’t help but join in. Who knew a walk could be so eventful?
I still prefer to exercise without a soundtrack. While I’ve experimented with running with my iPod on, I’ve never really found it adds anything to the way I feel. More than anything, I worry about not hearing traffic and crossing a road where I then get knocked over! While I’m out running I like my wits about me and I find I can concentrate and focus a great deal better without music in my ears. I wouldn’t say that there’s any kind of zen thing going on, but I find the silence helps me to think. And while I’m thinking – maybe weighing up a decision that’s got to be made – I’m not feeling the heaviness in my legs or the tightness in my chest. My thoughts don’t wander, so there’s no danger of worrying about anything asthma-related and more to the point, I’m no longer prone to the little voice in my head telling me I’ve gone far enough and should stop! I think even with music on I’d be telling myself just to get to the end of a particular song and then turn round and walk home! I’m definitely mentally stronger when it’s just me and the outdoors. I’ve found the same with working out. While using YouTube to exercise there are mornings where the instructor plays music and I’m never at my best when it’s being played. Just tell me what to do, let me watch the clock and I’ll be fine!
I’ll get stuck in, whatever the weather. Just this morning, post-workout, I was out for the walk that serves as a warm down. It was fairly cold and the drizzle was relentless. But we were still out and about. And this has been the case throughout lockdown. While in the past I might not have gone out for a run because it was blowing a gale or raining, nowadays I don’t give it a second thought. Similarly, when it’s been very hot, I’ve made the effort to get out and run. It’s definitely the right approach and it’s definitely making me fitter, stronger, and healthier.
I’m a terrible judge of people. I owe Joe Wicks an apology. For years he’s just been a bloke with silly hair and I mildly amusing voice. Then, when I joined in with his workouts I initially found myself judging him a bit more. Now, 15 weeks or so in, I’ve come to realise that he’s alright. He seems to have similar sense of humour to me – he’s a big fan of Alan Partridge – and like me he’s devoted to his family. I still can’t live his lack of taste in music, but I’ve learnt a valuable lesson. Just because you’re regularly clad in lycra, are unashamed about showing off your sculpted body and are vocal about your love of exercise and healthy eating, it doesn’t make you a bad person. Sorry Joe. And apologies to every runner or gym goer I’ve ever sneered at around where we live.

So there we go. Not only have I got fitter, but I’ve learnt a few things about myself. I’d love to know how others have filled their time during lockdown or maybe even what you feel you’ve learnt about yourself. Let me know in the comments.

Book Review – ‘Set The Boy Free’ by Johnny Marr

One of the greatest compliments I ever received was when a mate at university told me, “You look like a young Johnny Marr.” I really wanted to be considered cool and this was music to my ears. I was thrilled at the time. I still am. As someone with a huge love of music who simply can’t play an instrument, unless you count the bongos, if the closest I can get to one of my musical heroes is looking like him, then I’ll take it!

For those who don’t know, Johnny Marr was the guitarist and founder member of The Smiths, a legendary English band. And sadly for a lot of people, that’s where the story stops. But fans know that Marr then went on to be part of several other influential bands across the decades and as such, to a lot of us he’s an absolute legend.

‘Set The Boy Free’ is an absolutely fascinating read. From his early life and humble beginnings in the suburbs of Manchester, Johnny was always fascinated by guitars. And once he got his hands on one it was a relatively short time before he became responsible for some of the most memorable, iconic records ever produced. The Smiths changed lives and continued to change them long after their split.

Marr describes, sometimes in incredible detail, how some of the most amazing Smiths songs were written. And for him, it’s more than just coming up with words and adding some music. He makes the song writing process in The Smiths sound quite magical, giving as much credit to his guitars as to any of his own skills. The relationship between him and Morrissey sounds remarkably harmonious and the way they write some of the greatest pop of anyone’s lifetime is conveyed as being almost mystical. But then tensions set in and Marr makes the difficult decision to leave the band.

As a reader, this is where even more magic starts to happen. You forget how many great bands Johnny Marr has had a hand in. But we’re led through all chapters of his musical journey. And oh, what a journey! Let’s drop a few names to either jog your memories or give you a bit of a surprise – The Pretenders, The The, Electronic, Modest Mouse, The Healers, The Cribs. Marr’s contribution to music has been amazing. And it’s all here in the book.

And yet, Marr talks about his life as if nothing remarkable has happened. There is no ego whatsoever in the book. This is just the tale of a boy who fell in love with guitars and music and then went on to live his life around them. In many ways it’s like reading about some kind of dream and because of this it sends a message to people, young and old, everywhere – if you want something; go and get it! And while I realise that life isn’t that simple, well it’s nice to dream. But that said, Johnny Marr is proof positive that dreams do come true.

What a man and what a life! If you’re into your music this book will be very much for you. Get yourself a copy and enjoy a fantastic read! Even if I wasn’t a fan of The Smiths, Marr or any of the other bands featured, I’d recommend this. A fascinating insight into making music – I’d give ‘Set The Boy Free’…

5 Guitars…because everything musical is rated on the famous guitar scale, right?

I have some questions about music…

I listen to a lot of music. Always have done. When I was a kid it was vinyl and sometimes cassettes. I even managed to take in eight track cassettes via my parents’ collection. MTV then brought an abundance of these new things called music videos and around this time I started going to gigs too. Then came the compact disc – let’s skip past mini discs – and finally the time when you could magic music out of thin air with downloads and then streaming – or witchcraft as I still call it!

It’s safe to say that I fell in love with music at an early age. I was fortunate enough to have a record shop in my town – Music Box – and could regularly be found in there going through the racks of vinyl albums and singles looking for treasure. Another favourite haunt was the library where there was a music section that I was always borrowing from in order to copy the music on to cassettes. It was by borrowing records from the library that I discovered artists that it probably would have taken me far longer to discover otherwise. I think we must have had a librarian with their finger on the music pulse!

As I’ve got older this love has remained and although my tastes have developed, I’ve stayed loyal to many of the old favourites too. And with over 40 years of active listening and gig going behind me it’s only right that I have some questions. Lots of questions. So many in fact that I intend to make this a bit of a series of blogs. So I’m going to ask them three at a time. They’re all serious of course…

So here we go.

1. Was James Brown as deaf as a post? Now before we start, although this question mocks Mr. Brown, I mean no disrespect. For me James Brown’s music is and always has been incredible. However, I’m sure he must have been hard of hearing and although I adore it, listening to his music often makes me think of conversations with my dad.

My evidence here best lies within Brown’s most famous track – ‘Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machine. The amount of repeated questions that Mr. Brown (he’s always Mr. Brown) asks on this track is quite incredible. As the track approaches the bridge, he starts. “Bobby, shall I take it to the bridge?” Bobby (and a few others) replies straight away with an enthusiastic “Yeah!”, proving that Bobby and pals do not have the hearing problem and also that they absolutely love a bridge. Mr. Brown, however, asks again – maybe this is just to confirm though. But no, he actually goes on to ask about the bridge four times in total. Four times! By the time he’s asked it a fourth time and they’re actually heading towards the bridge I imagine Bobby and friends are more than a little irked. Possibly, what you can’t hear as the track surges to the bridge finally, is Bobby himself saying to a backing singer, “Can you remind me to change the batteries in Mr. Brown’s hearing aid when we’re done?”

But it doesn’t stop there. Later on in the song, Brown asks, “You wanna hear it like you did on the top?” and when the fellas reply “Yeah!” again, he clearly misses it and just asks again. No doubt Bobby is, by this point, is praying that Mr. Brown doesn’t start hankering after the bridge again.

And then, as the song draws to a close, Mr. Brown simply cannot hear anything anymore and proceeds to ask if the fellas want to “Hit it one more time like we did at the top?” three times before finally shouting, “Can we hit it and quit?” four more times. Every time, his gang are screaming “Yeah!” and every time he just doesn’t seem to hear them. A bit like when you ask my dad anything if he’s watching one of his programmes. So while musically he has nothing to prove, I think you’ll agree I’m onto something and James Brown may well have been a little bit deaf.

2. Is it actually possible to sing along to a David Bowie song using anything other than a bad David Bowie impression? The answer, for me , is a categorical no. Try it. Ask Alexa to play Space Oddity, Life on Mars, China Girl or any other of Bowie’s brilliant collection of music. If, like me, you can’t remember lyrics, get them on your phone and away you go.

Now, as a Geordie (someone from Newcastle, a city in the far North of England, if you don’t know) I have quite a strong accent. So changing that can require quite a lot of thought and vocal dynamics. However, as someone who reads aloud quite often for a living, I can manage. But it is never easier than when listening to Bowie and I literally cannot manage to sing along in anything other than a bad Bowie voice.

And along the same lines as this I give you Mr. Mick Jagger. You know I’m right. I defy anyone to sing along to a Stones song without their Jagger voice. And their moves like Jagger. Put me in the kitchen with ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ and hear me ‘Jagger’ while I mince around doing air claps and pouting. Why? Because it is not possible to do anything other than this.

Oh, and just to blow your minds re this question, I give you ‘Dancing In The Streets’ by David Bowie and Mick Jagger. I dare you to try it…

3. Does every middle-aged man believe he can do a credible moonwalk? Surely it can’t just be me again? No, I think there must be loads of us. Perhaps we should form a club?

This question came to me again while listening to James Brown. I was cooking tea for my kids and as such, couldn’t leave the kitchen. You see, I’m quite the simple fellow and if I leave the kitchen I will undoubtedly find myself getting side-tracked and probably by something ridiculous. Before I know it, tea will be burning and so I’ve learnt to become a little more disciplined in my approach. My kids aren’t food critics, just whingers!

However, while listening to James Brown it was inevitable that I would start to dance. And dance I did. But when you’re out of moves, you’re out of moves. So what better to try than the moonwalk? I mean, it can’t be that difficult for a man with my skills, right? After all, my dance trademark is The Running Man and not everyone can pull that one off. And so, moonwalk it was.

I have to admit, that long after the music had finished, I was attempting to moonwalk. Practising like a good ‘un! I think, in a typical middle-aged man kind of way, that I’ve managed to perfect a reasonably convincing moonwalk too! But that’s the point though, isn’t it? Have a I just proved my own question right? Of course I think I can moonwalk! Of course I would watch a video of Michael Jackson doing the same and be convinced that we speak the same dance language. But of course, put under scrutiny, I can’t really moonwalk. Can I?

Most likely – and I’d say this is the case for most of us who presume that we too can actually pull off this move – I can just slide backwards across the floor. The slippery floor. While wearing just my socks. On my feet that is. But, as a middle-aged man and a father, I don’t think I’d be doing my job properly if I actually admitted defeat.

So there you have it. My first three questions about music. Not my first three ever, you understand? I hope you enjoyed them and that you found yourself nodding along. Let me know what you thought. And, furthermore, if you have any of your own questions about music, let me know and I’ll do some digging on your behalf!