Life – Page 2 – Middle Age Fanclub

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!

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.

Five Things That Made Me Smile: December and January.

Confession time. I had so much to smile about over Christmas, New Year and in January that my title is now somewhat lacking in the truth. So while I call this series of blogs ‘5 Things That Made Me Smile’, this one has a few more. Call them a Christmas bonus, if you will.

Christmas. The first thing that made me smile was Christmas itself. I love Christmas and always have done. It still feels kind of magical, even at my age. I love giving and receiving presents, seeing our decorations and also the efforts made by others around the town where I live or wherever I might be visiting. I love going home to see family and old friends I love Christmas television and always find myself watching old films that I haven’t seen for years. I love the fact that at some point I can just switch off, forget about work, forget about problems and even forget about what day it is! There’s loads to love about Christmas and it never fails to make me smile.

The first term in my new job. I started a new job in September at an all boys school and it’s been very demanding, but also lots of fun. It’s nice working in a school in the lead up to Christmas as everyone, regardless of whether or not they celebrate it, gets excited. This year though, what with the new job and some family illness thrown in for good measure, I was pretty much exhausted by the time the term came to an end. I’m enjoying my role though, so there’s every reason to smile.

A Shooting Star. There was a lot of talk of various planets being visible to the naked eye in the skies over Yorkshire during January. So, one night, when I noticed that the sky was incredibly clear and I was sure that the big orange star that I could see was Venus (it wasn’t!), I took my camera outside to try and get some decent photographs. I failed miserably and came back in. Then something told me to turn around and go back. When I did, almost immediately a shooting star whizzed past left to right, directly in front of my house. I’ve haven’t seen one since I was in my teens and it made my night, so this was definitely something to smile about.

Gavin and Stacey. This Christmas saw the final ever episode of Gavin and Stacey. If you don’t know of it, Gavin and Stacey is a popular comedy drama on the BBC. The previous episode, another Christmas special, had been 5 years ago, so this one was much anticipated. It’s fair to say that it was worth the wait. I won’t bore you with the details or spoil the surprise if you intend to watch it, but it certainly didn’t disappoint. The star of the show, James Corden, has become a bit of a marmite figure over the years, but personally I haven’t got a problem with him. As Smithy, he plays an excellent part and it’s him and Nessa (Ruth Jones) that this one revolves around. There was a lot to like about this final ever episode, as several storylines from over the years were finally tied up. And the ending was pretty much perfect. All in all then, a lot to laugh – and smile – about!

Not a snow day, but a snow week! Just to be clear, I love my job. But whenever we get a snow day, such is their rarity, it’s nothing short of a cause for celebration! So when it snowed quite heavily here in early January my hopes were up. By the Monday though, just as the new term was starting, I was up out of bed and getting ready for work. However, when I checked my phone, it said that school was closed. And when it happened again the next day, I was delighted. And you can probably imagine my state of mind when on the Wednesday we were told that we’d be closed for the rest of the week! I was setting work online for around 7.30 every morning and checking my laptop for any questions or queries from students throughout the day, but really, my time was my own. I’ve never had a three week Christmas break before, and probably won’t get one again, so this was truly special!

Walk, walk, walk. The aforementioned snow week meant that on a couple of occasions I could walk my daughter to work when she had an early start. I’m not one for lying in bed, it wasn’t a problem and when it was dark and icy it was nice to know I could just be a dad and make sure that she was safe. On a couple of occasions it was lovely and sunny and so once she was at work I just kept on walking. Plenty of exercise, loads of fresh air and everywhere I went looking that little bit better because it was blanketed in snow!

First run of the year. I’d spent about a month before and during the Christmas period suffering with a flu type bug. It really took it out of me and meant that I couldn’t get out and run. So, when I was able to get out a day before the snow and ice struck it felt fantastic. I only ran a 5k and didn’t push myself too hard, but after a month of feeling terrible, it was just brilliant to be able to get around my route! I’m gradually building up my distances again as I have races in March, April, May and June, so I’m determined to be in the best shape. That little 5k was hopefully the start of a good year of running and definitely a reason to allow myself a bit of a smile.

A wireless pacemaker. The final thing that made me smile came from the news. I read an article about the development of a wireless pacemaker that’s smaller than a triple A battery. Apparently it’s been described as a ‘game changer’ for heart patients. There are two devices that ‘talk to each other’ and keep the heart beating normally. Amazing stuff! It can also be fitted via a vein in your leg, meaning a lot less risk of infection and no ugly chest scarring. Who knows, maybe I’ll have one when mine gets changed in about 8 years time? Or maybe there’ll be even more developments by then?

All in all, it was a great Christmas period. Work even managed to extend it quite a way into January as well. What’s not to like about that?

The Pacemaker Diaries: It’s been two years.

You wouldn’t know it with the amount that I probably bang on about it, but I genuinely didn’t want having a pacemaker to define me. Still, I write about it, think about it constantly, find myself telling people things about it and frequently catch myself looking at my scar in the mirror or prodding away at the bit at the top of my chest where my wires are sticking up, right at the surface.

That said, a quick search of my posts tells me that the last time I wrote a ‘Pacemaker Diary’ was actually in November 2023, a whole year after it was fitted. So, even though it’s been mentioned in some pieces I’ve written since, maybe I’m not banging on about it quite as much as I imagine. Anyone I speak to regularly can feel free to correct me on that though!

I was prompted to write this post because of Facebook memories of all things. In the lead up to Christmas and New Year just gone it felt like every few days there’d be something popping up where I was thanking people for their support or updating friends on my progress. They reminded me of both how poorly I’d been and also how far I’d come and they made me do a lot of thinking about the little machine that sits in my chest.

It’s been over 2 years since I had the pacemaker fitted. I didn’t pay much attention to the anniversary this time around. Sometimes there’s just too much going on in life for you to pause and have a think about stuff. But those Facebook memories changed all that and made me want to write something down about what life’s like these days. Self indulgent? I don’t know really, but I guess if you think that way you have the option of clicking that little x in the corner of your screen and not reading on.

I think writing about it simply helps me get on with life, which might be a bit more understandable when I tell you what it’s all like.

The pacemaker makes me feel a lot more comfortable about life, that’s for sure. I hardly ever worry about my heart. But paradoxically, it is always there to remind of just how poorly I was and the long, long time that it took me to get better. On top of that it’s a constant reminder of how low it all made me feel and the worryingly negative effects it had on my mental health.

There are both positives and negatives when it comes to having this device though and those reminders on social media made me think about a few of them. The first is just a bit of a change, I suppose, although does feel slightly negative. These days, my heart literally thumps when there’s not really been a great deal of effort. I’ve noticed it when climbing stairs and also that when getting into bed and straightening out the duvet, once I settle down my heart will be thumping! As someone who had an unnaturally low heart rate prior to all this – one of the reasons for the pacemaker – that takes a bit of getting used to!

Having the pacemaker has really made me focus on my health and fitness to the point where I’m really quite obsessive and possibly even a little evangelical about running! Silly really, but it genuinely makes me feel strong being able to run, especially in actual races. I couldn’t recommend it enough, even though I’m aware it’s not everybody’s cup of tea!

Another negative is that I live with a heart monitor by the side of my bed. This makes me feel really, really old! The monitor doesn’t do much, but I’m aware it’s feeding data back to the hospital which still feels a little bit weird. As I mentioned earlier as well, I have another scar as well as a strange bit on my chest where my wires just stick upwards. It’s a neat little scar, but those wires spoil things and coupled with the big scar that I have on my chest from a childhood heart operation, it’s not a great look!

My condition means that I still get heart palpitations, albeit nowhere near as regularly as I was having them for large parts of 2022 before my operation. However now, when they come I can rest assured that the pacemaker will kick in after about 5 seconds and stop them. It’s still quite a frightening thing, especially when it feels like the pacemaker isn’t going to react. The thought of having them for untold hours and just trying to get on with my day while wondering if I was about to pass out is a memory that still lingers! Still, that pacemaker is reassuring though.

Another drawback is that my left arm and shoulder don’t seem to work very well anymore. My scarring is really close to my left shoulder and I assume that it’s affected things as I haven’t got full movement and my left arm isn’t as ‘strong’ as it used to be. I mean, it wasn’t strong anyway, but it’s just a bit pathetic nowadays!

The final gripe I have is with my aftercare. I’ve only had one follow up appointment with a cardiologist since it all happened. Even that wasn’t actually scheduled. It was an appointment about a 24 hour monitor I’d worn, but in between times I’d had to have my pacemaker fitted, so the appointment was made later because the cardiologist didn’t realise and had to spend a load of time reading my notes before actually seeing me! Since then – January 2023 – there have been a couple of scans done but no meeting with actual doctors, which feels wrong.

I have had a letter from my hospital saying that a planned appointment had been rescheduled for later in the year, but I hadn’t even been informed about the planned appointment, so it’s all a bit of a mystery really! Luckily, I feel fit and healthy but it is concerning not to be speaking to someone when we’re almost 2 years on from the last appointment.

All in all, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. Two years of major change that, just when you think you’ve almost forgotten about it and are living pretty normally, comes back to haunt you via bloody Facebook of all things! Clearly, while this pacemaker doesn’t really define me, it’s never going to leave me either!

Always look on the bright side: Five things that made me smile this Autumn.

It’s been a little while since I wrote one of these; a series that I started writing every month in order to remind myself that there were definitely positives in my life. At a time when I felt like I was struggling, I also wondered if it would help anyone else who might stumble upon this and read about some happy or funny stories. As ever, some are related to me and some are just the kinds of things that I’ve spotted in the news. Because everybody needs a bit of a smile now and again.

My new job. In September I started a new job and I have to say it’s been tough going since day one. I’m lucky enough to work in a very supportive environment and I’m still just about enjoying the challenge. There are plenty of positives too, but one in particular stood out from last month. As with most schools, our behaviour system has negative points as well as positives. Sadly, I find myself having to log a lot more negatives than I’d like and at times it can mean that there’s not enough time to catch up with the positives. However, some groups are very keen to remind you to put them on the system! One boy in my Year 7 group really managed to make me smile last month with his reaction to being given an achievement point. He’s always very keen to get them and always asks on his way out of the class if he’s earned one. And on this occasion when he asked and I responded positively he walked off with a barely audible, yet emphatic ‘Yes’ and a bit of a fist pump! A lovely, golden moment!

The Morley 10k. The town where I live has been holding a 10k race for a few years now and I’ve managed to run every one, despite my health issues. For this year’s I’d trained pretty well, running the route a few times and bringing my time down every time. I’d also ran quite a few 10k+ training runs and was feeling good. However, on the morning of the race I felt terrible. Like I was going to vomit imminently. I considered not running, but managed to pull myself together, resolving that this year’s goal was just to get round. But when I got into my running I felt quite strong and, checking my watch, was going quite fast. Sadly, I slowed a bit in the second half of the course before managing to put together a strong finish and eventually came 342nd out of 849 runners. Not my finest hour, but easily enough to make me smile (once I’d gotten my breath back and stopped groaning)!

The Winner of the Great North Run. Sadly, it wasn’t me. Partly because I didn’t take part but mainly because it would have taken me most of the day. Also, it’s the women’s race that I’m writing about. You see, I have a connection to the winner. Let me tell you about it. Every Saturday morning, me and my son volunteer as marshals at one of our local Park Runs. Every week we wait eagerly for the first runner to arrive, often marvelling at how fast they’re running. A short while back now, we were stood at our usual spot, not expecting the first runners for a couple of minutes yet. And then, as I glanced to my left, down the track, she appeared. A female runner, going extremely quickly. She was a real sight to behold. Graceful, powerful, effortless; she looked like a proper athlete. It turned out that she was! Mary Ngugi-Cooper is a Kenyan athlete who apparently lives locally and she’d just ran our course record time! She even came back the next week and broke her own record again! Fast forward to September and I found myself watching the Great North Run – a very famous half marathon) on telly while I did a bit of Sunday morning ironing. It was held in torrential rain (the race, not the ironing), but something else began to pique my interest. Every time they cut to footage of the women’s’ race, I was sure I recognised one of the leading pack. But I couldn’t quite place her. Anyway, after a thrilling finish the same lady won the race with just 5 seconds separating the first 5 athletes. When her name appeared on the screen, the penny finally dropped. My mate Mary from ParkRun had just won the Great North Run!

The return of Gone Fishing. ‘Gone Fishing’ is a BBC series where two blokes go fishing. Yet, of course it’s much, much more than that. The two blokes are comedians Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse, both heroes of mine. The series came about after Bob had a triple heart bypass and had pretty much given up on life. When no one could tempt him to leave the house, his friend Paul got in touch and suggested a spot of fishing. It worked. Not only that though, after a few trips the two realised that they could make a television series about it, which they went on to do. Amazingly, given that this is a programme where two blokes just go fishing, it’s just been commissioned for an 8th series and I’m currently enjoying the 7th. Gone Fishing is much more than just some fishing though. It’s about health, friendship, nature, humour and much more and is a truly heartening watch. Needless to say, the latest series has me smiling.

Beekeeper discovers lost bees. A lovely story from the BBC website in September. When he became a father something inspired Ross Main to set out to find his grandfather’s lost beehives. Maybe it was the memories of tending them with his grandad and possible hoping to pass on similar lessons to his own children. Anyway, Ross set off to the abandoned quarry where the hives had been and despite the hugely overgrown area, he found one last hive, having worried that they’d all been sold off. Even better news though, was that the bees had survived. After a bit of research Ross was able to transfer the hive to his home town and start to tend to them. Now, some 9 years on he has set up an apiary business, manages around 300,000 bees a week in 90-100 colonies and sells honey to local farm shops as well as teaching locals about the value of bees to the ecosystem. What’s not to like about that story?

I hope at least some of those made you smile!

Middle Age: Tales of the unexpected.

I’ve been writing this blog for 6 years now. The original idea was to sort of diarise stuff about getting older; welcoming in middle age and documenting what it was like, if you like. That quickly changed when I realised that I’d given myself a platform where I could write about…well, anything!

Six years ago, I’d had a heart operation and so my first 3 blogs were about that. It was the reason for starting the blog. I suppose it was kind of cleansing. A way to let people know how I was feeling without having to do any of that awkward talky stuff that I’m not a great fan of. But then I got to liking writing about all manner of stuff and noticed that there were more than just my friends reading. So suddenly, there I was typing up my thoughts and feelings about music, fashion, young people, football and eventually even plucking up enough courage to share some poetry.

It’s been a while though since I wrote about middle age, but recently I got to thinking about some changes I’d gone through that I hadn’t really expected. So, I thought I’d give the rest of you advance warning of some of the perils of middle age. Something to look forward to, eh? And if you’re already of a similar age or older, some of this might resonate and make you chuckle.

Going white. I’m 52 now and so far, while I’ve been going grey since my early thirties, it’s been a pleasingly slow progression. I’d say that most of my hair is still black and that thankfully, aside from some patches in the sides, I’m more pepper than salt. However, following an operation I wasn’t able to shave for a while. I was fine with this. Being happy to be alive will make you far less vain and so being unshaven and subsequently growing a beard didn’t phase me at all. What did bother me though, was the fact that my beard came through as largely white! I mean, when there was a bit of growth, say after a week or so, I was beginning to resemble some kind of apprentice Santa Claus! Definitely not the change that I was expecting.
Losing my hair. To clarify, I still have a decent head of hair. There are far more who are far younger than me who have lost a lot more hair. That said though, lately I’ve really noticed how much I’m receding. And while in reality there’s very little chance of it, I’ve been beginning to fear the development of a hair island at the front of my head! My forehead is definitely growing where there used to be hair! Like I say, I think it’s a way off as yet, but it’s really bothered me.
Strange marks and blemishes. Another unwanted imperfection has been the development of marks and blemishes on my body. I already have three notable scars – two on my chest and one on my right calf – so I could do with the latest additions to my body! A year ago, I got an infection right at the top of my left leg, just where it meets the hip. I’ve no idea how, but it ended up as a real mess when the cyst burst and I ended up at the doctors. Even he took a deep breath when I revealed the mess that my leg was in. Anyway, a year later and the marks are still there, like two ugly red scars. I also have a mark on my shin that I can’t explain and right in the middle of the large scar on my chest it’ll sometimes get dry and itchy, making for another horrible blemish. Add to this a small red area on the end of my nose and it’s becoming a bit of a problem! It seems that when these things happen nowadays that my body just can’t move on! It’s honestly one of the worst bits about middle age that I’ve encountered so far!
My body. Having been slim all my life, middle age is no fun. I used to be able to eat anything and it had no effect. Now though…ooof! Too much spice = heartburn, coffee = feeling sick, pizza, I’m steering clear of as I think I’m developing an aversion to cheese, red wine (oh, red wine), that used to be my best friend, gives me nightmares and a thumping heart in the night! And it all makes me put on weight. I have a belly that I’m really not fond of, but try as I might it just won’t shift. My body is not enjoying middle age!
Bruises. Suddenly, bruises are taking far longer to heal and going far bluer or greener than before. What’s that all about? I rarely bruised as a young man, but now the slightest touch against almost anything and I’ve got a nasty bruise. This means that, as a teacher, I have a more or less permanent bruise at the top of my thigh where I’ve walked into yet another desk as I do my ’rounds’ in the classroom!
Memory. Now, I’ve never had a great memory. I’m terrible at remembering birthdays and rarely know the lyrics of songs, despite the fact that I may have been singing them on and off for over 30 years. However, middle age has now brought the curse of not being able to remember why I came into a room. The kitchen is the favourite here and it often doubles up as I remember why I’m there – to get something out of a cupboard – but can’t remember what the something was that I was getting.
Hair growth. If you’re wondering, yes, this is a strange thing to include in the same piece as a bit where I worried about hair loss. But that my friends is the weird and ‘wonderful’ world of growing into middle age. Sometimes, everything’s a conundrum! Suffice to say, since the onset of middle age I seem to be sprouting hair in places where I don’t really want it. Firstly, I have more back hair than I’d like. It’s not a great deal, but I’d prefer none really. I’ve always been quite hairy anyway, but my back seems to have decided to play catch up with my chest, arms and legs over the last few years. My eyebrows too have gone rogue. The hair there is just taking on a life of its own and I’m finding myself having to trim it regularly to stop it encroaching up my forehead. And then, there’s my nose. Not just hair in there, but growing on the outside too and while both have been a constant in adult life, it would seem that they’re now just heading into some form unwanted of overdrive! Believe me, shaving the outside of your nose is no fun whatsoever!
A realisation of my uselessness. I’m not really useless. There are lots of things that I can do and lots that I’m actually good at. However, what worries me is far more fundamental. The older I get, the more I’m finding that the essential ‘man stuff’ is a bit beyond me. There’s just loads of stuff that I cannot do. Let me explain. Recently, one of the spotlight bulbs in our bathroom stopped working. This wasn’t a problem. They were easy to change, I’d heard. Just press on the outside, it’ll drop down from the ceiling and you pop the bulb out and put another in. Except ours didn’t. Naturally though, being a bloke, I couldn’t resist a half hour struggle with it first, which succeeded in me breaking the unit leaving it now dangling from the ceiling! The springs to hold the unit in place were either left dangling with the light or flew off into the loft which meant a long time spent crawling around our loft space trying to find them amongst the insulation. No fun, dear reader, no fun! Suffice to say, another two bulbs went soon after, leaving us with one working spotlight. It turned out that our electrician had fitted the less than easy to change versions and only after several trips to YouTube was I able to figure it out and even then fixing it all was far from easy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so frustrated. Add to my spotlight woe the fact that I won’t go near electrics having electrocuted myself quite badly in the past, I don’t like speaking to people on the phone and that I can’t change a tyre and I’m stuck in middle age feeling pretty useless!

It seems really unfair that just because you get to this stage in life that a million unexpected things start to happen to you. I mean, the health worries have been more than enough and I thought all the awkward changes I needed had come in puberty. I imagined my next stop was pensionable age and all that would happen would be fully expected! This present pit stop is not at all enjoyable!

Anyway, less moaning and more positivity. I’m still here and most of my hair is still its natural colour! Until next time…

Book Review: ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ by John Cooper Clarke

If you know of him, John Cooper Clarke comes under a number of aliases. The Poet Laureate of Punk, the Bard of Salford, the punk poet…he’s even sometimes referred to as Dr. John Cooper Clarke. If you don’t know of him, well it’s best you start with the viewpoint that the man is a star. A poet, a raconteur and an entertainer. And as we find out in ‘I Wanna Be Yours’, he can’t half tell a story!

As such, you’d expect his autobiography to be quite the read. And you wouldn’t be disappointed. Having read it recently in fact, I was actually pleasantly surprised at just how ‘eventful’ his life has been, as the book went way beyond my expectations. I thought I knew a few things about the man who’s considered a bit of a national treasure these days, but on reading the book I found that there are layers upon layers to this fella’s life story. What a treat!

Now aged 75, Cooper Clarke is best known as a poet, although in recent years he’s managed to light up several TV panel shows with his wit, humour and way with words. And it’s his gift for language that makes ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ so eminently readable. The sharp delivery meant that I read the whole thing hearing Cooper Clarke’s voice in my head, which for me made the whole thing all the more memorable.

The book takes us through his early years as a sickly child in Manchester where in fact, a dose of tuberculosis meant that he was moved to the North Wales coast to live with relatives in the hope that the sea air would aid his recovery. Once back in Manchester, we hear of a multitude of adventures as Cooper Clarke grows up and eventually begins to get into clothes and music, slowly honing the look for which he’d become famous in later life.

Eventually, with a bit of luck, a good deal of hard graft and not without one or two setbacks along the way, John finds that he has a gift for entertaining people. And so begins quite the extraordinary tale of a bit of a legend.

This is a brilliant book with any number of twists and turns, a whole host of bizarre and incredible tales and no shortage of surprises. So while I was fully aware of Cooper Clarke’s influence on bands such as The Arctic Monkeys, I certainly wasn’t expecting the likes of Bernard Manning to put in an appearance! And then as I carried on reading and found out about his close associations with the likes of Nico and Linton Kwesi Johnson, I was more than a little bit blown away! But that’s the thing about a life like Cooper Clarke’s and in turn this book; there’s never a page wasted, there’s always something curious or funny or just downright mindblowing around the corner.

A genuinely funny man, with a great turn of phrase, Cooper Clarke’s words will inevitably raise a smile and leave you in fits of laughter at times too. But for all of the light there are many moments of shade and the book – and John’s life – has sad moments too alongside many murky tales of Cooper Clarke’s own drug addictions. But even here, it’s all told with such candour and black humour that I found myself not really batting an eyelid and simply accepting that it had all added to the rich tapestry that I’d been reading about.

In the end, I was left wondering if at times, I’d been had. Surely there are more than a few tall tales and embellishments along the way in the book? However, on reflection I decided that either I didn’t really care – I mean wherever the truth lies, this was an amazing read – or more likely, it was all probably very much true. Because, whether it be looking after somebody’s monkey in Amsterdam and just ducking and diving while looking for your next fix of heroin, it could well have all happened to only one man; John Cooper Clarke.

Whether you know of his legend or not, this is a book I’d thoroughly recommend.

I give ‘I Wanna Be Yours’

Teaching: New year, new job…first week done!

Having written about my nerves and concerns at starting my new job last time out, I’m happy to say that my first week is now officially done. So, I thought I’d let you know how things went.

It’s safe to say that the first week has felt about a month long and that I’m ready for another holiday. That’s a joke for the humourless and also those people who really don’t like teachers and our allegedly ‘easy jobs’! I am tired though! Anyway, here are the highs and lows of that first week.

The Highs.

We got the band back together. I’m now working with (counts on fingers) 9 people that I’ve worked with before, several of whom are cherished friends and people that I’ve worked with on and off for quite some time now. It’s been lovely, but also surreal at times and I’ve done countless double takes at them walking into my room or just seeing them in corridors and genuinely having the feeling of ‘Hang on, what are you doing here?’ I don’t know when that’ll stop, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling that I’m very lucky to be back in the band. As the frontman, of course before you ask. Me, Ruth, Gemma, Debbie and Emily Smellybumpoo (not her real name, but not far off), it’s great to be back together!

Everyone is so nice. Now, people have been nice before by the way, but having moved from somewhere where I knew everything and everyone really well, it’s been comforting to come somewhere new and meet so many people who have been nothing but friendly and happy to see me. I’ve lost count of the number of visitors to my classroom coming in just to ask me how my day was or how I’m settling in. I mean, sometimes I can walk in my own house and 100% of the people here aren’t particularly moved by my presence, so seeing so many smiling faces pointing in my direction has been a real boost.

No surprises with the students. Kids are just kids, aren’t they? Never an opinion nor a reaction in common and despite my nerves about being at a boy’s school, it turns out that they’re much of a muchness with all the other children I’ve taught before. Probably the best moment of the week in terms of students actually came outside the classroom while I was on duty on the field on Friday. Two students approached me, asking ‘Are you new, sir?’ When I confirmed that I was, one of them told me that he was in my interview lesson months ago and that he was pleased I’d got the job, before wishing me the best of luck and leaving telling me, ‘Yeah, you’re sound, sir’. Praise indeed!

It takes me 7 minutes to get to work. My commute is just 7 minutes. That’s the high, right there.

Fridays are amazing. On Fridays I have a free period and my afternoon consists of a class of lovely Year 7s followed by the final lesson of the week in the library with my Year 8s. For the final part of each library lesson I get to read our class reader to my class, while they just sit and follow. I absolutely love reading aloud in class, always have done, and now I get to end every week of the year doing just that!

The Lows.

Training Days. With the dawn of corporate style academy trusts came many things to complain about. One of the worst is the first day back conference. It doesn’t seem to matter where you go; you can’t escape. And it doesn’t matter what training you choose to do, or who’s speaking because it all adds up to a 7 or 8 hour day of being talked at. This is not my strong point and I’d say that usually at around 7 or 8 minutes in, I’ve stopped listening. My eyes are open, I’m breathing, but frankly, I’m on auto pilot. The lights are definitely on, but it’s not really me that’s at home; I’m more a combination of Elmer Fudd, some sparkly lighting and a bowl of custard, which is useful. This year, there was a motivational speaker. He spoke for over 90 minutes which served to destroy my back and leave me with numb buttocks that may never regain full sensitivity. I’ll also never forget his name or achievements because he mentioned them in almost every other sentence. By the end of it all I felt like I’d done 3 rounds with a UFC fighter! That said, it was still more fun than my old place where I was once asked to contribute to a round of applause the lead school’s GCSE results! Reader, I sat on my hands and grimaced.

There’s always that one class. Let’s just say that they were testing out the new bloke. It was no great surprise, but for a whole lesson one of my classes just would not behave, would not be quiet and would not listen. They were relentless. I felt like a student teacher again, helpless and useless. I was flustered, frustrated and boy, was I sweaty! This cloud had a lovely silver lining though. Senior staff were angered, concerned for me and apologetic, even though there was no need. Boys will be boys, will be boys. The reaction helped show me the strength of the team I’ve joined though. My head of department asked jokingly, would I be back tomorrow. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, as some bloke with a pointy beard and a dodgy earring once wrote.

The lack of sleep. I haven’t made it to my alarm all week. Every morning, I’ve been out of bed before it’s gone off, having been awake for a while beforehand. I’m happy to have made the change, but definitely unsettled by it all. I know I’ll be ok in a few weeks when there’s a lot less newness, but for now, I’m shattered!

Hall, Oates and…Bedingfield? Starting something new can clearly do something strange to your mind. True to form, for some reason I’ve had ‘You Make My Dreams Come True’ by Hall and Oates and ‘Unwritten’ by Natasha Bedingfield relentlessly running round my head all week. Now, I love Hall and Oates and always have done, but Bedingfield is just a mystery. And a massive pain in the arse.

No goats. Believe it or not my new school not only has a forest school, but also a kind of allotment style arrangement for our more vulnerable learners known as the barnyard. Among the animals there we have goats and I bloody love goats! Sadly though, despite keeping an eagle eye out whenever I’ve been in the vicinity I’ve not seen even a hair of a goat. I’m gutted, but hopeful that my first goat encounter isn’t far off! Maybe next week…

I never thought I’d leave my old place. I loved the place, the people and the students. But then life got in the way, as it has a habit of doing and just when I was about as low as I could get, another opportunity presented itself and I was lucky enough to be able to take it.

I’m at the very start of that opportunity. It’s been a ridiculously busy week and stressful too. But then, I expected that it would be. I have to say though, I’m really enjoying my work. I miss lots of things and people at my old place and it’s been strange being in a new classroom, not knowing my way around the school – I’ve got lost at least 5 times – and not seeing some of my favourite people. But you know what? I think I’m going to love working at my new place. One week down of a new school year…only 190 more days to go

Teaching: New school year, new job…help!

This September I start a new job. This shouldn’t be a big problem for me, yet I’m more than a little anxious about the change.

As I said, it shouldn’t be something that’s too alarming. I mean for a start, this was my choice. Furthermore, I’m entering my 25th year of teaching – what’s that, you wouldn’t know it to look at me and I should get out of town, you say? It’s true though and in my head that should mean that I’ve seen it all before and that a change like this shouldn’t really have an effect. But it is and there’s quite a lot that’s bothering me. But rather than write about it in a “pick me” as my kids say, kind of way, I thought I’d try to make people smile a bit. Let’s play this for laughs, not for sympathy.

Let’s start with how it all came about. I’d been at my last place for 9 years, most of them blissfully happy ones too. I was appointed as a Lead Practitioner and although at first it felt like the school might not know what to do with me, it was thoroughly enjoyable and I felt like I was contributing a lot. Over the years I felt like I was really helping out at the school and affecting change in my own small way. I’d occasionally run whole school or departmental training. I’d do morning briefings about various things, taking the lead on reading and oracy in particular with the emphasis on getting my ideas across while also giving people a bit of fun at the start of their day. I’d also do fairly regular assemblies. In short, I felt like I was good at my job. Apart from mentoring; I was shit at that.

Three years ago though, I was told that my role was no longer viable for whatever reason and that was that. Unless I wanted to apply to be in charge of KS4 English, I’d be back as a teacher of English only. The KS4 role just wasn’t for me and so I went about my business as a teacher. Sure, I sulked a bit but overall I was professional and did my job to the very best of my ability. The cut in wages and lack of challenge never left me though and I decided that I’d be leaving, as much as it would hurt.

Then, two years ago, I got ill. My heart decided not to bother working properly anymore and it resulted in me having 4 months off work. When I returned, nothing felt the same and I spent large parts of last year feeling really unhappy. Now, I’ll be honest, I probably look unhappy most of the time anyway, but this was different. Inwardly and outwardly, I just wasn’t smiling.

Luckily for me another chance presented itself and with a touch more luck, I got the job. So, just what is it that’s worrying me then?

I’m someone who likes to have fun at work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a professional first and foremost, but I’ve loved being class clown for a long time too. For me, teaching is largely just showing off.

One of the ways that I like to have fun is via email. Childish, I know, but I love a daft email. Now though, I find myself worrying about how that first email will go down. At my last place, my first really silly one involved asking everyone in the department what music they’d have as their walk on music, if we could bring in such a thing. It’s the kind of thing that I daydream about in meetings. If you must know, I’d have a burst ‘No Limits’ by 2Unlimited, followed by a bit of ‘The Power’ by Snap before finishing with the drama of ‘One Voice’ by Barry Manilow. Genius, I know. I’d look fabulous as well, by the way.

Anyway, after 9 years at my old place everyone was more than used to this type of thing and most seemed to enjoy it. But how will it all go down in a new setting? I’m heartened by the fact that I know some of the people in my department, but still, I don’t want people to think of me as a complete knobhead. Not until they get to know me, anyway.

On a much more serious note, I’m anxious about creating relationships with my classes. It’s always hard and having been at the same school for 9 years, it’s not something I’m used to any more. Sure, I had new classes every year, but this year barely a pupil at the school knows me. I know that after a few weeks they’ll be used to me and I’ll be used to them, but the fact that it can be such a gruelling process is still a little daunting. I’ve never been one of the ‘don’t smile ’til Christmas’ brigade and want students to enjoy being in my lessons so for me relationships are key.

It’s a similar story where relationships with colleagues are concerned. As I said earlier, I already know some of my department having worked with them before, but as for the others, I don’t even think I’ve met them all. I’m really quite a shy person. In my recent leaving speech I joked that probably only 40% of the people present actually knew who I was, but I might not have been too far wide of the mark! Hopefully though, I’m able to come across as far less of a tool than I actually am. I might even try to chip in with some useful comments in meetings, just to smooth the way! Best to get some brownie points in the bag before that first email, I guess!

Learning names is also something to fret about. I’ve never been the best in this area of my job. With students I’m usually quite good, just because I see the same names on a register time and time again, although there’ll always be one or two that slip the net. However, it’s staff names that I really struggle with. There are already a couple of people that I’ve met where I’m unsure of their name. It’s a particular blind spot with me and although there’s always ‘Miss’ and ‘Sir’ to rely on, I always feel guilty about this particular flaw. A whole fresh start with an entirely new staff suddenly feels like an accident waiting to happen. I’m never far off an ‘alright Dave’ situation when I’m talking to a Mike or a Paul and it’s inevitable that I’m only weeks ago from a misnaming faux pas!

Almost a quarter of a century of teaching has seen me acquire quite a lot of ‘stuff’. And finding it a home makes me anxious too. I’m yet to see my classroom and so don’t know if there’s space for all I’ll bring. Further to that is the fact that it’s going to take loads of trips back and forth from my car to get it all in too. I deliberately left quite a lot behind and have even culled some of the stuff I brought home. I mean, I took around half a box of spare worksheets and paper resources that I had knocking around in my old room before looking at them in my front room and realising that, having not probably used any of it for the best part of a decade I’d probably have no need for it anyway! It’s odd the things that you cling on to. Luckily, there are probably only around 7 boxes worth to transport. And then some bags too! Someone help me!

My new job is at a boys school. The first same sex school I’ll have taught in and although I know exactly what to expect (lads, lads, lads, I suppose), it unnerves me a bit. I know it’ll take a bit of getting used to. I know that I’ll spend the first few weeks looking at my class thinking stuff like, ‘There’s something not quite right here’ and doing comedy double takes at the fact that ‘THEY’RE ALL BOYS’!

And then, and by no means finally but I have to end somewhere, there are the little things. The ones that will probably turn out to be nothing, but will almost certainly keep me awake the night before it all begins.

Firstly, I haven’t got my pass yet. And what are we without a lanyard, eh? I mean, a chair of governors once wrongly accused me and a couple of others of turning ours around deliberately at an open evening in order to avoid parental questions, so I’m envisaging a horde of riot police charging at me when I turn up without one. But also, how do I get in to the building? What if no one comes to get me? And then, when I finally get it what do I do if the picture is one of those where my smile is on the wane, so to speak? You know, like it’s sliding off your face? What do I do then?

There’s also the bit where you have to introduce yourself to the whole staff. Sure, it’s just a stand up and wave thing, but if anyone’s going to trip over his own feet on the way up or miss his chair on the way back down, it’s me. My brain has a terrible habit of either making me say stupid stuff or do something even stupider. So, I’m really looking forward to winking at a hall full of people while pointing my fingers or doing a peace sign like some cheeseball gameshow host and all the while not having a clue how any of it happened.

Furthermore, I’ve never parked in the actual car park. I’ve always been in a handy visitor’s space. So what if I park in the wrong place? It’d be just like me to park in Big Tony’s space (the bloke who everyone fears and no one knows what he actually teaches – every school’s got one). I’m not a young man anymore; I could do without all of this!

All this is running round my mind and I haven’t even got to the usual expected raft of IT problems that have haunted me for years. The board that only works on days with an ‘e’ in their name, the forgetting of my own password, wrestling with a more advanced version of ClassCharts than I’m used to and then of course, my nemesis…the bloody visualiser! We still used a telly on a trolley when I first started, so it doesn’t take much in terms of IT to put me in a flap!

Changing jobs has made me feel ludicrously inexperienced again, before I’ve even started. I’m finding myself worrying about things that bothered me as a newly qualified teacher back in the late 1800s. Anyone that knows me will also know that none of this is an exaggeration either! Luckily, I know that really it’s just a case of getting the first month out of the way before I’m into some kind of routine and things are pretty much falling into place. Give it a year or two and they’ll have stopped talking about the amount of times I locked myself out of a building, the ridiculous resources I brought or even my inevitably ill fitting high viz for duties too.

Wish me luck! I think I’m going to need it!