Life – Page 5 – Middle Age Fanclub

Middle Aged Gigging – ‘Embrace’ at Leeds O2 Academy…on a school night!

I’m quite sure that nothing can make you feel older or more middle aged than a night out. Not a party with friends or meeting people you know for whatever it might be; no, a night out. In public, with people that you have little or no knowledge of beforehand. Going to a gig is a prime example of this. Thursday night at Embrace was no different for a couple of reasons!

As is now usual, we get to the Leeds Academy early. Having had heart surgery last year, the barrier offers protection for this paranoid old fella, so it’s become our home from home at gigs. However, beyond the comfort, you can never resist a look round and tonight when I do, I’m greeted by a very definite feeling that the usually familiar middle aged audience at an Embrace gig has been infiltrated by…youth! Not even a smattering. Tribes of the buggers, pockets of them everywhere you turn. As I said, there’s nothing that can match their power in making you feel old. And it’s not long before it gets worse.

Within minutes support band The Slates take to the stage. Immediately I’m thinking, ‘I could be all of your dads’. They’re sooo young! And yet, from the first chords of the opener tonight, I’m nothing but impressed. The energy is brilliant and you can’t help but root for these lads. The sight of them does remind me that I have to teach my Year 10s first thing in the morning though. Regardless, their set just makes me smile. Stand out tracks would be ‘What Have You Done?’ and ‘Hello, don’t you know’?, but in truth it’s all impressive from The Slates who look and sound like a band with a bright future ahead of them, even if they do make me feel ancient.

There’s a hint of early Arctic Monkeys in there and you can hear the Britpop, but there’s also some ska at times, which given their age and the era of music that they must have grown up with, brings to mind the influence of The Ordinary Boys. Whatever their influences, it doesn’t really matter. The Slates are excellent tonight and they throw themselves into this gig, clearly enjoying their moment. Subsequently, it’s infectious and I’m sure that they’ll leave with more than a few more fans tonight. I’ll definitely be searching out their music.

After a quick shuffle around of equipment on stage it’s time for another support act; Tom Speight. The energy is certainly no less, but it’s different. Tom Speight is, as the name suggests, a solo artist, although he is backed by another singer, a girl who I think he called Hedara who had a great voice (apologies though if I’ve got the name wrong). His music is kind of folky and there’s more than a nod to the pop of the likes of Turin Brakes and maybe even Starsailor.

Speight’s set is energetic and he makes an immediate impact on the crowd. He does a remarkable job of ‘filling’ the room with his sound, given that this is just two voices and a guitar. Both voices though, are strong and emotive and they work really well together. It’s not long before we’re tapping and nodding along and later, with a little bit of persuasion we’re singing along too. Songs like ‘Wonderful Wonder’ and ‘Everything’s Waiting For You’ go down really well and by the time the set ends, we’ve been teed up nicely for the return of Embrace.

Tonight Embrace are performing their album ‘The Good Will Out’ in full as part of its 25th Anniversary celebrations. Suddenly, my age isn’t an issue! I fell in love with these songs and this band a long, long time ago so it’s safe to say that I’m excited to be right at the front for the gig. It’s also a year to the day since I had heart surgery, so it’s a lovely way to celebrate getting through what’s been a tough year.

There’s a hero’s welcome for the band when they take the stage and it’s not long before they’ve launched into opener ‘All You Good Good People’. The pace is set and it’s just going to be our job to keep up now. But it won’t be a problem. I can’t hold back a huge smile at the first line, ‘I feel like I’m meant something’ and as if I needed a reminder on this day of all days, it’s good to be alive. It feels like the whole room is taking off with everyone singing every lyric and as is always the case with Embrace, it’s a joy to be here.

By the time we’ve reached one of my all time favourite songs, ‘One Big Family’, the atmosphere is electric. It’s always great to see a band on home turf as the atmosphere is generally special. Tonight is no exception. By the end of the track I’m well and truly out of breath and realise that I’d been more or less screaming the lyrics back at the band, so if you were at the front and near a skinny bloke in a black t-shirt with a white beard, I can only apologise. Mind you, I’ll only have to do it again, because I was probably even screechier during ‘Retread’.

Discussing the gig on our way back to the car afterwards we talked about the emotion of seeing Embrace and the fact that it feels like a happening rather than simply entertainment. It’s what I imagine being in church feels like when there’s a gospel choir, simply because I feel like I’m almost lifted up and carried along by the band and the songs. There’s no doubt that the chief protagonist in all of this is singer Danny, who never fails to get the crowd going and he’s on good form tonight and clearly enjoying himself, even encouraging us – even the old folk – to dance during some of the songs. I tried Danny, I tried…

Obviously, given my attachment to the songs, I’d say that the whole album is done wonderfully tonight. But for me, the middle section of tracks ‘I Want The World’, ‘You’ve Got To Say Yes’ ‘Retread’ and ‘Last Gas’ is absolutely blistering.

As we end the set with the ‘la la la la’ singalong that is ‘The Good Will Out’ it’s clear that everyone’s had a wonderful night. As ever, I’m left wondering just how long an Embrace crowd would willingly do the ‘la la las’ for if we were just left to it. Hours, I’d wager. Brilliantly though (and sadly, if you love a ‘la la la’), with a ‘greatest hits’ style encore to come, it’s not quite done.

There are five songs on the encore tonight. ‘We Are It’, ‘Refugees’, ‘Dry Kids’ ‘Gravity’ and ‘Ashes’ – all are amazing. Dry Kids makes a welcome return and Gravity – the first dance at our wedding – has me tearing up as usual (middle age can be a funny old thing, kids). Before them though is Refugees which is just incredible and Richard’s vocals are simply superb. I’m a little bit spellbound by Mike’s drumming on this track too and I’m absolutely knackered by the end of it, which is unfortunate because as we all know, we’re ending with live favourite Ashes.

When it comes, I think we all summon up a last little bit of energy and there are people pogoing everywhere you look. As ever, ‘Ashes’ feels like an event in itself and I think I might have run out of superlatives at this point. Suffice to say, that it’s just another moment where I’m thankful to be here because as tired as I feel, it’s nothing short of a pleasure to be able to completely lose myself in what is an absolute tune.

It’s been a brilliant night, again. Twenty five years of ‘The Good Will Out’ and a little bit more than that of watching Embrace live. We’re off to bed late on a school night, but I’m sure my Year 10s will understand!

Poetry Blog: Halloween

So, I’ve given myself a simple brief for this one. I’d wanted to sit down and give this poem some thought, but for a number of reasons I’ve found myself more than a bit pushed for time. Thus, I decided to write a Halloween poem within a time limit. So, I gave myself an hour to have it written.

I cheated a little bit because I’d started thinking about it a couple of days ago and this morning I wrote a few things down; just ideas, rather than fully formed lines.

Anyway, below is the finished and imaginatively titled poem.

Halloween

The smell of premature bonfires and fireworks drifts across town,
but nothing can distract you from the sounds,
those early shrieks and delighted screams
that despite daylight, still cling on stubbornly to 
sound the alarm of this special night.

You hear them before you see them,
their delight announcing their arrival,
those miniature ghosts, zombies and monsters,
with every so often a rogue Disney Princess,
knocking at a door to tempt someone to part with treats
based upon their cuteness alone.

As night falls, more sinister sights and sounds sidle along,
changing the atmosphere and making even the most cynical eye
dart everywhere...just in case.
The ghosts, monsters and zombies more convincing now,
casting doubt in the minds of anyone approaching from a distance.

Houses, now haunted, promise a bounty of sugar
for those who are brave enough to venture up the path,
creeping past the plastic graves, skeletons and cackling witches,
but the rewards are plenty when you reach the pumpkins
and before too long pockets and bags are under strain
as greedy teens take on just one last door.

Later, as quickly as they filled up,
the streets are deserted and the dead of night swallows up
that short lived sense of fun and adventure.
Tucked away indoors, stomachs are full and parents cling to the hope
that weary legs will soon win out over the sugar rush.

I hope this one captures that sense of Halloween, especially given the time limits! I tried to add as many things as I could remember from trick or treating now that my children are too hold to bother with it anymore. I’m a bit out of practice though!

As ever, feel free to leave a comment! Happy Halloween!

Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life…5 Things that made me smile in September.

If I’m brutally honest, I didn’t feel much like smiling in September. As if summer wasn’t bad enough with mental and physical health issues we also had months of pretty tragic weather. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t fully expect weeks of bright sunshine and searing heat, but constant rain and an average temperature of about 14 degrees isn’t exactly food for the soul! And of course, September is the month that us teachers get to start a new academic year all over again!

However, there were still just about enough reasons to be cheerful, so here they are.

I got my running buddy back! When he was much younger, my son used to come out running with me on a regular basis. He showed a real talent for running and although he might have the odd grumble, he was able to cover good distances without too much trouble. And then he became a teenager! Despite having real potential as a runner, he simply stopped doing it and I was left running on my own, an kind of X-Box widower, if you like. Fast forward about 3 years and as part of his Silver Duke of Edinburgh he’s chosen to do running as a sporting option. The funny part of it is that he doesn’t want to come out on any evening runs because he might see people he knows! Sadly for him, that means he’s got to be up at 6.30am every Saturday now, but he’s done it without too much grumbling. It’s lovely to have him back though.
Claude the Koala. I read a brilliant story about a koala bear in the news at the start of last month. It really made me laugh! Apparently an Australian garden centre owner was left completely without answers about who or what was eating his seedlings. It could have been goats, it could have been possums, but he didn’t actually know. And then one morning he discovered the culprit, lying somewhat ‘food drunk’ in amongst the eucalyptus plants. A koala, eating the very plants that were being grown to help out his own endangered species in the region! Even when they moved him on, he came back night after night. So now, they’re having to build koala proof fencing to keep him out. There can’t be anyone who doesn’t manage a smile at Claude looking incredibly guilty below!

3. Being back among friends at work. I’ve written elsewhere about summer being a tough time for me mentally. I’ve never felt so sad. And despite my dread of going back to work after the summer break, it’s been wonderful to be back amongst my friends. Hard work, but they make it lovely. So many people have enquired as to my health and been genuinely kind, but being back among our English Department team has been the best part of it. Plenty of laughs, loads of cynicism and just a lot of fun. Thanks ladies! 4. The World Stone Skimming Championships. How have I never heard about this before now? Apparently the World Championships are held each year on Easdale island in the Hebrides. For the uninitiated, stone skimming is exactly what it sounds like. You get a preferably flat stone and throw it in a particular way so that it skims across the surface of the water. It’s always been a cracking seaside tradition in the UK. So, reading about the fact that there’s a world championships for such a dad skill made me smile! It also made me remember that just this summer, on several beaches in Wales, I introduced my son to stone skimming, meaning that for a few days, every time we went anywhere near water the both of us would be scanning the shore for the perfect skimming stone. He got the hang of it quite quickly, but it made me smile to remember that I was still the best! Dads, eh? 5. Year 7. Another year and another group of young people make the transition to high school. Bright eyed, smartly dressed and kind of ready to learn. They’re sat up straight in your lesson, not complaining about English, being tired, the weather, the temperature of the room, the lights in the room or literally anything else that might just put them off doing any work. For a while, they’re an absolute joy to work with. Yes, some can be a bit needy, but that’s ok. This is a big old change they’re making. I have two groups of Year 7s in English this year, plus a group for History and one for PHSCE and I’m genuinely enjoying teaching them. Perhaps it’s the heightened positive approach I’m deliberately taking this year, but those year 7s are a little pool of light in an ocean of darkness at the minute!

So there you go – even when it’s been a tough month and you’re not feeling particularly enthusiastic and bright, there are always a few things that might just make us smile!

Poetry Blog: A Poem for National Poetry Day

I’ve taken a different direction for this latest poetry blog. Where usually I’d have already written a poem and just dug it out from a notebook, today I’ve written a short poem especially for National Poetry Day. I gave myself a deadline before writing some of it down. Any changes or additions were then made when I typed this whole thing up. I hope you like it.

I only gave myself a short time to think and after trying to write something about Autumn, I abandoned it in favour of writing something about why I write poetry. So, here you go.

The words I'd never say

Usually, it's the words I'd never say,
too self conscious to just let them fly
and only too aware of the stutter, the nerves 
and the glowing cheeks that would greet
the rush of blood telling me that it was safe to speak.

Sometimes, I'm lost in thought,
my own little world and things I'd rather not share out loud.
Futile really. Probably not even anything that
anybody else would need to know,
but it has to come out somewhere, somehow.

Scrawled inky lines crawling across the page,
filled with scribbles, arrows and asterisk
allow the expression that otherwise would stay silent
it could be the birds in the park or fears about health,
or just about a day out that might have left its mark,
this shy boy can still have his say.

I was never a one for writing poetry. There had been the odd one or two over the years, but they were never kept. And then lockdown happened and the words just began to flow. Now there are multiple notebooks with poems in various stages around out house. Hopefully, the poem fills you in a little bit as to why that is.

The Pacemaker Diaries – summer’s been a bummer.

A bit of a cathartic post, this one. I’m aware that I’ve written a lot about my heart surgery last year and I’m aware of the fact that it might just be getting boring. It’s getting that way for me too. But despite my many quiet vows to not let the pacemaker define me, it’s kind of a tough one that! So this post is sort of cathartic because it allows me to vent my frustrations as well as publicly celebrate my successes, however minor they might have been.

So, my recovery continues. I’m still very aware of my pacemaker; you can literally see it when I take my top off (steady ladies), there’s a scar that looks red raw when I’ve done any exercise and more than anything else, I can just feel it sitting there in my chest. It doesn’t hurt or anything like that, but it does get sore after exercise or if I’ve had to take on any lifting.

Thankfully though, I’m now running regularly. I manage to get out twice a week and have been pretty much exclusively running 10ks recently in preparation for an upcoming race. That race is the Morley 10k, which I ran in October of last year before collapsing a few weeks later and then finding myself in hospital a few weeks after that. So all the omens are good! At the time of running it, I felt good and strong and despite the fairly undulating course and the fact that I was actually very poorly, managed a time of 54 minutes! I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that this time around!

That said, for a recent hilly 10k that I ran around town, I clocked a time of under 57 minutes, so I’m not actually too far short of pushing for a similar sort of time as last year. Maybe, with a decent tail wind for the last couple of miles, I can achieve something worth shouting about. It would certainly help me get past the whole ‘woe is me and my pacemaker ‘ thing!

My body continues to frustrate me though. As far as I’m concerned, I’m out of shape and carrying a bit of a belly, although my wife tells me I’m being ridiculous. When I’m feeling more rational I can put the aches, the pains and the belly down to middle age, but I still feel unhappy with it and I’m fairly sure that had I not had the health issue that I’ve had, I would be in a lot better shape physically. Four months off work with nowhere near enough exercise and far too much snacking has clearly taken its toll and I’m struggling to get back into shape.

I found summer really tough and for long periods felt as low as I can remember ever feeling. As is my habit, I tried to hide it from everyone and seemed to be getting away with just being labelled occasionally grumpy, but if I’m honest, I just couldn’t cope with it. Running kept me sane and when I was out on those early mornings I hardly had a care in the world. But at home, on holiday, visiting family, I just felt awful. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. I felt impatient with those around me and angry at what’s gone on since last year with my health. In terms of recovery, being so frustrated and angry really doesn’t make things easy and I’ve genuinely felt like I couldn’t move on.

The peak of it came when I just felt I had to talk to someone. Not like me at all, but I knew I had to try. I tried repeatedly, but something always got in the way and then one afternoon while she was at work and I was at home, my wife called me about something and I just confessed to how incredibly sad I felt. She’s been brilliant!

Talking a lot has certainly lightened the load, but I’m still considering counselling or just joining some kind of support group. I did this when I first got my pacemaker as I really struggled with what felt like the injustice and the worry of it all and it did me the world of good to hear from other people in the same situation and just to share a few things.

Part of the reason for the summer being such a tough time was that I stepped down from coaching my junior football team. The club wanted me to get rid of 4 players in order to make space for others that they were dropping down to us from our A team and I just wasn’t going to do it. I hoped they’d see reason, but when they didn’t I walked away on principle. I’d always tried to be a totally inclusive coach and when the club decided to release players based on ability, that was enough for me. They tried to dress it up as something else, citing players commitment as a reason, but it simply wasn’t anything to do with it.

I’d coached the team for 7 years and loved it. It had always helped me with my physical fitness and mental health too and so to lose it hit me hard. I managed to get a couple of the players that were dropped fixed up with a new club, but the fact that I could no longer coach kids I’d coached for years and years – including my own son – knocked me for six and just deepened the sadness I was already feeling.

The issue dragged on a bit because parents were actually on my side and so there’s been a lot of complaints flying around. However, the club have actually emailed one of the parents of a lad who was dropped and told some rather creative lies about me while being incredibly loose with the truth about what actually happened. I could have got very angry, but I’ve just decided to leave it. If it makes people feel better about themselves to tell blatant lies, I haven’t really got the time for that in my life. Not at the moment. Talk about kicking a man when he’s down!

I still go to watch the team, as my lad still plays and most of the squad are still ‘my’ players, but I just won’t have anything to do with the people at the club now. One or two in particular should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves, but I guess that some people are just never in the wrong! Karma can be a bitch though, so we’ll wait and see!

For now, I’m just trying to be as positive about life and recovery as I can. I’ve thrown myself into work and whether I’m happy or not, I’m trying to be as positive as is possible. So, I’ve dug out my Disney teacher voice for the new year 7s so my natural grumpiness doesn’t scare them and I’m putting positive comments on our ClassCharts whenever I think someone’s done something good. I’m trying to make sure that I explicitly praise as many students as possible whenever they’ve gone beyond the ordinary and I’ve not sent one email about how pointless a meeting is yet! I’ve even been early for a few of them as well. Inner me’s not particularly fooled, but the positivity is genuinely helping. It probably sounds stupid, but while I’m being positive, I’m not being negative and not feeling sorry for myself. Does that make sense?

So life, as ever, is full of ups and downs. And while there are a few too many downs for my liking at the moment, I’m hoping to work my way out of the way I feel before the end of the year. In November I’ll have had a pacemaker for a whole year and if I’m honest, it is a comfort. As far as I can tell, the old issues with my heart are fixed. Now, however difficult I find it at times, it’s just time to get on with life again in the best way that I can.

Poetry Blog: Roots

This one is an autobiographical poem. It’s about a lot of things in my life, but mainly things that have happened, or feelings that I’ve felt since I left home to go to university. It was a long time ago, but due to the upheaval it’s something that I probably still think about every day.

I’m from a city in the North East of England called Newcastle Upon Tyne. If you’re from the U.K no doubt you’ll know of it. If you’re anywhere else, you may still have heard of it and if not, give it a Google; have a look at the bridges and stuff, because it’s a wonderful place. For my money, it’s the greatest city on the planet, but then we’d all make that claim, wouldn’t we? Trust me, I’m right though because it’s a city that seems to make an indelible impact on its people and it certainly did on me.

I lived in Newcastle until I was 19 and can vividly remember, aged 18, telling my Year 13 form tutor that I’d never leave. I genuinely couldn’t envisage a time when I’d leave the place. There just wasn’t going to be a reason to take such drastic action. And then there was, so I left. After 3 years away at university I spent another 5 or 6 months back at home, trying to find a job that never came my way. This was ’90s Newcastle and it felt like I’d never get a break in a city that seemed like it was being cut adrift by a government that had all but destroyed all of our industry. So, I headed south to the Midlands to move in with the girl that later became my wife. We’re still together and nearly 30 years later I still live away from ‘home’, but closer now at least, in Yorkshire.

Roots

Geordie jeans and a head full of dreams
you left your home town, not even suspecting
that you'd never return.
The bridges, the monument, the shops and 
even the river would lose their warm familiarity
and before too long become almost alien,
making you feel strange, yet not a stranger,
displaced, without roots 
and never quite at home, wherever you went.
Every turn presented another stage of 
cultural change and gentrification
while you stood still, a statue without a plinth,
slowly shrinking into yourself 
until you didn't really recognise who or what 
you'd become, functioning behind a mask.
No direction and the wrong turn at every junction,
when the road forked you found the dead end,
falling into a self made trap, again and again
with only glimpses of light to keep you from the dark,
so that even the way ahead was stumbled upon
and even then only chance would keep you from being 
back to square one.
The beacon at your side the only part
of those last ten years,
to stave off the loneliness and put you
back together when,
you'd fallen off the wall again and again,
so that now, still Geordie jeans and a head full of dreams,
there's a reason to face each new day
and a heart to call a home.

The poem is about moving away and then watching the city change. That might have been changing in that I lost my sense of belonging there but also lost the ‘geography’ of the place, if you like so that however often I went back there would be more and more times when I just couldn’t remember my way around or couldn’t place things anymore. Add in the fact that my parents moved from my childhood home to a new village and it all led to me feeling a little alien in and around Newcastle.

The city also grew and was given a bit of a facelift in certain areas, making it far less recognisable and far more difficult to feel at ‘home’ in. Gradually, while I didn’t fall out of love with the city, I began to feel like I just didn’t really know it anymore which was heartbreaking given how attached to the place I had been growing up.

The Geordie jeans bit is about clothing, but heritage as well. There’s jeans and genes in there. The genes are obvious, I suppose. ‘Geordie Jeans’ however was, shall we say, a clothes shop when I was growing up that was a bit ‘budget’, but it was all that my parents could afford. So, I’d be kitted out for home and school in their stuff and very self conscious about it as a teenager.

The latter end of the poem is about all of those feelings coming together to have an adverse effect on my mental health. When we first moved away I knew we wouldn’t stay there, it was just after leaving university too, so there was career uncertainty too. If I’m honest, that’s stayed with me right up until the present day, as much as I love my job and the place where I live.

There’s a little bit of optimism towards the end of the poem. I still retain those dreams, however far away they might seem and as I said earlier, I still have my wife by my side looking after me and giving me strength wherever I go and in whatever I do.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the poem. It’s opened up a few ideas along similar lines in my head, so I might write more about those times if I can find the time.

No planner, a chimp, naps and IT problems: It’s Back to School ’23/24

September is not my favourite month, it’s safe to say. It’s the end of one generally lovely part of my life and the beginning of something very different. Time for a lot of us to turn what has become a rather pleasant routine on its head. Time again for early starts and rainy commutes. Time for what seems like constant noise where there had been solitude for much of the days that had spread out in front of us. Yep, these last couple of weeks have meant that it’s been time to go back to school.

For once, I didn’t get the full treatment in terms of ‘The Fear’. Of course, I didn’t want to go back and thoughts of chaos in the classroom seemed to permeate almost everything I was trying to concentrate on. My mood worsened and I was ranting and grumbling even more than usual. As usual, I tried to turn the return to work into a positive by doing stuff like taking the occasional trip to the shops to search out some new shirts, as even if I may not actually look good, I think it’s important to at least try and kid myself that I do. However, for once, I didn’t suffer with back to school nightmares where I’m standing in front of a class who simply aren’t listening and are talking over me, whatever I say or threaten them with. So that was a blessed relief and a nice change.

However, when I realised on the afternoon of the last day of the summer holidays that I still hadn’t ordered a planner, it became clear that I just wasn’t really that organised or even slightly ready for what was to come. Still though, despite their attempts to take over the world, Amazon proved its worth and with a few clicks I had exactly the same planner as last year on order. It wouldn’t arrive until the Tuesday, but I’d muddle on through…

If you’re a teacher reading this I’m sure you’ll share my absolute hatred and horror at the first INSET day. If you’re SLT reading this, then that last sentence was for comedic effect; we’re all delighted to be there and hanging on your every word. But maybe, on that particular high note, you should stop reading now.

Few things in teaching can feel as futile as the first INSET day. A friend tells me that he’s rarely listening that day and that he often finds himself hating three quarters of the people in every room that he enters. Apart from his own department, who are all wonderful. I’ll keep him anonymous, because that’s quite a bold statement, but just so that we’re clear, he’s definitely not me, but a friend.

Our set up dictates that we all head over to the lead school in our academies trust for the morning and so, on the first Monday back, I was in a car share chatting to a pal, while listening to The Smiths and wondering why the people in the back had definitely just mentioned that someone they knew might just be a swinger. It’s the kind of 20 minute journey that feels like it takes 4 hours and almost every road is about 6ft wide and undulating. And this year someone was talking about swingers.

On arrival at our INSET day, it’s a bit like being a pilot as numerous ‘important’ people in high viz jackets attempt to steer you into exactly the right parking space, as if parking where you want would represent a level 9 security breach, whatever that is.

Then, it’s breakfast with staff from every other school in the trust – I estimate that we have 804 schools by the state of the canteen as we walk in – and my compliments to the chef have to go to the individual who served up my orange juice and pain au chocolate as it made me feel like I’d just arrived at a luxury spa in rural France…sort of.

I’ll spare you anymore great detail of the morning, but suffice to say it was a delight to share reading strategies that I introduced to the staff of my own school around 4 years ago as well as those from partner schools and see them greeted with the kind of enthusiasm that indicated that no one had been listening four years ago. I’ll look forward to see someone else introducing them as their own some time soon and resolve to try very, very hard not to scream or shout obscenities.

There was also mention of Steve Peters, the psychiatrist made famous for his work with many of the UK’s top athletes. It reminded me that it’s entirely possible that I only have the chimp part of my brain that functions. And if you haven’t read the book, that won’t mean anything to you. Basically , Dr Steve says that it’s the chimp part of your brain that makes you do stupid stuff. Don’t worry though; it’s not a real chimp.

Looking round at lunch I noticed that one of our new starters didn’t get the casual dress memo; a lone young man in shirt and tie while everyone else in in jeans, t-shirts and the like, which is always brilliant and I also spotted the worst deputy head I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with, as he now seems to be employed by our trust. A number of years back I had to be restrained by a friend to prevent me having ‘a chat’ with said deputy after he simply forgot to turn up for an observation I’d spent untold hours preparing for. So, it was lovely to see him again.

At the end of that first day, I left work late feeling exactly the same way as I do every year – unprepared for the rest of the week and wishing that someone would grasp the importance of giving teachers time on these kinds of days rather than just workshops and speeches.

The rest of the week actually wasn’t that bad though, although I’m teaching three different subjects this year and would relish the chance to warmly thank our government for their assistance with this development. Without your ineptitude and inability to fund the creation of attractive working environments that might attract and keep new staff year in year out, I wouldn’t get to challenge myself with bottom set Year 9 PHSCE, so thanks for that. It wouldn’t be the same just being an experienced English teacher tasked with just teaching English.

One irritation about the rest of the week was that it was conducted through a heatwave, which if you’re a teacher you’ll know is exactly the same thing that happens every year, without fail. Five and a half weeks of rain followed by weather that would be more at home in the outback. My classroom is air-conditioned, so it’s quite nice, but it’s never fun when every class that comes in gives you a weather report, then points out that my room is lovely and cool before giving it ten minutes and informing me that they’re too cold.

It felt like a long week and I must admit it was a struggle in terms of tiredness – I nearly wrote fatigue there, but it was 5 days, for goodness sakes – and as I adapted to my routine for the 24th year, there were a few late finishes.

Happily, I managed to fit in two impromptu naps – don’t worry they were at home, not at work – so perhaps it’s right what they say about every cloud as it was a joy to re-discover my ability to fall asleep while reading. It may not be a skill to add to a CV any time soon, but it’s definitely something that I excel at and am really quite passionate about.

More joy came with the number of students who pointed out that I now had a beard. It was great to be reminded of this fact, especially as I’ve had said beard for around 9 months now and would have paraded it in front of almost all of them for several of those months last year. So, if anyone wonders of it’s a problem for teachers to get students to retain information on any number of complex subjects from Shakespeare to trigonometry, that might just help with the answer.

There have been the usual snags over the last couple of weeks. Every teacher surely knows that every photocopier in the building will break within 24 hours. And we’ll all still try to fix them or use them, despite the sign telling us they’re knackered.

In further technology news, my board is still making the same noise (it literally goes ‘doodly doo’ loudly and repeatedly) at random points of every lesson as it did in July. A temporary fix was put in place then; so temporary that it just never worked and the noise just continued. I was promised it’d be fixed. I was also promised that the wire that runs from my computer to my board would be replaced as it meant I had to hurdle it to get around that part of my classroom. Reader, I’m still hurdling.

There have been the delights of shared classes too. This year it feels like I share 94 groups, although it’s only three. But this still means the need to locate your books when needed as well as the sheer nightmare of working out where each class has got to while they’re with the other teacher. Often, this is just solved with an email, but it never fails to make things awkward! It also means that for the umpteenth year running, I’m an entire class’s least favourite English teacher and I get to hear that ‘Miss doesn’t do this’ or ‘Miss is nice’ at least 14 times a lesson.

Finally came a personal snag highlight in that where I park there are a few trees and it’s at this time of year that they seems to shed some kind of white sap. So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been possibly quite unique in being the only bloke driving a black and white polka dotted Mazda through West Yorkshire for the last two weeks.

As we edge towards the end of the second week I at least have reason for some optimism. My desk is roughly two metres wide and 1 metre deep. As I type, I think you can still see actual desk over approximately half of that area. Knowing that the piles of paper and books will inevitably grow, that 50% of desk is very much a reason to be cheerful!

Poetry Blog: ‘Routine’

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

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

Routine

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We Are Newcastle United’; Episode 3 Changing The Toon

I must admit to a tiny bit of a crisis of confidence before writing this latest article. I mean, who wants to read my ramblings about a programme they’ve inevitably already watched? But then I remembered that there are shed loads of grown adults out there who video themselves watching live football, swearing their heads off and acting like babies for all the world to see. So with so little to lose, I wrote the article!

If ever there was a collection of images that sums up the change in Newcastle United since October 2021 it’s there for all to see in episode 3. Granted, one side of the images isn’t here, but is undoubtedly etched in the mind of all of us. I talk of course of the players taking ice baths in wheelie bins and paddling pools during Mike Ashley’s reign. In this episode though we see the enormous changes in recovery technology brought to Newcastle by the new regime with a glimpse of the new hydro therapy pool. The difference is massive and the progress is there for all to see. Professional athletes being treated like professional athletes; who knew that this might help?

Later in the episode, while visiting Atlanta ahead of the Premier League Summer Series, Darren Eales refers to Newcastle as ‘a 130 year old start up’ creating a stark image of what the new owners must have found when they first arrived. Graeme Robson of Wor Flags later talks candidly about the fact that the new money can’t be ignored, but really all we wanted was for the club to be run properly. Not very convenient for the narrative touted by a lot of the media, but the truth all the same and a truth that ‘We Are Newcastle United’ needed to convey.

In this episode the players and the fans move more into focus. We start with Alexander Isak’s brace against Forest away and are reminded of the karate kick finish for the first. A hell of a goal and a hell of a start to what I must say has been my favourite episode so far.

As we move on to the build up to the home game against Manchester United it’s hugely positive. For me, the insight into the small touches by Eddie Howe are really interesting. Just things like greeting every player as they arrive at the training ground – ‘How’s that knee, Joe?’ – and then the enthusiasm on the training pitch and the encouragement – ‘Yes Cal…love that Callum’ are just lovely. I’m not naïve enough to think it’s anything special either, but you get the feeling that this is relentless from Howe and his staff. I, for one, would thrive hearing that type of thing every day.

Later in the show, when asked about the Carabao Cup Final defeat, Eddie tells the interviewer that ‘Any defeat you have is always in there, somewhere.’ Again, it’s the attention to detail and the steely determination that we all love, especially when defeats under the last regime were greeted with unwanted days off for the players and impromptu holidays for the manager. Not every time – no one can afford that many holidays – but enough so that every time that Eddie speaks you admire him just a little bit more. Although after a while, I’d have to tell him that my name’s not actually Callum…

Next there’s a focus on the lads and lasses at Wor Flags with an insight into their work and the preparation that went into the huge surfer flag that covered the bottom tier of the Leazes. Firstly, this serves to show the dedication of the fans – from those that donate money to make it all possible to the volunteers who put everything in place and organise the whole thing. Secondly though, it confirms that I’d be absolutely no use to them. While they’re unfolding, hauling and precisely positioning flags that cover almost an entire stand and weigh half a tonne, I still have to have my wife guide me through the folding up of a picnic blanket. I guess there are levels to this kind of thing, but it serves to illustrate the passion and dedication that is felt around Newcastle United.

As episode 3 rolls on to the Manchester United match, it’s hard to imagine the stadium looking any better and while some of the camera work is very much reminiscent of shows like The Apprentice, it’s very much appreciated. St. James’ Park is always an impressive sight and a thing of beauty but the documentary really celebrates the place here. The surfer flag looks incredible, but Wor Flags member Graeme’s excitement and pride is arguably even better.

This was by far the most emotional episode so far for me personally. I know lots of people said that the cup final footage brought them to tears, but not me. However, seeing the scenes in the dressing room both before the Manchester United game and at half time almost makes me crack.

Callum Wilson’s story later on, adds to the raw emotion and gives us an intriguing insight into not just the player, but the man and what makes him tick. The smile is infectious and instant, almost making it hard to imagine what he has gone through to get to this stage. But then key words like ‘turmoil’ and ‘adversity’ dominate during the visit to his old school and for me it serves to show that Callum Wilson found not just a football club, but a home when he joined Newcastle United. Wilson has played a massive part in its upturn, yet even in these more positive times he’s quick to flag up the importance of hunger and anger in achieving his goals. And I think it’s quite a neat parallel to the anger and determination of the fans in almost forcing change a couple of years ago.

And then, alongside some beautiful sweeping shots of the stadium and the odd bridge, we hear from some of the fans about the importance of Newcastle United. Again, there’s a big contrast here. Firstly, a Hindu fan speaks beautifully about the club being ‘the great equaliser in the city’ and how, when the time comes, he wants to be reincarnated as a Newcastle fan. Then we hear from 4 primary age kids, perched on a wall and one of them reflects about his sadness at the season ending soon, but that ‘summer’ll be good…wi’ hot tubs and that’. I’d like to think that they both speak for us all in their own way!

Speaking of speaking for us all, I’m sure I’ll be doing just that when I say that Anthony Gordon’s enquiries about pillows had us all on the edge of our seats. After already packing in quite a bit of drama, Gordon’s sleepy time enquiries promise to ramp it up another notch. Pillowgate turns out to be a bit of a let down though, with no one bar Anthony himself giving a shit. Even Nick Pope’s revelation that he sleeps with a pillow between his legs falls strangely flat. Still, if anyone was ever curious about how many pillows the likes of Gordon and Tripps sleep with, they got their answer.

At the end of the episode we get to re-live the remarkable events of the Spurs game. An extraordinary performance that will live long in the memory of every fan. As the goals flow and a rival is thoroughly humiliated the voiceover states, ‘What a time to be a Newcastle United fan’. I’ll drink to that and look forward to episode 4, but before I do, I have a question.

Has anybody else noticed the woman in the opening credits – and she’s there at the Spurs game too – arms aloft in celebration just shouting ‘No…no’? See, some of us are so wrapped up in the joy of this club that we forget how to celebrate. Newcastle United, that.

The Pacemaker Diaries: Summer Edition!

It’s been a while since my last Pacemaker Diary entry, so with a bit of time to kill and a few tings to update, I thought I’d write another.

In my last entry, in April, I wrote about hitting a bit of a bump in the road. I’d had to abandon a run, was suffering with dizziness and a general feeling of tiredeness and just generally wasn’t really coping with the whole ‘adjusting to having a pacemaker’ thing. I’d been back at work for around a month and was beginning to feel like I might not make it through to summer.

https://middleagefanclub.wordpress.com/2023/04/09/the-pacemaker-diaries-weve-definitely-hit-a-bump-in-the-road/

Well, it’s now summer. Two weeks into the holidays to be precise and while I’m nowhere near as fit and healthy as I had been pre-pacemaker, I’m still slowly getting there. Obviously, this is incredibly frustrating. You might argue that I should have gotten used to how my body feels and reacts to things by now. After all, I had my pacemaker fitted about 9 months ago. But, dear reader, I’m not used to it and that’s all there is to it. Or rather, I am used to it but I still absolutely hate the whole idea of it! It’s wonderful to still be here and I’m eternally grateful to the NHS and the staff at the hospital that helped me through and indeed the ones that still help when I have some kind of appointment, but I can’t change how I feel.

The phrases “I’m getting there” and “It’s just going to take time” have become as much a comfort as they have a pain in the arse, but I have to just keep reminding myself – and sometimes others, who don’t seem to get it – that I am indeed getting there and that this whole process of feeling myself and feeling fit again is jus going to take time! Friends who’ve gone through the same or similar have told me on numerous occasions that they didn’t feel themselves again for a long, long time and I suppose I’m simply finding out about how true that is!

Anyway, enough of the moaning and moping. There are some positives to discuss!

For one, I’m still running. It’s been a while since I had to be mature and force myself to take a break and as a result my fitness is consistently okay. It’s not great, but it’s okay…didn’t Whitney Houston once sing about that or something similar? Perhaps, that’s not a good thing…

I’ve been uncharacteristically sensible about my running for the past 4 or 5 weeks and have built up my distances really steadily. So, perhaps I’m tempering my frustration and anger a little bit after all.

Having completed the Leeds 10k in late June I took a break and haven’t ran that distance since. Instead, when I got back out I settled for running just 5ks for a couple of weeks and then built the distance up from there. I still haven’t managed another 10k run, but I think I will do soon as I’m consistently running over 5 miles. There have been varying results pace-wise, but I’m feeling more than capable of getting round the distance. It’s still reeeaaallly frustrating to see how slow I’ve ran at times, but I just have to cope!

I ran while on holiday recently, taking on some huge hills in North Wales, while receiving curious looks from llamas on a local farm! I ran for 5 miles, finishing on the beach and felt fantastic afterwards, but I made sure that I gave myself lots of recovery time and didn’t go for a second run that week which was a relief and a bit frustrating in equal measure! However, the change of scenery and obvious challenge felt like it did me the world of good.

After every run I’m on to planning my next one and genuinely feeling like I can go further. I was out earlier this week and managed 5.3 miles and I’ll be out again this weekend. I’m hoping that this one can be my first 10k since June, but we’ll see how the body reacts over the next couple of days.

I managed to damage my lower back around a month ago and then just when I felt it was almost better, injured it again. The first time was while leaning out of my chair at work to pick up something I’d dropped and then the second time was while getting something out of a cupboard in the kitchen! Both dangerous and high stakes activities, I’m sure you’ll agree but as frustrating as this is I guess it just comes down to having a battered, middle aged body, so I’ll have to cope!

As part of getting my back better I’ve started doing yoga again. It was something me and my wife did years ago and both felt we benefitted hugely from it. But time constraints and a young family got in the way and it fell by the wayside. However, my wife recently suggested a few moves that might help my back and so yoga is back on the agenda. I’ve only managed a couple of very short sessions with the aid of my phone to keep me right on the positions, but I’m hoping it will start to help with my health. It’s a bit more complicated as anything that means putting weight or pressure on my left hand side results in my pacemaker digging into me, but I’d take that over palpitations and blackouts any time!

I’m also hoping that yoga will help with my mental health. I’ve had lots of support in recovering from surgery and adapting to this new almost constantly fatigued, old body. However, it’s still been incredibly tough and I’ve felt isolated and sad throughout. The running has helped as I’m alone with my thoughts and can resolve a lot of stuff while I’m out. But I’m hoping that yoga – however bitesized it might be – will help me feel a lot calmer and relaxed about things.

So, there we have it. I have my next 10k race planned for October and am wondering about entering another before that. Either way though, I’m just hopeful that I can stay fit and healthy for long enough to feel that I can go back to work again in September feeling a bit brighter about things and then have a real go at the October 10k. As ever though, it’s just nice to still be here, however difficult things might seem and however low I might get at times!