Life – Page 7 – Middle Age Fanclub

Poetry Blog: ‘A Familiar Face’

This is another poem about being poorly. I’m conscious that I’ve written quite a few poems and articles around this theme since the run of the year, but I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me for getting a little bit obsessed with the failure of my heart.

Luckily, people are always very complimentary about these poems and I’ve received some incredibly supportive messages as I’ve been recovering, which has been a real help. I keep finding these poems tucked away in notebooks on scrap paper and figure that I might as well put them out as a blog. I’ve said this before, but if I don’t they’re just words on a bit of paper that no one other than me will read. Well, what would be the point of a blog in that case?

A Familiar Face

Amazing how, after all this trouble and time,
the answer could be hiding in plain sight.
The thing you feared the most, yet least expected,
the solution to the mystery you'd never have suspected
has come back to haunt you, bring chaos where there was relative calm.

For some time now, you've sensed its approach,
felt the uncomfortable sensation of its hot breath on your neck.
The thing you wouldn't name, but still recognised,
the terror that you lived with, but couldn't look in the eyes
lands a blow to leave you weak at the knees
and grabbing at thin air for balance.

So now, a new danger from a familiar face,
as you fight against yourself, your own failing,
knowing that whatever you do, whatever changes you make
may not be enough
and while all around you wish you well,
offer love, support, concern,
you have never felt so helpless, so frightened, so alone.

There were question marks, asterisks, scribbles and arrows all over this poem when I found it, which suggests that it was another one written in the early hours. The scribbles tell me that it might have been one I wrote after first deciding to go back to bed, but then sitting back down aware that there was another idea or another line still stuck in my head. I’d have been more sleepy than I realised, hence the mistakes and scribbles.

It’s another poem about being ill. This one focuses on the frustration I felt at the fact that my heart worries had come back to trouble me and the fear I had about just how bad I felt post operation.

When I first got poorly having had an episode of palpitations and dizziness in May of last year, I remember explaining to my wife that it frightened me and that I was determined not to end up back in hospital. A month later I was in hospital having tests on my heart. And then, just the other day I read a Facebook memory about a run I’d done in training for the last 10k race that I ran. It was early October of last year and I’d just done my last training run of about 12k and commented that I’d do anything at all to avoid anymore trips to the cardiologist. Sadly, less than a month on, I’d not only collapsed, but had been admitted to hospital to be told the next day that I’d have to have my pacemaker fitted. Life comes at you fast, as they say!

Fingers firmly crossed, but I feel better than I’ve felt in a while, despite a small setback about a month ago. Here’s to less heart-related poetry!

Top 10 Toronto: Some highlights of our trip.

So, this Easter we took a took a trip across the Atlantic for the first time in around 17 years, visiting Toronto and then Washington DC. Both are cities we’ve been to before, but we had our reasons for going back to both.

We have dear friends in Toronto and having not seen them for such a long time, it felt like too good an opportunity to pass up. Our big travels stopped when we had children, meaning at opposite sides of the ocean there were two sets of parents who had watched the other set of kids growing up on the internet! Suffice to say we were all excited to get there.

With Washington – or DC as us seasoned travellers refer to it, somewhat pompously – we just wanted to show our children the sites. It’s been a longstanding joke in our house that when places like The White House or The Capitol Building appear in films, we’ll point out that we’ve been there, much to our children’s frustration! But there’s a lot to see and we felt it was important for them to witness it all first hand.

I didn’t want to write a typical travelogue type piece as the chances are that most readers would already know much about both cities. If they didn’t, then that’s what Google is for. So, instead I’ve done a bit of a Top 10. Toronto today and Washington to follow.

Here’s my Top 10 of Toronto in no particular order.

My friend Andy is an Aussie, who like 94% of all Australians (accurate at time of being completely made up) has found himself living on an entirely different continent. And yes, to answer your inevitable question, he has been a barman once upon a time, I think. He’s lived outside of Oz for over two decades now and amazingly retains his full on Aussie accent. That is, apart from one phrase – “Oh my Gaaaaaaad” – which is always pronounced in a full on Canadian accent. We never talked of this and I’m not even sure that he’s aware of it, but it made me smile again and again, which is enough for it to make my Top 10!
It seems that 99% of Canadians obey the crossing laws. While in England, what those in North America call jaywalking, is simply a way of life, in Canada it feels like everyone waits for permission to cross the road, like one gigantic primary school outing. My wife is an absolute stickler for the crossing rules, so she was naturally thrilled. Me? Bored senseless, gazing down either end of the road seeing no traffic in my way, yet feeling forced to wait for the signal to cross! I can’t deny though that it is a truly incredible phenomenon to watch!
There is an underground walkway that spans nearly 30km and gives access to loads of shops and restaurants, as well as keeping you out of the snow! We’ve now visited Toronto three times and still never used it, mainly due to forgetfulness and being otherwise occupied with sight seeing or searching out Irish bars to watch Premier League football on! This year, we even had a map of ‘The Path’ and still didn’t use it. However, as we were heading to the airport on our final morning, we stopped at a set of lights and there it was…an access point for The Path, the mythical, yet brilliant underground walkway. Maybe next time, Toronto, maybe next time…

The CN Tower seems a blindingly obvious choice for any Top 10 on Toronto, but I just have to mention it. If you don’t know, it’s a huge tower that once upon a time used to be the tallest structure in the world. In fact, it held that title for over 30 years. It was the first thing I pointed out to my kids as we drove into the city and even a glimpse of it makes me smile. Visitors can go up the tower via a very fast elevator and then sample the delights of two different viewing levels, one of which has a section of glass flooring. Sadly, this was being renovated on our latest visit. You can even walk on the outside of one of the viewing areas on the Edgewalk, 116 storeys above the city. Of course, you’d have to be insane to actually sign up for this! Speaking of our latest visit, this year we managed to go up the tower in really poor weather, when it was pouring with rain, thus cutting down our views quite some. However, between the storms – we watched lightning strike just in front of the tower – we were still able to see for miles across the Toronto area and Lake Ontario. At one point, however, we were literally engulfed by a cloud! It was still fantastic to be back at the tower.

Back to a very personal memory of Toronto, again featuring my friend Andy. This is definitely not one you’d find in your average Top 10, though. Years ago, when we first met his then girlfriend, Kim, it made us smile that sometimes, especially when she was a little irked by him, she would refer to him using his full name. So, it will come as no surprise whatsoever to learn that it made us chuckle when it turned out that she still does this! Even my kids noticed it and it’s been mentioned on a fairly regular basis since we got home.
If you visit Toronto as a tourist then it’s almost inevitable that you’ll take a trip to Niagara Falls. After all, it’s said to be one of the mythical ‘Wonders of The World’. Now if you haven’t been you might just think that it’s ‘just’ a waterfall. Let me tell you different. Niagara Falls is simply remarkable, particularly the Canadian side and the Horseshoe Falls which stands 57m high. The sheer volume and force of the water heading over the edge of the waterfall is quite amazing and it really is a sight to behold. You’d think that a river going over a cliff wouldn’t be all that…but it really, really is. And yes, it’s very touristy, but it’s undeniably worth a few hours of your time. We even went into Niagara itself to play glow-in-the-dark mini golf!
Niagara on The Lake is a beautiful small town, near Niagara Falls, where the Niagara River meets Lake Ontario. It’s worth a visit just because it’s so picturesque, but if that wasn’t enough there’s a year round Christmas shop to tempt you too, as well as a number of pubs and various cafes and shops. Strangely, there are an abundance of hat shops too! If you’re not from America or Canada, Niagara on The Lake is the picture perfect small American/Canadian town that you see in your mind when you imagine what this type of place looks like.
On our last full day in Toronto – Good Friday – we went to spend some time with our friends in their neighbourhood. They live in the Beaches area of Toronto and it’s one of the most laid back places I’ve ever visited. On this particular day the streets were packed with parents and children either going to or coming away from Easter Egg hunts, many adorned with bunny ears. We had a gluten free brunch in The Haven cafe before heading down to the beaches that run alongside Lake Ontario and give this neighbourhood its name. It was a gloriously sunny morning and we took a long walk down the boardwalk all the way along the shore, just chatting, laughing and sharing memories. On a few occasions I slowed down and drfited off the back of the group just to watch them all walking along; my wife, my mates and our kids all together for the first time ever! Having been ill for months before this and genuinely wondering if I’d ever be able to do this sort of thing again, it felt completely wonderful and helped me see how much better I am. Finally, I felt relaxed. I think this was the morning that I knew I was going to be alright and that I could start to live properly with my pacemaker.
The wildlife in and around Toronto has always fascinated myself and my wife. On one occasion years ago, my mate Andy toured us around their neighbourhood just so that we could see a racoon. Racoons are the scourge of Toronto bins and residents aren’t too fond of them, but my wife was more interested in how cute they are. Toronto residents have christened them ‘trash pandas’ which I can only think would make them even more appealing to her. Andy also performed a U-turn in the car on another day so that we could go back down the road as he’d spotted a groundhog! On our recent trip, we spotted deer at the side of the highway coming back from Niagara and there seemed to be an abundance of eagles hovering around trees by the lake. However, our wildlife highlight happened on the way to the falls when in Niagara itself we saw a skunk on the pavement! Bizarrely, some locals were feeding it, despite the threat of a spray from said animal leaving them stinking like Satan’s armpits for days.
On the afternoon of Good Friday we visited the Distillery district of the city. This is an area of Victorian industrial buildings that has been revamped and renovated by developers, making a fabulous place to spend some time. It’s just not like a museum as while the buildings retain their industrial look, the district is made up of shops, restaurants, galleries and cafes. It was lovely and sunny when we went and such a striking place to see. The Distillery District gave us a brilliantly relaxed afternoon of shopping and wandering pretty aimlessly. Exactly what we needed after a hectic few days since arriving in Toronto. However, our relaxation was cut short when we got a text from our old Uni friend. Judith, telling us that she was in a brewery bar on the other side of the city if we wanted to come and meet. And so, we were on the march again, as we were quite a way out of town.! Thankfully our race across Toronto wasn’t in vain and we were in time to meet up and spend a lovely couple of hours chatting about our lives in Toronto and the UK before heading back to our hotel to pack for the next leg of our trip.

I’d thoroughly recommend Toronto. It’s a hugely welcoming city and there’s always something to do. I certainly didn’t struggle to put a Top 10 together; in fact I could have written a lot more. The best thing about the place though, is that it’s generally very friendly and welcoming. Even when we went searching out places in unfamiliar districts we felt safe, which is essential if you’re visiting with kids.

I hope you enjoyed my Top 10. It’s possibly a little bit different in places, but if you were after a guide, then Google can probably help! Hopefully though, there’s enough here to whet your appetite for a visit!

Always Look on the Bright Side: April’s Things That Made Me Smile

It’s been a busy April with an amazing transatlantic trip, time at home to rest afterwards, the start of my first term back at work with an almost full teaching timetable and some glorious grassroots football. There’s been a lot to leave me exhausted, but a lot to make me smile as well.

So here’s the latest edition of this occasional series.

A brilliant holiday. I have a blog ready to go about part 1 of this trip, so I won’t go into too much detail. It couldn’t be ignored though. The first leg of our trip took us back to Toronto, a city we’d last visited about 17 years ago, pre-children (otherwise known as our fun years!). The city brought lots of smiles simply by being Toronto, as it’s one of our favourites. However, what made me smile most – while at the same time having a transformative effect on my recovery from health issues – was seeing dear friends again. We have friends in Toronto who I first met over 20 years ago, while I was in my first teaching post. My mate Andy is an Aussie who was travelling at the time and spending some time in the UK. Somehow, he found his way to a small village somewhere in the hinterland between Leeds and Castleford in West Yorkshire. We connected instantly and have been laughing ever since. His girlfriend. now wife Kim, is a Torontonian and thus they settled there. She is also a fantastic person and again, someone who loves a laugh. Suffice to say, the two couples have always got on well. It was just an absolute blessing to spend time with them again (and with their fantastic children) and it felt like we’d never been apart. My health issues felt like they lifted in Toronto and kept moving away in Washington DC (our second port of call) and I genuinely feel much more optimistic about things now. Washington DC was everything you’d expect. Again, we’d been before, but it was great to be back. At times DC is like walking through a film set because you’ve seen so much of it before on screen. Suffice to say, the sheer amount of iconic buildings and monuments brought a great big grin to my face!
I Am The Champion! We flew Aer Lingus to and from our destinations. I’d never flown with them before, but I’d thoroughly recommend them having now done so. However, what I achieved on the flights was the thing that made me smile. In amongst the selection of films and TV shows to watch or even music to listen to, I stumbled upon the games. At first, I stuck to playing video pool which I wasn’t very good at. But then I found the Trivia game which was to all intents and purposes a general knowledge quiz. Now, I class myself as someone who knows a lot of ‘stuff’. Pub quiz knowledge, you might say. And to cut a long story short, by the end of my flight home I was not only first, but also second on the leaderboard, thus enabling me to crown myself as Aer Lingus Trivia World Champion! If anyone at the airline reads this and wants to send me my trophy, I’d be most grateful!
Spring! To be honest, it’s not got a great deal warmer here in the UK, but Spring has definitely sprung. The usual things about this made me smile: the blossom on the trees, the definite sense that there’s less rain about and the blooming of flowers like daffodils and crocuses in our garden. But the thing that made me smile the most was the sight of my back lawn, freshly cut after 3 legs of cutting it over three days, due to the fact that it had suddenly grown to about a foot long in lots of places! When our particular jungle is tamed, it makes a real difference!
I’m running again! I’ll keep this short as I could do without cursing myself and this ending up as another false start, but I’m running again. I feel much stronger and fitter and for the past two weeks have been out running twice a week. I’m building up to one of my big recovery goals, which I think will be very difficult, so wish me luck! Getting out running – especially an early morning one last Saturday – has got me smiling again.

5. Giraffes! My daily visit to the BBC website is always a good source for something heartwarming and a few days ago I read a story about Giraffes on Tour, a charity associated with the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. They were filling every seat with a toy giraffe on a routine refueling flight in order to raise money for the hospital. So, children had temporarily donated their toy giraffe to go on the flight, presumably in return for a cash donation, and then on their return they got not just their toy back, but a certificate too. It’s a lovely story and another brilliant example of the kind of charity work that most of have no idea goes on. And if that doesn’t make you smile, have a look at the photos!

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-65323153

So there we have it. You might have to travel far and wide or just look in some unusual places, but there’s always something to make you smile!

NUFC: Jacob Murphy is living the dream!

Whenever a homegrown player does well, we drag out the chant. You know, that one. And it could be literally anything remotely positive that the player has done. A three yard pass, clapping the fans, slyly kicking the ball away to waste a few more seconds in time added on. It doesn’t matter – “He’s one of our own”. What’s important is that they came through the system and preferably before that, they lived a similarly ordinary life as the rest of us.

This season we’ve found a new one who deserves the chant . Not, Elliot Anderson or Sean Longstaff. Not even one of the Mileys. No, in actual fact he’s been around for ages. With his mix of pace, energy and an excellent line in shithousery, Jacob Murphy has transcended geography and academy membership and firmly taken his place as one of our own.

Murphy was signed from Norwich by Rafa Benitez in July 2017. He came with a great deal of promise, but with only one full season for Norwich under his belt, there was more than a hint of ‘one for the future’ about him. He was 22 years old and signing for his boyhood club having just starred for England Under21s in the Euros; Jacob Murphy had the world at his feet.

In the 6 seasons since he signed for the club, Murphy has made 124 appearances, 66 of which came as a substitute. During those first three seasons he only made 34 appearances for the club as he was shipped out on loan in both 2019 and 2020, to West Brom and Sheffield Wednesday respectively. Suddenly, the world most certainly wasn’t at his feet and the dream move was simply not working out. In fact, I remember people asking if we’d signed the right Murphy – Jacob is a twin, if you didn’t know and his brother Josh was performing well for Cardiff at the time.

Back at Newcastle, he managed to work his way back into the squad but was frequently played out of position by Steve Bruce, the master of wedging square pegs in round holes. The move still wasn’t working out and it felt like he was a player who would definitely be sold, sooner rather than later. Another move that we could all put down to experience.

And then, Jacob Murphy got ‘Eddied’.

Eddie Howe has been transformative for Murphy. I don’t think that’s necessarily been in terms of ability either. Murphy was a very talented player when we signed him and in my opinion was one who suffered with poor man management. For me, Rafa Benitez didn’t seem to know what to do with him and when it looked like he may well be overwhelmed with his ‘dream’ move, Benitez didn’t seem able to help. I think this was and is probably just a flaw of Benitez’s management style, as former players seem to have been at pains to talk about the very formal relationship that they had with their ex boss. As a result, Murphy went out to West Brom on loan in August 2019. He must have felt like his dream move just wasn’t going to work out.

Steve Bruce had a similar effect on Murphy. Shortly after Bruce’s arrival at the club, Murphy was sent on loan again, this time to Sheffield Wednesday with reasonable success. Upon his return to the Newcastle, he was a fairly peripheral figure and for a lot of Bruce’s time he was played out of position as a wing back in a failing system. You could see the confidence draining out of the lad and he seemed to become a specialist in making terrible decisions. This was highlighted with his choice of trying to dink the ball over Watford’s keeper when clean through on goal with the chance of a winner. Instead, he just planted the ball into the keeper’s arms. By the sound of the Radio Newcastle commentary, I don’t think John Anderson will ever get over it!

By the time we were taken over, it felt like the end of the Jacob Murphy story was nigh. He looked almost certain to be sold. And yet, to his eternal credit, he dug in, held on and retained a place in the squad. The rest is, as they say history.

Eddie Howe has repeatedly reminded us of Murphy’s value to the squad. Successive players – Sean Longstaff springs to mind – have stressed his importance in terms of the spirit in the group. Longstaff said, “If it wasn’t for Murph, a lot of the way the group is it wouldn’t be as together, the training standard wouldn’t be as high. You see him coming on in games and the impact he makes.” He went on to refer to Murphy as a “comfort blanket”. And you can see where those sentiments come from. Murphy just seems like the archetypal ‘good lad’; a bit of a laugh, a positive influence and someone who’s always smiling. Jacob Murphy is having a ball.

As fans, our awareness of Jacob Murphy has been raised by his antics on the pitch as well as his improving form. From his mock awkward expression as he brushed past an apoplectic Marco Silva when we’d beaten Fulham, to his waving off of Duje Caleta-Car in the cup semi final against Southampton, right through to the shocked expression on his face after his screamer against Spurs recently. Brilliant to see from a Toon player, but infuriating for the opposition, which seems to be our trademark these days!

In may ways, Jacob Murphy is the poster boy for Eddie Howe’s quiet revolution. He’s certainly the latest to benefit from Howe’s methods and is finally fulfilling what was the undoubted potential he showed when we signed him all those years ago. Murphy’s decision making seems to have got a great deal better and he seems to be brimming with confidence. No more running down blind alleys; these days Murphy seems quite happy to back himself and take defenders on. And as for his second goal against Tottenham? I think his own reaction summed it up, really. As he said himself, he was “feeling juicy”! For me though, it was easily one of the biggest ‘Wow’ moments in a season full of ‘Wow’ moments. As the saying goes, ‘what a hit’! Add in the goal on Thursday night against Everton and Murphy is timing his run to the end of the season just right.

Murphy has been in every match day squad this season, appearing in every game and has also now started 6 of the last 7 matches. Currently, he’s playing brilliantly and keeping top scorer Miguel Almiron out of the team. If you’d said these things at the start of the season, I doubt anyone would have believed that they’d actually happen.

Remember as well, that Newcastle United were his boyhood club. He gets to pull on the shirt and is representing that badge brilliantly. He’s loved by the fans and massively appreciated by his team mates, as well as probably being increasingly feared by the opposition. Jacob Murphy is well and truly living the Geordie dream!

Grassroots Grumbles: For once, there’s nothing to grumble about.

It’s been a tough start to the year as a grassroots football coach. Illness meant that for the final couple of months of 2022 I wasn’t able to coach my team and while I returned to games in January, I couldn’t take a training session until March of 2023.

Despite the hardship, there was no point in grumbling. In terms of my health, anything that I was able to do was simply a bonus. Even organising a training session for someone else to take occupied my mind for a bit, meaning a change in my boring 4 month long routine of a daily walk and then little else.

Then, when I was able to return full time to actual games, it just felt amazing to be involved again. A few of the boys in the squad hadn’t trained while I was in recovery as they weren’t keen on the coaches that replaced me, so it was great to see them back when I returned. And I can honestly say that when our goalkeeper told me, “It’s good to see you”, it was one of the happiest moments of my whole recovery.

We’re a team of varied ability with a smattering of really capable young footballers joined by a group with less ability but lots of enthusiasm. We play in Division 6 of 7, which is an indicator of the ability, but at the start of January we were rock bottom of our league with no wins and no points. In my first game back on 15th January we lost 10-0 and things looked pretty bleak. However, a 4-0 defeat in our next game, against a very good side near the top of the league, was heartening. We were organised, determined and it was clear that the message was getting through. We were finally being competitive in games.

On 5th February this year we played the team who were at the top of our league. I’ll be honest, we’ve never given them a decent game in the three years that we’ve been playing against them, so I didn’t have a great deal of hope. Amazingly though, everything clicked and despite the fact that we were clinging on towards the end of the game, we won 3-2! It was a memorable day and as I was still weak from my operation, it took everything out of me. But, I was smiling and so were my team.

In our next game we reverted to type somewhat and got thumped again, but not long after we picked up another point in a home draw. We’d led three times in the game, so the signs were very good. We lost the next three games, but rarely looked anything but competitive. Confidence was growing…

And then, after a few weather induced postponements came our latest two games. The first one on 16th April followed by last night (at the time of writing), Thursday 20th April. We won both games, scoring 6 goals, conceding 3 and dominating both games for long periods of time. In the main, only silly decisions and mistakes put us under any pressure and had we taken more of the numerous chances we created then we would have given someone a real thumping.

In the first of those games we got in at half time a goal down, but somehow full of confidence that we could win. We looked good and seemed the fitter of the two teams. If we applied some pressure, the three points were there for the taking. I pointed out that only one team looked like they wanted the win and it was us. And win we did, scoring three goals without reply in that second 35 minutes.

Last night was different. An away game against a team that had beaten us a few weeks ago, a local rival and the team just above us in the league. But we went 2-0 up quite early and were by far the better team. At half time we told the lads that we could only beat ourselves; the game was there for the taking. Concentrate, no silly decisions, no need to chase the win as we were 2-0 up. We conceded a goal after about a minute of the second half!

After that though we settled really well and extended our lead midway through the half to almost break the spirits of our opposition. Almost. However, in the last 10 minutes their coaches, their players and even their parents began pressuring the referee for fouls left, right and centre. We kept going forward and really should have added a few more goals, but with about 3 minutes left one of our defenders made a silly challenge and the ref awarded a penalty, which they scored.

My boys fought like lions after that. We slowed everything down, threw ourselves into challenges and battled to keep control of the ball. It felt like about an hour before the ref blew the final whistle and it was brilliant to watch the reaction of our squad as substitutes ran on to the field to celebrate with their squad mates. You’d have thought we’d won a cup final! But what a joy to see after the last few months.

My team have suffered this year. Opponents – and sadly, some coaches – have laughed at them in defeat. Lots of things have gone wrong. My heart surgery seemed to shock them, not least my son who plays for the team and came home crying after a game in December when I couldn’t attend and they got beat in the last seconds of the game. And as a result of my surgery, they’ve had to make do, training with a younger age group for months. Rarely have their heads dropped and they’ve shown up in numbers week after week. Now, as we ride the wave of optimism that any victory brings, let alone 2 in 5 days, it feels like we’re a hell of a team and I couldn’t be more proud.

Speaking to my wife in hospital in November, I told her that I didn’t think I’d be able to carry on coaching. It made me feel very sad, but it made sense while my body, and to some extent my mind, felt so broken. Now, there might just be a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel and there’s definitely not a lot to grumble about!

Poetry Blog: ‘You can’t unring a bell…’

A poem with a message, this one. It’s about not giving up and for me personally, it’s about the health problems I’ve had and the importance to me of not giving in to them. It’s about getting better. If it means something to anyone else or helps in any way, then that’s a rather lovely bonus.

I know that everyone has their problems, their bumps in the road and that some people have it far worse than others; far worse than me. But I’m a big believer in working my way back into the right frame of mind or the right headspace. So this is a poem about the fact that we can’t change a lot of what happens to us. It happened. It will leave a mark. But for me personally, I think it’s important to keep moving. For me, I need to recover and there’s been a lot of telling myself that lately.

You can't unring a bell.
its sound resonates across rooms, miles, borders
and the act that made the sound cannot be changed.
Eventually, the noise will stop, but the memory will always remain.
You can't illuminate the darkness with a permanence
that will mean you never have to stumble down a path again.
What's done is done now though.
Sometimes it will feel like one beating too many,
the volume of the punches thrown
is sure to leave bruises
and you'll feel like you can't get up.
Haul yourself to your knees,
grab someone or something for support,
clear your head and try, as best you can,
to get back up on your feet.
Let your eyes adjust to the darkness.
Let you body stop aching.
Breathe and then feel your way back, however slowly, into the light.

The poem started with just the first line. I heard it somewhere – I don’t remember where – and I really liked it. I didn’t really know what it meant, apart from its literal meaning. So, I wrote it down on a scrap of paper to come back to. When I got back to it, the poem just flowed around the idea of moving on from whatever it is that happens. You can’t unring a bell, but it will getting quieter.

I understand that it’s never just as simple as that and that’s what I was referring to with the metaphor of the bell. Once it’s rung, it’s rung. Once it’s stopped making the noise we will still hear it, still remember what it sounds like. We’ll suffer with the things that happen to us and we perhaps won’t forget them. But it’s hugely important to try and move on.

I hope you liked the poem. It’s a short one, but I hope it means something to more than just me.

The Pacemaker Diaries: We’ve definitely hit a bump in the road.

Every once in a while I’ve written an update of what I called my ‘Pacemaker Diary’ over the last few months. It’s mainly because it’s a good way for me to have a bit of a moan, but it also fills people in on how things are going and means that there might just be a few less people that I have to lie to and fob off by telling them I’m ‘getting there’. I mean, if I had a pound for every time I’d said that since November, I’d be a millionaire. I’d also be very annoyed at myself for not discovering this get rich quick scheme a lot earlier.

I thought I’d update simply because a lot of them so far have been about progress, however small that’s been. But lately, my progress has slowed to a crawl again. Maybe writing about it might help me find the motivation that’s needed to keep moving on. Or maybe it’ll help me to ‘frame myself’ as some would say in our part of Yorkshire.

It’s been a shock that such a small thing could derail me so much. But initially it was a slight cold that slowed me right down. It was a couple of weeks ago that I was aware that I was slowing down again. I couldn’t go upstairs without feeling out of breath and had a hint of a cough. So it wasn’t a heavy cold, but it was having an effect on me.

At the same time I’d stepped up the hours of teaching on my phased return to work, taking on an additional class and four extra hours of teaching a week. That weekend the football team that I coach had its game cancelled, leaving me with a free Sunday. Rather than rest, I decided to go for a run in the early morning sunshine. Boy, would I regret that.

I hadn’t even ran a mile and I was struggling. But, I kept on going. Not long after though, a little voice in my head was telling me that I couldn’t do this. It was a voice that dominated me when I was younger, but one that I really hadn’t heard in years. Still, I kept on until faced with a long hill to run up, I decided on a compromise. With my body aching and struggling to breath steadily I re-routed, doubled back and avoided the hill, settling for running a 5k (3.1 miles) rather than the 4 miles I’d been aiming for. It was slow and ragged, but worst of all, I didn’t enjoy even one step of it.

I only just made it. My legs felt like they were falling forward independently of the rest of my body and I was wheezing heavily. I was alarmed by just how I terrible I felt. I took a photo of myself when I’d finished and it horrified me when I looked at it later. I looked haggered and old. Everything hurt and it left me feeling very down. My body continued to ache well into the next week.

On the Monday at work, my Year 7 form were added to the mix on my timetable and even on the first day of that happening I was struggling. I’d had a poor weekend, not really sleeping and struggling to shift the tiny bit of cold that I’d picked up. On the very first day of the week I put in a request to have my last lesson of the day covered in order to head home early. Work, as ever during this whole nightmare, were kind and obliging. A great start to the week though and enough to show me that getting back to a full teaching timetable might have to be a way off yet.

I’m also struggling with a back problem that had first hit me in February. I’d bent down to pick up my son’s football boots and been hit by nausea inducing levels of pain as my back froze. I’ve struggled with my back for many years, so I though it would pass within a week or so, but it hasn’t. Instead, even as I write, I can feel pain in my hips and hamstrings. The pain has moved down my body and in way, I feel more fragile than ever. Nothing to do with my heart – for once – but enough to begin to get me down.

The next weekend brought even more problems and no run, making me feel like any recovery had very much ground to a halt. I seemed to have picked up some sort of bug and felt dizzy and sick the whole time.

My heart continues to just plod along nicely, kept in check by the little machine that sits just underneath my left collarbone. The scarring hurts still, but that feels like the least of my worries.

The most frustrating thing of all is that my heart feels fine. However, having hidden the problem for around 6 months last year and then had to take so long off work after my operation, my body might just be a little bit broken. Clearly working for so long with the problem has really cost me. Clearer still, spending four months at home, only managing a daily walk while being otherwise inactive doesn’t keep your fitness at the levels you might need, however much you might kid yourself.

I’m quickly learning that my body is going to take much, much longer than I thought to heal. It feels like the slightest little problem, like a cold or a stomach bug, is going to have a huge effect, setting me back if not to square one, then square 3 or 4 at best. Impatient as I am, I wanted to be just stepping off square 25 by this point. As a result, I’m angry and sad and I really don’t like feeling that way.

I’m hopeful that the coming weeks will go better for me. I’ve rested and not gone out for a run for over a week, but I hope that I’ll feel ready enough soon to get going once again. I’ve entered a 10k race in May and am desperate to take part. It’ll really hurt if I’m not able to do it.

Poetry Blog: ‘Reach’.

A couple of weeks ago I posted a poetry blog and a bit of an angry rant of a poem called ‘Simple as that’. That one was a poem about the troubles I’ve had with my heart in the last few months. Well, apologies because I’m writing about the same thing again. I suppose this is inevitable as my health dominates every day at the moment, but I’m sorry if this seems like I’m raking over old ground. You can take it from me though, there’s a lot to talk about on this subject!

This poem is, in a way, the partner poem to ‘Simple as that.’ Where that one was pretty much furious in tone, this one could maybe be viewed as me feeling just sick and tired of it all. It’s one written when I wasn’t sleeping so well, so probably written around 2am one Winter morning and I would have felt like just giving up.

Anyway, have a read.

Reach

You're not quite in any kind of hell, 
and while you're very definitely moving forward
it's sometimes hard to tell,
like trying out the treadmill in diver's boots,
a head full of questions, but no answers
and of other people's made up thoughts and opinions
as the paranoia kicks in and leaves its mark
alongside all of the other scarring.
Suddenly mortality is on the agenda
and you sleepwalk your way through hours, days,
contemplating just how long you might have left.
Every stretch, every reach, every twist is some kind of pain,
the opportunity to hold someone who matter has gone,
replaced by something tentative, mechanical.
Some days are more positive, so you lose yourself in song,
contemplate enjoying things again
and force yourself not to think that you're just glad to be alive,
because that particular platitude feels like nothing more than consolation.
Every piece of good news and every milestone is blighted by doubt.
One day things will be normal again,
your smile not forced, the back of your mind not crowded with clouds.
For now, moving on is just out of reach.

At the time of writing this poem it just felt like I was never getting better. Yes, I’d be able to do a little bit more every day, walk a little further, maybe even do some dishes, but I found it very frustrating. I’d gone from being very fit and capable – for my age – to being very slow and poorly and old! I really didn’t enjoy this at all!

I’d been told not to raise my left arm above my head for at least a week, for fear of dislodging my pacemaker wires, and that this was a process that would be difficult and uncomfortable for 6-8 weeks. Six to eight weeks of having pain when you lift an arm up! It meant that shaving, washing, washing my hair etc were difficult to say the least and I needed help getting in and out of my clothes. I mention mortality in the poem; not because I thought I might be nearing my end though. It was just that I used to be out on my daily walk, knowing that when I got home the day would be more or less at its end as I wouldn’t be able to do a lot more. It felt like I was wasting time and I began to think about that in terms of having already probably lived half of my life. It was just about what I’d be able to fit into what was left, I suppose.

Things have got better. I’m nowhere near where I want to be but know that it’s going to about steady progress with the odd stumbling block. I hope you liked the poem.

Film Review: ‘The Phantom of The Open’.

Golf is one of those sports and subjects that tends to polarise opinion, isn’t it? Many will quote the famous Mark Twain line about it being “a good walk spoiled”, but for every one of those there’s a fan who is simply addicted to the game. Wherever your opinion lies on golf though, I think you’ll enjoy the film.

The Phantom of the Open is a 2021 comedy drama starring Sir Mark Rylance. It tells the true life tale of Maurice Flitcroft, a crane driver from Cumbria whose attempts to enter the British Open back in 1976, caused much controversy amongst the golfing fraternity.

Watching the film I came to the opinion that Flitcroft was very much a modern day working class hero. Here was a man who despite having never picked up a club in his life, decided to dream big. Partly down to naivety and partly down to his desire to live a full life and follow his dreams, Flitcroft applied for the tournament, bought some knock off clubs and gear and began to practice.

But this film is not all about the golf. Maurice is simply a lovely man and a born optimist. He encourages his wife and sons to dream big too and helps them out in any way he can. What ensues is a touching tale of working class family life and love that teaches us that even when the chips are down, to keep on dreaming and keep on smiling. In many ways, the golf and Maurice’s pursuit of some kind of Open glory is a bit of a sideshow.

That said, watching Maurice innocently take on the establishment and stuffed shirts that seem to dominate golf even to this day is an absolute riot! Ticking the ‘Professional’ box on his entry form is just the start of the fun. When he actually takes to the course – having been turned away from his local course by the snobs that govern it – the hilarity hits like a whacking drive down the fairway, all the way to the green. Needless to say it doesn’t end well, but this only leads to Maurice continuing to stick it to ‘the man’ by attempting to play the tournament year upon year!

Mark Rylance is just superb as Flitcroft. I must admit, when I saw that he was doing the film, I was surprised to say the least. Maybe I was guilty of the same snobbery that the film tackles, but Rylance’s name screamed Shakespeare, rather than comedy tales of wayward amateur golfers. It turns out that I needn’t have worried as the subtlety of his portrayal of Watkins is just wonderful. Rylance nails it, portraying Maurice as honest, naïve and vulnerable, while also conveying his endless kindness and love for his family. Maurice is a character that you might just find yourself falling for, such is Rylance’s performance.

The rest of the cast are brilliant too. Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water, Paddington) is fantastic as Flitcroft’s wife, encouraging his dreams however absurd they might seem. Elsewhere, Mark Lewis Jones plays Cliff, Watkins’s every so slightly dodgy but well meaning pal and Rhys Ifans is hilarious as Maurice’s nemesis, the interfering Keith Mackenzie, the chairman of the almost sacred St. Anrdews gold course.

Sitting down to watch I was just expecting a bit of a comedy. A few laughs along the way and probably a bit of hilarity as our working class hero takes on the establishment. In reality what I got was much, much more. This was a truly engaging study of a great British eccentric, as well as a enduring love story. The Watkins family live for each other and love and affection is never in short supply, making for a really touching piece of film. And there’s drama too, when things inevitably go wrong with Maurice’s dream.

As a true story, the film sends out a message. It’s not just a chance to watch this funny little man do things he’s not supposed to. The film teaches us that there’s nothing wrong in following your dreams and that it doesn’t matter what others might say or even how unattainable those dreams might seem; if you want it, then the only thing that’s stopping you from at least giving it a go, is you.

The Phantom of The Open is very funny and at times brilliantly dramatic. It’s much more than just a film about golf. A true underdog story this film will take you on a rocky ride from start to finish and you’ll be rooting for Maurice all the way. And if by the end, like me, you find that there’s something in your eye, then don’t be surprised.

I’d give ‘The Phantom of The Open’

Back on the grass: I’m coaching again!

Just over four months ago, I sat on a hospital bed, typing out a series of WhatsApp messages informing various people of what I wasn’t going to be able to do for a while. Impending heart surgery will do that for you. I was surprisingly practical, but at that point was trying to think of things to do to keep the panic at bay. So those texts became vital. I wouldn’t be able to work for a while, I wouldn’t be able to see friends and family, I would possibly be even more grumpy and I wouldn’t be able to coach football.

The last one felt particularly desperate. I hated the idea of missing work, but at least there were plenty of people to keep everything moving and in actual fact, I wouldn’t be missed that much. But football felt different. I have twenty 13 and 14 year old boys in my squad. They love playing football and I take my role in their lives – however big or small that might be – very seriously. I was really going to miss what I do and I felt like I was letting them down badly.

Thankfully, several people stepped up and the team kept rolling on. The Great British Winter played a wonderful and some would say inevitable part in having games called off too, meaning that I wasn’t missing anywhere near as many matches as I assumed I would.

Fast forward a few months and I was able to stand on the touchline at games again. At first, just as a dad and then when one week, when there was no one else able to take the team, I stepped back into my big coaching coat and took the team again, being very careful to keep movement to a minimum and to stay as calm as I could manage! Since then, there have been a few more games and a bit more of an active role. Grassroots football has that effect; as calm as you tell yourself to be and as still as you’d like to keep, becoming animated at the very least, is almost inevitable.

I didn’t dare to attempt an actual coaching session though. Training would involve a lot more physical activity and simply going out for my daily walk was enough to tire me out By 6pm, when we would start training, I was worn out and staying awake watching telly was a chore. So, despite feeling absolutely desperate to get back out there and work on the kind of things we needed to try out in games, I stayed well out of the way.

However, I told myself that once I got back to work and was finding that I could cope with that particular daily grind, then I would make the move to get back to training sessions. It still wasn’t straightforward though, as I had to cancel two sessions due to firstly my health and then the weather. And then, with nothing else to stand in my way, I was able to get back out onto the pitch amongst my team.

We train on a 3G pitch in winter, which means that the surface doesn’t need to be an issue. There’s no danger of ruining a pitch for weekend games. What there is though is an area that appears to have it’s own micro-climate. Training is literally a mile from my house, but it is almost always about 5 degrees (at least) colder and blowing a gale up there! My first session back was no different and we also had some driving rain too! It really didn’t feel too good to be back!

I made sure that I wrapped up warm, practically mummified in about four layers, but it was still freezing cold when we got out of the car. I felt a strange mixture of excitement and nerves; happy to be back, but terrified of the thought of getting knocked anywhere near my pacemaker. My cardiologist had assured me that while it would hurt, I’d be ok, but it was still at the forefront of my mind.

It made me smile that my team seemed surprised to see me as I arrived. Those that were there early were kicking a ball about on an adjacent pitch, seemingly unaware that I would be taking the session and of those that arrived a bit later, several of them headed over to train with our Under 13 coaches, who have been looking after them for the last few months!

And then it was time to set up. Dodging flying footballs is always a joy when you’re trying to get some cones down or mark out a drill, but tonight felt a bit different given my circumstances. The thought of a wayward football smacking into my chest made me wary to say the least and it felt a little like the start of Saving Private Ryan, but with size 4 footballs and no beach.

It turns out though, that training, like going back to a job you’ve done for a couple of decades, is a bit like riding a bike. It felt wonderfully familiar and it was great to back amongst my team, pointing things out, making little tweaks to the ways they did things and standing back and having a chat to our other coaches while the kids did the work. Unlike what I remember of riding a bike however, it was absolutely exhausting.

At one point I joined in with a drill as one of our players didn’t have a partner, but lasted about 2 minutes before asking another coach to take over. It felt like I’d just ran an 800 metres at full speed and I was completely out of breath. The legs were like jelly and I was just able to kind of stumble off to gather myself a bit. Ironically, when I checked my heart rate on my watch – force of habit these days – it seemed to be the only thing that wasn’t out of shape!

I’d decided to keep training simple for my first time back. Not too many drills, nothing complicated that would need to be explained time after time after time and not a great deal required of me. We’d do a couple of fitness drills, a passing drill and then focus on having a game where we’d have plenty of time to stop and start and point a few things out when needed.

I tried to stand back and just watch but it wasn’t long before I was on the pitch acting both as a ref and a coach and while I wasn’t really running around, it still took its toll. It seems even with the restrictions of a new pacemaker it’s difficult to fight my enthusiasm for football.

Before too long the next team to train were arriving and we were wrapping up the game and packing up kit. Other people were kind enough to carry the bags, but as we headed to the car I was suddenly aware of exactly how old and tired I felt! Even an ‘easy’ hour had practically wiped me out and so when I got home, soaked and freezing cold, I was quick to take off my layers and get into my now familiar, post pacemaker uniform of pyjamas and a hoodie. After that, the evening was just about trying to stay awake!

It’s great to be back involved with my team again. When I sent the initial WhatsApp messages, I told myself that it would only be a few weeks, but deep down I knew it was going to take me a good while longer to be able to have the strength to get back to coaching. At times, just a short walk or staying awake has been a challenge, so it tells me that I’ve made significant progress that I can set foot back on a football pitch again.

A few days later, I was still suffering. My back and legs ached and there was a real soreness around the scarring where they put my pacemaker in. My heart was still working perfectly well it seemed – albeit with a bit of help – and I was still smiling That’s what matters most at the moment.

Since then, there’s been a little bit of a bump in the road and I’ve had a rough week. I had to cancel the very next training session, due to a bug I’d caught which has not been pleasant at all. I’ve been back to being extremely lethargic and breathless too, so it’s been a timely reminder of the length of the road that I’m on, so to speak. Certainly, one training session does not mean I’m fit and strong again!

For now, there’s only a day until our next match, when once again I’ll battle my urge to get too involved in what’s going on on the pitch! I’ll undoubtedly have to take it easy and am sure that the eyes of my nearest and dearest will be watching me like hawks. Still though, I can’t wait for kick off!