ANOTHER GAME TO REMEMBER...

I`ve got quite a few cricket books on my shelves which reflects the fact that cricket is yet another of the passions in my life.   One of them is called `Cricket`s Strangest Matches` - a compendium of the most unusual matches played in the history of the game.   And over the last weekend I became aware of another game that took place last Friday which would surely find a place in any updated edition of that book.

Essex`s South African import,  Cameron Delport, smashed an astonishing 129 from only 49 balls as Essex crushed Surrey by 52 runs in their Vitality Blast battle at Chelmsford, a game that had been reduced to fifteen overs per side because of a rain delay.

It was carnage that had the crowd repeatedly taking evasive action as a torrent of sixes rained down upon them.  In all, Delport cleared the ropes on fourteen occasions while recording the fastest century in the competition by an Essex player.   He reached three figures from only 38 deliveries but was not the only one that had the spectators ducking for cover as Essex ran up a remarkable 226 for 4 in their allotted 15 overs.

Dan Lawrence joined in the big-hitting spectacular with an unbeaten 57 from 22 balls that included six sixes and two fours. He reached his half-century from just 17 deliveries whilst creating another slice of Essex history.   It was the fastest 50 for the county in the competition and with Delport, he added 135 in only seven overs.

Delport walked off to a standing ovation after being caught on the long-on boundary off Jade Dernbach, the only Surrey bowler who emerged with decent figures. His permitted three overs went for only 21 while in complete contrast, Tom Curran conceded 63, being hit for six sixes and five fours in his three overs - 21 off each of them.

I don`t know - mainly because of the paucity of media coverage that this game produced - but I can imagine thatTom Curran`s reaction to the onslaught he received might well have mirrored that of David Duval, "Well, that`s the way it goes.  Worse things happen to people every day."

Oh, the illustration about trying harder?  Well, the press and other sporting media really should have picked up on this extraordinary game and given it the attention it deserved.  

It`s been a busy few days, what with the usual trials of life`s rich pageant and the small matter of celebrating my 80th birthday yesterday, which was a memorable day for me and one which demonstrated yet again the good fortune I have to be blessed with family and good neighbours and friends.   Not sure I feel 80 and equally not sure how you are supposed to feel at my age but the truth is that I don`t `feel` 80 - I am grimly hanging on to my adolescence and my avowed determination not to grow up. 

Anyway, in between all that, I have been transfixed by the Tour de France and, since Thursday, by the Open Golf.   I watched quite a bit of it today and came to the view that watching the standard of play becoming almost metronomic  probably means that at the highest professional level there comes a point whereby a sport become a job - and maybe the fun goes out of it a bit.

Now I confess to having played golf at an appallingly mediocre level - I bought the gear, the balls, the clubs, I pay the green fees and after all those outgoings I think I`m entitled to hit the ball as many times as I can.  I have succeeded in that philosophy and it has not only stood me in good stead over the years but has also meant that I have enjoyed playing for the love of the game.

So I could identify with the travails of David Duval - a 47-tear old American professional golfer and former world No. 1 who has won 13 PGA Tour tournaments and the Open Championship itself in 2001.  Good for him but of course that`s not the bit I identify with.  Rather I quietly admired the fact that in the first round of the current Open, he scored 91, including taking 14 shots at one hole.   He would be forgiven for calling it a day and flying home to Florida but no, he went back out for a second round of 78, giving him a total of 169 for his two rounds - a mere 27 over par.  

But what was perhaps more remarkable were his post match comments, when in answer to how he felt at his abject score, he declared, "Well, that`s the way it goes - worse things happen to people every day."  He obviously plays these days for the love of the game and I hope the game loves him for it.

Not a good week to be a Kiwi.   Having lost the cricket world cup final to England on Sunday, thanks to an inexplicable change in the rules of the competition and some dubious on-field umpiring decisions, it just gets worse for New Zealanders who now find themselves `robbed` of one of the world`s most prestigious records.

Until now, the undisputed steepest street in the world has been recognised as Baldwin Street in the Otago city of Dunedin, with a gradient of 35% but now residents in Harlech, in Gwynedd, North Wales, are celebrating after Guiness World Records verified the gradient of Ffodd Pen Llech at 37.5%.  Campaigner Gwyn Headley said, "I feel utter jubilation - I feel sorry for the New Zealanders but steeper is steeper."

Hamish McNeilly from the New Zealand website Stuff said, "I`m angry about a lot of things in the world this week but this has just ruined my week. I`m not going to get over this, as it follows the cricket which also made me angry.  It`s a bad week,  It really is."  He added that a street in San Francisco was now understood to be taking the record away from Wales.

As for me, I feel a lot of sympathy for our New Zealand friends but they should still rejoice in the fact that they have produced the world`s best rugby team, a decent cricket team, Sam Neill , Dame Kiri te Kanawa, Sir Ernest Rutherford, Edmund Hillary and Crowded House.   Not bad for a country of just five million souls..

OK, so the rest of the world is going on about yesterday`s fantastic day of sport and it doesn`t really need me to add to all the chat about it.   But sometimes things happen that make it impossible not to contribute to the litany of  comment and I`m no exception.  So here goes.

Now it used to be said that sport was the last refuge for those who find it impossible to idle, but even slumping in a chair for much of the day could hardly be described as idling given that there was so much going on for most of the day.  

But.I really must start with the cricket.  In my younger days I played a lot of cricket, even captaining a village team and I think it is one of those games that you really have had to play in order to fully understand and appreciate it.  But I suspect that the gripping climax to the World Cup Final at Lord`s must surely have meant that those who were not cricket buffs were as enthralled as those who are.  It was a truly memorable occasion and while being proud and happy that England are now world champions, I do spare more than just a thought for the New Zealand team who showed great sportsmanship, competitiveness and dignity in the narrowest of defeats that demonstrated that the spirit of cricket - that elusive je ne sais quoi - is alive and well in the Kiwi hands.  Maybe they will take some comfort in knowing that they were indeed part of something very special and that only a change in the laws of the game prevented them from being world champions themselves.

And while all that was going on, the tennis final at Wimbledon produced its own version of unique conclusion when the men`s singles final between Roger Federer and Novak Djokavic went to a fifth set tie-break for the first time in a final.  I used to play tennis as well - very badly admittedly - but I`ve sort of gone off Wimbledon in recent years what with its pomposity, elitism, its strawberries and cream, its Henman Hill and `come on Andy.` it`s a bit bonk-bonk 15-love, bonk-bonk 15-all and so on.  But I have to admit that yesterday`s final was, like the Lord`s one, something else that will live long in the memory.

And so to Silverstone, where Lewis Hamilton won the British Grand Prix for the sixth time bringing his F1 victories to a remarkable sixty.  Once again I must confess to some disenchantment with F1 which always seems a bit boring and arguably the most environmentally hostile of sports but even I have to acknowledge Hamilton`s achievements, especially as he seems now to have grown up from his days of `other-worldliness` when he seemed to distance himself from the realities of the rest of us.

I confess to being in awe of the Tour de France - the three-weeks long slog around the country, the ups and downs, the time trials, the sheer stamina required and the atmosphere surrounding the whole event is truly remarkable.  After five years of Le Tour being won by British riders I hope that Geraint Thomas might retain his title when the event ends in Paris in ten days time.   Like the other events of this mad weekend, the TV coverage is itself awesome and the commentaries come courtesy of those who have been there, done that and got the embrocation.   Trouble was that yesterday it was on at the same time as Wimbledon, the cricket and the Grand Prix so I hope today to be able to watch it without channel flicking and jumping up and down.

Almost last but not least, Southampton FC`s website was showing live action from the pre-season friendly between the Saints and some team in Austria which would have been fascinating to watch in full, rather than the odd snatched glimpse of a 1-1 draw.   Like the cricket final, that was another sporting occasion which neither team really deserved to lose.

Oh, before I forget, there is even the ongoing Netball World Cup going on but I`m afraid that I have not yet been able to get too enthusiastic about it especially when all the other events have taken their physical and mental toll on me after a day to remember of all days to remember.

To Sevenoaks for a bit of an emergency visit to my dentist.  A couple of weeks ago I was happily munching my way through a Marks and Spencer`s jam doughnut when a filling came away along with half a tooth.  Admittedly the doughnut was a bit tough and chewy so rather than blame the tooth I`m considering sending the dentist bill to M & S. 

Rang the dentist - on holiday - had to wait until yesterday to be seen.  Now I have a long and unfortunate history of dentistry, having suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous practitioners in the past whose sole aim seemed to be to brush up on their masochism.  But some years ago I found my current dentist who has turned out to be an orthodontic angel - understanding, caring, highly efficient (when not on holiday) and very good at what she does.

So, thanks to her expertise yesterday my offending gnasher has been restored to its former glory - my modelling career is secure and I can look the world in the eye with a smile back on my face.

I`M CONFUSED....

Well, it`s hardly surprising.  Now there was a time when I despaired at the fact that after thousand of years of human existence, we had finally managed to produce Mrs. Brown`s Boys.   But more recent events have nudged that triumph into second place behind the extraordinary state of politics in this country.

I`ll begin by going back to the results of the referendum in June 2016, which now seems a life time away but it`s perhaps worth noting some aspects of the result.  Admittedly it was a tight call but the result of the biggest democratic vote in the country`s history was nevertheless a majority in favour of leaving the EU with 17.4 million voting to leave and 16.1 million voting to remain.

The referendum results also showed that 406 parliamentary constituencies voted to leave, with 242 voting to remain.   Of those constituencies that were either Labour or Conservative, 148 Labour constituencies voted to leave with 84 voting to remain.  As for the Conservative constituencies, 247 voted to leave, with 80 voting to remain. All in all, whether you personally voted to leave or remain, it`s hard to deny the substantial majority in facour of leaving the EU.   However, in that same referendum, 160 Members of Parliament voted to leave but 486 voted to remain.

So it`s pretty obvious that the problem is not the result but the MPs who should be honouring the result and implementing the majority decision - and it was a decision left to the country to decide.   As I say, no wonder I`m confused and I have been for over three years now as to why the majority are still being denied.

But if anything, Brexit has brought about yet more confusion.  To be fair to them, the Liberal Democrats have consistently refused to accept the will of the majority and are still campaigning for Brexit to be stopped one way or another.  So their idea of liberal democracy should surely mean that they change their name  at least.

As for Labour, they were apparently in favour of abiding by the wishes of the majority of their supporters by voting for Article 50 but now they seem to have changed their minds at the behest of their trade union paymasters as they see their best chance of political gain, not to say survival, is to court the remain vote in any forthcoming general election.  That`s if the leadership - I use the term lightly - can ever bring itself to get off the fence and start being honest.

Finally the Conservatives - riven for decades by the question of Europe - have embarked on probably the most undemocratic process by which the country ends up with a new Prime Minister.   It surely cannot be right that 160,000 paid up conservative party members can decide who will lead a country of 60 million souls and furthermore we are likely to have foisted upon us someone of doubtful character, limited ability and embarrassing persona.

About 15 years ago my football club, Southampton, was being run by a Chairman who possessed similar `attributes.`   As a shareholder, I expressed the view at the time that I did not want the club to continue to be represented in that way and I recall being confused then as to how that problem might be resolved.   But that is nothing to the confusion I feel now.

Fortunately, my club came through its crisis - but I wonder if the country can ever do the same?

TIME TO SPLASH OUT ?...

Had an official letter from HM Gov. the other day. It said,

"Now that you are approaching 80 you are entitled to a higher amount of state pension.  Age Addition of 25p per week will be payable from your 80th birthday.  If you think the decision is wrong, please get in touch with us by telephone or in writing within one month of the date of this letter........"

It goes on at some length about the appeal procedure and what to do if you want to take it further, which looks pretty complicated and may simply be designed to deter malcontent octogenarians form going down that road.

Anyway, a little research has revealed that this `bonus` has been frozen at  25p ever since it was introduced by the Heath Government in 1971 - all of 48 years ago.   It adds up to £13 a year and if it had even kept pace with inflation it would now be worth £191 a year.   Not many lives will be changed by that I fear.

Now I really don`t want to appear ungrateful - after all, every little helps to us elderly pensioners struggling to survive on a fixed income - but we are a bit limited as to what we can spend the 25p on - a packet of paracetamol, a small roll of sellotape, a small packet of tissues. a Cadburys Freddo - but if you set that against the cost to HM Gov. of sending out the letters, maintaining the computer programme, dealing with the appeals procedure (never mind the complaints and senior grumbles) it really does make me wonder whether it`s all worth it.

There`s a collection box up the shop on the lookout for donations to good causes.  Maybe I`ll splash out by popping £1 in each month. I`m all heart!!

THE ART OF SILENCE...

To Maidstone Hospital for an X-Ray on a dodgy knee which has been suffering from the wear and tear of decades of football, cricket, golf, coast path walking, dog walking and refereeing and now needs a bit of attention.  

Not for the first time I was impressed by Maidstone Hospital - it seems to be pretty efficient and the reception staff are all very helpful.  I was directed to the right bit, checked in and took a seat in the waiting area which was pretty crowded.   I was told I might have to wait for 45 minutes or so before being `seen to.` Fair enough, so I settled in.

Now there was a time when, in situations like that, people would start a conversation - about the weather, the news of the day, comparing ailments -  anything really to break the ice cold silence to help while away the waiting time.  But as I sat down I noticed that just about all the others there seemed to be glued to their mobile phones, tapping away, eyes down, looking in. 

And it occurred to me that rather than any attempt at ice breaking or, less still, polite conversation, silence itself seemed to have been raised to an art form.   Either that or I had been directed to the wrong department after all.   Oh, and those who were walking about seemed incapable of doing so without the comfort of holding on to a cardboard Costa coffee container or a bottle of water..   All very strange.  It will be interesting to see what the X-ray reveals.

As you see, I am indeed proceeding with caution as I might be about to step into dangerous territory.   OK, I`m old school, old fashioned, out of time and being an elderly pensioner struggling to survive on a fixed income in harsh economic times,  I admit to being a bit lost, bewildered even, in what seems to be an increasingly Orwellian world.

And the latest reason for my bewilderment stems from a couple of reports in the last day or so concerning the teaching of `equality` in primary school classrooms -  there has been a lot of fuss about it in Birmingham - but today`s example comes from a primary school here in Kent.  Now a few posts back, I had a go at the teaching of health and safety issues and `relationships` to very young primary school children and compared their education with my own 70 years or so ago.   I ended up with the plea that children should just be allowed to be children, like me and my school chums were all those years ago.

Now we learn that today`s youngsters are having lessons about gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexuality and that it is perfectly normal for some children to have two `Dads` or two `Mums` and that however people may be as individuals they should all be respected and treated equally.

I don`t have a problem with that, however much I may be saddened by the loss of childhood innocence, but if that is the way children as young as seven are being taught then surely their tuition might also include the fact that straightness still exists as does the notion of having a Mum and a Dad?  If you take today`s school experience to its logical exclusion then I can see the day when everything else will be `the norm` except heterosexuality and that those who practice it will be having their own pride marches. 

I hope it`s not too late to redress the balance, to let precious childhood be just that, or for me to take a precautionary step backwards before the Thought Police come knocking on my door.

ONE YEAR ON...

It`s a year almost to the day since Dudley took up residence in our house - he`s now 14 months old and has settled very well into the routines and ways of life here in our Kentish enclave.   The photo above shows that he has made good friends with the local pooches and seems to be a happy and contented addition to the local community.

He came from a breeder in the New Forest and we had a week in the forest last month, enjoying the forest walks and the change of scenery.   Apart from that, Dudley`s explorations have been confined to walkies around this part of Kent - including  a bit of the Kent Downs.  Here`s a photo I took of the Kent countryside in all its summer glory.   

(Please click on photo for better image)

No wonder we have happy dogs - we feed them, love them, look after them, provide them with a good home and a contented life - we even pick up things after them if you know what I mean.   But in return we get a lot back - if you don`t mind your face being licked awake at 6.00am each morning.

A REFRESHING CHANGE...

For all kinds of reasons I have been enjoying watching the England Lionesses in their Women`s World Cup campaign in France.   And not just for the fact that they keep winning, although the next game in the semi-finals between either France or the USA might possibly be a step too far.  For their sake, I hope not and that they can carry on progressing towards the World Cup Final.

What`s refreshing about it is the way the games are played.   By and large, unless you`re Cameroonian, there is a genuine feeling of sportwomanship, there are no tattoos on show, there are no histrionics, no diving or cheating and the games have been played in a good spirit despite the intense rivalry - all unless you`re Cameroonian of course.

The quality of the football shown by the Lionesses has been impressive - not least last night`s convincing win over Norway and I`m not surprised to read this morning that Manchester United are looking to sign Lucy Bronze along with the other 386 players they are reported to be tracking as Ole Gunnar Solskjar  tries to make sense of the task that awaits him in the new season.

But at least Liverpool have so far refrained from poaching the burgeoning Saintesses from St. Mary`s.  I wonder how long that will last.  

TIME TO STOP DIGGING...

Apropos my recent observations concerning Harry and Meg`s country cottage, it now seems the cost to the taxpayer has been a little understated.  Apparently the work is not quite finished - exterior painting to be done, landscaping, installation of security lights and the planting of £20,000 worth of quick-growing trees to ensure the seclusion of the `cottage.`  Oh and there are also plans for a badminton and tennis court, of course.   All of which will bring the total bill to anything between £2,8 million and £3.2 million, including the £250,000 contribution from the happy couple`s own resources for `fittings and fixtures.`

Royal officials have admitted that the cost to taxpayers is likely to rise and a well placed source has claimed that, "The final figure is excellent value for money for the taxpayer.  Whilst the original figure of £2.4 million has covered basic renovation costs the couple have spent £250,000 so far to ensure that the highest standards are met inside the property."  He goes on to say, "Security for the couple is of the utmost importance and a large scale planting programme worth up to £20,000 is proposed to shield the property from public gaze."

The `well placed source` is shown above and it`s pretty clear that he lacks any sense of irony.  For example, how can it be `excellent value for the taxpayer` when the taxpayer is having to cough up £20,000 for a forest of trees which are designed to prevent the taxpayer ever being able to see what his or her money has been spent on?   He`s got himself in a bit of a hole so If I were him, I would stop digging.   

And don`t even get me started on the fact that the taxpayer is also having to find $750,000 a year on the 20 Met. and Thames Valley police required to guard Frogmore Cottage.  Next up - La-la land The Movie.

A SIMPLE SOLUTION ? ...

There`s been a lot of fuss recently about the proposed withdrawal of free TV licences for the over-75s.   This `concession` was introduced by, of all people, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown and was much appreciated by the country`s senior citizens but the last settlement for renewing the BBC charter and HM Gov. saw the `cost` of this transferred from the Treasury to the BBC who say they can`t afford the £750 million it will take to maintain the concession without drastically cutting the level and quality of programming - and we can`t possibly have that, can we?

So, a simple solution is required and there is indeed a simple one.  Next month I will be joining the ranks of the octogenarians so I suggest that the BBC maintains the free licence to those over 80.  Simples.

But then, as HL Menken once said, "There is a simple solution to every complex problem that doesn`t work."  In which case, if I still have to pay up, at least I will feel justified in my unending criticism of the BBC.  Watch this space.

A COUNTRY COTTAGE ?

Well, I guess I`m back in the groove and, like most days, today provided no problem finding something else to go on about.  (I promise myself, as well as you dear reader, that I will make the effort to move away from a daily diet of critique and wander into less stressful fields - possibly.)

Anyway, today my attention was drawn to the cost of renovating Frogmore Cottage near Windsor so that it was transformed into a residence befitting their extremely royal highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, aka Harry and Meghan,   Now of course we  are so pleased for them that this delightful and inspiring couple have been able to move out of the hurly-burly of Kensington Palace and relocate, along with young Archie, to the sylvan countryside around Windsor.   

And we are so pleased to see them take up residence in their newly renovated `cottage.`Only problem is that it has taken the princely sum of £2.4 million of taxpayers` money to convert what were five units into one to a standard befitting the royal occupants.   

I`ve long held the view that whilst I have no problem with Her Majesty the Queen, there is now a very extended royal family, all of whom seem to inhabit their private world of privilege and assumed entitlement largely at the taxpayer`s expense.  There are just too many of them and I`m not sure how long we can carry on dipping our hands in our pockets to keep them all in the style to which they have been accustomed .

As for Harry and Megs, at least they continue to call it Frogmore Cottage when in reality, thanks to the generosity of others, it is now anything but.

A CAUTIOUS RE-ENTRY....

OK.  I`ve been away from these pages for some weeks now and so it is with some trepidation that I make this cautious re-entry into the wonderful world of blogging.   The reason for my absence?  Well, in a nutshell I reached the stage when there was so much to rant about, grumble about, even rebel against that I frankly didn`t know where to begin.

In that regard, not much has changed - if anything the mad world we live in has become even more bonkers.  Despite which, I have been inundated with the odd enquiry as to my absence and a little encouragement to have another go, chiefly from my neighbour the well known error of judgement, Mr. Slightly.  But more on that story later.  

I have discovered that finding something to rail against is an almost daily occurrence and it`s difficult therefore to chose something  but I saw a report yesterday that seemed ripe for the attention it deserved, so here goes.

First, the illustration at the top is self-explanatory - not just Orwell`s classic but also the fact that there is something of a local connection - there`s a smart rather exclusive `development` up the road with just a few `desirable residences` which goes by the name of Orwell Spike as it sits on the site of an old workhouse - a spike - which Orwell frequented in his tramping around the countryside.

I was reminded of this when I saw a report yesterday that a school student had been suspended from his school in Aberdeenshire for insisting in his opinion that there were really only two genders and that anything else was the result of `social construct.`

The incident took place when the teacher logged on to a website and found only male or female gender types listed as options, which he claimed was ‘old fashioned’. When the schoolboy disagreed, he was ejected from the class. After being allowed back, he secretly filmed the teacher. In the video, which has been watched on YouTube more than 90,000 times, the teacher can be heard telling the pupil: ‘You’re entitled to your opinion but it is the policy of the authority to acknowledge inclusiveness."   

Seems that Big Brother really is watching you, at least in Aberdeen, although I suspect that the Orwellian Thought Police are pretty widespread in the daft age in which we live.   Time to update 1984 to 2019 and see if we can spot the difference?   I can imagine that the student in question probably goes by the name KZ6090 Smith, W.  But maybe it`s another case of `if you become a teacher, by your students you`ll be taught.`

THE INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD ?

My own childhood was `interesting.`Having been born just before the outbreak of WW2 I spent the first five years living in that part of Hampshire which forms the approaches to Southampton.  Most nights I slept under the stairs and heard the bombing of Southampton Docks and other important strategic targets in the area.   I guess I thought that was how life was - I knew nothing different.

But when peace arrived and the bombing stopped and I slept in a bed and when my father came back from his five years of incarceration in a PoW camp we moved to the village of Hythe on the western shore of Southampton Water.   And it was there that I discovered just how interesting, exciting and free being a child could be - our back garden backed on to the shore, the New Forest was just up the road and me and my school chums were given the freedom to explore - we were never indoors it seemed - there was so much to see and do and it was all done with a carefree innocence, devoid of health and safety issues and any thoughts of what adult life might bring.

And I now see reports that children in schools these days are to be given lessons in how to form relationships, how to become aware of and respect diversity, how to recognise and deal with mental health issues, to be taught about the abomination that is FGM  and, yes, to recognise health and safety issues and no doubt to be told about climate change and the perils of plastic.

I`m sure all this may be worthy endeavours but I do wonder whether much of this is designed to make the teaching profession feel better in this age of over protective political correctness.  But most of all I wonder whatever happened to the innocence of childhood when those like me were allowed to be children.

WHERE TO NOW ?

As the clock ticks down to the UK`s departure from the EU things seem to get more and more confusing, perplexing, bewildering and unclear.  At least as far as Members of Parliament are concerned as they grapple with the conflicting demands of Theresa May`s so-called `deal,` the prospect of a `no deal,` whether to extend Article 50, whether to pursue some kind of customs union, what to do about the Irish border and its `backstop,` whether to risk a `People`s Vote` and so on and on and on.......

There was a time when UK politics was pretty straight forward - there was a limited choice of which party to vote for - Labour, Tory, Lib-Dems and the odd nationalist party if you lived outside Engerland.    Nowadays Brexit has all but destroyed those traditional harbours of choice which have all but fractured under the weight of indecision, divided loyalty and blind ambition.   It`s a sorry spectacle and it raises the question - if, heaven forbid another General Election is called in the near future - whether there is anyone left to vote for.

The Labour Party is riven with all kinds of issues and their lurch to the left makes them pretty unattractive;  the Tories are split into all kinds of factions, none of which are especially attractive either;  the Lib Dems have become an irrelevance;  the Green Party are simply bonkers and the SNP and Plaid Cymru don`t want to be in the UK anyway.  UKIP have mercifully disappeared although I hear that a new Brexit Party is being formed under the alleged leadership of Nige.   

So, where to now?   Staying away from polling stations seems a waste of the right to vote but seriously there seems no-one and no `party` which inspires any sort of confidence.  Spoiling the ballot paper might make me feel a bit better for a fleeting moment but it will simply be a vote wasted.   

What`s needed is a fresh political start - a new party that might concentrate on the real priorities which concern the masses - perhaps a Football Party or a Soap Watching Party or a Strictly Bake-off Party might not only have an appeal but also be able to home in on the things that seems to matter to most people these days.

Failing that, I`ve often been attracted to some kind of benevolent dictatorship, possibly headed up by Joanna Lumley.  At least we would understand what she says.

THE BRICK IS BACK ?

Today`s intriguing news is that the 2024 Paris Olympics might see the emergence of break dancing as a recognised Olympic sport.  I`m not sure that`s a bad idea but it might go the same way as a number of other `activities`that have emerged in past Olympics only to disappear without trace after the fad of the moment had run its course.

I seem to recall `events` such as underwater swimming, horse long jump, live pigeon shooting (I imagine it was the pigeons that were fleetingly alive,) tug of war and even a poetry competition up until the late forties when poets were in competition to see who could come up with the best poem that captured the Olympic spirit.  I kid you not - all these and others at some time formed part of the Games.

With the likely inclusion of break dancing it does encourage speculation as to what other `events` might be included in years to come.  A few spring to mind.  Vole strangling has always been bubbling under the surface, as has deer stalking and with the advent of technology surely there is room in the Olympic schedule for things like four minute texting (how many texts can be sent in four minutes?) and social media abusing.

But perhaps the most likely is the one suggested many years ago by that great spelling error, Spike Milligna, who was an ardent supporter of barbed wire hurdling - something it pays to be rather good at.  But perhaps, finally, there might be wider recognition of The Brick - our local footy hero Scott ("Buzzin` style guru") Wagsraff`s trademark goal celebration.  Surely it`s time for this extraordinary contortion to rival break dancing in a brave new world of Olympic competition.

But at least it will bring an end to the usual competition between chemists in traditional track and field ?

ALL IN VAIN...

The photo above shows our street`s local hero Scott ("Buzzin` six pack fashion icon") Wagstaff, currently plying his footballing trade with AFC Wimbledon.  In the last round of the FA Cup. Wimbledon managed to beat Premier League outfit West Ham 4-2, thanks largely to two splendidly taken goals from the aforementioned Wagstaff.

At the end pf that game, he was challenged by one of the hoards of BBC reporters to have his beard dyed in the club colours of yellow and blue for the next round. the ties for which are being played out over this weekend. As can be seen, his fulsome beard underwent a serious operation earlier in the week in order to meet the challenge laid down after the last round, Wagstaff having declared himself `up for it 100 percent,` thereby  committing himself to going through with it. 

And what a resplendent sight it reveals - the ample growth providing a formidable basis for the two tone dye that he had promised to fulfil.  Just one snag.   The Dons had a midweek game away at Walsall (a notoriously difficult place to go to) and Wagstaff found himself consigned to the bench for that game. presumably to ensure that he would be `up for it 100 percent` for yesterday`s FA Cup clash with Millwall.

But yesterday, he found himself on the bench yet again and this time he didn`t even get on to play any part in the game, which Millwall won 1-0.   Now of course, Wagstaff`s beard had gained much publicity which must have raised the profile of the cash strapped club and brought them much needed attention as a result of all the media interest.  However, despite a good deal of coverage in the run up to the game, Wagstaff and his beard were nowhere to be seen during the game and he may be forgiven for thinking that his efforts had been all in vain.

Now, there might be those cynics or conspiracy theorists who might suggest that all the publicity and media interest in the colourful beard and its owner may have deflected perhaps a little too much attention in his direction and away from the management and powers that be in the higher echelons of Kingsmeadow Stadium.  Why on earth would Wimbledon deny themselves the goal scoring exploits of the hero of their last FA Cup victory? I`ve no idea, but maybe there was perhaps a touch of karma  in the fact that Wimbledon lost the game yesterday and today they may be regretting the extraordinary decision to leave the beard on the bench.

GOODBYE OLD FRIEND...

It must have been all of fifteen years ago, maybe more, that I shivered my way through a game at St. Mary`s in the dead of winter.  After the game I ventured in to the club shop and being something of a fashion icon I treated myself to a nice warm Saints fleece.  It has served me very well - a good return on the investment - and it has seen me through the rigours, the triumphs and disasters and the ups and downs of being a Saints fan. 

Together we have been through a lot - to the bottom of League One, the eventual promotion to the Championship, promotion again to the promised land of the Premier League and, along the way, memorable visits to Wembley. So it has been an interesting journey we have made together.   Sadly, in recent times my faithful companion has begun to show his age.  Like me, the odd bit has become frayed around the edges and the wear and tear of being my protective shield  has begun to show itself more and more.

Sadly, in the last couple of days, after a prolonged battle with ups and downs of its own, the zip has finally conked out and I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that its time has come to an end.   Despite the fact that the club badge is still gleaming it`s  a bit like Charlie Austin`s knees, it has been on its last legs for a while and reaching the end if its useful life.  So to save it from further unnecessary pain the kindest thing to do is to say `goodbye.` 

I`m reluctant to chuck it in the bin and it wouldn`t be much good to anyone rummaging through a charity bag or a jumble sale so I may just keep it in the shed, where I can kiss the badge occasionally and look back on all those years of bewilderment and uncertainty that just comes with supporting Southampton FC.  But thank you for the ride - it`s been great. 

Well, some of it.

CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?..

It was once said that there isn`t a housing crisis in this country - it`s just a rumour put about by people with nowhere to live.  Well, it seems that even here in the sylvan paradise of the Garden of England, with its quiet lanes, its rolling landscape and its reserved solitude there are indeed people with nowhere to live.  Quite a lot of them.

Recent figures show that, at the last count, there were over 1,000 `households` on the waiting list for a property in the area covered by the local housing authority.  Housing charity Shelter has called the figures "chilling" and calls for the government to increase the funding to provide new social housing and local campaigners have increased calls for more properties to be built as soon as possible.

The local housing authority says it works in close partnership with housing associations who supply affordable housing in the area to meet housing need and that its housing register is prioritised depending on that need.  The Director in charge of these things at the local authority said - and I quote - "The required affordable housing from any scheme is laid out in planning policy and where there are any issues with the viability of a development the council ensures that is clearly evidenced and weighed against the benefits of bringing a site forward with at least the provision of some affordable dwellings rather than allowing schemes to stall entirely."

I`m sure that explanation will come as a huge comfort to those `households` waiting patiently for somewhere to live. 

IT`S THAT DAY AGAIN....

It seems that not much happened in the wider world on 4th February 1960 but for me the date sticks in the memory as the day when I made the perilous journey to Catterick in north Yorkshire to begin my 731 days of National Service.  It`s all of 59 years ago now and over the years I have been scribbling away on this blog I have made a habit on this day of all days to recall some of the more memorable but less agreeable moments from my military career.  On this occasion, however, I think it would redress some of the balance by recalling a more lighter aspect of my enforced conscription.

Now in 1960 National Service was coming to an end - I was called up in February and I think the last NS man of all was called up a little later that year, so I just got caught by the system and after what was billed as `basic training` I had been posted to a proper regiment, the 10th Royal Hussars, an armoured fighting regiment intent on defending western democracy from the threat of a Communist invasion.  And finding myself in the depths of BFPO 16 in what was then West Germany I quickly became aware of the differences that existed between conscripts like me and the majority of the regiment`s force of volunteer professionals.

Now those differences showed themselves in different ways - some subtle, some less so - but there was never any suggestion of any sort of dismissive attitude shown towards us few remaining NS men.  Nevertheless, the few of us were different - we had been conscripted rather than volunteered; there was a pay difference between the two `camps` and so we tended to keep largely to ourselves and develop our own `culture` that might be described as reluctant acceptance of our situation. 

The 10th Hussars were very keen on football and a series of competitions between the various Squadrons was a regular feature of the fixture list.  Three of us NS men were selected for the HQ Squadron team and we saw this as perhaps a chance to make our point by creating a National Service goal.   There was myself along with two corporals from the Pay Office - Alec Craig and Gordon Watson - and at some point in the proceedings I got hold of the ball in the centre circle and arrowed a raking pass out to Alec on the right wing (we had wingers in those days.)  Alec produced a glorious cross for Gordon to meet it and plant the ball beyond the despairing clutches of the opposing custodian for our memorable National Service goal.

We kept our on field celebrations to the minimum - the odd handshake and pat on the back - falling far short of the hugging and kissing you see today (military retribution would surely have followed,) but we had made our subtle point and although it may have gone unnoticed in the annals of military sporting history it was a special moment for us. 

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES...

Snow`s gone on Cornwall`s north coast.  Here are the same images today - quite a contrast from yesterday.   The first one is the Camel Estuary this morning.....

,,,and here is Port Isaac this morning......

....and finally today`s view of Polzeath....

Ah, the peace and quiet.

(Please click on photos for better images)

OH TO BE IN CORNWALL...

....now the snow has arrived.  This first picture is of the Camel Estuary yesterday...

...and here is the fishing village of Port Isaac......

.......and the holiday haunt of Polzeath......

I`m looking forward to seeing these places again when summer is here.
(Please click on photos for better images)