TEN YEARS AGO TODAY...

......I made what for me was something of a pilgrimage.  Now I don`t normally make a habit of going to London;  I know that the last time I went there was just before the 2012 Olympics to attend the dedication of a memorial in Kensall Green cemetery to John McDouall Stuart, unsung hero of Australian exploration - responsible for establishing the route of the telegraph line from south to north on what is now the Stuart Highway.  He was a hero of mine and, as a member of the John McDouall Stuart Society,  I felt privileged to be invited to attend that ceremony in his honour.

Before that, my previous venture to the capital was my pilgrimage to Wembley Stadium to watch other heroes of mine, the Saints of Southampton FC, winning the Johnstone`s Paint Trophy by beating Carlisle United 4-1 in front of a packed stadium which included 44,000 Saints fans.

My journeys to London have always been wracked with uncertainty as they represent a logistical challenge as well as being pitchforked into a culture which is a million miles away from the peace and serenity of the Kentish enclave I call home.  No matter, when the Saints reach a Wembley final, you`ve just got to make the effort.  So I did - and it comprised driving to Watford of all places, getting a train from there to Wembley, grabbing a Greggs `lunch,` meeting up with my crew in the Green Man and taking my seat in the higher reaches of the national stadium.

It was a terrific day out - topped off by the Saints` win with goals from Rickie Lambert, Adam Lallana, Michail Antonio (yes, that one) and Papa Waigo although arguably one of the defining images of the day was seeing the joy on the face of the club`s owner, the late lamented Markus Liebherr, taking a photo on his little camera to capture the moment.    He more than anyone was responsible for rescuing the club from administration and setting it on a course that would see them climb from the bottom of League One (where they were that season) back to the Premier League.

The journey home, after yet more celebrations in the Green Man with the Codgers crew, was simply a return journey back on the train to Watford and then negotiating the M25 back home to Kent and I have only been back to London once since then - not sure I`ve missed much -  but now and again I dig out my collection of Saints matchday programmes where pride of place goes to the one recapturing that memorable day out ten years ago today.

And, of course, when it came to painting my garage floor I had to use Johnstone`s paint.

THE LAST REFUGE...

It seems to me that one of the things this current crisis has thrown up is the almost total irrelevance of some aspects of sport.   I say some aspects but the truth for me at least is that football - and especially the parallel universe of the Premier League - really has become almost entirely forgettable, not merely of itself but also because I no longer have to concern myself whether Southampton are going to be relegated or survive for yet another season in the `top flight`.....or even worry about whether they are going to win a game, lose one or draw.

But that feeling of irrelevance does not extend to all sports and I am especially sad that the cricket season is under threat, for it exemplifies all the good things about summer.  Now of course even the beautiful game of cricket cannot be taken as seriously as it usually is, given the circumstances in which we find ourselves and whilst I should have more pressing matters on my mind I cannot help a feeling of sincere regret that the cricket season may not happen.

Now someone - it may even have been me - once said that sport is the last refuge of those who find it impossible to idle and so, given that visits to Canterbury are put on hold, I can at least avoid some idleness whilst looking back on glorious summer days gone by.   Most of those were spent playing the game - my teenage weekends were spent playing on the village greens of Kent in days when there were no league competitions, just friendly matches and where personal performances, whilst contributing to the team effort, were limited in their scope and ability;  the Basted double of scoring 100 runs and taking ten wickets in a season were the only personal goals we aimed for.

My first ever exposure to `proper cricket` was in 1949 when my parents took me to the Northlands Road ground in Southampton to watch Hampshire take on the visiting New Zealanders and, being just ten years old at the time, I was seduced into a lifelong romantic affection for the game.   In more recent times I have been fortunate to visit the St. Lawrence Ground in Canterbury to see Kent play.

Ah, Canterbury.   It`s now called the Spitfire Ground and the famous lime tree is long gone, new apartments decorate one side of the ground but on match days the ground and the game itself still have that timeless quality of calm refinement - reverence almost - which provides the perfect escape from life beyond the boundary.  Some of the traditions may have died away - I`m not sure the teatime ladies hat competition is still going; it may do but it has escaped my notice recently - but despite the ever growing need for commercial as well as sporting success a day at Canterbury still provides fascinating glimpses to bygone days. 

Stands named after heroes; Cowdrey, Ames and Woolley; whispered conversations recalling old time players like Underwood, Denness, Leary, Knott, Luckhurst, Woolmer and museum depictions of denizens of the past like Lord Harris and Jim Swanton, of whom it was said that his idea of democracy was to travel in the same car as his chauffeur.

So I guess that as well as the prospect of missing out on seeing some cricket this year I might also miss out on the chance to spend a little time being a ten year old again , falling in love with not only a game but also a way of life that has more to commend it than I ever realised.  If there is such a thing in this life as `normal service,` I hope it is resumed before it`s too late.

JOIN THE CLUB....

The Simpsons look glum.  I wonder why.   Could it be that they have heard the reports, as I have today, that they are about to be joined by two very distinguished `guests` in the form of voice-overs?

It seems that Meghan might get her wish after all as a representative of Disney has suggested that, following some nods and winks to that company by unnamed royal sources, she might be signed up to voice over one of the characters in the long running series.

And it doesn`t end there.  Apparently the company are equally keen to sign up Greta Thunberg for a similar role but this time joining Lisa Simpson for a while as the `activist` passes through Springfield.   It`s suggested that the two may have much in common.  Whilst confirmation of either of these events is eagerly awaited it does seem eerily appropriate for either Meghan or Greta or both of them to have the chance to join the most celebrated cartoon in living memory?

.....but on balance I think I prefer them to being dead.  And it`s my determination for that preference to remain that I am doing what I can to comply with the government imploring us all to be sensible.  Just wish everyone was being sensible though.   There are reports and loads of images and videos on line showing the crass stupidity of people doing things they shouldn`t be.   Things like all going to the park, congregating in streets, desperately shopping for anything and everything and it all begins to make me wonder whether the human race deserves to survive after all.

OK, things are bad enough now but there is the expectation that they are all going to get a whole lot worse, which should reinforce the need to review the real priorities of life.  Suddenly things like football, which is a subject that has dominated these pages for years, become irrelevant;  going on holiday for us at least seems `dead in the water` - if you`ll forgive the untimely phrase - our week back home in the New Forest is under severe threat but I accept the fact that not going might well be the best option for us as well as the New Forest.

Fortunately we live in a small community where the spirit of neighbourliness is alive and well and there are already examples of help being offered especially to the elderly and the vulnerable in our community.  Something of a wartime spirit is happening and I for one really hope that we can come through this and have the opportunity - long overdue perhaps - of setting our lives back on a default basis where we recognise and understand what are the really important things in life rather than the endless trivia we have hitherto considered worthy of our time and attention.

So, to my readers out there, I hope you stay safe and stay well.

Seems to me that not only are we experiencing the biggest global epidemic for a century but also, along with it, we are also seeing the very worst and the very best of the people we are supposed to be.  And also - for me at least - there now seem to be two extremes by which life is being led.

First things first.  The very worst of people has been demonstrated by things such as the rampaging, thoughtless, mindless, selfish panic buying of an extraordinary selection of items ranging from toilet rolls to bottles of wine in the supermarkets around here.   And I heard today that there are apparently people going around, knocking on the doors of elderly residents, offering to do their shopping for them, `borrowing` their bank card (and presumably their pin number) and going off never to be seen again.  To quote Dylan Thomas - " There should be a law!"

The best has shown itself through volunteer groups being set up to help local communities get through these difficult times and individuals volunteering to help, particularly the elderly and vulnerable, in a variety of ways - anything from dog walking to shopping (without needing bank cards) and a whole load of other genuine offers of help as well.  

But I also detect some extremes in the way things `feel.`   One extreme is of course the pace at which the me-me snowflake brigade go about things and the other feeling is that , away from the shopping mayhem, there seems to be a kind of almost awkward quietude - as if we should feel guilty about going about what business we have left with a resigned acceptance; que sera and all that.

Getting a bit tired of the endless, wall-to-wall 24-hour `news` though.  I know we need to know what`s going  on, what we should be doing, what HM Gov. is up to and all that but my goodness they don`t half go on. I`m pretty sure it`s all making it worse.   So I`m looking elsewhere - Talking Pictures TV takes me back to a different era when films might have been rubbish but when the world faced epidemics and other disasters with a more balanced and semi-detached approach.

So, given the choice between war and peace, I`m on the side of peace every time.  

I`ve had a car for six years and done a fair amount of miles but just recently it has been showing signs of anno domini and developed some annoying issues - making funny noises when I turn the steering wheel, a tendency not to start in cold weather (a bit like its owner) and just, but only just, struggling through the MoT thingy.  So in a wild fit of irresponsibility I decided it was time to change it and get a new one.  (I`ve noticed with all my previous cars that there came a point when it just felt right to change it, however `attached` to it I might have got.)

So I picked up the new car on Friday and I`m seriously chuffed with it - starts fine, no funny noises, drives like a dream and is nice and comfortable even if I have yet to get my head around all the bells and whistles.  And what happens?  Along comes corona virus and with it the threat that us oldies - who in any case are struggling to survive on a fixed income in challenging economic times - are likely to be confined to barracks for anything up to four months as HM Gov. tries to halt the spread of the virus. Result? Sooper dooper, high tech, state of the art, ocean going, whizzo new car likely to be stuck on the drive for the duration.  Bloody typical.

Now over the past year or so I`ve had my eyes sorted out - entropion problem remedied, both cataracts seen to and new glasses purchased to ensure my 20-20 vision.  The difference has been remarkable and I am hugely grateful for all the superb attention the NHS has provided for me.

But as Spring arrived I realised I needed sun glasses, especially for driving, so I ordered a pair to the same prescription as my `ordinary` pair.  I had a call from the optician to say the new sunglasses were ready to be collected, so I got them yesterday, since when the sun hasn`t shined and, as the car might be stuck in the drive I might not get to use them anyway.  Bloody typical.

Now I realise that God Almighty might have a downer on me anyway, due to my inbuilt scepticism and my reservations about His (or Her) design faults concerning the human body, but I think these latest events might either constitute divine retribution for my sins or they might simply confirm my scepticism and reservations after all?

AN ILL WIND ?

Of course, the one issue on most people`s mind at the moment is the corona virus - now officially a pandemic.  And it doesn`t need me to go on about it as the wall-to-wall 24 hour news bulletins themselves go on about little else.  But still there are some things that cross my mind as anxieties grow daily about what its effect will be on ourselves as individuals, our friends and family and our way of life.

It`s tempting to shrug it off - these things happen to other people, don`t they? - or even to treat it lightheartedly as a mask for the anxiety that lies beneath. ("I expect the manufacturers of liquid soap are rubbing their hands in glee") but it`s obviously too serious an issue to be swept to the back of one`s mind.

But perhaps - pious hope, I know - that this ill wind might, after all, bring some good in the long run.  Now I don`t know why but I honestly can`t remember whether past epidemics (SARS, MERS, swine flu and the rest) brought the same degree of anxiety as this one does;  maybe it`s the `social media` and the unending news output that has brought corona virus to the forefront, whereas previous virus issues received perhaps a little less attention.  Either that or maybe this one is really the most serious we have encountered for a generation....or maybe my memory of past instances of this nature has faded along with loads of other memories.

So where`s the ill wind blowing some good in all this?  What`s the pious hope?  Well, maybe just maybe if/when the nations of this planet get through it all there will be something of a global inquest as to how it happened, how it was dealt with and how to avoid it happening again.  More piously I hope that this experience might have the effect of bringing the nations of the world closer together, for if viruses like this one know no borders, no boundaries, why should we not use this experience to break down at least some of the entrenched positions and barriers that beset the world and seek a better way of living together?

I should know better, of course, but even if we ourselves might not - then at least hope springs eternal.

.....or so it seems.   Stuff is happening in the garden, the birds are doing their thing and in the last couple of days I have detected the threatening drone of mowers mowing.

Not that I`m complaining - I have spent months longing for the days to get longer, the temperature to return to being bearable and for the gloom of my Sadness to begin to lift.  And yet..... and yet I look around the world and I seem to be invaded by stories, news reports and events, dear boy, events that all conspire to suggest that, despite the green shoots of early Spring, there are a lot of things to concern my furrowed brow.

The corona virus of course - and the worry it brings especially to us over-80s (*cough cough*) - but I have been intrigued, but not really surprised, by the amount of panic buying, aka selfish buying of things like toilet rolls.   It comes to something when the shelves in the Saffron Walden branch of Waitrose are empty, so I`m going to stockpile the daily newspaper which can be cut up into neat squares and hung on a nail in the smallest room.  I guess the best newspaper to buy for that emergency would be the Guardian?  Funny how, as soon as HM Gov. says there`s no need to panic, everybody immediately panics.

My biggest issue today, however, is the news that broke over the weekend that Southampton Football Club is once again up for sale.  It seems our current owner, one Mr. Gao all the way from China, has had enough of not investing any of his money since he took over the club and is apparently surprised that the team are nowhere near qualifying for Europe or, for that matter, nowhere clear of relegation. 

Rumours are spreading as to who might be interested in purchasing the club - mega rich billionaire Jim Ratcliffe has been mentioned as he lives in the New Forest despite the fact that he already owns Nice FC in France along with the Ineos cycling outfit and is allegedly a big Chelsea fan.  Then there is our new Chancellor of the Exchequer, Rishi Sunak, who genuinely is a massive Saints fan so maybe we will hear something in his first ever Budget speech on Wednesday.  

There is much more I could go on about but I will end for now by sharing my dismay that we might be seeing Harry and Meghan on these shores for the last time.  It`s enough to escalate the country`s mental health issues to unprecedented levels but I`m sure there are helpline numbers we can ring if it all gets too much to bear.

Off to do some mowing.  Have a nice day.

A HUGE TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH 

A few posts ago I wrote a postscript about the fact that I had not received any `comments` on my posts for a very long time.  I explained that this was at least partly due to Google changing the way in which comments could be made which, I have to confess, was a bit beyond me.  Also I had received some grumbles from aficionados that they could not comment and what was I doing about it.

I mentioned that I had discovered a link on the left hand side at the very bottom of each post under the heading `No comments` just above `Labels` - here it is:-

I invited my readers to chance their arm, click on that link which brought up a panel on which comments could be made and, following the instructions in that panel, write a comment and see if it worked.  Today my illustrious neighbour Mr. Slightly - the acclaimed Gillingham fan - said that he had had a go at it and had duly sent a comment.  I checked to see if his comment had arrived and it had, although it was `awaiting moderation.`  I accepted his comment for publication, of course and it now appears under the comments section of my recent post headed `Back Again.`  The `No comments` link now says `2 comments` and they can be read by clicking on that - it proves it works!

Here in the foothills of deepest Kent, struggling to come to terms with the 1970s, this represents a technological breakthrough of enormous significance not only for my neighbour (to whom I an obliged) and myself but also for anyone else who feels the urge to let me know what they think of my rants.   I look forward to hearing more in future but all in the best possible taste of course.

......than to let something as transient as football make me feel a bit bothered.  But then after having lived with the vicissitudes of being a Southampton fan since my father first took me to The Dell in 1946, maybe it is inevitable.  It`s mad; it makes no sense, but each week when Saturday comes I find myself fretting about whether the Saints are going to win, lose or draw.

And I have this theory that the football club is a victim of the same malaise as most of its loyal followers, both of whom live in a permanent state of uncertainty, not to say bewilderment - the default condition of both the club and its fans.  It`s not surprising really, given the ups, downs, ins and outs throughout the years but you would think that, by now, I might have been able to get a bit of a life, if not grow up a bit.

Take last Saturday, for example.  The Saints go to West Ham, who were lying in the relegation zone;  the Saints are comfortably placed in mid table and all sense of reason suggested that whilst it might be a tight game the Saints ought to have gained at least a point.  Didn`t happen of course - West Ham were far superior in just about every part of the game and I can have no complaints at their 3-1 win.  C`est la vie and all that.

It was, however, especially galling that Michal Antonio was largely responsible for the Saints downfall with his aggressive running at Saints` central defence which had no answer to his power and strength;  for it was Antonio who played for Southampton in our League One/Championship days and featured in the FA Trophy Final at Wembley when Carlisle United were dispatched in a comfortable 4-1 win.  We should never have sold him.

And that pattern came to light again in the surprise defeat of Liverpool by Watford, with Liverpool having no less than five former Southampton players in Saturday`s line-up.  Perhaps mature reflection might suggest that that was at least part of the reason why Watford galloped to such an impressive victory.  Maybe we were right after all to have sold  van Dyke, Lovren, Mane, Lallana and Oxtail-Chamberlain to Liverpool, whose first defeat since records began must surely point to a downward slide.

In other teams I follow, my neighbour is in deep mourning following Gillingham`s home defeat by low flying Wimbledon, whose captain was none other than our street`s local hero Scott Wagstaff . All this despite the Gills having two Saints players playing for them on loan.  I`m sure there will be a tense stand-off in our street for a few days.  Elsewhere Forest Green Rovers and Fort William had their games called off due to waterlogged pitches, Maidstone United were clobbered 5-1 away at Weymouth and so the only comfort for me this weekend was Truro City`s impressive 4-1 win away at Hendon to maintain top spot in the Southern League South Division.

I`m quite relaxed about the `working week,` it`s just that Saturdays keep coming round and there are times when I wish they wouldn`t.  Roll on the cricket season.

I managed to catch the news bulletins yesterday about the fact that Swedish teenage climate change activist Greta Thunberg had arrived in Bristol, meaning that the centre of the city was taken over by a reported 30,000 people, mainly schoolchildren and their adoring parents.  I imagine the event came under the heading of `peaceful protest` leaving the police to observe from a discreet distance.  A pretty chaotic day for `ordinary life` in that fair city, I imagine.

As for the sainted Greta herself, she arrived - as you do - in a Nissan Leaf to rapturous applause, took to the front of the march, took to the stage, took the microphone and addressed her assembled disciples.   In her short life she has become something of a phenomenon, ranting away at world leaders, inciting school strikes and in the process being showered with awards from organisations, including the UN, and others who felt it right to recognise what she has achieved and so climb aboard the accelerating bandwagon.

Now what I have said so far might well and understandably be taken to mean that I might not approve of Greta and all her works and there might be a grain of truth in that.  However, I accept that there might be an issue that world leaders need to address, if they are not doing so already, before the Gaia principle - that the earth will look after itself - kicks in and that the world will evolve as it should.

But what troubles me in all of this is the probability that whilst Greta may well be genuine in her beliefs and her anxieties for the future, her followers are running the risk of being more in awe and adulation of the person rather than the message she is giving out.   It`s all turning into a classic example of listening to the singer not the song, in which case I might l have some sympathy for Greta after all if she becomes the story rather than the issues that concern her.  Even so, I might be more persuaded by listening to the considered and more moderate messages from the likes of Sir David Attenborough - a real life grown-up.

I`ll begin with a note of apology for being away from these pages for a couple of weeks.  Sufficient to say, I think, that I have been occupied with a host of other `issues` which have kept me out of mischief and which cannot be named for legal reasons.  However, I have been genuinely touched by a number of approaches I have received from good friends and aficionados of this blog enquiring about my wellbeing as they have apparently missed reading my ranting on here.

Those enquiries have reminded me just how important it is to keep in touch with people and so, this being Lent, I have decided to give up not being in touch with people.  You have been warned.

Anyway, life goes on and it seems to me that the longer it goes on the more there is to be concerned with - corona virus, flooding, and whether Nathan Redmond will recover from his injury in time to line up against West Ham on Saturday are just some of the issues to contend with.   It`s interesting to observe the growing paranoia surrounding the corona virus outbreak with schools being closed, sporting events in doubt and no doubt we will soon have to contend with panic buying in the shops as supplies of face masks run low, never mind food, drink and household essentials.

How will we manage?  What`s to become of us?  Will the viruses finally take over the planet and make a better job of it than we have?  I suppose the thing that troubles me most about all this, is the effect it might have on the upcoming cricket season.  After months of cold, dark, wet, dismal winter and just as we are a mere four weeks away from putting the clocks on an hour and a matter of a few weeks more until the season begins, we get hit with these threats to our way of life.  

I can live without the six nations being concluded, without the odd grand prix droning its way round and round and even without the Olympics but I will find life without the beautiful game of summer perhaps a precaution too far.   I`m surprised Greta hasn`t had a rant about it.

THE RIGHT KIND OF MUSIC...

I guess when you reach a certain age topics of conversation drift in to things you never really thought about too much when you were younger.   Having crossed the threshold of octogenerianism I find that conversations with others seem often to revolve largely around  things medical, which is a subject I don`t really do.  More worryingly I`m finding that funerals are coming round a bit more frequently than either I or the deceased might have wished.  And, sadly, I attended yet another one just the other day, this time for a good friend and neighbour who I had known ever since we moved here well over thirty years ago.

It was beautifully done - quite simple and yet conducted in a spirit of heartfelt sympathy for the bereaved, coupled with a genuine appreciation of the life and times of our departed friend.   Now, I`m pretty sure that years ago it was the tradition that any music played at such an event was likely to be mournful, religious in nature and clearly not designed to lift the spirits of  those present.  How things have changed over the years and much the better for it.

I`ve thought back to funeral services I`ve been to over recent years and each time the proceedings have included music chosen by the family which seemed to them to be right for the occasion.   For example, I chose `Time to Say Goodbye` sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman for my own mother`s service;  last year an old school friend went out to the sound of Frank Sinatra belting out `New York, New York;` and another occasion heard Matt Monro singing `Softly as I Leave You.`  I guess that in their own way they were `appropriate` as a memory for the departed and seemed just the right music for the day.

My most recent experience was the one I went to just a few days ago and the music chosen for that seemed also seemed to be just right.  It was `Memories`, sung by the velvet voice of Perry Como and it`s hard to imagine anything more appropriate for the occasion, the family and friends of our late neighbour.  An inspired choice from days when songs were songs and singers could sing.   Here it is:-

Trouble is, it all made me start to wonder what might be appropriate for my own departure.  I`ll get back to you about that.

One of the joys of following football teams that aren`t too good is that it makes you realise that the club that means so much to you may not be so bad after all.   Yesterday Southampton didn`t have a game, rather they were wallowing in the relief of the so called `mid winter break` following their narrow defeat on Tuesday evening in the FA Cup replay at Tottenham.   That`s two games now when the Saints have performed very well but come away with nothing to show for their efforts.

So, yesterday my football mind was fixed on other things - Gillingham managing yet another goalless, if not soulless draw away at Burton Albion;  Maidstone hung on to secure a narrow 1-0 win over Braintree (I`ve always wondered why Braintree is called Braintree - is there a magic tree there somewhere?);  Wimbledon contrived to lose at home to Fleetwood but were denied the inspiration of our street`s local hero Scott ("Six pack") Wagstaff due to an injury picked up in training;  Truro City also lost, meaning that the scramble for promotion at the top of Southern League South is becoming a bit serious.

But what is even more serious are the goings on at Fort William in the Scottish Highland League.  For some years now, The Fort have been pretty hopeless in terms of results on the pitch but in the process have garnered a large world-wide following of those like me who revel in and identify with the world of the underdog.  But something strange is happening up there in the lee of Ben Nevis.   After a win and a draw already this season, yesterday they went to Turriff in Aberdeenshire and won again, this time 2-1 against Turriff United.  That, combined with Lossiemouth losing at Deveronvale meant that Fort William now have seven points and have risen to third from bottom of the Highland League with seven games in hand (due to postponed matches) on the teams above them.

At this rate they might well end the season with a double figure points tally and for the first time in living memory finish above the bottom of the table.   For romantics like me, it is hoped that they might soon remember their place and get back losing ways......

Today is the 4th of February.  It comes round each and every year, of course and each time it does it takes me back 60 years when things happened to change my life forever.  

I woke up that morning in the pub that my parents owned in the rustic serenity of the Hampshire border country but I would spend that night in quite another world.   Early that morning I was given a lift by a neighbour to Reading train station; caught the train to Paddington station in London, crossed the capital and boarded another train at Euston station.   The long journey was in some respects `interesting` as I had never been anywhere north of London before but after what seemed a day long journey the train eventually arrived at Darlington in north Yorkshire, where I got on another train for the short journey to Richmond.

It was at Richmond station that I along with a random collection of other wide-eyed innocents was introduced to the army`s version of passenger transport as we were bundled with our meager belongings into the back of a 3-ton Bedford truck which deposited us at Catterick Camp to begin my two years of National Service.

Now I promise I won`t go on about National Service per se as I`ve recounted some of my experiences elsewhere in these pages (click on National Service in the list of labels to the right and down a bit) but rather to reflect on just how significant that experience was in terms of my personal `development` - such as it has been.

I think what it did do was make up for the absence, due to prolonged childhood illness,  of the chance of a University education or even higher level schooling and to use the hackneyed phrase which refers to the University of Life, I`m pretty sure that my army days forged within me a kind of resilience, a self confidence and most assuredly a self-awareness.   It also meant that I forged the ability to deal with situations, emotions even, that today would probably lead to anxiety, depression and all the other accouterments of `mental health issues.`   But in the green hell of BFPO 16 in  an armoured fighting tank regiment none of those `issues` ever crossed our minds - we simply got on with what we were supposed to be doing, worked hard and played even harder.

Now the last thing I will do is claim that National Service should be reintroduced as it really isn`t to be recommended and I`m not sure that people would accept it these days anyway but as a learning curve to developing qualities that were needed for a fulfilling later life,  I`m pretty sure it helped.   I wonder where today`s learning curves for life are to be found?

......and some you draw.   A mixed bag of sporting results this weekend which, in many ways, reflect life itself.  Ups and downs, a few surprises, some disappointment but always its unpredictability.  Sometimes it`s the hope that kills, other times, it`s the expectation.  Like England were supposed to beat France at rugby yesterday.  It didn`t happen, of course, but no complaints as the French deserved their win and England have a bit to learn following that defeat

The other side of that coin was the expected defeat of Southampton away at Liverpool in a game which might have gone the way of the Saints but for some missed chances and some exceptional play by Liverpool.  It was like a meeting of old friends with Liverpool having among their ranks former Saints van Dyke, Oxlaide-Chamberlain, Mane, Lallana, Lovren and Cline.  The final score of 4-0 to Liverpool was perhaps a bit flattering but it reminded me of the old saying, "Show me a gallant loser and I`ll show you a loser."

In other news, Truro City maintained their place at the top of the table but Wimbledon, featuring our local hero Scott ("Buzzin`) Wagstaff now fully restored after a recent suspension and calf injury, went down to a narrow 2-1 defeat at Accrington Stanley - always a difficult place to go to.   My neighbour`s Gillingham heroes didn`t have a game but have now gone ten home games without defeat, so there is still dancing in the street at the moment.

But pride of place this weekend went to Fort William who gained a creditable point away at Deveronvale - The Fort are still propping up the Highland League table but they have now amassed seven points so far this season, thanks to two wins and Saturday`s draw but with five games in hand on the teams above them there is still hope.

And spare a thought for Torquay United, who endured a 700-mile round trip to Barrow in Furness, current leaders in the National League and despite Torquay leading 1-0 until deep into the second half, Barrow eventually came back to win 2-1 and secure their league top spot.  

Oh, and we left the European Union too at the weekend..... after extra time.

It`s quite a week.  A lot going on.  And a lot of it is `annoying.`  Things like the Television Awards thingy the other evening when `awards` were dished out to mediocrities such as David Walliams, Ant and Dec and, astonishingly, Mrs, Brown`s Boys getting the comedy of the year award.  It really comes to something when an Irishman dressed up as an Irish granny has to rely on foul and abusive language in a desperate attempt to disguise the reality that he (or she) ain`t really funny.

And I guess there`s some mixed feelings about things political, which I will leave alone what with the Brexit thing and all that, and also other annoyances such as Greta Thunberg having the commercial nous to register her name and all her works as a trademark and being faced with Naga Munchetty when I turn on the TV in the morning.  

So it`s been quite difficult to find any grains of wheat in this great big pile of chaff but I think I have found a couple.  The first is the extraordinary and most welcome revolution being introduced by the new Speaker of the House of Commons, Sir Lindsay Hoyle. 

Following the way in which his predecessor brought the game into disrepute it is refreshing to see that the new Speaker has announced that he is introducing a new procedure which will allow the Clerk of the House to notify MPs if he disagrees with any decision made by the Speaker.  Friend Bercow generated controversy by reportedly overruling advice from the Clerk and allowing a vote on an amendment which was opposed by Brexiteers.  It is equally refreshing that the new Speaker has announced that under his watch any form of bullying within the House will not be tolerated and that he wants the House to be a village where everyone is treated with respect.

Now back in November I had (yet another) rant at the BBC about their plan to withdraw the red button text service in order to cut costs and to annoy the elderly and disabled - here`s what I said then - https://snoppersays.blogspot.com/2019/11/blog-post.html.  Now following the predictable outrage and petitions to Downing Street the BBC has apparently had second thoughts and the BBC director general Tony Hall has said he would examine the concerns that the withdrawal of the service would `leave many people, who are already vulnerable, further isolated from society` and make a fresh decision in the spring.

Signs that the sunny uplands are in sight after all?

So, in a couple of weeks the UK will be leaving the political project that is the European Union and it will be interesting to see what the practical effects might be, both for us here in the good ol` U of K and for our friends and partners across the channel.  Some of those changes might give the opportunity to recapture some of the magic of our past, those long ago times before we were seduced into the EU in the first place.

I`ll be interested to see if we can find the courage to go back to how some things were - the reintroduction of our former currencies such as the half crown, the florin, the farthing etc., all of which made perfect sense, of course - four farthings in a penny, twelve pennies in a shilling, two shillings in a florin, twenty shillings in a pound and so on. 

We might even reintroduce the old gallon rather than having litres of petrol and, who knows, there might be improvements to our sporting life as we go back to penalties being awarded for deliberate handball;  and where being anywhere on a football pitch in an offside position meant you were interfering with play.  (I think cricket pitches still stick to the original 22 yards of a chain but I might be wrong about that, not having played the game for over half a century.)

There is some seductive charm about going back to days gone by - when things were so much more simple, where life was lived at a different, less stressful pace than today, when priorities were established around friends and family instead of being imposed via `social media.`   It`s funny how music almost always sums up a mood and all those years ago the divine Carole King along with Gerry Goffin wrote stuff then that is perhaps even more relevant today.   One of my favourite tracks of theirs, which seems so appropriate as we head out of the EU`s clutches, has long been `Goin` back` and the last few lines seem to capture what I mean in this jumbled rant:-

"Let everyone debate the true reality.

I`d rather see the world the way it used to be.

A little bit of freedom`s all we lack.

So catch me if you can

I`m going back."

And here it is sung by the equally divine and much missed Dusty Springfield:-

FOR THE FALLEN...

This is the Pilgrims Way, the long distance and very ancient footpath that leads from Winchester to Canterbury.   It passes through my bit of Kent and I took the photo above where the path hugs the lea of the North Downs in this part of Kent.  A little further in to our walk, the Pilgrims Way is crossed by another footpath and so we turned left and started to make our way up the slope of the North Downs.....

We came to a field and followed the path until it came to a gateway which led to the higher ground......

And just beyond the gateway something caught my eye......

And I wondered what it could possibly be in this remote spot a long way off the beaten track.   So we investigated by tramping through part of the hillside that is covered with wild thyme and brambles and it became apparent that what we were seeing was some kind of memorial.   It turned out to be something rather special and so I took this close up photo which revealed the story.......

And a little research when we got home showed that Tommy Pinkham was the Squadron Leader of the Royal Air Force No. 19 Fighter Squadron and the youngest Squadron Leader in the RAF at the age of just 25.   According to the Fighter Command Combat Report dated 5th September 1940, eleven members of the No. 19 Fighter Squadron, lead by Squadron Leader Pinkham, took off from RAF Duxford at 09.47 hours to patrol Hornchurch, an area east of London near the Thames Estuary.   Forty Luftwaffe Dornier 215 bombers escorted by 40 Messerschmitt 109 fighters were spotted approaching from the west.   At 10.15 hours Tommy and five others attacked the bombers with the other five aircraft in the squadron attacking the Luftwaffe fighters.  Squadron Leader Pinkham was last seen engaging three Dornier bombers but became a casualty, crashing on this spot on this Kentish hillside, where the memorial is maintained to remember his selfless heroism.

It seemed especially poignant to come across this memorial during this year which marks the 75th anniversary of VE Day.  And so we left this now very special place which now has the peace and serenity befitting its surroundings, thanks to men like Tommy Pinkham and his colleagues, to whom we owe so very much.

No. 19 Fighter Squadron at RAF Duxford - Squadron Leader Tommy Pinkham in the centre.

Just a quick one.   Three months ago the Saints were comprehensively stuffed 9-0 at home by Leicester City.  In hindsight that may have been the best thing that has happened to the club for some time, as it concentrated minds and brought a hitherto unrecognized determination that, as things couldn`t get any worse, the only way was up.

And so it has proved.  Since that fateful evening at St. Mar y`s Stadium the team and the manager have gone back to basics, sorted themselves out and performed a turnaround in the club`s fortunes that almost defies belief.  If you look now at the `form table` for the last ten matches you will see that the Saints lie second only to Liverpool, having had a superb run of results, beating Aston Villa and Chelsea away from home, Spurs at home and yesterday their redemption was completed by going to Leicester and beating them 2-1 in their own ground.

So along with my fellow Southampton supporting chums we are now officially over the moon, having banished parrot sickness from our minds.  As things stand, the Saints have 28 points, needing another 12 from the remaining 16 games to guarantee Premier League survival.  Surely that should happen to confirm a quite astounding revival although  I really am struggling to believe what`s happened.

So, a good weekend all round. ( But I wonder, being a Saints fan, how long this feelgood factor might last.)

STILL ABSENT...

First things first.  As this is my first post of 2020 I really do wish you all a very happy, peaceful and fulfilling new year.   

Next, an apology.  I know I have been absent from these pages for a short while - I said I would be back once the festivities of the festive season had died down a bit but, as ever, events have caught up with me.   I won`t go in to them for legal reasons but suffice to say that I have been very busy, fully engaged in a mammoth adventure which is painting the hall, the staircase and the landing - well the walls, doors, skirting boards etc.

It`s going OK so far - but it`s a long and fiddly job.  Maybe I`m getting fussy in my dotage but I do like things to be `right` and so there`s a bit of attention to detail going on.   So much so that I am tempted to put one of those `traders` signs outside to let the world know what`s going on.   It will probably say....

M. ANGELO

PAINTER AND DECORATOR

CEILINGS A SPECIALITY.

So forgive me if my project means that I may not be posting here as much as I would like but I will do so as and when I get the chance.  Hope that`s OK with you.