APOLOGIES HAVE THEIR PLACE.....

.....but not everyone, it seems, knows where that place is.

In a week when it seems to have become `fashionable` to apologise for just about anything and everything - even for events that happened centuries ago - I bring you a modern example of when apologies should be offered....and when they should not.

Some time last week, Manchester United played Middlesbrough in an FA Cup replay, which United won thanks to a mildly controversial penalty awarded to and coolly taken by Christiano Ronaldo. In a post-match interview with Ronaldo, Sky`s touchline reporter, Geoff Shreeves, felt it appropriate - which it was - to enquire as to the validity of the penalty award. Ronaldo, to his credit, replied thoughtfully and with good grace. However, the United manager, Sir Alex Ferguson, took immediate offence at Shreeves being so impertinent as to ask such a question and Ferguson exploded with a crude tantrum, a short extract of which went like this:-

Ferguson : `F*****g bastard.`

Shreeves : `Don`t talk to me like that.`

Ferguson : `F*** off to you.`

Shreeves : `Don`t talk to me like that. Don`t even think about it.`

Ferguson : `Don`t you think about it, you ****. F*** off. Right?`

Shreeves : `Listen, are you going to do this interview in a professional manner or not? Do you want to do it or not?`

Ferguson : `You f***ing be professional. You be professional. You`re the one.`

As I say, merely an extract but Shreeves managed to maintain his dignity in the face of this unprovoked onslaught.

Now, today it`s reported that because Sky are concerned about their `relationship` with Manchester United, Shreeves has been called upon to apologise to Ferguson for the affair, which strikes me as a classic case of apologies being proferred by the wounded party to the assailant. Surely, reason would suggest that it is Ferguson`s place to apologise, not only to Shreeves but also to the viewing public who witnessed this performance. But, as we live in a parallel universe, I doubt it will happen.

If apologies are to mean anything, they have to be given meaningfully, not used as a bargaining chip in a commercial or even a political world. I hope Shreeves` career flourishes from here on in, as he is the one who demonstrated professionalism in this sorry episode....but it wouldn`t surprise me one bit if he isn`t added to the list of journalists and media reporters to whom Ferguson refuses to speak .

As for Ferguson himself, it`s such a pity that a knight of the realm should behave in such an unseemly manner, when he might be a role model for others, given the success he has achieved as a football manager.

It was once said of Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery no less, that he was very successful as a general....but very unsuccessful as a man. I think the same might be said of Ferguson. Management by hairdryer is no substitute for the dignity and restraint expected of a knight of the realm.....and I make no apology for suggesting it.

......what a pity England`s "footballers" (the word is used lightly) do not show any sort of obligation towards the paying public, the game itself, their support staff and, most pointedly, their own self respect.

Saturday`s 0-0 draw against a spirited but limited Israel team was yet another in a litany of disappointments perpetrated by the pampered millionaires who currently wear the England shirts. Maybe we should be used to disppointments these days - after all, there have been enough of them in recent years, but I really felt that with the departure of Sven, Beckham and the former regime a new sense of urgency and pride might have emerged.

Saturday`s display was at best lacklustre and at worst shameful. No passion, no urgency, no intellingence (well, Rooney was on the pitch) and one gained the impression that they really couldn`t be bothered to be there, preferring instead to be at home in their palacial mansions, surrounded by their treasures and attended by the occasional WoG (wife or girlfriend.)

Qualification for the finals of the European Championship now seems more remote.....and yet, something deep within what must be my flawed psyche secretly hopes that these overpaid and over-pampered poseurs fail dismally, thus bringing down the wrath of a cheated nation on their collective shoulders. So, come on Andorra - go for it on Wednesday.

As for more mundane matters, my beloved Saints have representatives playing for their countries far and wide - Chris Baird for Northern Ireland, Gareth Bale for Wales, Gregorz Raziak for Poland, Pedro Pele for the Cape Verde Islands and Jhon (yes, that`s how it`s spelt) Viafara for Columbia. I hope they all return safely for the game against Wolves on Saturday, where passion, urgency and intelligence will be guaranteed.....hopefully By Saints as well.

.......so said Bob Woolmer, gifted cricketer, international coach, gentleman and citizen of the world, tragically taken from us in a Jamaica hotel under circumstances which are not yet clear.

In a former life, some 25 years ago, Bob came to see me in my office; it was at the time when I was responsible, among other things, for commissioning new leisure centres for the local authority. Bob had heard about one of them being constructed in his home town, where he had gone to school and where he had business interests but Bob had set his heart on managing the new leisure centre.

Sadly, however, it didn`t happen for him and I now wonder whether the events of the last few days in the West Indies may not have happened had he been successful in his ambition all those years ago. On the other hand, of course, the cricketing prowess of Warwickshire, South Africa and Pakistan may not have reached the heights they did without Bob`s coaching and man-management skills.

The world of cricket - and beyond, especially in his native Kent - rightfully mourn this tragic loss and I join in that sorrow, having met him and admired his talent. It`s just a pity that his quotation can now be looked at with a different eye, for yesterday is the mystery....and we await the truth of how it may be resolved.

SNOPPER`S CLAIMS TO FAME - PART ONE

For the first in what may prove to be a limited series, I want to take you back quite a few years - to the development of the Hovercraft and to a cottage by the sea.

When my father returned home in 1945 from spending five years in a German Prisoner of War camp, he got a job with the then BOAC, later to become British Airways. At the time, BOAC ran a fleet of flying boats and they had their maintenance base at Hythe on the western shore of Southampton Water.

The job had a cottage which went with it - one of a pair of semi-detached cottages named Grove Cottages, originally built in 1735. In the interests of brevity, I will not bore you with the quaintness of the cottage layout, but it did have a rear garden which reached down to the sea wall, where the waves of the twice-a-day Solent tides would lap in a language all their own. Sadly, the BOAC flying boat service was withdrawn in the early 1950s and with it went my father`s job and with it went our cottage.

Circumstances forced us to move from that `village by the sea` and start life elsewhere.....but it`s what happened to the cottage that gives rise to this particular `claim to fame.` Some time after we left, the site was taken over, the cottages were demolished and the site was used to construct the test tanks for Sir Christopher Cockerill`s development of his hovercraft invention. The development work was, of course, highly successful and led to the growth and spread of the hovercraft industry world-wide.

Some years later, the site of Grove Cottages was redeveloped once more, this time by the construction of a small, rather pleasant residential development, which was quite properly named Sir Christopher Court. Due to an odd configuration of the layout and, I suspect, the land ownership, not all of the site of our old back garden was included in the housing development and it is still possible to walk through a little public park, where there is a memorial to Sir Christopher, down to the same sea wall and look out across Southampton Water to the Weston shore (see photo at top and click on photo for enlarged image to read the inscription on the memorial.)

The big difference for me is that whereas when I was a boy, spending hours gazing in fascination at the huge liners - Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mary, the Union Castle liners - as they eased their way towards Southampton Docks from behind the flying boat maintenance hangars, nowadays the liners are fewer in number, superceded by cruise liners and container ships heading for Millbrook Container Terminal, and the view is not one of maintenance hangars any more, but of yet more housing development which has taken place on the site of that maintenance base from all those years ago.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.........

in case it comes true. So the old saying goes, and it`s surprising how often its wisdom is vindicated.

For some time now, I have been sanguine about the chances of my team, Southampton, achieving promotion back to the top flight of English football. At least I have been consistent in my assertion that, whilst from the financial point of view, promotion would be hugely beneficial, nevertheless from a football point of view, maybe the league we are currently in is more interesting.

Even at this late stage of the season, with only eight or nine games to go, it`s still possible - at least mathematically - for any of nine teams to be promoted and any of about the same number to be relegated. Contrast this with the awful predicatability of the Premiership, where in reality only one of two clubs are going to win it and maybe three of four clubs are going to go down.

I went to the game on Tuesday evening and saw Saints take a 2-0 lead, only to be clawed back to a 2-2 draw by Cardiff City. Last night, before a world-wide TV audience trying to escape the ravages of Comic Relief, Saints lost 2-1 to Colchester. Given that it was only the third home defeat of the season, maybe it wasn`t a reason for too much despair. However, it more or less put paid to any real chance we had of reaching promotion even through the dubious `play-off` system.

I think it means that my philosophical prediction of remaining in the Championship for at least another season - and enjoying the competitiveness and the unpredictability - will come to pass. And so the dream of returning to former glories - and remember that we went for 27 years before finally being relegated from the top flight - must remain a dream. But at the end of the day, that`s football and at least I have my cliches to console me.

HERE WE GO AGAIN.........

Yes, folks, here in the UK it`s RED NOSE DAY again. It`s that time of year when we`re all supposed to put on red noses (in Alex Ferguson`s case already a permanent fixture) in aid of charity. How fetching.

This comes on top of Children in Need Day, appeals for anything and everything afflicting mankind across the world and the incessant promptings of Messrs. Geldof, Bono and their ilk.

Now, please don`t get me wrong - I do my bit for charity not just by making regular donations but also giving my time, experience and expertise to help one of our local hospices (see "Ed has Close Encounter with Snopper" in archive section, for example.) I do this willingly, butI do not need to be harangued, cajoled or made to feel silly by wearing a red nose in order to make my small contribution. I do get tired of a whole evening of BBC1 TV being devoted to an unending stream of alleged celebrities attempting to `entertain` whilst succeeding not only in making themselves look stupid but also leaving me feeling embarrassed for them by their antics.

One of the forerunners is Jonathan Ross (pictured) who himself benefits from an £18million contract with the BBC which I as a licence-payer consider as grotesque as his limited and often offensive `talent.` He can`t dance, can`t sing and isn`t funny, so it baffles me how he can command such riches. Maybe if he were to give, say, 10% of his annual salary to the charity I might feel a bit more charitable towards him. But I doubt it.

Of course, I will not be compelled to watch tonight`s nonsense so instead I will tune in to Sky Sports 2 to see Southampton FC take on Colchester , live from St. Mary`s Stadium. Sadly, family commitments do not enable me to make the journey for this evening`s game but at least the TV coverage should be rivetting. Now, if Mr. Ross is looking for a candidate that really needs all the help it can get, then he should look no further than the end of the rainbow in SO14.

WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS?

The River Itchen gliding past St. Mary`s Stadium - home of Southampton Football Club - on its was down to the Solent. Tomorrow evening, Southampton play Cardiff City in a crucial game in the upper echelons of the Championship.

Now, I don`t always attend evening matches - well, it`s a long drive down from deepest Kent....and it seems to be an even longer drive home afterwards and I do find the night driving on the video game which our Motorways have become to be a bit tiring. I`ll do well to be home much before 1.00am, but as there is no `ordinary` Saturday afternoon fixture for about six weeks, I want to make the effort tomorrow. I plan to make it an occasion; I`ll leave home in the early afternoon, drive down to my `home` village on the shores of Southampton Water, meet up with some old friends there, have a thoroughly unhealthy tea, drive into Southampton, park at Town Quay and meet more good friends off the Isle of Wight ferry.

As for the football, Saints have recently hit the crest of a slump and will do well to claw their way back into the play-off zone of the top six teams in the league. Three successive away defeats have left us in eighth place, with some catching up to do. This could start tomorrow evening - I hope it does - but for me at least the football is just part of what will be an enjoyable day out - in the part of the world I love and with friends who I count myself fortunate to know.

There are those who seem to demand nothing less than unending success for the football club they follow, perhaps through a need to live their lives vicariously. As for me, I`m just glad of the day and all that it may offer - win, lose or draw. It really won`t be the end of the world if my team fail to get promoted.....as witnessed by the fact that this morning I renewed my season ticket for the next year......but it might just be the end of the world if for whatever reason the day ever arrives when I am unable to make the journey.

I hope that day is a long way off.

IN PRAISE OF HAIRDRESSERS

Yesterday, I paid my regular five-weekly visit to my local stylist - Chris of Larkfield, who once sat alongside Nicky Clarke, who could do with a good short back and sides himself. As usual, my visit turned out to be the rare pleasure it has become over the years. As I sat there, draped in her shroud with bits of very grey hair plunging floorwards, it occurred to me just what a wonderful service the hairdressers of the world provide. To stand on their feet all day, they must be supremely fit and with all the snipping they do, they must have wrists of steel.

They have my undying admiration for not only do they transform one`s persona with deft touches of their scissors, but they also provide a stimulating conversation, which means it becomes as much a social occasion as a much needed makeover. Now, it can`t be easy to maintain the highest professional standards of snipping whilst at the same time avoiding being bored silly by the preumably predictable, repetitive and no doubt often anodyne subjects under discussion. Some months ago, Chris actually produced a board on which she had written the list of subjects up for discussion that day - holidays, football, the weather being pretty high on the agenda.

They do this day in and day out - and it must take either a very compassionate personality or an iron will to resist the temptation to turn the scissors into an instant lethal weapon and bring the whole ritual to an end. Not that such thoughts would enter Chris`s head, of course - she is much too nice for that. Isn`t she? Isn`t she? Please tell me she is.

On the folicle front, the ravages of time are catching up with me - I have developed an ozone-layer-type hole on top which seems to be getting larger, despite my attempts to reduce carbon emissions. I am what you might (if you are in any way sympathetic) describe as `distinguished.` In other words, grey and thin on top. I suppose the day will come when I may need Chris`s services no more, which I will miss and regret. For Chris, however, it might herald the demise of yet another discussion about holidays......football.......the weather.......................

SNOPPER`S GOOD FOOD GUIDE

The past week has seen an upsurge in Snopper`s social engagements, nearly all of which have involved `eating out.` A week ago today, middle son (well, he`s 41!!) returned from a couple of weeks `chilling` in the Maldives and we went for lunch at a local hostelry. I should confess at this point that it was the original intention to visit another venue where, allegedly, the menu was varied and `inventive.`

However, at the last moment my courage deserted me, so we ended up at the more `traditional` establishment where we have been on countless occasions and where the gammon steak with four slices of pineapple, chips and trimmings was excellent - cordon noir at its most refined.

Last Thursday, I had the very real pleasure of lunch with two former work colleagues - one of whom had recently retired, so it was the first time the three of us had lunched together as a trio of retirees. The venue was one we hadn`t tried before, but I have to say that I was mightily impressed with the quality of the ham, egg and chips which I enjoyed. Interestingly, none of us had `desserts` despite a close examination of the choice on offer; I suspect we were all trying to appear `sensible,` which is not what the retired are supposed to be at all.

On Sunday, a family get-together took place in the busy surroundings of an excellent pub/restaurant famous locally for the excellence of their cow pie. However, I plumped for the home made soup followed (it being Sunday) with a wonderful Sunday roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and vegetables - and finally a vast slice of lemon merangue pie and ice cream which even I could not quite get through.

Next week, I have another reunion lunch, for which I was asked to pre-order my meal - simple really, just go for the straight forward stuff and you can`t go wrong, so it`s soup, chicken and apple pie (I think.)

Now, you may gather from this that I have simple and traditional tastes when it comes to food; quite right. It`s all good English stuff and I really can`t see the attraction of risking gastric problems by flirting with anything remotely foreign or messed about with.

After all, how many English restaurants do you find in China....or India.....or Thailand? I rest my case.

THE TRAGEDY OF INCONVENIENCE

This is Junction 4 of the M20 Motorway - about half a mile from where I live. Most of the time, the Motorway is peaceful enough, with the sweep of the North Downs in the background, but early today there was a six-vehicle pile-up which closed the Motorway from this junction up to the next one, where the M26 peels off and heads west. The result has been that the local roads around our sleepy village have become gridlocked - and likely to remain so for some hours until the Motorway is reopened.

We were expecting a guy to arrive this morning to lay a carpet in our conservatory. He was due at about 9.30 but thoughtfully he telephoned to say that he didn`t have a clue what time he might arrive, if at all. Now, this is a bit inconvenient, but I cannot bring myself to be even the slightest bit annoyed about it, for our slight inconvenience is as nothing compared to the tragedy that has befallen another family as a result of this morning`s event.

Someone has lost a son, or a father, a husband or a partner in the mayhem which befell our local Motorway this morning, adding to the 3,000 or so annual fatalities on our country`s roads and my heart goes out to them. I do lots of driving and, touch wood, have never been involved in anything like that in 50 years of driving. Sometimes, I count my lucky stars and hope they continue to smile on me as I travel the motorways of life.

SELF SERVICE FOR THE SELF- SERVING ??

Today, the BBC are at it again. Whenever there is a `big` event anywhere in the world, the BBC send their `personality` presenters to cover it; this despite the fact that they have reporters, correspondents and crew permanently stationed across the globe. In fact the BBC are keen to remind us that they have staff permanently stationed in all the major cities of the world, so they can be `first to bring the news to you.` The fact that they are almost always outgunned by Sky seems not to bother their own view of themselves.

However, I digress. The reason for the photo of the lovely Kate Silverton is because she appeared on the BBC this morning live from Los Angeles where she has been dispatched to cover the upcoming Oscar ceremonies. Now, the BBC already have David Willis permanently on standby in LA along with his technical and editorial crew and they have Raziah Iqbal, their so-called Arts correspondent who will doubtless join the legions of BBC staff to cover this event.....so why send Kate all that way at our expense to provide airhead airtime for an airhead event?

It seems to me that quite regardless of the `value for money` for the licence-payer, the BBC seem to believe they can squander our money not only on sending `personalities` to add to the legions of staff already at their disposal in places like Los Angeles but also they suffer from the delusion that anyone with an ounce of sense is in the remotest way interested in the self-serving, self-congratulatory nonsense which the Oscars has become.

I think I`ll ask for a refund.

SAINT ANDREW`S DAY........

This is Andrew Surman - raised in Bitterne in Southampton and, having come through Southampton Football Club`s very productive Academy, has now secured a starting place in the Saints` first team line-up.

Given his local connections and those of his parents, who are both season ticket holders at St. Mary`s Stadium, Andrew is fulfilling his boyhood dream of playing for his home town club.

So it was a special day for Andrew, his friends and family and the 22,400 Saints fans when he scored his first ever hat-trick of goals in Saturday`s 5-2 defeat of struggling Barnsley. The first two of his three goals were exquisite strikes from outside the area and the third came when he grabbed the ball from nominated penalty taker Gregorz Raziak to secure his hat-trick by sending the despairing Tykes` custodian the wrong way, following the award of a spot kick for hand ball given against, ironically enough, Barnsley midfielder Brian Howard who was himself a former scholar in Saints` Academy.

Things are getting very tight at the top of the Championship league table but with 13 games to go, who can say whether it will be Saints, West Brom, Birmingham, Preston, Cardiff, Sunderland, Derby or any of a number of other teams who finally make it to the promised land of the Premiership. Having been absent from my seat in the Itchen Stand since November, it was a real pleasure to be back among good friends to witness a thoroughly entertaining game - fair play to Barnsley; they may be struggling at the wrong end of the table, but at least they came and had a go at playing progressive football.

All of which confirmed to me that the Championship is the home of proper football, with virtually every team capable of beating any other in the league - a far cry from the predictability of the Premiership, with all its hype and theatricals.

Now I know that from a financial point of view (and I speak as a shareholder in Southampton FC) the Premiership is the place to be, but from a football point of view, the Championship wins hands down. Maybe we should just stay where we are and enjoy it.

TALES FROM THE SPLICE BOYS -

PART DEUX

In an earlier article, (see October 20 2006 entry in archived section) I published Tales from the Splice Boys - a gripping resume of life in the AKC Globe Cinema in BFPO 16 which was staffed entirely by amateur National Servicemen seeking to escape the boredom of army life and earn a bit of cash on the side.

Part deux of this saga delves more deeply into the technicalities of cinema projectionism as it was conducted during the early 1960s by the bungling efforts of yours truly and fellow Yvette Mimieux devotee Dave Millman.

I imagine that in these days of techno-wizardry, the process is computer controlled, automated and much simpler. For instance, it`s only on `old` films that you see the tell-tale signs that instruct the projectionist to change reels - I don`t think they have to change reels these days.

A reel of film used to last about 20 minutes and a feature film could have as many as six reels. So, two things were vital so as not to disrupt the audience`s enjoyment; first that the reels were shown in the right order (sadly, not always the case) and, secondly, that the reels were changed without the audience being aware of it. This was achieved by the use of two synchronised carbon arc projection machines - one showing, say, the first reel while the other was spliced up and ready to show the second reel.

Towards the end of the first reel, the projectionist would have to look out for a small round dot which would appear in the top right-hand corner of the screen. This was the signal to fire up the second machine. About five seconds later, a second dot would appear and this gave the signal to activate the second machine by throwing a switch. If all went well - including the precise splicing up of the reel in the machine so that the film actually fitted onto the screen - then the change of reels would go unnoticed.

Most of the time, we managed ok. But one event sticks in the memory. Film buffs may recall the Guns of Navarone - a wartime epic starring Gregory Peck and a cast of thousands. The film ends with a huge explosion as half a Greek island is reduced to rubble - a very loud, ear-splitting experience for the cinema audience unless the projectionist took the reading from the sound cue card and reduced the sound level at that exact moment. Guess who forgot? It was worrying for the Manager to see the audience (including the Regimental Sergeant Major and family) exiting the cinema a few moments later shaking their heads in disbelief and ringing their ears. Reality cinema at its very best.

........and it`s raining. And I wake up this morning to be confronted by two things hitting the airwaves which make me wonder why I bother to watch the `news` of the day.

First, there`s a lot of stuff about the BAFTA awards, the GRAMMY awards and, very soon I suspect, the OSCARS (unless they`ve already been on and somehow I missed it.) Now, I try but I just cannot get interested (let alone excited) about events like this which are self-serving, self-congratulatory, cringingly awful excuses for certain `professions` to lavish large sums of money on themselves. If we are going to have award `ceremonies` then let`s have them for other walks of life which arguably contribute much more to our daily lives than this lot.

How about a Bricklayer of the Year ceremony....or a Plumber Award event? Lifetime achievement award goes to Dave Tatton, Plumber and joint-wiper extraordinaire of Rainham in Kent. Most Promising Newcomer award for bricklaying goes to Shane Richards of Ealing for the recessed pointing he produced to the highest standard achievable using only a 4" trowel.

I think what really hurt this morning was the sceptre of The Police making a come-back at the Grammy awards thingy.....I really had hoped we had seen and heard the last of them, especially following Mr.Sumner`s instantly forgettable attempt to go `classic` with his recent whining`album.`

To add to the Monday blues, I was also berated about the possibility that I`m not quite as `green` as perhaps I might be. Now, I do recycle stuff, put out cardboard, newspapers, tins, etc. for the `refuse operatives` to take away; I also take bottles and other stuff to the recycling bins and I thought I was doing my bit to save the planet.

Not so, it seems. Some worthy comes on tv this morning and smugly goes on about his carbon footprint and how he has converted his house so it`s carbon neutral, how he rides his bike everywhere, uses long life light bulbs, installs solar panels, turns down his heating by two degrees and all the other things that these people do to make them feel better than the rest of us. Trouble is, they are so smug and `superior` about it that it quite turns me off doing anything at all. If and when China, India and especially America start to take global warming seriously and take the drastic action they should, then at that point I might have a change of heart. In the meantime, Mr. Smug and his colleagues should just lay off.

Well, it is Monday morning.

WHAT ARE THEY FRIGHTENED OF?

Most afternoons, I take our Retriever (Henry) for a wander around the parish. We don`t have a fixed route, but the walks are dictated more by Henry`s nose than anything else - if he sniffs something interesting, then we tend to follow the scent, sometimes with interesting consequences.

But it does mean that I get to see quite a lot of detail in and around the village and even small, subtle changes do not escape notice. So I was intrigued by a new initiative by the Police, which I hadn`t spotted until yesterday. They have arranged for some new signs to be fitted to some of the lamp-posts around the village `greens` which proudly proclaim that `Sheds in this area are alarmed.`

My own shed is clearly concerned about the state it`s in - the roofing felt needs replacing after recent gales; the floor needs sorting out and maybe some of the clutter inside could be sorted out too. Maybe I should give it some attention before paranoia sets in.

47 YEARS AGO TODAY.......

.......my life changed forever. Some weeks previously, I had received a summons to appear for a medical examination prior to being called up to do my 731 days National Service. The summons was, of course, issued in the name of our sovereign lady, HM The Queen and was accompanied by a postal order to the value of one shilling. By having it delivered to me, I was deemed to have taken the Queen`s shilling, so there was no going back.

The medical took place in a rather seedy hall above Burtons in Chatham High Street and, despite all my efforts, I was declared fit for purpose, to coin a current phrase. I then received instructions to report to the 4/7th Dragoon Guards training regiment at Catterick Camp in North Yorkshire.

Now, for someone who had seriously never been further north than, I think, Beccles in Suffolk, the prospect of making such a long journey into the unknown was both adventurous and daunting. Came the day, my farewells said to friends and family, I journeyed up to London, found my way across to Kings Cross station and got on a train that I was reliably informed would take me to Darlington, where I could catch a local connection to Catterick. All this to be achieved by 4.30pm, otherwise my military career would surely falter at the first hurdle.

It was a curious journey - I recall being genuinely surprised at just how big our country seemed to be - and the longer it went on, the more I realised that the security of all that I had known for almost 20 years was being replaced by uncertainty. As the train approached Darlington (at last) it seemed for some reason to go into reverse for a while, almost as if fate was smiling on me and I would be reversed back to Kings Cross and back to normality ....but no, just a shunting episode so we could be safely dumped on Darlington station platform.

The branch line to Richmond also headed south for a while. Surely, it couldn`t be....and it wasn`t. There, at Richmond station, a gaggle of 3-ton Bedford trucks awaited our arrival. We were invited to clamber in the back of the trucks and off we sped towards Catterick Camp and our arrival at Bourlon Lines, the barrack block, the parade ground, the clock tower, the Quartermaster Store, the barber shop, the cookhouse, from all of which there would be no escape for the next six weeks whilst we went through the rigours of `basic training.` But at least that would take care of 42 days, leaving me with only another 689 to do........

A day to remember indeed and each year when the anniversary comes around, I look back and smile with the knowledge that those experiences really did change my life forever - I, like everyone else who was `called up,` found the ability to stand on my own feet, to live alongside a diverse range of personalities, backgrounds, cultures, races and religions, but perhaps most telling of all, I discovered the ability to laugh at the futility of it all, the crass idiocy of the military mind but also the inexorable passage of time which even the most ardent military determination could not deny. Time is, as my profile says, the most precious commodity of all. Such a pity that it took me 731 days to discover it.

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO JANUARY?

Just as I was glorying in the knowledge that my world-wide audience for this website had reached double figures, I got zapped twice. Firstly by the shingles ("Have you got the shingles?" "No, I always walk like this!") and then, due to reduced immune system, by a nasty arrival of a rotavirus. They are particularly nasty little bastards and this one kept me in close proximity to the plumbing for over three weeks. I will spare you the details, dear reader, but it is so good to feel well again and able to resume my ramblings here.

A big and sincere `thank you` to all my friends for their best wishes over the past month - I really appreciated hearing from you all and I now look forward to resuming `normal` communications, if anything in my life can be regarded as normal!

So, Christmas came and went - and the whole of January - and it really was a lost month. There were one or two `consolations` along the way; for example, the fact that I couldn`t sleep much at night, so saw quite a lot of very late-night television. Although I`m not sure seeing the England cricket team being ritually humiliated `down-under` did my wellbeing much good. I read somewhere that Richard Branson offered to sponsor the team, but his kind offer was refused on the basis that there wasn`t much point in being sponsored by Virgin, as we had already been comprehensively stuffed.

Big Brother came and went - and what a telling reflection on our so-called `society` that those three witches could behave so appallingly and believe that it was in any way `acceptable.` No good back-tracking, Jade & Co - the damage has been done and your `careers` should now be consigned to history.

Our mate Blair and his cronies continue to have their collars felt by the boys in blue and the whole saga simply adds to the feeling that those in charge of the country have reached a point well beyond parody - it might make a rivetting reality tv were it not so serious.

To end on some good news and some bad news. Two bits of good news, in fact - my beloved Saints continue their rise up the league table and they haven`t lost a league game since November, when I last made my pilgrimage to Southampton - maybe I should stay away? The other good news is that my image consultant and stylist (Chris of Larkfield) has been hard at work in a vain attempt to restore my boyhood charms to their former glory. It`s not really working though :(

The bad news is that most of the goodies we bought for Christmas went untouched due to diet restrictions and those that have survived have now met their `best before` dates. Still, Easter eggs are in the shops, so they may help to replace some of the 10 kilos I seem to have lost.

Spring and summer really cannot come too soon.

NO, TONE, BUT THANKS ALL THE SAME.......

It`s reported that one Paul Hewson, aka Bono - a citizen of the Irish Republic - is to be given an honorary knighthood in the New Year Honours.

Now, apart from not being a citizen of this country and a purveyor of dubious music along with his buddies in the U2 combo, Hewson is perhaps best known for his endless rantings about relieving poverty in Africa and world debt generally. These protestations are usually accompanied by a barage of shrill demands that the rest of us should give all our money away to these deserving causes....whilst Hewson & Co spirit their own fortunes away into the Rotterdam tax haven. A classic case of `do as I say` rather than `do as I do.`

Of course, Mr. Hewson is merely following the example of his Irish forerunner, Bob Geldof, who was similarly knighted some years ago in recognition of his own hectoring after our cash. But at least Geldof had the excuse that, since he was a failed warbler himself, he could be forgiven for manufacturing a second career as a saviour of humanity.

Being charitable (as it`s Christmas) I don`t suppose either of these gentlemen actively sought the honours being bestowed on them, so I will direct my rant in the direction of Tony Blair who, in nominating friend Hewson, may be doing so in the misguided belief that it`s `cool` to honour such right on figures in much the same way as he did for Sir Mick Jagger and that shining example of restraint and erudition, Sir Alex Ferguson. Sadly for Blair, it doesn`t work.

Just before the last election, a labour party canvasser knocked on my door, demanding to know for whom I might cast my (allegedly) secret vote. My response was simply to state that, quite apart from all of Blair`s other failings, I would never forgive any Government that made Ferguson a knight of the realm.

So, sorry Tone - it`s no good you thinking of tempting me with a Baronetcy or any other `honourable` bauble - I`m finding it more honourable to be just plain Mister. Thanks anyway.

SHINGLES !! - IT`S OFFICIAL
from our Medical Correspondent

Further medical investigation into Snopper`s aliment has finally diagnosed the problem as shingles. A visit to the local GP Surgery on Thursday saw a more experienced medic finally identify the problem. Shingles normally attacks either one side of the head or the upper body and so Snopper`s unusual lower leg outbreak threw the medical profession off the scent.

Unfortunately, the time taken to correctly come up with the diagnosis has meant that the time had passed whereby any anti-viral medication (the usual remedy) would be effective and so Snopper has to just live with the condition until it decides it`s had enough and goes away - which could be a few weeks....or a few months...or even years. A gloomy prospect for one so full of vitality, energy and love of life.

Snopper`s world-wide weblog audience which has grown now to almost double figures will not be receiving any further medical bulletins but instead can look forward to the usual cutting-edge articles appearing on this site.

In the meantime, a downstairs loo door crisis has been resolved at Snopper Towers. For four days, the door was closed and unable to be opened. Fortunately, no-one was inside the loo at the time it became stuck. Despite dismantling part of the door `furniture`, trying to prize it open with a mole wrench and thumping the handle with a claw hammer, the door would not open and so a local locksmith was eventually summoned to drill it open. All is now well, but it`s hard to escape the notion that that event, coupled with the ailment referred to above, may be heavenly reprisals for the damning article published here a while back concerning the value of Christmas? Ding dong.

SNOPPER`S LEG BAFFLES MEDICS
from our Medical Correspondent

Thanks to Beverley the Osteopath, we can confidently report a significant improvement in Snopper`s mobility. However, there remains a mystery condition in the form of a nasty rash, which has broken out on his left leg, accompanied by tenderness and pain from waist to foot.

Snopper paid another visit to Nicole Kidman lookalike lady GP on Monday, as he was concerned that this unsightly and debilitating problem might have an adverse effect on his modelling career. The Doc was unsure of the diagnosis, having trawled the pages of Google in a vain attempt to track down the cause (I kid you not!) In the end, steroid cream and antihystemine was prescribed, which has been slavishly applied to the affected area, despite the temptation to bring the benefits of steroids to other parts of the anatomy.

If no improvement comes about in the next day or so, Snopper will take up NK lookalike`s suggestion of consulting with a more experienced GP in the same practice......always providing that an appointment can be made through the immigration control-type appointments system.

With a hectic diary of events in the festive season, including a planned visit to St. Mary`s Stadium, a crucial door repair job to undertake, car cleaning, painting, gardening and dispensing festive cheer to anyone within earshot, it is to be hoped that Snopper will be up to the task shortly.

Further bulletins may be issued in due course; then again, they may not be.