....and I genuinely hope that 2019 is a kind and good year for you, your family and friends.   

2018 was an `iffy` year for us.  We lost our much loved golden retriever Barney early in the year but we now have the latest in our long line of retrievers in the form of Dudley who is now eight months old and whilst still learning the trade seems to be coming along nicely.

While the world seems intent on seeing in the new year with a cacophony of fireworks, sensitive souls like Dudley just can`t understand why there are so many menacingly loud crashes, bangs and wallops so close to home.   I suspect we will have a late night nursing him through the celebratory din.  But, hey-ho it is new year after all and I guess, like Christmas, it will come and it will go like all the others.

The advent of Dudley meant that our holiday jaunts were restricted to just two in the year - one in April to Padstow not long after we had lost Barney, so it was not the same walking the Cornish cliffs without his company.  The second was to the New Forest in June, at the end of which we picked Dudley up from the breeder and brought him home.  

Get tonight over with and we can start again with a new year which, all being well, will bring my 80th birthday and no doubt another anxious, stressful time as the Saints, true to form, battle once more against relegation.   But there is summer to look forward to - long, warm sunny days, the cricket world cup and hopefully the occasional visit to Canterbury to see how Kent fare in the first division of the county championship. Simple pleasures are often the best ones.

All good wishes for 2019.  See you next year. Possibly.

200,000 YEARS ?

I`ve been doing a little research and it seems that Homo Sapiens - the lot we belong to - has been around for about 200,000 years in various forms of `development.`

Another bit of research has produced a list of the ten most popular television events in the UK over the Christmas period.   Here`s the list:-

1,  The Queen`s speech - 6.3 million viewers.  (I`m afraid I missed it as I was out walking the dog at the time but I`m sorry I did as I would have enjoyed her take on Brexit, Mourhino`s departure from Manchester and how many bits of plastic the royal household has thrown out this year.)

2. Michael McIntyre`s Big Christmas Show - 6.2 million. (Sorry, don`t get McIntyre who seems to be under the illusion that if you walk around a lot, shake your head a lot and shout a lot then by definition you`re hilariously funny.  Well, he ain`t.)

3. Strictly Come Dancing - 5.8 million.  (I don`t care much for these kind of competitions that rely on people taking pleasure at the humiliation of others.)

4. Call the Midwife - 5.5 million.  (Well, Mrs. Snopper likes it.)

5. The Jungle Book - 5,3 million. (Haven`t we seen that loads of times before?)

6. EastEnders - 5 million.  (Where`s the fun in watching the antics of a delusional multi-racial, downtrodden confrontational community living in a deeply unattractive part of our deeply unattractive capital city?)

7. BBC News - 4.7 million.  (So glad I watched this, for I now know what to think following their unbiased reporting on issues such as Brexit, immigration, climate change and, of course, plastic.  Oh, and it seems Chris Evans has left Radio 2.)

8. Mrs, Brown`s Boys Christmas Special - 4.7 million. (The point of my research to discover how many years homo sapiens has been walking this planet was to marvel at the way in which human development has finally arrived at the point whereby we have come to this.)

9. Coronation Street - 4.6 million.  (I must be the only person in the country who genuinely and honestly has never, ever watched even a single episode of this.  Possibly because it`s based in Manchester.  Well it is, isn`t it?)

10.  Zog. - 4.5 million.  (I have absolutely no idea what this is or anything about it.  I guess it`s some film or other?)

----------------------

So there we have it.  A nation celebrating the season of goodwill slumping in a stupor watching stuff like that.   I`m really not sure you could make it up.  But I do wonder where we might be in 200,000 years time.

(NOTE : If you have been affected by any of the issues raised above, there is a helpline you can call;  trouble is, I can`t remember the number to ring.  Sorry about that.)

.......and so this is Christmas.   And here`s me thinking that you are the only one who bothers to read my rants and ramblings in these pages.  Well, you are not alone it seems.  Now people do blogs for different reasons but I do mine just for me really.   I like what might loosely be described as `creative writing` and on occasions I like to get things off my chest - goodness knows there`s more than enough stuff to be exercised about or to share enjoyment with or to give vent to whatever might be on one`s mind.

But what has just recently surprised me is the discovery of `statistics` about how well (or otherwise) my blog has been received not only by you, dear reader, but by others across the globe.   For example, I have discovered that since I began this blog some years ago now, it has been viewed by well over a quarter of a million people.   And they seem to have come from all over the world.  

A small sample - over 50,000 views from the UK. over 30,000 from the USA, nearly 20,000 from Russia and this month alone there have been visits from people in Canada, Ireland, South Korea, Japan, 102 from the United Arab Emirates and even 100 from `unknown region`,` which might be the most concerning entry of all. 

And so you are not alone after all, dear reader, which only leaves me to say thank you for all the unexpected attention and, wherever you may be, to hope the world is kind to you and to...................

Well, two actually.   But first my apologies for the delay in sticking posts on here for the last week or so.  I`ve been caught up in a maelstrom of hyper-activity which can`t be named for legal reasons but suffice to say that it has kept me away from posting on here.

So, to the first turning of the corner which was, of course, the passing of the winter solstice just a couple of days ago.  Given my well documented dislike of winters and the short, dark days and long dark nights it will come as no surprise to learn that I have now stopped counting the days down to the shortest day and once the `festive season` is mercifully over and a couple more weeks have passed, then the daylight begins to lengthen and there are finally things to look forward to.   Bring it on.

The second corner turned has been the astonishing change of fortunes down on the south coast, where Saints` new manager, Ralph Rabbithutch, has performed wonders in his first couple of weeks in charge.  It began with a narrow defeat in his first game away at Cardiff but this has been followed by an impressive home win (the first since records began) against Arsenal last weekend which was followed up yesterday with a comfortable 3-1 win away at Huddersfield.  This was the first time the Saints had managed back-to-back Premier League wins since April 2017 and as a result it has lifted them clear of the relegation zone and playing with a purpose, a style and a confidence that has been so sadly lacking over the past couple of years. 

As for Herr Rabbithutch, I like the cut of his jib although the writing might be on the wall for yet another corner to be turned for, as sure as night follows day, Mourhino`s departure from the evil empire of Manchester United could well lead to Pochettino being seduced to leave Spurs for Old Trafford, by which time Ralph Rabbithutch will have established himself as the natural successor to Pochettino by leaving the beautiful south for north London. Oh well, it is as ever was.......

One of my treasured books is one by the incomparable Patrick Collins, for over 40 years a sports columnist on national newspapers.  The book is `Among the Fans` and recounts a year which he spent watching the watchers of various events across the sporting spectrum - from the Ashes, through darts, point-to point, tennis and cricket to football and so on.

 I hope he won`t mind too much if I refer to a passage in the introduction to his book, for it says much about the mindset of the `normal` football fans - that is, those who have a loyalty to a club with whom they have a personal or family connection, rather than those who hunt for what might be their own version of glory.

It goes like this.   Having made some faintly uncharitable observations about Bolton Wanderers and the way in which their followers tolerated their ponderous tactics, he was taken to task by one of his readers who pointed out that football supporters are allocated a club at birth and that fate had given him Bolton Wanderers.   He said he had been born a mere four miles from the old ground at Burnden Park and, as a result, Bolton was his team.

He then added something rather poignant, "Supporting Bolton is a bit like having a three legged dog.  You wish it had all four but you still love it."

Now many of us supporters of whatever club has chosen us will understand precisely what he means.  In a strange way we may be perversely proud of the predicament we find ourselves in, we accept fate`s allocation because we are good at loyalty.  It`s more of a condition than a choice and in that sense it gives the club something of a free ride.   It may be overpriced and underperforming, plagued by mediocraties on the field and buffoons in the boardroom but none of that seems to matter, for we are stuck with our shop-soiled inheritance - our three legged dog.

The gentleman from Bolton could have been speaking for me and my fellow devotees of Southampton FC, for goodness knows we fit the description uncomfortably well right now.  But hope - the one that kills you - is supposed to spring eternally and all we watchers of the south coast`s finest can do is keep the faith alive, rather than to defect to what for us would be the counterfeit `attractions` of Old Trafford or Anfield.   So come on you Saints.  Surely the promised land is somewhere out there?

"Listen very carefully;  I shall say this only once..."

So, the brave new world of Southampton FC didn`t quite go to plan yesterday, resulting in a narrow 1-0 loss away at Cardiff City.  That`s still only one win in 16 Premier League matches so far this season and must have given our latest manager, Ralph Hasenhuttl not only food for thought but also wondering what on earth he`s doing here.

The solitary Cardiff goal came courtesy of a South Wales deluge and some spectacularly inept `defending` from Saints` `central defender` Jannik Vestergaard who somehow contrived to pass back to his goalkeeper only for the ball to get stuck in an obliging puddle, leaving the Cardiff striker free to plant the ball in the back of the net beyond the despairing clutches of the Saints` custodian.

Herr Hasenhuttl seems an affable fellow - speaks good English, very personable, says all the right things and promises to shake things up and deliver us from evil. We`ll see.  He needs time and patience to turn things around and I just hope that both of those commodities are not in short supply.  He says that his name translates to `a little rabbit shed` - I think he means rabbit hutch, hence the illustrative tribute above.  

Just as well we didn`t appoint Herr Flick of the Gestapo; that would perhaps have been a step too far.  But I can imagine that Herr Hasenhuttl  addressing his downcast charges on Monday morning in the determinedly forceful style displayed in his first press conference,    " Gid moaning.  Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once.   What I saw on Saturday in Cardiff was, how you say, krap?  From now on you will work harder, run further and faster than ever before, hone what skills you might have and fight for the right to wear the shirt. If you don`t like it, can`t measure up, you will not be here for very long and we will get people in who want to be here and play their socks off for this famous and wonderful club."

Or something like that.   Something needs to happen and fast.  The Saints are next to bottom of the league and it seems unlikely that they will pick up any more points this calendar year than the paltry nine they have already garnered, facing Arsenal next, then away to Huddersfield, then West Ham and Manchester City at home.   relegation looks ominously likely unless rabbit hutch manager can pull off a miracle.

No wonder I am experiencing developing mental health issues. What`s more, just to add to my sense of foreboding I`m sure I saw a piece of plastic today and I sensed that the world got a teeny bit warmer too.   Nurse!!!!

PANTOMIME SEASON BEGINS...

I think it was the late Brian Sewell who said something to the effect that you always know when the pantomime season begins when the Turner Prize turns up.  And last night the £25,000 prize for 2018 went to one Charlotte Prodger with her entry which comprised a pretty gimpy film shot on her mobile phone.   

Now I know it`s supposed to be all about `exploring new innovations in the visual arts` - that kind of thing - but once again the reputation of visual art has been invaded by yet more meaningless nonsense.   Given that the award is supposed to honour the name of JMW Turner I`m sure that, now as an annual ritual, he is once again turning in his grave. 

Now, Turner was himself supposed to have been controversial in his time but at least he produced pictures that people could recognise and admire.   These days it seems the whole idea of what constitutes visual art is reduced to parody, to farce and, yes, to pantomime.  Kim Howells got it right when, as Culture Minister in 2002, he pinned this message on a board specially designated for visitors` comments:-

"If this is the best British artists can produce then British art is lost. It is cold, mechanical, conceptual bullshit."   PS :  "The attempts at conceptualisation are particularly pathetic and symptomatic of a lack of conviction."

Anyway, just to remind us of the heights to which visual art should, even today, aspire, have a look at this and be thankful that Jan van Eyck didn`t have a mobile phone:- 

As Herman`s Hermits would have it, "Woke up this morning, feeling fine.  There`s something special on my mind......."   and so on.   Maybe he was on to something good.  But then  there were the Mamas and Papas - "Monday, Monday.  Can`t trust that day.   Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way......"

So I guess you never know what Monday might bring.  As for me, it brought the chilling experience of catching BBC Breakfast which confirmed the feeling that Monday mornings are not helped by being confronted by the pompous, overbearing Naga Munchetty doling out the news of the day.

Things took a not unexpected turn when it was reported that Saints manager Mark *"Sparky" Hughes had been `relieved of his duties,` along with his coaching chums Mark Bowen and Eddie Niedzwiecki following a depressingly underwhelming start to the football season which has so far resulted in one solitary win from 14 games played.

Now being a kind hearted fellow, I thought I should feel some sympathy for them but since they signed three year contracts a mere six months ago and will thus be fully compensated  at the going rate for dismissing Premier League managers and assistants, I doubt they will stare abject penury in the face.  Such are the rewards for dismal failure in the parallel universe of the Premier League.

Attention now turns to who will be the next incumbent for the helter- skelter merry-go-round in the managerial hotseat of the south coast`s finest club.   Rumour has it that it might fall to one Ralph Hasenhuttl, late of Red Bull Leipzig.  (No, I hadn`t either.  But then it is Monday.)  

A NEW LEASE OF LIFE?...

I woke up this morning to yet another barrage of the cacophonous mayhem surrounding Brexit and decided that it was time to seek out some good news.   And I found it with the report that the Hythe Ferry seems at last to have a brighter future.

Now, Hythe ferry has played a number of roles in my life, beginning with my boyhood in the village of Hythe when we used to take the ferry to Southampton - my mother to do some shopping and my father to take me to The Dell to watch the Saints play in those days in the Second Division (which is where they threaten to return.)

The photo above shows the ferry leaving Southampton Town Quay. from where it will chug its way between ocean going cruise liners, huge container ships and numerous pleasure craft to complete its 20 minute voyage back to Hythe Pier.   For some years now the future of the ferry has been in doubt, sustained largely by grants from Hampshire County Council but just recently the ferry was taken over by Blue Funnel Ferries, who have made improvements to the service and brought a new regime of more efficient management which bodes well for the future. It provides perhaps a more sustainable means of getting to and from Southampton than the heavily congested A326 and the approach roads to Southampton city centre.

I have a couple of memories that stand out from the countless times I have made the journey, one being the occasion when, during a winter evening following yet another Saints defeat the ferry was on its way back to Hythe when a huge cruise ship decided to reverse out of its berth, leading to the ferry shuddering to a halt.  I looked up and saw this enormous maritime block of flats looming above the ferry in th darkness.  I knew - or at least assumed - that we were safe but it was a sight to behold nonetheless.

And then, following a defeat by Manchester City, the ferry made it back to Hythe Pier only for the pier to be so severely rammed by an out of control dredger that it was put out of action for some weeks. (The inebriated dredger captain and his dredger also suffered the same fate.)  Fortunately for me, I had just managed to get back to the end of the pier before the crash happened.

(Please click on photo for better image)

But throughout my life Hythe ferry has remained a constant reminder of my growing up in that village by the sea and although times have been tough for both of us on occasions, we have both survived and now, thanks to enlightened new owners and a new registered charity to safeguard what is a historic pier with the world`s oldest pier passenger train,  the future of Hythe ferry is assured at least for now.  I hope I can say the same about myself.

Oh well, back to the Brexit mayhem.......

ANOTHER SAD LOSS...

I suppose I became something of a film buff during my National Service days when, in order to supplement the pittance the army doled out every week I got a job as projectionist in the garrison cinema, the AKC Globe at Paderborn in what was then West Germany.  Ever since I have enjoyed countless films, mainly on television these days, and so I was very sorry to learn of the passing of Nicolas Roeg over the weekend.

I first became aware of his prodigious talent when he was Director of Photography on John Schlesinger`s epic adaptation of Hardy`s `Far from the Madding Crowd` starring Julie Christie and Alan Bates.   I remember being enthralled not only by the fair Julie, of course, but also by the way in which the landscape of my native Dorset had been captured in all its pastoral innocence by Nic Roeg`s cinematography.   And, me being me, it`s very often the music score which I remember and Richard Rodney Bennett`s  Prelude for that film is one of its haunting features, complementing the landscape and something of the forlorn nature of the leading characters.   Here it is.......

One of Nic Roeg`s early films as a director was `Walkabout` with Jenny Agutter and Roeg`s seven year old son Luc playing the hapless children abandoned in the Australian outback.  It was then that he began to use his role as director to experiment, to introduce new ways of editing, to use film as more of an art form than just commercial entertainment.   And again `Walkabout` gave composer John Barry an early commission to bring his own unique musicality to the screen.   He went on, of course, to compose the music for the James Bond  movies, as well as `Out of Africa,` Dances with Wolves` and so many others.

Again for me `Walkabout` would not have been quite so rich without John Barry`s score. Here`s what I mean.......

But genuine thanks and appreciation for the extraordinary body of work that Nic Roeg has bequeathed us.  The whole of the world of cinema is much the poorer for his passing.

A PERFECT COMBINATION ?...

There are, of course, many examples of the perfect combination - the Everly Brothers, Morcambe and Wise, fish and chips, Compton and Edrich;  the list goes on.  But it was a rare treat to see the BBC of all people coming up with a combination of image and music that so beautifully captured the moment.

Now I`m not one to heap praise on the BBC - their latest wheeze is to start charging us over-75s for the privilege of watching endless repeats during the daytime of such classic mediocrity as Homes under the Hammer and Bargain Hunt.   So I don`t watch it, preferring instead to take nocturnal refuge in BBC4, who produce a wide range of documentaries across a wide range of subjects. 

And the other evening they showed a documentary about Joseph Wright of Derby - one of England`s most accomplished artists, who was outrageously dismissed by Kenneth Clarke in his epic series `Civilisation` as a `mediocrity.`  He could not have been more wrong, for Wright produced a dazzling collection of breathtaking portraits and images of England, I always remember on a visit to the National Gallery in London some years ago that the painting that attracted the biggest audience was Wright`s `Experiment on a bird with the air pump,` which showed his mastery of light and composition.

The image above shows his representation of Sir Richard Arkwright`s cotton spinning mill at Cromford in Derbyshire = what Blake described later as a `dark satanic mill` -  but it was the music which accompanied that sequence in the documentary that complemented Wright`s scene so well.  Wright had painted an almost pastoral vision of the mill set in the seductive English countryside and I recognised the music that went with it as `Touch her soft lips and part` from William Walton`s Henry V Suite.   It seemed a perfect combination, although it may have ignored the less than agreeable reality of the working conditions inside the mill, so maybe not so perfect after all?.

Anyway, here`s the music, which will bring a few moments of calm to our mad world.....

Yes, thank goodness - 31 days until the shortest day of the year arrives.  In the last couple of days especially, winter seems well and truly to have arrived - it`s cold, wet and pretty miserable out there and I hate it.

For some years now I have assumed that I have been suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) but so far this year it hasn`t been too bad, possibly because the weather hasn`t been too bad either.   But possibly also because rather than being a habitual SAD sufferer, maybe I`m just a miserable old git who hates winter and longs for those bright, warm, long days of summer.

Whatever it might be I`m counting the days to the winter solstice and I often think that once that milestone has been reached, along with the alleged festive season and the turn of the year, once again there are things to look forward to and days to count until the return of springtime. 

Come tomorrow, it will only be 30 days to go.   Reminds me of the demob chart I had when doing my National Service - the days (all 731 of them) were ticked off one by one in an ever decreasing circle, finally to arrive at the point when I said goodbye to all that and got on with life.

Maybe I can find an advent calendar that runs out on 21st December?

...well, maybe...

It`s been a difficult week juggling my priorities between conflicting interests.  I suppose I should have placed this week`s Brexit mayhem at the top of my list of concerns but there has been stiff competition from the Test Match in Sri Lanka and the shenanigans surrounding the Premier League and the `selection` of Wayne Rooney in the England football team.

Brexit seems to be heading in the direction of joining the festive fol-de-rols as probably the most engaging pantomime of the season.  The cricket in Sri Lanka is going well although I am rather relieved not to be one of the barmy army of travelling England supporters, having read of the short walk David Lloyd took from the pavilion at Galle to the commentary position, during which he passed a monkey, a boa constrictor and a cobra.

So let`s have a look at the week`s football news and two things really stand out.  The first - and least troublesome - was the selection of Wayne Rooney back in the England squad and made captain when he came on to play in the second half.   Now maybe I shouldn`t mind too much that he secured his 120th cap but it seemed to me that England caps should be won on merit, not handed out like a bag of sweets to reward good behaviour.  It wouldn`t surprise me if Rooney doesn`t get beatified on his way to sainthood before too long.

But the real issue this week has been the Premier League clubs agreeing to a request to stump up £250,000 each so that departing premier League boss Richard Scudamore can have a £5million leaving present.   And this for someone who has been in the job for 19 years on a salary of £2.5million a year.  No wonder fans across the country have voiced their outrage at such nonsense.   I was disappointed that my own club, Southampton, went along with it rather than thinking just how much good £250,000 would do for the poorer parts of the community.

Issues such as that, the alleged financial fair play system, the outrageous salaries paid to Premier League players, the preponderance of foreign ownership and the increasing uncompetitiveness whereby the league is now split between about six clubs vying for the title and the rest trying to avoid relegation, all point to a growing disillusionment among the majority of its audience.   

So I`m rather hoping - perhaps a pious hope - that before too long the `top six` will indeed shove off and join a European Super League and leave the rest of us in peace.   Of course, that presupposes that English clubs will be allowed to do so after Brexit.  Which leaves me turning yet again to cricket which provides a constant air of sanity and reason in a world which becomes increasingly bonkers.

Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?

Now I`m not one who is usually seduced by fantasy - I like to think I`m pretty `normal` and not prone to flights of fancy but I have to confess to an odd chain of events which I have just experienced.

A week or so ago I recorded a programme on Sky Arts which was a documentary about the life of Peter Green (pictured) - one of the founding members of Fleetwood Mac The documentary was originally made in 2007 or 2008 so it`s at least ten years old but what fascinated me about it - apart from the unforgettable music - was to see how, after a life ravaged by drugs and psychosis, Peter had mellowed into his advanced years.  He`s 72 now and the photo above is of course a million miles away from the youthful images he portrayed in his prime.

So, having finished watched the documentary last night, I go on to YouTube and watch, time and again, his haunting masterpiece, `Man of the World.`   I can`t get it out of my head, as Kylie might say.  

This morning I wander up the road to the local shop, buy my newspaper and as I go out of the door, a man arrives that I hadn`t seen before in the village.  We look at each other, nod  almost knowingly and I`m left with the distinct feeling that I knew who he was.  I`m convinced it was Peter Green and perhaps my conviction was confirmed when I saw his car - a pretty old Vauxhall something - with the personalised number plate which included PRG and an Essex connection. (I won`t give the full number for obvious reasons.)  And it was green.   

I should have hung around and asked him who he was but I thought better of it - he might not have taken kindly to the intrusion and if it had been Peter Green I`m pretty sure he would not have wanted his privacy invaded.

Maybe the whole thing was a fantasy after all; maybe I was imagining it but I can confirm that I was not under the influence of any fantasy-inducing substance.  Anyway, just to round it off, here`s the great man in his prime singing one of his sublime songs from those days now lost in the mist of time but forever in the memory.........

A desperate weekend of football left me scouring the small print of the detailed football results in a determined effort to discover any small mercies that may have been on offer.

I suppose it all began on Friday evening when AFC Wimbledon played away in a televised FA Cup fixture at lowly Haringey Borough.   The attraction of watching this game on BBC 2 was the inclusion of our street`s local hero Scott ("Buzzin` six-pack pacy flanker") Wagstaff in the Dons` starting line-up.  In the end, Wimbledon scraped home 1-0 in a dour encounter but we were disappointed to see Waggy withdrawn after 67 minutes presumably as a precaution following a stiff challenge from a particularly determined Haringey defender.  We hope he will be fit to resume his place at Doncaster Rovers` Keepmoat Stadium this coming Saturday.

On to the events of Saturday just gone and my beloved Saints seem to go from bad to worse.  They managed a 1-1 draw against Watford at St.Mary`s but the fact remains that they have secured just one home win in the whole of this calendar year - and as there are no more home matches this year that record will certainly stay in place. 

It really is very depressing and with the sacking last week of Vice-Chairman of Football, Les Read and Technical Director Martin Hunter we seem to be left with a Canadian Chairman steeped in ice hockey, a Chinese owner no-one ever sees or hears from and a manager in Mark Hughes who is hanging on by his finger tips. There may be even more trouble ahead.

And so to my quest for small mercies.  And they came in threes.  First, local Kent team Maidstone United progressed to the second round of the FA Cup by beating Macclesfield 2-1, rekindling memories of when I used to take my sons to watch `the Stones` all those years ago when Roy Hodgson was playing left back;  Truro City  managed a much needed 3-2 win over Dulwich Hamlet to drag themselves out of the relegation zone in National League South.

But pride of place must go to my newfound Caledonian heroes from Fort William who went down to yet another gallant defeat, this time 13-0 away at high flying Fraserburgh in the Highland League.  This brings their goals against tally to 131 and a goal difference of minus 118 in the 18 matches played so far this season.   And I think I`ve got problems as a Saints fan?

Sure is.   It seems you can now choose your own gender, your own sexual orientation and I read yesterday that there`s a man (maybe he`s something else) in Holland who has won a court battle to reduce his age by 20 years.   Instead of being 60 he`s now officially 40.

So, in keeping with my determination to keep up with the modern world, I would like it to be known that I now wish to be recognised as a 12-year old female lesbian giraffe called Veronica living a carefree life gambolling on the Serengeti Plains fending off the attentions from male giraffes who are in for a big surprise as I munch away at high rise branches.

Well, it`s a strange world we live in so why not?   It`s the same with these so called `hate crimes,` of which there are a number of recent examples, the latest being someone complaining about a TV advert which shows a carrot being chopped up , thus falling in to the definition of `carrotist.`  

Now I`m not sure I actually hate anyone or anything - the BBC comes close, as do Manchester United and Portsmouth but I don`t think I`ve quite crossed the line just yet. I think the trouble is that most people are now frightened to say or do almost anything for fear of offending someone or something, especially as it seems the whole world is so easily offended these days.

Surely our much maligned and overworked police have more pressing matters to deal with than chasing after invented `hate crimes` - chasing the odd burglar or knife-wielding thug might be more useful, on which subject I agree with the notion that the penalties for even carrying any form of offensive weapon should be vastly increased as a more meaningful deterrent.

Sorry if that`s offended you but there are charities and agencies who can offer counselling and advice should you feel the need to get help in getting over my comments above.   I apologise unreservedly for any offence they may have caused. 

///

60 YEARS ON...

This is an interesting photo - for me, anyway.   It shows the old cottages lining St. John`s Street in Hythe.   Sixty years ago it was but a small village on the western shore of Southampton Water and it`s where I spent my boyhood years.   A good place to be growing up - our cottage was just down the road beyond the big white house and we lived there until the early 1950s when BOAC closed their flying boat maintenance base and we had to leave the village for my father to find alternative employment elsewhere.

But the memories of that place and that time stay with me and 60 years on I still look back with fond memories of happy days and good friends, despite the ravages of post-war austerity.   I wasn`t aware of any austerity as such, as I had only ever known how life had been during the war years after which rationing of all kinds of things was still with us.

One of my good friends was William (`Billy`) Scammell, sadly no longer with us but remembered as one of this country`s finest post war poets, editors and critics.   He and I spent those formative years alternating between school, the Solent shore and the New Forest and maybe it was because of those places that we both developed a kind of inbred affection for what was home for us.   Bill went on to encapsulate those feelings in some of his finest work - his collection of published poetry and prose contains references to Hythe that will be familiar to those, like me, who know it so well.

But Bill was about more than sentimentality and some of his poems are concerned with deeper issues.  Perhaps the best illustration I can give is `Remembering the Great War` which has been used for study in degree courses and which, of course, is very relevant as the nation remembers the centenary of the end of the first world war........

Opaque and resonant as sacred texts 
the names alone sound out a litany:
Passchendaele, Ypres, the Somme. Verdun......

Some dropped perfect but for a sweet
smudge of gas - others, dispersing, spanned
earth in the wildest hug.

Men flashed hissing to their elements
like spit gobbed on a stove.  One officer
in nomansland apologised to his troops

behind for lasting in such loud low screams.
Four men unwound their lives to staunch
his uproar - failed, like the concerted knuckles

hammered round his teeth.  Gowned neutrally
for christenings, deaths, history thumbs
its cheap editions, weltering in echoes.

I think of Sassoon`s tall heart, contracting
fiercest love for his own men, one of whom
shot him from excess of zeal;  of Graves`s

stretched contempts.  The fires they grazed rot down
in village squares.  On memory`s floor words rut
and root, nosing blind and ghastly at the tongue.

The photo above was taken from the churchyard of St. John`s church and its bell will surely ring out in solemn remembrance as I was once, only once, honoured to ring it to call Bill and my other boyhood friends to afternoon Sunday school.   That`s what we did on Sunday afternoons all those 60 years ago.   I wonder if it happens nowadays.

Help!!   I`m in a bad place.   Severe depression is overwhelming me.  I need help.

Like most Saints fans, I`m suffering the humiliation of today`s 6-1 drubbing at the hands of Manchester City.   What now for the club I have supported since 1946?  After three years of nonperforming, three years of managerial lunacy, three years of abject recruitment, this season has seen the Saints play 11 games and won only one of them.  

There are growing whispers that manager Mark Hughes may be on his way on the back of this dreadful run of results and although he may now be close to the end of the line, what will assuredly place the final nail in the coffin will be to appoint Big Sam Allardyce to get us out of this hole.   If that happens,it will surely be the end of the line for my continued support.  Anyone but Big Sam.......

And yet, and yet.....it was only a couple of seasons ago that we beat Sunderland 8-2 at St. Mary`s (and look where they are now) and, so far as Manchester City are concerned, I still look wistfully back to the very last game played at their old Maine Road ground, which the Saints won 1-0 thanks to a towering header from Michael Svensson and to finish that season in sixth place.  Those were the days indeed.

Just as well I have Truro City, Forest Green Rovers, AFC Wimbledon and Fort William to fall back on   Oh, hang on a minute.... pass the sal volatile. 

TRUE HEROES....

Not sure why but I`ve always admired the underdog.  Maybe it`s because I`ve been one myself, maybe I have a bit of an aversion to serial winning in whatever aspect of life it may show itself.   I know I should treat Kipling`s triumphs and disasters with equal measure but there is something more attractive, perhaps more romantic, in heroic failure than in triumphal victory.

Anyway, there must be a reason that I find sporting struggles far more interesting ;  why else would I follow the footballing fortunes of Forest Green Rovers, Truro City, even Southampton or, until they finally achieved their ambition to be relegated to Scotland`s Lowland League, East Stirlingshire?   And I have recently become aware of the travails of Fort William Football Club who are propping up the rest of the clubs in the Highland League.   Their picturesque Claggan Park ground, nestling under the lea of Ben Nevis, pictured above, is considered to be the most scenic ground in the whole of the Highland League. .

The club, the only senior one in the West Highlands, was formed in 1974 and draws its players from a wide area including Skye, Inverness, Lochaber, Oban and Speyside.  Moreover, given its location and the fact that most of the other clubs in the league are located as far north as Wick and most of north-east Scotland, their travels for away matches - and for visiting clubs - involve very long journeys. 

In the past 20 seasons, Fort William have finished bottom of the league on 14 occasions, not winning a game in the whole of last season and, indeed, this season seems no different.  So far they have played 16 games, won none, drawn one and lost the other 15.  They have managed to score 10 goals but conceded 115 and they have not been helped by a points deduction which sees them currently on minus eight points having played an `ineligible player` in one of their games - seems a bit harsh given their struggle to put a team on the park.

But they keep going and they do so for the love of the game.  The Rev Richard Baxter, the club's chaplain, says,  "There is a challenge from being so remote from the other clubs.  It is important Fort William are there.   There are good people giving their best to the club, but they are facing pretty challenging circumstances and the more support they get from the community the better."   That support has been enhanced recently following a film being made and appearing on the club`s  Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/FortWilliamFcOfficial/ which is well worth a look as it captures the essence of what the club is all about.

These are the true heroes of football and when you next watch Manchester City, Spurs, Liverpool,even Southampton, spare a thought for the sheer effort and devotion to the cause taking place at the same time in the remoteness of the highlands of Scotland.

(NOTE : To see the Facebook page, highlight the link above, right click and an option appears to `go to....`  click on that option and the page appears.)

A TOUCH OF CLASS...

Like the rest of the football family, we supporters of Southampton FC also mourn the tragic loss of Leicester City`s excellent owner, Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha, in the horrendous helicopter crash the other evening.   Of course, this awful event has been felt not only by the fans of Leicester City but also by the city itself which has joined together to pay tribute to a man who gave so much to the football club and to the city as a whole.   Quite properly, tonight`s scheduled cup game between Leicester and Southampton has been postponed - I can`t imagine anyone associated with either club has a football match at the forefront of their mind - it almost seems irrelevant now,

This has brought back equally sad memories for us Saints fans as we lost our own highly respected owner, Markus Liebherr, who passed away suddenly following a heart attack eight years ago, having rescued the club from near extinction and overseen its rise from League One back to the Premier League.   So we feel for Leicester supporters perhaps a little more deeply than fans of other clubs - we`ve been through that experience and we know what it`s like.

I remember going to St. Mary`s Stadium just after Markus had left us and was amazed at the floral tributes left by fans with sadness and thanks for all he had done for the club.  Here`s a photo of that occasion which is so clearly replicated now outside Leicester`s King Power Stadium ....

Both represent the warmth of feeling for the respective club owners and the true sense of loss  felt by supporters of both clubs.  Now,  I don`t wish to enter a note of irreverence here but I vividly recall seeing a red plastic duck - the kind you might have in a bath - placed firmly among the floral bouquets in honour of Markus and it occurred to me at the time that one bereft Saints fan had woken up to the news of Markus`s death and decided that he or she must dash down to the shops, buy a red plastic duck and place it among the floral tributes outside St. Mary`s. 

I`m sure it was well meant but I suspect the tributes outside the stadium in Leicester might have perhaps a little more of a touch of class about them?  Or maybe there`s not much demand for blue plastic ducks in Leicester.