....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.)