THE INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD ?

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

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

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

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

WHERE TO NOW ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE BRICK IS BACK ?

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

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

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

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

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

ALL IN VAIN...

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

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

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

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

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

GOODBYE OLD FRIEND...

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

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

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

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

Well, some of it.

CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?..

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

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

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

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

IT`S THAT DAY AGAIN....

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES...

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

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

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

Ah, the peace and quiet.

(Please click on photos for better images)

OH TO BE IN CORNWALL...

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

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

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

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