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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE RIGHT KIND OF MUSIC...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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