TEN YEARS AGO TODAY...

......I made what for me was something of a pilgrimage.  Now I don`t normally make a habit of going to London;  I know that the last time I went there was just before the 2012 Olympics to attend the dedication of a memorial in Kensall Green cemetery to John McDouall Stuart, unsung hero of Australian exploration - responsible for establishing the route of the telegraph line from south to north on what is now the Stuart Highway.  He was a hero of mine and, as a member of the John McDouall Stuart Society,  I felt privileged to be invited to attend that ceremony in his honour.

Before that, my previous venture to the capital was my pilgrimage to Wembley Stadium to watch other heroes of mine, the Saints of Southampton FC, winning the Johnstone`s Paint Trophy by beating Carlisle United 4-1 in front of a packed stadium which included 44,000 Saints fans.

My journeys to London have always been wracked with uncertainty as they represent a logistical challenge as well as being pitchforked into a culture which is a million miles away from the peace and serenity of the Kentish enclave I call home.  No matter, when the Saints reach a Wembley final, you`ve just got to make the effort.  So I did - and it comprised driving to Watford of all places, getting a train from there to Wembley, grabbing a Greggs `lunch,` meeting up with my crew in the Green Man and taking my seat in the higher reaches of the national stadium.

It was a terrific day out - topped off by the Saints` win with goals from Rickie Lambert, Adam Lallana, Michail Antonio (yes, that one) and Papa Waigo although arguably one of the defining images of the day was seeing the joy on the face of the club`s owner, the late lamented Markus Liebherr, taking a photo on his little camera to capture the moment.    He more than anyone was responsible for rescuing the club from administration and setting it on a course that would see them climb from the bottom of League One (where they were that season) back to the Premier League.

The journey home, after yet more celebrations in the Green Man with the Codgers crew, was simply a return journey back on the train to Watford and then negotiating the M25 back home to Kent and I have only been back to London once since then - not sure I`ve missed much -  but now and again I dig out my collection of Saints matchday programmes where pride of place goes to the one recapturing that memorable day out ten years ago today.

And, of course, when it came to painting my garage floor I had to use Johnstone`s paint.

THE LAST REFUGE...

It seems to me that one of the things this current crisis has thrown up is the almost total irrelevance of some aspects of sport.   I say some aspects but the truth for me at least is that football - and especially the parallel universe of the Premier League - really has become almost entirely forgettable, not merely of itself but also because I no longer have to concern myself whether Southampton are going to be relegated or survive for yet another season in the `top flight`.....or even worry about whether they are going to win a game, lose one or draw.

But that feeling of irrelevance does not extend to all sports and I am especially sad that the cricket season is under threat, for it exemplifies all the good things about summer.  Now of course even the beautiful game of cricket cannot be taken as seriously as it usually is, given the circumstances in which we find ourselves and whilst I should have more pressing matters on my mind I cannot help a feeling of sincere regret that the cricket season may not happen.

Now someone - it may even have been me - once said that sport is the last refuge of those who find it impossible to idle and so, given that visits to Canterbury are put on hold, I can at least avoid some idleness whilst looking back on glorious summer days gone by.   Most of those were spent playing the game - my teenage weekends were spent playing on the village greens of Kent in days when there were no league competitions, just friendly matches and where personal performances, whilst contributing to the team effort, were limited in their scope and ability;  the Basted double of scoring 100 runs and taking ten wickets in a season were the only personal goals we aimed for.

My first ever exposure to `proper cricket` was in 1949 when my parents took me to the Northlands Road ground in Southampton to watch Hampshire take on the visiting New Zealanders and, being just ten years old at the time, I was seduced into a lifelong romantic affection for the game.   In more recent times I have been fortunate to visit the St. Lawrence Ground in Canterbury to see Kent play.

Ah, Canterbury.   It`s now called the Spitfire Ground and the famous lime tree is long gone, new apartments decorate one side of the ground but on match days the ground and the game itself still have that timeless quality of calm refinement - reverence almost - which provides the perfect escape from life beyond the boundary.  Some of the traditions may have died away - I`m not sure the teatime ladies hat competition is still going; it may do but it has escaped my notice recently - but despite the ever growing need for commercial as well as sporting success a day at Canterbury still provides fascinating glimpses to bygone days. 

Stands named after heroes; Cowdrey, Ames and Woolley; whispered conversations recalling old time players like Underwood, Denness, Leary, Knott, Luckhurst, Woolmer and museum depictions of denizens of the past like Lord Harris and Jim Swanton, of whom it was said that his idea of democracy was to travel in the same car as his chauffeur.

So I guess that as well as the prospect of missing out on seeing some cricket this year I might also miss out on the chance to spend a little time being a ten year old again , falling in love with not only a game but also a way of life that has more to commend it than I ever realised.  If there is such a thing in this life as `normal service,` I hope it is resumed before it`s too late.

JOIN THE CLUB....

The Simpsons look glum.  I wonder why.   Could it be that they have heard the reports, as I have today, that they are about to be joined by two very distinguished `guests` in the form of voice-overs?

It seems that Meghan might get her wish after all as a representative of Disney has suggested that, following some nods and winks to that company by unnamed royal sources, she might be signed up to voice over one of the characters in the long running series.

And it doesn`t end there.  Apparently the company are equally keen to sign up Greta Thunberg for a similar role but this time joining Lisa Simpson for a while as the `activist` passes through Springfield.   It`s suggested that the two may have much in common.  Whilst confirmation of either of these events is eagerly awaited it does seem eerily appropriate for either Meghan or Greta or both of them to have the chance to join the most celebrated cartoon in living memory?

.....but on balance I think I prefer them to being dead.  And it`s my determination for that preference to remain that I am doing what I can to comply with the government imploring us all to be sensible.  Just wish everyone was being sensible though.   There are reports and loads of images and videos on line showing the crass stupidity of people doing things they shouldn`t be.   Things like all going to the park, congregating in streets, desperately shopping for anything and everything and it all begins to make me wonder whether the human race deserves to survive after all.

OK, things are bad enough now but there is the expectation that they are all going to get a whole lot worse, which should reinforce the need to review the real priorities of life.  Suddenly things like football, which is a subject that has dominated these pages for years, become irrelevant;  going on holiday for us at least seems `dead in the water` - if you`ll forgive the untimely phrase - our week back home in the New Forest is under severe threat but I accept the fact that not going might well be the best option for us as well as the New Forest.

Fortunately we live in a small community where the spirit of neighbourliness is alive and well and there are already examples of help being offered especially to the elderly and the vulnerable in our community.  Something of a wartime spirit is happening and I for one really hope that we can come through this and have the opportunity - long overdue perhaps - of setting our lives back on a default basis where we recognise and understand what are the really important things in life rather than the endless trivia we have hitherto considered worthy of our time and attention.

So, to my readers out there, I hope you stay safe and stay well.

Seems to me that not only are we experiencing the biggest global epidemic for a century but also, along with it, we are also seeing the very worst and the very best of the people we are supposed to be.  And also - for me at least - there now seem to be two extremes by which life is being led.

First things first.  The very worst of people has been demonstrated by things such as the rampaging, thoughtless, mindless, selfish panic buying of an extraordinary selection of items ranging from toilet rolls to bottles of wine in the supermarkets around here.   And I heard today that there are apparently people going around, knocking on the doors of elderly residents, offering to do their shopping for them, `borrowing` their bank card (and presumably their pin number) and going off never to be seen again.  To quote Dylan Thomas - " There should be a law!"

The best has shown itself through volunteer groups being set up to help local communities get through these difficult times and individuals volunteering to help, particularly the elderly and vulnerable, in a variety of ways - anything from dog walking to shopping (without needing bank cards) and a whole load of other genuine offers of help as well.  

But I also detect some extremes in the way things `feel.`   One extreme is of course the pace at which the me-me snowflake brigade go about things and the other feeling is that , away from the shopping mayhem, there seems to be a kind of almost awkward quietude - as if we should feel guilty about going about what business we have left with a resigned acceptance; que sera and all that.

Getting a bit tired of the endless, wall-to-wall 24-hour `news` though.  I know we need to know what`s going  on, what we should be doing, what HM Gov. is up to and all that but my goodness they don`t half go on. I`m pretty sure it`s all making it worse.   So I`m looking elsewhere - Talking Pictures TV takes me back to a different era when films might have been rubbish but when the world faced epidemics and other disasters with a more balanced and semi-detached approach.

So, given the choice between war and peace, I`m on the side of peace every time.  

I`ve had a car for six years and done a fair amount of miles but just recently it has been showing signs of anno domini and developed some annoying issues - making funny noises when I turn the steering wheel, a tendency not to start in cold weather (a bit like its owner) and just, but only just, struggling through the MoT thingy.  So in a wild fit of irresponsibility I decided it was time to change it and get a new one.  (I`ve noticed with all my previous cars that there came a point when it just felt right to change it, however `attached` to it I might have got.)

So I picked up the new car on Friday and I`m seriously chuffed with it - starts fine, no funny noises, drives like a dream and is nice and comfortable even if I have yet to get my head around all the bells and whistles.  And what happens?  Along comes corona virus and with it the threat that us oldies - who in any case are struggling to survive on a fixed income in challenging economic times - are likely to be confined to barracks for anything up to four months as HM Gov. tries to halt the spread of the virus. Result? Sooper dooper, high tech, state of the art, ocean going, whizzo new car likely to be stuck on the drive for the duration.  Bloody typical.

Now over the past year or so I`ve had my eyes sorted out - entropion problem remedied, both cataracts seen to and new glasses purchased to ensure my 20-20 vision.  The difference has been remarkable and I am hugely grateful for all the superb attention the NHS has provided for me.

But as Spring arrived I realised I needed sun glasses, especially for driving, so I ordered a pair to the same prescription as my `ordinary` pair.  I had a call from the optician to say the new sunglasses were ready to be collected, so I got them yesterday, since when the sun hasn`t shined and, as the car might be stuck in the drive I might not get to use them anyway.  Bloody typical.

Now I realise that God Almighty might have a downer on me anyway, due to my inbuilt scepticism and my reservations about His (or Her) design faults concerning the human body, but I think these latest events might either constitute divine retribution for my sins or they might simply confirm my scepticism and reservations after all?

AN ILL WIND ?

Of course, the one issue on most people`s mind at the moment is the corona virus - now officially a pandemic.  And it doesn`t need me to go on about it as the wall-to-wall 24 hour news bulletins themselves go on about little else.  But still there are some things that cross my mind as anxieties grow daily about what its effect will be on ourselves as individuals, our friends and family and our way of life.

It`s tempting to shrug it off - these things happen to other people, don`t they? - or even to treat it lightheartedly as a mask for the anxiety that lies beneath. ("I expect the manufacturers of liquid soap are rubbing their hands in glee") but it`s obviously too serious an issue to be swept to the back of one`s mind.

But perhaps - pious hope, I know - that this ill wind might, after all, bring some good in the long run.  Now I don`t know why but I honestly can`t remember whether past epidemics (SARS, MERS, swine flu and the rest) brought the same degree of anxiety as this one does;  maybe it`s the `social media` and the unending news output that has brought corona virus to the forefront, whereas previous virus issues received perhaps a little less attention.  Either that or maybe this one is really the most serious we have encountered for a generation....or maybe my memory of past instances of this nature has faded along with loads of other memories.

So where`s the ill wind blowing some good in all this?  What`s the pious hope?  Well, maybe just maybe if/when the nations of this planet get through it all there will be something of a global inquest as to how it happened, how it was dealt with and how to avoid it happening again.  More piously I hope that this experience might have the effect of bringing the nations of the world closer together, for if viruses like this one know no borders, no boundaries, why should we not use this experience to break down at least some of the entrenched positions and barriers that beset the world and seek a better way of living together?

I should know better, of course, but even if we ourselves might not - then at least hope springs eternal.

.....or so it seems.   Stuff is happening in the garden, the birds are doing their thing and in the last couple of days I have detected the threatening drone of mowers mowing.

Not that I`m complaining - I have spent months longing for the days to get longer, the temperature to return to being bearable and for the gloom of my Sadness to begin to lift.  And yet..... and yet I look around the world and I seem to be invaded by stories, news reports and events, dear boy, events that all conspire to suggest that, despite the green shoots of early Spring, there are a lot of things to concern my furrowed brow.

The corona virus of course - and the worry it brings especially to us over-80s (*cough cough*) - but I have been intrigued, but not really surprised, by the amount of panic buying, aka selfish buying of things like toilet rolls.   It comes to something when the shelves in the Saffron Walden branch of Waitrose are empty, so I`m going to stockpile the daily newspaper which can be cut up into neat squares and hung on a nail in the smallest room.  I guess the best newspaper to buy for that emergency would be the Guardian?  Funny how, as soon as HM Gov. says there`s no need to panic, everybody immediately panics.

My biggest issue today, however, is the news that broke over the weekend that Southampton Football Club is once again up for sale.  It seems our current owner, one Mr. Gao all the way from China, has had enough of not investing any of his money since he took over the club and is apparently surprised that the team are nowhere near qualifying for Europe or, for that matter, nowhere clear of relegation. 

Rumours are spreading as to who might be interested in purchasing the club - mega rich billionaire Jim Ratcliffe has been mentioned as he lives in the New Forest despite the fact that he already owns Nice FC in France along with the Ineos cycling outfit and is allegedly a big Chelsea fan.  Then there is our new Chancellor of the Exchequer, Rishi Sunak, who genuinely is a massive Saints fan so maybe we will hear something in his first ever Budget speech on Wednesday.  

There is much more I could go on about but I will end for now by sharing my dismay that we might be seeing Harry and Meghan on these shores for the last time.  It`s enough to escalate the country`s mental health issues to unprecedented levels but I`m sure there are helpline numbers we can ring if it all gets too much to bear.

Off to do some mowing.  Have a nice day.

A HUGE TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH 

A few posts ago I wrote a postscript about the fact that I had not received any `comments` on my posts for a very long time.  I explained that this was at least partly due to Google changing the way in which comments could be made which, I have to confess, was a bit beyond me.  Also I had received some grumbles from aficionados that they could not comment and what was I doing about it.

I mentioned that I had discovered a link on the left hand side at the very bottom of each post under the heading `No comments` just above `Labels` - here it is:-

I invited my readers to chance their arm, click on that link which brought up a panel on which comments could be made and, following the instructions in that panel, write a comment and see if it worked.  Today my illustrious neighbour Mr. Slightly - the acclaimed Gillingham fan - said that he had had a go at it and had duly sent a comment.  I checked to see if his comment had arrived and it had, although it was `awaiting moderation.`  I accepted his comment for publication, of course and it now appears under the comments section of my recent post headed `Back Again.`  The `No comments` link now says `2 comments` and they can be read by clicking on that - it proves it works!

Here in the foothills of deepest Kent, struggling to come to terms with the 1970s, this represents a technological breakthrough of enormous significance not only for my neighbour (to whom I an obliged) and myself but also for anyone else who feels the urge to let me know what they think of my rants.   I look forward to hearing more in future but all in the best possible taste of course.

......than to let something as transient as football make me feel a bit bothered.  But then after having lived with the vicissitudes of being a Southampton fan since my father first took me to The Dell in 1946, maybe it is inevitable.  It`s mad; it makes no sense, but each week when Saturday comes I find myself fretting about whether the Saints are going to win, lose or draw.

And I have this theory that the football club is a victim of the same malaise as most of its loyal followers, both of whom live in a permanent state of uncertainty, not to say bewilderment - the default condition of both the club and its fans.  It`s not surprising really, given the ups, downs, ins and outs throughout the years but you would think that, by now, I might have been able to get a bit of a life, if not grow up a bit.

Take last Saturday, for example.  The Saints go to West Ham, who were lying in the relegation zone;  the Saints are comfortably placed in mid table and all sense of reason suggested that whilst it might be a tight game the Saints ought to have gained at least a point.  Didn`t happen of course - West Ham were far superior in just about every part of the game and I can have no complaints at their 3-1 win.  C`est la vie and all that.

It was, however, especially galling that Michal Antonio was largely responsible for the Saints downfall with his aggressive running at Saints` central defence which had no answer to his power and strength;  for it was Antonio who played for Southampton in our League One/Championship days and featured in the FA Trophy Final at Wembley when Carlisle United were dispatched in a comfortable 4-1 win.  We should never have sold him.

And that pattern came to light again in the surprise defeat of Liverpool by Watford, with Liverpool having no less than five former Southampton players in Saturday`s line-up.  Perhaps mature reflection might suggest that that was at least part of the reason why Watford galloped to such an impressive victory.  Maybe we were right after all to have sold  van Dyke, Lovren, Mane, Lallana and Oxtail-Chamberlain to Liverpool, whose first defeat since records began must surely point to a downward slide.

In other teams I follow, my neighbour is in deep mourning following Gillingham`s home defeat by low flying Wimbledon, whose captain was none other than our street`s local hero Scott Wagstaff . All this despite the Gills having two Saints players playing for them on loan.  I`m sure there will be a tense stand-off in our street for a few days.  Elsewhere Forest Green Rovers and Fort William had their games called off due to waterlogged pitches, Maidstone United were clobbered 5-1 away at Weymouth and so the only comfort for me this weekend was Truro City`s impressive 4-1 win away at Hendon to maintain top spot in the Southern League South Division.

I`m quite relaxed about the `working week,` it`s just that Saturdays keep coming round and there are times when I wish they wouldn`t.  Roll on the cricket season.