To its eternal credit, BBC 4 have just shown the first episode of `The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin.`  It was first shown in 1976 and so is very much `of it`s time.`  In fact I would not be surprised if, before showing it, BBC 4 announced that `some viewers might be offended by the following programme, which has references to sexual innuendo, misogyny and attempted suicide.`

But seeing it again after 45 years has recaptured the plotline - man fed up with the conformity and pointlessness of the modern world decides to end it all.....but actually doesn`t.   But in the process of living his life like groundhog day he comes across a remarkable set of characters - his adoring wife, his companions on the daily commute from suburban-land, his boss, CJ, who didn`t get where he is today by being hilariously stereotyped, his fantasy secretary and his work colleagues, to whom everything is either great or super.  

Reggie turns up late most mornings to begin his shift at Sunshine Desserts claiming his tardiness is due to passengers boarding and alighting at Bromley South or signal failure at Herne Hill.  He sees the company doctor for his imagined ailments only to find that the doctor doesn`t really do medical practice.   And so on and so on....

The whole point in me posting this in the hope that it might encourage you to watch the next episodes (assuming BBC4 have the courage to continue with the series) is that the legacy of Reginald Perrin is that its apparent absurdity actually brings a degree of sanity to today`s insane world.  It is highly recommended - Tuesday, 8.30, BBC4.

 

It`s a very ancient saying, but a true and honest thought and these words from The King and I came to mind the other day when I saw a report that a primary school in East Yorkshire has ditched the names Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Nelson and Francis Drake for its school `houses` after complaints from a former pupil that using those names supported `institutionalised racism.`

Instead, the school `houses`will now bear the names of modern day activists - Malala Yousafzal, Marcus Rashford, US poet Amanda Gorman (no, neither have I) and of course this quartet would not be complete without adding Greta Thunberg, who should really be back  in school herself.

The head teacher of the school, one Lee Hill, explained that the ex-pupil had `educated` him about those former house names  - who apparently all have links to slavery, oppression and racism - but despite the significant roles and achievements of those historical figures, Mr. Hill said his pupils wouldn`t know who they were.

One anonymous parent suggested that `these historical figures need to be contextualised, not just forgotten about - will anyone even remember those chosen in the renaming in a few years?`   And another said that `People are going to roll their eyes and think, "Not this again."`

Now when I was at school - back in the days when at least in my experience school seemed to be a regime of fear, threats and intimidation - the `houses` in my secondary school were more classical in their nomenclature.  There was Athens House, Troy, Corinth and Sparta and somehow I found myself as House Captain of the Corinthians.  The role didn`t seem to attract too many onerous duties or responsibilities except a presumption that the business of the house would be conducted along Corinthian lines, especially on the cricket and football grounds.   How times have changed.

But back to East Yorkshire and a reminder that we`re dealing with a primary school here, not some left leaning woke-driven bastion of higher education and, maybe as a primary school, they should consider the merits of Fireman Sam, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb and their chums - if only in an attempt to retain the precious gift of childhood?

Anyway, the words of Oscar Hammerstein and Deborah Kerr and the truth they tell may well be right.....but I suggest it all depends on the lesson being taught.

 

THE SINGER NOT THE SONG...

I`ve been watching some TV series lately about Cornwall.  There seem to be quite a few of them, I guess because in a time of lockdown we have all been on the lookout for some relief, if only vicariously.   There`s been Rick Stein`s series, one about Cornwall`s fishing life, a more serious one by Simon Reeve and one by Julia Bradbury, which is still ongoing.

It`s the Julia Bradbury one which is `interesting.`  The screenshot above shows her on a clifftop overlooking one of the enchanting coves along the coastline close to Gwennap Head.  This was the first episode in the series and promised to cover the walk from Porthcurno to Sennen Cove, via Lands End.   Which was a fine ambition but the challenge to do any kind of justice to that walk was not helped by the fact that the first eight minutes or so were actually filmed some miles away - at Botallack, where Julia got involved with an artist who was captivated by the sight of the Crowns Engine Houses perched on the cliff.  Well, who wouldn`t be?

And having spent that amount of time, given the need for a long advert break half way through the half hour programme, there wasn`t much time left to cover the advertised journey.  So we were left with very short glimpses of the spectacular landscape of that part of the Cornish coast - the odd stop at Porthgwarra, a longer look at the Minack Theatre and a couple of interviews with passing historians and wildlife experts along the way.  And when Sennen Cove was eventually reached, the short time left was spent with another artist, this time one who was doing his thing with a rake in the sand.

We`ve done that walk - OK, in bite size chinks, which is really the best way to do walks like that, so you can really take in what it`s all about;  far more satisfying than the rather self indulgent glimpses which Julia allowed us to see.   What`s needed is for someone to do the walk with a camera and just walk it - no interviews, no distractions, no faux whooping and hollering, just show the world what it`s really like.  

It strikes me too that series like Julia`s, passingly entertaining though it may be, tend in the end to be more about the presenters than the landscape they`re passing through, which is a pity.  In the final analysis it tends to be all about the singer rather than the song being sung.

 And the sun always seems to shine - they pick a good day for it.  When we did that walk a few years ago now, we saw it like it really was.  Here`s a photo I took  then - it could be the same spot where Julia was standing in the picture above - showing the bit of coast path above Nanjizal Bay.......please click on the photo for a better image.....

No sign of Julia or anyone else on that day, which was all the better for it.  It`s called living.

 

And why not?  Much to enjoy so far this weekend and once again my neighbour will be over the moon with another win for his beloved Gillingham, who secured a 2-0 win over Bristol Rovers to retain their comfortable mid-table position in League One. 

On the south coast, Southampton held in-form Chelsea to a 1-1 draw, thus finally ending a run of six consecutive premier League defeats.  OK, it was only a draw - just one point - but a point that sees the Saints reach the psychologically important milestone of achieving 30 points so far this season.  Just a few more points needed from 14 games so us Saints fans can breathe again.   And yesterday`s draw not only led to ecstatic dancing in the streets of the city but also the prospect of yet another open top bus parade this morning.  Well, it`s not often you get a point against Chelsea.  This contender is poised, ready for action should the call come......

In other news, I`m afraid Mr. Covid continues to play havoc with the fortunes of other teams I follow.  The announcement in the week that National League South has been declared null and void for the season means that Maidstone United will play no further part in proceedings to join others such as Fort William, Brechin City, Truro City and Stoke Gabriel in limiting my football interest to just the Saints, Gillingham and Forest Green Rovers.

The last mentioned are due to play later today, the delay having been caused by Newport County`s pitch being used for a rugby match on Friday, leaving the Newport ground staff little time to prepare the pitch for today`s game with Forest Green.   I`m hoping that Forest Green manage another win to maintain their position towards the top of the League Two  table, thus causing yet more dancing in the streets of Nailsworth this evening.  Rodney Parade is always a difficult place to go to, however.  We`ll see.  More on that story later......

STOP PRESS: Forest Green did pull off a 2-0 win away at Newport this afternoon.  A difficult game played on a heap of sand following Friday`s rugby game but another two points to keep Rovers second in the table.  For some inexplicable reason, our street`s footy icon Scott Wagstaff remained on the bench for this game and is currently undergoing treatment for the removal of splinters from his rear parts;  I imagine he is being saved for more battles to come.

 

FIRST IN THE QUEUE ?

I`ve promised not to write about the corona virus, as such, so I`ll keep to that promise.  However, I can`t help noticing the effect the pandemic is having on people - certainly here in the good ol` U of K and possibly throughout the world.

It seems to me that the last year has brought out the very best in most people but also the less agreeable in others.  As for the vaccination rollout I have been lucky enough to have had the first of my two jabs a few weeks ago and I now wait the call for the second one.   

What impressed me on my visit to our local GP Surgery, which is acting as a vaccination centre for a number of GP practices in the wider area, was the efficiency by which the whole thing was conducted but arguably the most heartening thing was the army of volunteers who gave up their time and acted as marshals for those `patients` attending - most of whom were, like me, in their 80s and a probably a bit uncertain as to the process.  To give up your free time to help others, standing around in quite dreadful weather conditions was truly impressive.  So thank you to all those involved.

Just recently, however, there has been a good deal of speculation as to who should be next in line to have the jab, despite the Joint Committee for Vaccination and Immunisation (JCVI) recommending a trickle down programme from the oldest and most vulnerable to younger age groups and certain categories of workers and those with genuine underlying health issues.  The Government accepted the JCVI advice and acted accordingly and it seems they are going to stick by the professional advice they received, which sounds eminently sensible. 

But that hasn`t stopped all kinds of people and various groups claiming priority treatment to have the vaccination and, in effect, jump the queue.  I wonder how many of those claims are genuine and deserve consideration or how many are what they seem - the result of impatience, assumed entitlement or further examples of the `me, me society` we see all around us these days.   

It will be instructive to discover where our true priorities really lie and whether the Government is up to the task.

 

 

GOOD DAYS AND BAD DAYS...

I see that coins celebrating `50 years of fun` with Mr. Men characters are being released by the Royal Mint.  The collection features, amongst others, Little Miss Giggles, Little Miss Sunshine and our old friend Mr. Happy, who has featured in these pages over the years.

A spokesperson for the Royal Mint said, "Each year we celebrate British icons, anniversaries and moments from history on our commemorative coins - and this is a fun addition to the collection."

So, Mr. Happy is having a good day and enjoying being included in the Royal Mint`s commemoration.  Although life hasn`t always been happy for him and I recall an episode I featured on this blog some time ago when, out for a walk one fine day, Mr. Happy got a bit lost and found himself in all sorts of trouble with the wrong sort of people.  

 Here`s a reminder of his not so happy day - well, any excuse to show it again; although I must warn those of you of a `delicate` disposition that some of the scenes depicted in this video do include graphic violence, bad language and references to drug misuse.  Still a giggle though......

 

.....or whatever counts as `normal` for these pages.  Anyway, sorry for the delay caused by circumstances beyond my control and which cannot be named for legal reasons.

Now, where was I?  Ah yes, football and this weekend has seen yet another chapter in the extraordinary life of  Southampton FC.   In midweek, the Saints went away to Wolverhampton in the FA Cup and secured an impressive 2-0 win to propel them into the quarter-finals of the Cup, when they will play close neighbours Bournemouth some time in March.

That win seemed to be the spark for a return to a bit of form in the Premier League but, of course, when the Wolves came to St. Mary`s yesterday, the Saints somehow contrived to lose 2-1 in a game which they dominated for long periods but were overcome by a combination of bizarre decisions by the match officials (not for the first time this season) and a sagging of the collective shoulders as the inevitable prospect of yet another defeat seemed to drain the players of their energy and confidence.   Fair play to Wolves - not their fault that VAR is bonkers - but the result merely added to the obscure records that the Saints have `achieved` over the years.

This was the first time in their 135 years` history - and possibly a Premier League record as well - that six league games have been lost in succession.  A mid season slump indeed and especially puzzling as not too long ago the Saints were top of the Premier League (OK, only for 48 hours) with eyes on a European qualifying place.   That record is now added to other snippets alongside the two 9-0 defeats as the joint highest, along with Ipswich, in the Premier League; the quickest hat trick in the Premier League (Sadio Mane took 2 minutes, 56 seconds to knock three goals  in against Aston Villa in 2015 before Liverpool came calling for him);  the quickest Premier League goal scored (Shane Long netting in just over seven seconds against Watford, who had actually kicked off.)  There are others.

So it`s a bit random being a Saints fan - full of ups and downs, unpredictability, confusion and uncertainty but, you know what?   It`s all of those things that maintain the devotion to the cause, that even in the difficult times we once again find ourselves in, there are no cries to sack the manager; just a forlorn hope that somehow enough funds will be available for him to strengthen the squad (it`s far too thin on the ground right now) and a genuine hope that he stays despite it all.  What other clubs, boardrooms and fans would feel like that?

Fifteen games left to play this season - about ten points needed for safety.   Surely that should be possible, if only to avoid yet another record of being top of the league and relegated in the same season.

Enough about that.  In other news, my neighbour will be ecstatic that pride of place once again goes to Gillingham who had an impressive 3-2 victory away at Charlton, each of which clubs has had the fortune to have our street`s bearded wonder Scott Wagstaff among their ranks in seasons past;  however, Scott`s present club, Forest Green Rovers, were denied the chance to consolidate their promotion hopes when their game against Barrow was called off due to a frozen pitch.

So, normal service has been resumed - in more senses than one.

 

 

My sporting notes will be brief this week, so honestly, not a lot to get excited about.  But here goes anyway......

Southampton continue to ride the crest of their current slump, this time with a 3-2 defeat away at Newcastle.   The game threw up an interesting comparison.  Last time out against Manchester United, the Saints managed to concede nine goals;  this time they failed to win against a team reduced to just nine men.  That`s five Premier League games without a win but there is a pattern here - each season we start well enough, have the slump in the middle and then come back as the season draws to a close.  Wolves away in the FA Cup in midweek, then Wolves again, this time at home in the league on Saturday.   Could be a defining week.

In other `news,` Gillingham entertained league leaders Lincoln City on Friday evening but the league leading Imps were a little too much for the Gills, resulting in a 3-0 defeat.  Forest Green Rovers were on their way to Mansfield when the game was called off, thanks to a waterlogged pitch and the same fate befell Maidstone United in their away fixture at Hampton and Richmond.

(STOP PRESS : I was misinformed.  I have just been advised by my Maidstone correspondent that the Stones did, in fact, play yesterday.  They were away at Hornchurch in an FA Trophy game but lost 5-4 thanks to a 96th minutes winner by the Essex outfit.  So still nothing to see here.))

And to add to the winter blues I watched England`s Rugby team lose at Twickers to Scotland for the first time in 38 years with a performance of outstanding ineptitude.

And it`s snowing, sub-zero temperatures, blizzard conditions affecting my benign Kentish enclave so it`s all a bit rubbish at the moment.

So, nothing to see here. time to draw another line in the sand and move along at the end of the day. To be fair.

 

A CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATION.....

Well, the day arrived - Thursday 4th February - and 61 years ago yesterday I woke up on the first morning of my conscripted National Service.  I didn`t actually wake up, rather I was woken up by the sound of a very rigid drill corporal banging the end of my bed with a stick. He proceeded likewise through the rest of our barrack room only pausing at the end of Dave Fry`s bed opposite mine.  Dave from London was clearly not used to getting up early and was unamused by his slumbers being disturbed in such a manner.  He was even more unamused when his desire to turn over and go back to sleep resulted in the corporal unceremoniously tipping his bed up, leaving Dave to come to and try to get up from the floor.  Not a good start.

The evening before, we had had a load of clothing and equipment thrown at us from the Quartermaster`s stores, had been subjected to severe haircuts, short `interviews` with an officer versed in the art of personnel selection and thrown together to be formed into a random, confused and tremulous `squad.`  

And all because those of us who were conscripts, as opposed to regular soldiers who had signed on for all this, had accepted the Queen`s shilling.  Mine had arrived in the post along with my call up papers and instructions about where and when to report for duty.  It was a clever and devious trick to send a postal order for one shilling in the post because, having opened the letter  and taken out the postal order, I was deemed to have accepted a contract with Her Majesty to do my time at her pleasure.  Sneaky.

Our squad`s first day flew by in a flurry of activity;  we were shouted at quite a lot on the assumption, I suspect, that it was more akin to `good order and military discipline` to shout orders than to explain what was required.   We seemed to have to run everywhere and we had our first real experience of military cuisine - cordon noir rather than bleu in Chez Catterick.

Come evening time and our introduction to the mysteries of `bulling` - a process by which things like webbing, brasses, boots etc. were required to become literally spotlessly clean.  A few of the `regulars` among us were clearly au fait with all of that, having spent some time in things like the Army Cadet Force, so the innocents among us, myself included, were inducted into the dark arts of bulling everything in sight.

There was quite a bit of webbing to see to, including a pair of gaiters, an item of army equipment that I never understood or came to terms with but they involved scrubbing, cleaning and blanco-ing;  next came the brasses - things like badges - and they too involved cleaning with copious amounts of Brasso.  And finally the boots.  We were given two pairs each - one of which was going to be our `best boots` and to live up to that label, they had to gleam like boots had never gleamed before.   Trouble was that when they were issued they were covered all over with tiny pimples, which had to be removed by heating a spoon over a candle and vigorously rubbing the spoon on the pimples until, laboriously over a few nights, they disappeared so that they could be properly `bulled` with lashings of boot polish  applied with plenty of spit.

 And so the first day drifted into exhaustion to add to the bewilderment and confusion and as I laid my befuddled head on my slimline army pillow, it occurred to me that the term `military intelligence` truly was the ultimate contradiction in terms.  Still, one day done - only 730 left for me to fulfil my contractual obligation.

It sure was.  My last post about football revealed a new found `sanguinity` at the recent home defeat not only by Aston Villa but also by the incomprehensible refereeing and VAR decisions which arguably cost Southampton the game.  Last night - you don`t need me to tell you - saw Southampton lose 9-0 away at Old Trafford but the curious thing is that whilst I am naturally disappointed about that, given that there`s nothing I can do about it, I am once again shrugging my shoulders and moving on, as they say.  After a defeat, one of our favourite ex-Saints managers, Nigel Adkins, would always say, "Blue line.  Move on."   So we will.

This time though, as well as the questionable standard of officialdom, there were other factors at play which added up to just one of those nights.  As a Saints fan I`m used to disappointment, inconsistency, unpredictability and bewilderment but on this occasion I accept that nine of the first team squad missing through injury didn`t help.  That resulted in two academy lads making their first team full debuts - away against Manchester United of all things - and a bench consisting of other academy players and two goalkeepers.  Not helped either by the sending off of full debutant Alexandre Jankewitz after just 79 seconds for an unprovoked assault on an innocent opponent.  (Jankewitz apparently put in a transfer request last week as he wasn`t getting enough `game time.`  Well, after this 79 seconds game time, I hope his request has been granted.)

Last time we lost 9-0 there was widespread astonishment that our current manager, Ralph Hasenhuttl, wasn`t sacked on the spot.  He wasn`t, he was given a new contract, such was the belief in what he was trying to achieve for the club.   This time, given the lack of investment by the club`s oriental, silent and largely absent owners, there might be widespread disbelief that Hasenhuttl wants to stay.  I hope he does.

Anyway, as Nigel said, `blue line, move on.`  And so to the other game I was following last night.  Forest Green Rovers, with our street`s local hero on board, made the 604 mile round trip to Carlisle.  Oop north, they`ve had a lot of snow, so goodness knows what their coach journey was like - it`s supposed to take over five hours each way on a good day so I wonder what time in the early hours the team returned to their Gloucestershire retreat.   Anyway, it was worth the journey as they came away with a 2-1 win against their fellow promotion hopefuls to go second in League Two.  Nice one.

So, just one of those nights;  just one of those crazy flights;  a trip to the moon on gossamer wings;  just one of those things.

 

A day I will never forget is coming up.  Thursday 4th February 1960 was the day I entered Her Majesty`s armed forces to begin my 721 days National Service.   Most years, ever since I started writing this blog, I have marked the occasion by recalling some of the events during my `conscription` and even now, 61 years on, the fateful day brings back so many memories of that time in my life.

But this year my mind has turned to the few days before I was whisked away on the long journey to Catterick Camp in north Yorkshire, then on to what was then West Germany before finally my demob chart reached its denouement.

Not sure why those few precious days leading up to that Thursday have come back to me so clearly, but I remember just about everything about them in that final countdown.  At the time, I had been living in `digs` here in Kent ever since my parents had left the area to take a pub on the Berkshire/Hampshire border.  When they left, I didn`t want to make the break from the job I had, the cricket and football teams I played for, the friends I had and, of course, the captivating charms of the future Mrs. Snopper and her idyllic Kentish village.

But a couple of days before the Thursday I did leave all that behind and spent the last two days staying in my parents` pub with the intention of saying my goodbyes not only to them but also other family scattered around the south and west of the country.  So, borrowing my father`s car, visits were made to relatives in Hampshire and Berkshire and those more far flung in the west country.  I went to Swindon, where my maternal grandparents lived and where my mother and I had stayed for a while during the war, and where, for a time, my mother worked as a conductress on the Swindon Corporation buses.  

I will never know why - perhaps it was a desperate attempt to grab hold of something `civilian` before the unknown of military life took over - but I went to a record shop in Swindon and bought Peter Sellers` `Sings for Swinging Sellers` - which I never got to hear until after I came back to civilian life, by which time my taste in music had gone up a few notches.

But that was that, farewells were made and off I went.  I remember counting the hours until I had to leave it all behind and when I started my conscription I started counting the days until it was all over.   These days I content myself with just counting the days until the shortest day of the year is due and until the end of March when the clocks go on and Spring arrives.  That`s just 57 days away and, like demob, it can`t come soon enough.