SNOWTIME FOR BARNEY

Barney is three months old now and it seems that ever since he has been with us, the temperature has never gone above about 5C. On top of that, we`ve had more snow than we`ve had for almost 20 years. All of which means that Barney`s daily walks are not as enjoyable as they might be. At least for us.

However, Barney loves the snow and doesn`t seem put off by the cold weather. I guess it`s because he`s never known anything different. My picture shows him taking refuge by the bird bath in our garden; almost as if he`s saying to himself, "If I think I`ve got it hard, what must the birdies be thinking?"

No sign of a let-up in the forecast for next week. It sure does seem like a long winter and I can`t wait for Spring to be sprung. I wonder what Barney will make of double digit temperatures and sunshine. My antipodean correspondent tells me that Adelaide recently had seven consecutive days with temperatures over 40C with the highest reaching 45C. Now, as much as I crave an end to this winter of discontent, I`m not sure either Barney or I could cope with that.

IT`S THAT DAY AGAIN...

Comes round quicker each year - February 4th. On this day 49 years ago I began my 731 days of National Service by reporting to Bourlon Barracks, Catterick, North Yorkshire; the home of the 4/7th Royal Dragoon Guards, the `training regiment` at the time.

And what `basic training` it was. For six weeks we learned how to march up and down, turn left and right and even turn around. When we weren`t marching, we were shining our kit, doing PT, doing fatigues and all the while counting the days, if not the hours. We were a mixed bunch thrown together from all parts of the country and all conceivable backgrounds.

As our training progressed, we began to support each other against the onslaught of military discipline, prejudice, intellect and practice. One of our group was, sadly, one of life`s unfortunates. A pleasant, mild natured, inoffensive chap called Newton, who came from somewhere like Retford in Nottinghamshire. However hard he tried, he simply could not come to terms with the marching drill. He was naturally ungainly and it wasn`t his fault that he could never look tidy, but that had singled him out for special (mis)treatment by the drill corporals. The rest of us did what we could to help him - polishing his brasses, shining his boots, ironing his shirts - but we couldn`t march for him.

One in every squad

Things reached a climax one day when the drill corporal`s patience finally ran out. The barrack block was a very big building on at least three storeys, mounted with a clock tower in the centre of the roof. After yet more of Mr. Newton`s marching incompetence on the parade ground, the drill corporal`s`conversation` with him went something like:-

Corporal : "Newton, do you see that ******* great building there?"
Newton : "Yes, Corporal."
Corporal : "Do you see that door in the middle there?"
Newton : "Yes, Corporal."
Corporal : "Right, Newton. When I give the order for you to march, I want you to move smartly to that door. When you get there, open it and go inside. You`ll see a flight of stairs that goes all the way up to that clock tower. Still with me?"
Newton : "Yes, Corporal."
Corporal : "Right. I want you to climb those stairs, get to the top, come out onto that balcony and jump off. And before you hit the ground, I want you to shout out `Here comes f*** all.` Got that, Newton?"
Newton : "Yes, Corporal."
Corporal : "Right, Newton. Quick march!!"

......and off he went in the direction of the door. When he got there, he didn`t hesitate and disappeared inside, which left a now concerned drill corporal to run after him and haul him back into the sunlight.

It changed things. We helped him more and more and so, remarkably, did the drill corporals, whose attitude, either borne out of fear or admiration, changed into an almost benign encouragement which lasted until Mr. Newton and the rest of us `passed out` a few weeks later, after which I never saw him again.

I went back to Catterick some years ago and was relieved to see that the barracks and its clock tower had been demolished and I wondered whether the world was smiling any more kindly on our ungainly colleague. I hoped it was.

EVEN HERE...

Ever wondered what those lovely summer holiday places look like in mid winter? Well, I do. Frequently.

So, as the worst snow for 18 years swept through Kent today, I thought I would take a look at how things were down at Sennen Cove in deepest west Cornwall. It`s one of our favourite places - full of character, always welcoming, always something interesting going on. And this was the scene today, as Sennen shivered under a blanket of snow, which is such a rare occurrence in the far west of Cornwall. Even Cove Hill, the road down to the cove, was impassable today, which meant that the fishing boats stayed in the harbour. A far cry from the balmy, carefree days of high summer. Even here in Sennen it was not possible to escape the winter chill. Click on the photo for a larger image.

Sennen has its own website - click on the link under Snopper`s Links - and Terry, who runs it, sets a quiz every week or so by publishing a photo of somewhere down that way and inviting people to guess where it is. I`ve managed to crack it in the last couple of weeks correctly identifying Carn Brea and also Sancreed, but it`s not often I get it right. If you know the area, have a go. At least it keeps me in touch with a favourite haunt and thoughts of summer.

FLYING TONIGHT?

This is the less than imposing facade of Stansted Airport, which I visitied again early this morning with my youngest son and his family, who flew back to Hamburg after spending a few days with us. Last time they came, I took on Heathrow`s new Terminal Five, which was also less than imposing. There`s something about airports that I can`t quite define. It may be that my opinion is coloured by the fact that I go to airports quite a lot but never ever fly anywhere. But today`s `experience` did nothing to enhance my general attitude towards airports and all the challenges that await me when I go there.

Today started early - we left home at 7.30am so as to get there in plenty of time for the check in and security business. Once again I had to pay to use the Dartford Tunnel, which I finished paying for years ago but continue to have to fork out each time I use it. It`s gone up to £1.50 each way, which simply compounds the felony. Managed to park at Stansted in the Red Car Park, even though my car is black. I went off to find a trolley for the luggage and was surprised to have to pay another £1.00 to get one, which was made worse by me putting the £1 coin in the wrong slot and having to find another £1 coin for the right slot - I just don`t `do` technology.

Then came the ritual of Ryanair`s check-in system, which seems to comprise checking in by machine, then proceeding past a checkpoint, showing boarding passes, so as to deposit the luggage. That done, we ambled off to a rather pleasant Italian cafe (Caffe Alba) for some coffee and a bite to eat before my son and his family said goodbye and disappeared into the departure lounge, which left me to amble away and face the challenge of the car park payment machines. I had some difficulty at first but a kind lady showed me where to `stick my ticket` and fork out £6.80 for a little over an hour`s parking.

I found my car which stood out quite prominently in the Red Car Park and meandered back home along the M11, M25, Dartford Bridge (another £1.50) M20 and home to an eerily quiet house. As I got home, it started snowing....and it still is. Tomorrow, as Kent is gripped by a few centimetres of snow, I confidently predict that all the schools will be closed, minor roads will be declared impassable and all forms of transport will be severely disrupted. But it will be October before I have to go to Stansted again - plenty of time to give the car a respray. In red, of course.

OTHERWISE ENGAGED

My apologies for absence from these pages for the next few days. Tomorrow morning, I have to go to Stansted Airport to meet our youngest son, his wife and our two grandsons, who are coming to stay with us for a few days from their home in Hamburg.

It might be possible for us to have a complete family get-together over the weekend, as each of our three sons, along with their wives/partners/offspring might all be around here at the same time. A rare event indeed, since they live busy lives in various parts of the world. So the next few days could be busy.

It will be `interesting` to see what Barney makes of it all and, if all goes well, I should be back blogging early next week,....as long as I come through unscathed.

WHILE ROME BURNS...

Strange as it may seem I can just about imagine that there are some people whose interest in the affairs of Southampton Football Club may be, how shall I say, minimal? Fair enough, but I would just ask that you spare a thought for long standing supporters like me (over 60 years now since I first saw the Saints play) who have become totally disillusioned with results on the pitch and now totally fed up with events in the boardroom.

The gentlemen pictured above are, left to right, Rupert Lowe (6% shareholding,) Michael Wilde (16%) and Leon Crouch (10%.) They are the major shareholders in the holding company, Southampton Leidure Holdings PLC and their shares dwarf the 1,000 which I bought years ago - not as a financial investment but as an emotional one. I have not been disappointed with my investment - the value of the shares has plummetted to about 20p each (I bought mine for 39p and at one time they were as high as 68p) and I have certainly had my emotional money`s worth having sufferred the range of emotions from the FA Cup Final to, now, almost certain relegation to the third tier of English football. A roller coaster ride indeed.

Of the three shown above, Lowe is also Chairman and Chief Executive and is so devoted to his twin responsibilities that he has failed to appear recently and will be on holiday in Scotland, doubtless duck-shooting, when the Saints `entertain` Swansea at home this coming Saturday. Pity he won`t be there, as a mass demonstration is planned by fed up fans who are demanding positive action to rescue the situation before the bank pulls the plug. Michael Wilde, the largest shareholder, has simply gone missing. He left 15 minutes before the end of the last home game, when we lost to the mighty Doncaster Rovers....and hasn`t been seeen since.


Which leaves Leon Crouch - former Chairman ousted by Lowe last year after just a few months in the chair, during which time he had the foresight to appoint Nigel Pearson as Manager. Lowe`s first job back in the chair was to sack Pearson. Guess what - Leicester City with Pearson in charge are 12 points clear in the automatic promotion slot and will pass Saints on the stairs as we go down - if we last that long.

I`ve got some time for Crouch. He`s a real fan who puts his money where his mouth is - he paid for the Ted Bates statue out of his own pocket and he paid the wages of players like Andrew Davies who were instrumental in keeping us up last year. And now, Crouch has made the other two an offer they can`t refuse - "I`ll put £2million of my money into the club if you two will do the same, which will write off the overdraft and keep us from going bust." Lowe and Wilde have not taken up the offer, I suspect because, unlike Crouch, they are more concerned with their money than they are the club. Which is a pity because before too long, there won`t be a club to worry about. And we all lose.

SNOPPER GOES INDEPENDANT

From our Communications Correspondent

The mobile phone you see on the right is the Nokia 1650. It is, as it says on the box, just a mobile phone. No camera, no internet access, no tea or coffee making facilities - just a phone and just the thing for a communications luddite like Snopper, who has hitherto been reknowned for his aversion to anything remotely `technical.`

So imagine the industry`s surprise when, on a recent visit to the nearby Hempstead Shopping Centre, Snopper wandered into the Carphone Warehouse, threw himself on the mercy of a sprightly young lady and was persuaded to purchase the Nokia 1650 for the princely sum of £9.73. You see, for years, he had relied on old mobiles handed down from grandaughter Sarah, but the last one kind of ran out of puff, according to him. There was no response when it was switched on and, being blissfully unaware of any concept of recharging, Snopper decided he should take the plunge and go independant.

All very commendable. Except for a couple of things. Sprightly young lady had sorted it out so that Snopper could make calls and convinced him that all his questions would be answered by reference to the handbook, included in the price. A phone call home to Snopper Towers confirmed it. However, his few remaining friends should not expect him to be in touch just yet, for he has no idea what the number of his new phone might be and has no idea how to enter anyone else`s number on his new phone. The handbook appears silent on the point, he says. This particular £9.73 transaction could have legs.

SHREDS OF EVIDENCE...

The news that the Statutory Instrument which would have exempted Members of Parliament from the requirement for them to have published, details of their expenses claimed over the past four years, has been withdrawn, is to be welcomed and applauded. I was gearing myself up for a rant today about the fact that MPs had voted to exempt themselves but, in a dramatic climb-down yesterday lunchtime, the measure to have been introduced to Parliament, was buried.

At last it seems that not only has common sense prevailed but also that our MPs have decided that, after all, even they should not go against the rulings of the High Court and that they should stop spending taxpayers` money on trying to prevent those same taxpayers from finding out what their money has been spent on.

Now, at the risk of allowing my innate cynicism to come to the fore, I suspect there may be a small number of MPs who are now nervous about having to reveal details of their expenses . So I imagine it is just possible that there might be an outbreak of small fires in certain offices or, more probably, a run on shredders in the stationery shops around Westminster. I suggest those MPs who may be concerned, get together and hire the kind of heavy duty, high capacity mobile shredder pictured above. It will save a lot of time, add to the recycling targets and improve their carbon footprints. Just as long as they don`t charge the hiring fee to the taxpayers - we`ll need to see the receipt, of course. And so the madness goes on.

BARNEY AND THE GNOMES

I am honoured to have a correspondent in Adelaide who has e-mailed me to say how much she enjoys reading about Barney`s adventures.

Well, here he was a short while ago having been introduced to the gnomes who look after the bottom of my garden. I`m not sure quite what Barney made of them or, indeed, what the gnomes thought about their territory being invaded but from the picture it seems that the gnomes have the upper hand - at least for now.

It is, of course, perfectly in keeping with my mental age of twelve that I would have gnomes in my garden. A couple of years ago, we were browsing around the local garden centre when they were having a `Gnome Event.` The deal was, Buy-Two-Get-The-Third-Free, so I did. Ever since, I`ve had to tread carefully around their sensitivities, for I have not yet had the heart to explain which of the three of them is the free one.

The reason I feel genuinely honoured by my antipodean correspondent is that she is a direct decendant of one of the Companions of Stuart - the incomparable explorer, John McDouall Stuart, one of my all time heroes, responsible for paving the way for the route of the overland telegraph and the Stuart Highway across the continent. I`ve told the gnomes about my correspondent friend, of course, and Barney is flattered that she has fallen for his charms, which, whilst considerable, are not quite so apparent at 4.15am.

SO IT`S COME TO THIS....

There are lots of heroes in the annals of Southampton Football Club, but I just want to tell the story of how just two of them have recently been treated by the regime now running the club under the chairmanship of Rupert Lowe.

For years now, hanging proudly in the corridors of power at St. Mary`s, there has been an iconic picture of former Saints manager Lawrie McMenemy holding the FA Cup aloft after he had guided the team to victory in the 1976 Final over Manchester United. A few months ago, Saints played against Doncaster Rovers at their Keepmoat Stadium and to mark the occasion, Lowe was presented with a picture of a locomotive by the Doncaster Board. Now, Lowe and McMenemy have not seen eye to eye for years, so Lowe decided to take down the FA Cup photograph and replace it with the one of Doncaster`s train. As if there isn`t space enough in a 32,000 seater stadium.

The word `legend` is used too glibly these days when referring to footballers, but there can be no argument about calling David Armstrong a Saints legend. Moving from Middlesbrough to Southampton in 1981, Armstrong played well over 200 games for Saints, spread over six seasons. He also played for England and was Saints Player of the Season in 1983/4. As a gifted, hard working left sided midfield player he featured in Saints teams which in those glory days included the likes of Kevin Keegan, Alan Ball, Peter Shilton and Mick Channon. One of the best goals ever scored by Saints was this one - http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=0VSOpeYqgSI&feature=related, in which David Armstrong played a pivotal role.

These days, David does some occasional work for the local radio down in Hampshire which covers Saints matches, home and away. He is, of course, a well-known, much respected figure so it was sad to learn that, at yesterday`s return game against Doncaster at St. Mary`s (Doncaster won 2-1) David Armstrong of all people was `invited to leave` the hospitality area (The Mick Channon Suite) despite the fact that he was entertaining guests who are always honoured to meet `legends.` Being invited to leave is, of course, the same as being thrown out, only a bit more polite.

You see, these two tales - and there are lots more - simply tell you all you need to know about the regime under Chairman Rupert Lowe. It is petty, small minded, oblivious to the history of this once great club and, frankly, an embarrassment to those of us who have until recently supported the club come what may. Lawrie Mac and Dave Armstrong do not deserve to be treated with the disdain shown towards them. Their problem is that they don`t like Lowe....and his regime has made it clear that the feeling is entirely mutual. I leave you to work out who are the true heroes and who are the villains. It`s not difficult.

OUT IN THE COLD?

It seems that our local Kent Police are very big on diversity. There is a very comprehensive structure within the force to ensure that "equality and diversity underpin all aspects of and are mainstream in our work."

Action Groups are responsible for both `creating and sustaining the equality and diversity agenda.` Each Action Group is made up of people from all levels across the force and is chaired by a senior member of Kent Police.
Each group takes ownership for their strand of diversity, makes sure that actions from the delivery plan are carried out and undertakes wider community related responsiblities.

Progress is fed into the Equality and Standards Board, chaired by an Assistant Chief Constable and on which the action group chairs sit. This Board reports in turn to the Citizen Focus Performance Gold Group, whose key objective is `to deliver confidence, satisfaction and reassurance across Kent and Medway.` The Gold Group is chaired by the Deputy Chief Constable.

Action Groups are responsible for both `creating and sustaining the equality and diversity agenda` across a wide series of issues including Minority Ethnic; Disability; Lesbian, Gay and Bi-sexual; Immigration and Asylum; Hate Crime and Incident; Age; Gender and Transgender; Fairness; Gypsy and Travellers; Religion and Belief. Small wonder, then, that Kent Police came as high as fourth in a nationwide survey by Stonewall about the way in which Police Forces tackle diversity. And I congratulate them for that achievement and for the impressive structure they have put in place.

Now, before the boys in blue come knocking on my door, let me say that as a council taxpayer funding Kent Police, I can have no problems with any of the above and it`s good to see my taxes being used in this way. There are just a couple of things that puzzle me though. First, I am at a loss as to how Kent`s Chief Constable can complain about resources when there seems to be ample funding for all these diverse pursuits. And second, I am at a loss as to why there is not an Action Group for white, British, law abiding, taxpaying, non-benefit claiming heterosexuals, who seem these days to be in a minority of their own.

Hang on - there`s someone at the door.

STREET LIFE

A big day for Barney. He`s eleven weeks old today and a week ago he had the last of his injections, so this morning he had his first `walkies` on the lead. Not really a walk, as such, more a scamper around a bit of the parish with Barney being interested in all the new sniffs, seeing some more traffic, checking out the grass and engaging himself in a kind of mini-battle with his collar and lead. Not sure who won.

The thing with puppies is to get them used to as much of the sights and sounds of the world as possible. So far, Barney seems unfazed by anything he has come across....although the local donkeys were a bit of a surprise to him. We`ve been taking him for rides in the car most days, to get him used to travelling and he seems to have taken to that as well. Yesterday we took him to Pets at Home, where they allow you to take pets inside the store. We bought Barney a nice new tag for his collar with his name, postcode and phone number on it, just in case, and he was very interested in the guinea pigs, rabbits and the fish in the shop. At Barney`s age, most things appear edible.

Now we`ve started, he will expect a walk at least once a day to broaden his horizons. I hope the streets of our village are ready for him. He certainly seems up for it.

CULTURALLY CAPITAL...

Last evening, Liverpool brought the curtain down on the city`s year as European Capital of Culture with a resounding firework display, much dancing in the streets and an almost palpable sigh of relief. So it seemed oddly appropriate that the grand finale of the year`s events should be left to Liverpool Football Club`s Spanish Manager, Rafael ("Rafa") Benitez.

For it was Rafa who treated us all to a measured, thoughtful and damningly honest critique of the antics of Manchester United Manager "Sir" Alex Ferguson. Now, there isn`t room in these pages for me to list all of the `facts` referred to by Rafa, suffice to say that they did not just relate to Liverpool`s own dealings with Ferguson but to a whole range of issues which underlined - if any further proof were needed - that Ferguson says what he likes about anything and everything, does what he likes, flouts any `Respect` campaign that might cross his path, refuses to honour contactual obligations with the media and generally conducts himself with an arrogance and deportment which does little to enhance the reputation of the club he represents.

The thing I particularly admired in Rafa`s delivery was his refusal to acknowledge Ferguson`s knighthood. I agree with that, for I have probably mentioned before that the honour was dished out to him by that equally discredited chancer, Tony Blair, in the misguided belief that he, Blair, might gain some street cred by being seen to be associated with Manchester United`s successes on the field of play. All very Alastair Campbell.

There are those who imagine for one moment that Rafa`s critique showed that he was feeling the pressure of expectation and that there would be the inevitable backlash from Ferguson, who seems to employ `mind games` as much as he does hairdryers. I didn`t get that impression at all. Rafa said what he had to say clearly and carefully, but what is important is the fact that he said it at all. About time someone finally had the courage to say what the majority of non-Manchester United football followers have thought about Ferguson for so long.

Nice one, Rafa

And just in case you thought that we had said goodbye to the land of make believe, I see today that the Football Association is going to `review in its full context` what Rafa said.....just to see if they can bring a charge against him for bringing the game into disrepute? They`ll be aiming at the wrong target if they do, for all Rafa has done is provide a measured account of events that the FA themselves should have dealt with long ago. The FA`s own cultural integrity is about to be tested again. What`s the betting they`ll be found wanting - again?

JAWS 3...

As long ago as 2nd December, I mentioned that I was about to embark on a course of serious dental work, as my choppers were in need of sorting out while I still had a few left. I don`t know why I`m telling you this, because it`s really not the most rivetting subject in the world. Maybe I am so pleased with myself, overcoming my demons, that I want to display my newfound hunkiness - if only to myself.

Anyway, the first couple of visits to lovely lady dentist Louise confirmed that I was in the hands of a caring, experienced professional who understood the anxieties of a grumpy old man, terrified of what he might have to undergo. I had some fillings, which stood up well to the Cashew Nut Test over Christmas. I also had to have a root extraction but despite Louise tugging, pulling, yanking away for quite some time, it just refused to be extracted. I`m told I have to wait a while before her sprained wrist recovers so she can try again. Suits me.

This morning, I had my fifth visit. We`re now on to the bit whereby eventually I get some brand new, high-tech, state-of-the-art, high-flying, ocean-going, whizzo choppers and to that end, Louise took the last impressions this morning. In three weeks time they might be ready to try out. I wonder if they`ll have a kind of test snack ready for me to sink my gnashers into.

My fear of dentistry remains, of course, but I know the journey I`m on will have been worth it, thanks to Louise and her bevy of young lady helpers. At times, I think I`m in the hands of the tooth fairy...... but this time I`ll be paying her. And a bit more than a silver sixpence.

HOMECOMING BLUES...

So, the icy grip of winter is with us. What a good idea to get away from it all for a few days of warm sunshine on some Mediterranean island. Well, my eldest son and his family did just that, flying off to Malta on Boxing Day, returning on New Year`s Eve so our teenage grandaughters could keep their social engagements.

Got off the plane at Gatwick to be met with a freezing wind that makes one wonder about the veracity of global warming. Drive home, open the front door only to be confronted by a scene resembling one of those TV makeover programmes. In their absence, a pipe had burst in the loft, water brought the ceilings down, along with the contents of the loft. House flooded, carpets ruined, can`t use the electrics. All in all, late night disaster for them.

Swift arrangements for the family to be put up with respective parents/grandparents. New Year`s Day, nothing happening. Plumber fixes pipe after a couple of days, electricians arrange temporary power supply, loss adjusters from insurance company on the scene today - just six days after the discovery of the problem.

We all hope, of course, that the problems can be overcome soon, but it may well be some time before the house is fully `habitable` again. Much depends on the insurance company and the availability of plumbers, electricians, ceiling replacers and all the other things that will need doing. Meantime, the family are, of course, more than welcome to what help and assistance we can give them.

And that`s the curious thing. We do feel for them, of course, in all of this but, since our boys left home to find their own way in the world all of 24 years ago now, our role as parents has naturally diminished. So it`s nice to feel `useful` again; to feel that we can help them a little more than we normally do and, whilst I fervently wish that these problems had not befallen them, it nevertheless reminds me that, however old your children may be, you never really stop being a parent.

TOLD YOU SO......

Southampton 0 - Manchester United 3. Predictable, wasn`t it? A United team which rested players such as Ronaldo, Tevez and Ferdinand went ahead after 20 minutes, at which point Saints` young team more or less gave up. The 0-3 final scoreline belied the fact that United had a number of chances to increase their winning margin but seemed to treat the game as a training exercise; for their part, Saints failed to win even one corner in the whole game and were reduced to playing with only 10 men following the dismissal of Matthew Patterson for what can only be described as an `industrial` challenge on United defender, Nemanja Vidic.

So, out of the cup and only the league to concentrate on - I`ve heard that before somewhere - and I can`t even claim that Saints today were gallant losers. Even if they had been, the old saying still rings true. Show me a good loser and I`ll show you a loser.

NOT THIS TIME

In 1976, I was fortunate to be at the old Wembley Stadium to see Southampton beat Manchester United with a goal from the late Bobby Stokes to win the FA Cup, against all the odds.

Over the years, the Saints have beaten Manchester United on a number of other occasions.

On Sunday, Manchester United come to St. Mary`s again, this time in the third round of the FA Cup. The game is a sell-out with 32,000 being there to witness the afternoon`s events. Now, I guess about half of them might be regular Saints supporters, a few thousand will be United fans and the rest probably of a ghoulish tendancy to witness what everyone expects will be a severe stuffing by the newly crowned World Champions.

As the great Matthew Le Tissier has recently said, Southampton might just as well go out and play with whatever freedom they can muster, for no-one - least of all the Saints fans - expect anything other than a heavy defeat. Le Tissier also mentions, however, that in years gone by, the Saints would have looked upon this game as one they could win. Not these days, I fear.

The one bright spot is the fact that the game is being televised on the relatively obscure Setanta Sports channel. I will refrain from paying the fee to watch the game. In fact, I am now refraining from paying to watch any of Saints matches until Rupert Lowe resigns or Administration sets in. Furthermore, I will always refrain from paying good money to watch Manchester United. They may be World Champions, Champions of Europe and Champions of English football, but those successes do not make them, their players or their manager sufficiently attractive for me to bother to watch Sunday`s encounter. In any case, as the song says, "Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be. We`re most definitely not going to Wemberley. Que sera, sera."

THE LAST POST....

So, 2008 drifts off into the sunset, like a ship leaving on the evening tide. I guess it must be a function of getting older - to look back rather than to look forward - but I have to confess to viewing 2009 with more than a hint of trepidation. Next July, I reach the dreaded three score years and ten and I`m a bit morbid about that. You see, despite all my grumpiness, which sometimes may verge on the brink of intolerance, about the world around me, I really would like life to go on forever.

It won`t, of course, so I had better make the most of the years I have left. Chin up. Look on the bright side. Always someone worse off than you. Those who trot out the platitudes might be right. After all, 2008 was - how shall I say? - `mixed.` We lost Henry after his long illness, which meant the cancellation of two holidays as he wasn`t well enough to make the journey. Weatherwise, I`m not sure we had a summer....but we sure are having a winter. The wider world continued to disappoint - wars, famine, poverty, credit crunch, greed - all the usual suspects which will keep me posting in the year ahead.

But I enjoyed the Olympics, especially Rebecca Adlington and the wonderful Ellie. I enjoyed, as always, the cricket season. I mourned the loss of Paul Newman and Sydney Pollack. I railed against the excesses of Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand, the EU, Premiership football and politicians. I enjoyed my dreadful golf, which continues to reinforce my innate stoicism. And I have valued still, the company of good friends and the pride I have in my family.

So, in this my last post of 2008, I wish you well for the year to come. And hope that, after all is said and done, the world is as kind to you as it has been to me. I may be nearing seventy but, as it says at the top, `Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.` That`s right....isn`t it? Please tell me it is.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

SAINTS FIGHTBACK STARTS NOW...

Fed up with the fortunes of Southampton FC going from bad to worse, the fightback has begun with the birth of no less than 14 babies in the City`s Maternity Hospital on Christmas Day. That`s a full team along with three substitutes.

The surge is clearly a reaction to the last gasp escape from relegation nine months-ish ago; and it represents a determination to equip the City and its football club with sufficient assets to mount a determined bid to reclaim the Premiership status for the Saints in about 20 years time. I doubt I will be around to witness it, but it`s something for my children and grandchildren to dream about.

Our picture shows baby Gavin Houldsworth, weighing in at 6lb 11oz, in the arms of proud Mum, Sharon and Gavin is already kitted out with his baby Saints outfit, no doubt already bearing his squad number on the back.

Today was a day of good news and bad news for long suffering Saints fans. A crowd of 20,000 saw the team draw 1-1 with promotion hopefuls Reading, which represented the good news, as we didn`t lose. The bad news is that this result has dumped us next to bottom of the league and, with the worst goal difference in the league as well, Saints are now odds-on candidates for relegation. So, grow up fast, Gavin and get that left foot working. The hopes of a city rest on your young shoulders. No pressure then, Gav.

BOXING CLEVER

Happy Boxing Day, everyone. Hope you all enjoyed Christmas Day yesterday and are none the worse for it. Here in Snopperland, we had a very quiet day, the highlight being Mrs. Snopper`s most excellent Christmas dinner, the remnants of which we also enjoyed today. We heard from our three sons in various parts of the world but our small village seemed overcome by a sense of lethargy. Nothing moved. No-one about.

Today, we have taken Barney for a ride in the car, to try and get him used to travelling. It seems to be working. We visited a couple of Garden Centres in the hope of buying one or two vital necessities, but they were both closed. Can`t blame them really, after all even shop staff have to visit the sales.

So today is Boxing Day and it seems to be passing in the same blaze of indifference as yesterday. But it got me wondering about the true meaning of Boxing Day and, after painstaking research, I think I have discovered the definitive authority on all things concerning Boxing Day. This was put together by the pupils and staff at Woodlands Junior School, here in Kent:-

http://www.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/customs/Xmas/boxingday.html.

So, well done to them and thanks for bringing some meaning to an otherwise dull and quite forgettable day. And yet, maybe because of, rather than despite all the lethargy, indifference and comotose peacefulness of days like this, I`m left to wonder whether we would not all be better off if every day might be the same.

A DARK SHADOW LOOMETH

At 11.00am this morning, just two days after the shortest day and one day before Christmas Eve, the Annual General Meeting of Southampton Leisure Holdings plc took place at St Mary`s Stadium. Now, I have been a shareholder in said company for some years and a while ago, I received all the stuff giving notice of the AGM and inviting me to attend. I was sorely tempted to take up the offer, but today is one of the busiest of the year on the roads and, as I live 120 miles from Southampton, along with the `pressures` of the festive season, I didn`t really think I could get to the meeting in time, never mind get home again afterwards.

Pity really, as early reports suggest that it was a lively affair with 99% of the assembled gathering vociferous in their condemnation of Chairman Rupert Lowe`s stewardship of the company which owns the football club. Quite right too. For it is Lowe who, through mismanagement, appalling decision making and an arrogance that he is never wrong, however high the evidence stacked against him to the contrary, has brought the football club I have supported for over 60 years to the brink of annihilation. We currently sit just one place above the relegation zone to the third level of English football but, even more worryingly, we also sit perilously close to administration, such is the state of the club`s finances. Nothing to do with the credit crunch. Everything to do with Chairman Lowe.

It`s one thing to support a football team for years on end, through triumphs and disasters, through ups and downs and through all that time to `keep the faith,` for it is my team, my club. On this day five years ago, Southampton were in fourth position in the Premier League, competing with the best, winning more games than we were losing and going on that season to reach the FA Cup Final, when we were narrowly beaten 1-0 by Arsenal. Since then it has been a spiral of decline both on and off the field of play.

And the dark shadow that has loomed over St. Mary`s Stadium - and loometh still - has been Rupert Lowe; responsible for not consolodating our position when he should, responsible for some staggeringly awful managerial appointments (Steve Wigley, Jan Poortvliet anyone?) responsible for frittering away the millions received for such diamonds as Theo Walcott, Gareth Bale and a host of others and now refusing to see that his tenure has failed us once again by doing the honourable thing and resigning. He won`t, of course. Too much arrogance for that.

So, whilst supporting my club for all this time has been one thing, it is quite another to be reduced not only to despairing at the state of my club but actually ceasing to really care very much any more. Enough has been more than enough for some time and all I can do is hope that the events of this morning`s fiery AGM (which included one malcontent throwing 30 `pieces of silver` at Chairman Lowe) might just be the catalyst to bring about an enforced change, whether Lowe likes it or not.

As it`s Christmas, I won`t wish Rupert any ill as a person. I just want him to go. Quickly, quietly and finally, so that the dark shadow might at last be lifted.

STRICTLY DESPERATE...

4.3 million years of human development. Men on the moon. Secrets of the atom and the universe revealed (even though the jury`s out as to whether there are things smaller than quarks or whether we`re just part of an infinite number of universes.) For all the 4.3 million years, we still have a lot to learn.

So when you look around the world today, you begin to wonder about the state of human development after all these years. Zimbabwe. Darfur. Iraq. Afghanistan. Baby P. Rhys Jones. Credit crunch. Woolworths. Wayne Rooney. The list goes on.

And while this mayhem is all around us, we`re invited to tune in this evening to the final final (possibly) of Strictly Come Dancing, which seems to be a populist candidate for the apex of human achievement. Well, they can`t even get the voting right (reminds me of the EU and Ireland.) As a bystander to the nonsense of today`s world, I will give my apologies for declining the invitation to tune in so I can concentrate on more pressing matters. And I don`t necessarily mean this afternoon`s six-pointer when Saints take on Nottingham Forest at St. Mary`s.

We do indeed have a lot to learn, so no wonder I am overcome by a feeling of despair. The one bright spot on this gloomy horizon is the fact that tonight is the longest night of the year and tomorrow the shortest day. A corner will have been turned, but it may be the only one?

WE`VE BEEN HERE BEFORE ?

It`s reported today that the BBC has been fined £95,000 for running unfair competitions on two radio stations. Industry regulator Ofcom imposed the penalty for "serious" breaches of its code in shows broadcast on Radio 2 and BBC London.

The BBC invited listeners to take part in phone-in competitions in pre-recorded programmes that were broadcast "as live" when it knew they stood no chance of winning.

The regulator fined the corporation £70,000 over editions of the Dermot O`Leary Radio 2 show broadcast between June and December 2006. And it ordered it to pay £25,000 for breaches in Tony Blackburn's BBC London programme between December 2005 and December 2006.

The BBC must also broadcast a statement of Ofcom's findings on both the stations.
Ofcom said: "The BBC invited listeners to enter these competitions at the time of the broadcasts, in the full knowledge that the audience stood no chance of either entering or winning. However, it was noted that these competitions were not run for profit. Ofcom also recognises the extensive steps the BBC has taken to ensure future compliance in this area."

So, the Beeb has once again incurred the wrath of Ofcom, who have again done little more than slap wrists even after two or three years of considering the offences.

I`m intrigued, however, as to how the licence-payer stands in all these fines being handed out. If I`ve got it right, the BBC is financed by the licence-payer, so it follows that, if the BBC has to cough up fines, then it`s the licence-payer who ends up paying them? Seems very unfair. I suggest the BBC sends the bill to Jonathan Ross.

WELCOME HOME, BARNEY

Well, seven-weeks old Barney (above) took up residence with us here this afternoon. He`s spent quite a time exploring some of his new surroundings and has already sampled violas, pieris and the occasional herb - I`m going to have to move all the pots from the patio so they`re out of harm`s reach. I`m not sure whether Barney is in more danger eating the plants or the plants are in more danger from being eaten.

He`s had a bit to eat and a couple of sleeps but I feel a bit sorry for him, as since he was born he has had the company of at least a dozen brothers, sisters and in-laws in the two litters at the breeders and now he only has Mrs. Snopper and myself for company. He`ll feel a bit lost for a few days, so plenty of tlc will be in order.

Tomorrow`s excitement will be taking Barney to see ace vet Dave Cocker for a check-up and his first injection. We feel part of the furniture at the Newnham Court vets, as Henry went there every week for seven months before he left us exactly a month ago today and it will be good to introduce Barney to the caring environment at Newnham Court. I think they`re looking forward to meeting him - maybe they won`t charge too much :-(

NO COMPLAINTS....

I confess that I missed seeing the BBC Sports Personality of the Year show last evening, but I did stay awake long enough to learn that this year the award went to Olympic cycling triple gold medalist, Chris Hoy. I think I`m right in saying that Lewis Hamilton came second and Rebecca Adlington third. Maybe the runners-up should have been in reverse order, but there`s no doubt that Chris Hoy`s achievement was such that, in any other year, the winsome Rebecca should have won it hands down.

The good news just went on though. For example, relegating Hamilton to second seemed appropriate for someone who scooted off to his Swiss tax haven as soon as the money rolled in, thus reducing his `personality` appeal. It was also refreshing to see that even with a choice of ten sports men and women to choose from, not one of them was either a footballer or a cricketer - our two, so called `national games.`

I have no problem with cricketers, apart from their ability to lose quite a lot, but I was encouraged by the rejection of footballers, whose lifestyles, riches and arrogance have all conspired to alienate them and, sadly, the game itself from the discerning among its hithero afficionados, myself included.

I really do not wish to introduce a note of cynicism into my approval of Chris Hoy`s award, but I did notice a report yesterday that the whole of the cycling fraternity was being actively encouraged to vote for Mr. Hoy, thus enhancing his chances of success. Shades of Zara Phillips? And I hesitate also to draw a distinction between sports achievement and sports `personality,` which is what the award is called. But it does raise questions, as some of the candidates are distinctly lacking in any kind of engaging personality - the mumbling, grumpy Andy Murray springs to mind.

But enough of that, for there is no doubt that Chris Hoy deserved the award and since he also has the bonuses of a pleasant disposition and the ability to speak very well in public, there are no complaints from me. At least not this year.

ANOTHER INCONVENIENT TRUTH...

Over the next day or two, a summit of EU leaders is taking place in Brussels. Reports suggest that there are two and a bit topics for discussion - the financial crisis and climate change being the two and.....the EU Constitution/Lisbon Treaty allegedly being the bit, although it isn`t hard to imagine that the last item on the agenda is arguably the most important in the minds of those delegates seemingly determined to plunge us into a European State, never mind what `the people` may think.

Back in the summer, Ireland voted `No` to the Lisbon Treaty. At least they had a vote and conducted it according to the rules, but ever since there have been dark mutterings in the EU leadership as to how and when the Irish can be bushwhacked into voting again and, this time, coming up with the `right` answer.

Now, there are those who approve of the Lisbon Treaty and those who, like the majority of the Irish, oppose it and each point of view is legitimate. For me though, the issue isn`t so much what the Treaty/Constitution contains (although I confess to a preference to be `governed` by my own country) but more the denigrtation of the democratic process that has been a constant feature of this long-running saga.

To begin with, they wanted a new Constitution, which was rejected in referenda by the French and the Dutch. Next move - repackage the Constitution but this time call it a Treaty, but containing basically the same provisions as the original rejected document. The Irish voted against it, so under the EU rules, the Treaty/Constitution should have fallen. Meanwhile, here in the UK, we were promised a referendum of our own in Labour`s pre-election manifesto last time round. In comes Gordon Brown (unelected either by the Labour Party, never mind the rest of us) and decides not to have the promised referendum after all, presumably on the same principle that he decided against having a general election to legitimise his Premiership, which was that he knew he would lose it.

And so it goes on. There are reports today that `the Irish are prepared to hold another referendum.` No, they`re not - it`s the Irish politicians led by the unfortunate Brian Cowen who are. Poor Brian has been browbeaten something rotten over the last few months by the EU leadership and no doubt dire threats have been made should he not go along with agreeing to another referendum, quite irrespective of the decision his own voters took last summer.

Putting the issues within the Treaty/Constitution to one side, I just hope that, when the Irish come to vote again, they give it another thumbs down, for the whole business goes against the fundamental principle of democracy. And that principle is so much more important than the words of any contrived, compromised EU document. It may be an inconvenient truth for the EU, for Cowen, Sarkosy, Merkel, Brown and the rest of them, but the people of at least three EU member countries have already said `No.` And it is their voices which really matter.

SMALL MERCIES ?

This is how the House of Commons looks when the Members of Parliament are not `sitting.` Which is quite a common experience. The Leader of the House, Harriet Harman, recently announced that MPs will have no less than 24 days off over the Christmas period. Moreover, other reductions in the `sitting time` for MPs now means that they will only be present in the Commons on 150 days next year - the lowest since records began.

I have mixed feelings about this. Firstly, as a taxpayer paying their salaries, expenses and burgeoning allowances, I`m not sure that 150 days out of 365 represents good value for my money. On the other hand, given their antics when they are in the House, perhaps the less they are there, the better. Maybe I should be grateful for small mercies.

BIG NEW KID ON THE BLOCK....

Went to visit our new puppy today. We`ve had loads of suggestions for a name for him, but we`ve settled for `Barney,` which has connotations with where we live and also his (very fancy) pedigree name. In the couple of weeks since we first saw him, he`s gained a lot of weight and is doing so well that we will be able to bring him home a bit earlier than we first thought. So, on Wednesday week, Barney will take up residence with us, which we are looking forward to. Quite what Barney makes of it, only time will tell, but one thing`s for sure - he will be a very welcome addition to the golden retriever population of our village.

Well over 18 months ago now, we spent a week on holiday at Praa Sands in Cornwall. And very nice it was too. After a few days, however, my watch packed up and I felt a bit lost without it. I had had it for quite a while and I guess the battery just gave up, but I couldn`t complain about the good service I had had from it.

A day or so later, we found ourselves in the village of Mullion, well known for its cove and dramatic coastline. It was a boiling hot summer day and we were ready for an ice cream. So I parked in the village car park, alongside which was a kind of general store which promised to sell just about everything. It had an Ice Cream sign outside, so in I went, only to be told that their freezer had conked out, so there were no ice creams available.

But what they did sell was watches, so I bought one - for £6.00, including nice bracelet. It`s still going now after all that time and is keeping perfect time as well. Now, a few days ago, we were in the Bluewater Shopping Thingy on a mercy dash for Mrs. Snopper to buy some stuff she wanted. Off she went, leaving me to wander around the bookshops until the appointed time for us to meet up again. On my wanderings, I happened to stop outside a posh jewellers shop, which displayed a formidable array of equally posh watches. I can`t remember the names, but Lewis Hamilton`s face was much in evidence and the `standard` price seemed to be over £2,000 and climbing. I saw one, for instance, which was priced at £23,000 and it occurred to me that, for all that outlay, the time being shown was precisely the same as that shown by my £6.00 Mullion special.

Mullion

Maybe I`m missing something, but I truly cannot see the point of spending £23,000 on a watch to tell the same time as one which cost £6.00 and is still going strong. And what`s more, Mullion was a much more agreeable shopping `experience` than Bluewater will ever be. Even with a broken freezer.

WHAT GOES AROUND......

So, Roy ("Keano") Keane has resigned as Manager of Sunderland FC, allegedly by txt msg, citing the fact that he had `taken the club as far as he could.`

Now, there are a number of things to complain about so far as Keano is concerned, but there are two episodes for which I will never forgive him. The first was the unprovoked and quite deliberate assault he bestowed on Manchester City`s Norwegian defender Alf Inge Haaland, which not only brought an untimely end to Haaland`s career but also displayed, as the picture (left) shows, Keano`s true colours as a mindless bully. Rather than showing any semblence of regret or concern for Haaland`s condition, `Keano` is shown leaning over his victim, shouting verbal abuse to accompany the physical.

The second was when Southampton played Manchester United in the last game of the 2004/5 season, which United won, consigning Saints to relegation from the first tier of English football after an unbroken stay of 27 years. At the end of the game, as the players trudged off the pitch, `Keano` took it upon himself to make a point of waving goodbye and giving an exaggerated `thumbs down` to the distraught Saints fans. A small-minded gesture from a small-minded man.

And now he has run away from Sunderland, the club which gave him his first ever chance of `management.` And so I wave him a virtual goodbye and extend a virtual thumbs down for yet another public display of flawed character to go with all the other tantrums he has displayed over the years. In his day, Keane was a driven, battling, midfield scuffler - useful qualities to possess in the captain of any team - but, as was once said of Field Marshall Viscount Montgomery of Alamein, he may have been a very successful general, but also a very unsuccessful man.

What goes around has indeed come around for `Keano` - and maybe we have finally seen the back of him.

SERVES ME RIGHT

There are a couple of things in life that terrify me. One is snakes, the other is dentistry. Both morbid fears stem from very nasty experiences in my early years. So, I don`t go anywhere where there might be snakes and I keep away from dentists as much as possible.

However, time has caught up with my choppers and the time has come to finally sort them out. A couple of weeks ago, I managed to `source` a very nice lady dentist named Louise and the preliminary skirmish I had with her confirmed what I had long suspected. I need some serious treatment. Starting tomorrow and spread over the next few weeks, I will have to endure an extraction, a filling, some root canal stuff and then some impressions for some new sooper-dooper, high-tech, state-of-the-art, ocean going choppers which I`m assured will transform my persona. And it sure does need transforming.

Can`t say I`m looking forward to it, but it has to be done. Just hope it`s over and done with by Christmas, so I can tuck in. In any case, I only have myself to blame for not facing up to my demons before now. So wish me luck. I`m convinced of two things though; I`m sure the tooth fairy doesn`t really exist....does she? And it serves me right for being nasty about `Sir` Alex Ferguson the other day.

But as I write, news has come in that Seve Ballesteros is undergoing a fourth operation to drain fluid from his brain tumour. Which leaves my problem as little more than a minor inconvenience.