GO FOR IT, CHILCOT

I hope David Byrne`s prophecy that `We`re on a Road to Nowhere` isn`t about to return to haunt us once more with the opening today of the Chilcot Inquiry into the Iraq War. We`ll see how it pans out, but already there are good signs and bad signs.

On the good side, at least and at last we are having an Inquiry, "to consider the period from the summer of 2001 to the end of July 2009, embracing the run-up to the conflict in Iraq, the military action and its aftermath." And it is being held mostly in public. On the other hand, it`s going to take a long time and cost a fortune and already it has been announced that the final report may not be published until 2011, possibly late 2010 but most assuredly not before the General Election next Spring.

Having said all that, I am quite impressed with at least the statements of intent made by the Inquiry Chairman, Sir John Chilcot, hopefully not to be confused with former Bath and England prop, Gareth, seen above doing his after dinner speaking turn. And yet, maybe Sir John might take a leaf out of Gareth`s book, for he was a fearless opponent, not averse to putting the boot in where it hurts and refusing to yield in the face of those who would challenge him.

I see that Sir John is seventy years old (a feeling I know only too well) so I cannot see why he, on whom so many hopes are riding, doesn`t do us all a favour and, at the end of his Inquiry, tell it like it really was. After all, what has he got to lose? I think we probably know what the outcome should be - Blair, Campbell, Scarlett, Goldsmith and most of the Cabinet of the day guilty of dragging us into a conflict on a false prospectus so as to keep `in` with Bush and his maniac administration - but I wonder if Chilcot will have the courage to confirm it and, if he does, what the consequences might be for those responsible. If not, we may once more be on David Byrne`s road to nowhere, where we have been before with Hutton.

Go for it, Chilcot....you know you want to. Much more here - http://www.iraqinquiry.org.uk/

TIME FOR THE COMFY CHAIR...

Tomorrow sees Manchester United play Everton at Old Trafford in a Premiership fixture. It will be interesting to see whether `Sir` Alex Ferguson, the United manager, takes his seat in the dugout or in the stand.

Earlier this week, the Football Association dished out Ferguson`s `punishment,` following his rant at referee Alan Wiley in a game against Sunderland way back on 3rd October. The wheels grind slowly. The FA should by now have written to Ferguson to confirm the savagery of the punishement handed down to him. If they have, then Ferguson has 14 days to lodge an appeal, which seems unlikely given the FA verdict.

They have banned Ferguson for four matches, with two of them suspended until next season. If he doesn`t appeal, therefore, he will be banished from the touchline for tomorrow`s game and also the one against Portsmouth in a week or so`s time. If he does appeal, then this saga will continue to run and run with the reputation of both `sides` still in question.

Now, the severity of the touchline ban is such that Ferguson must sit in the stands away from the technical area. Recent FA regulations mean that he will not be able to sit immediately behind the technical area but those same regulations do not prevent him from contacting the dugout by telephone during the game or from visiting the team`s dressing room before the game, at half time and after the game has ended. Okay, he has been fined £20,000, but this is small change to a multi-millionaire on a salary alone running into millions each year - even if he ends up paying it himself. But the whole thing simply highlights the FA`s total inability or unwillingness to take real, firm action against this serial offender and does nothing to enhance the reputations of either party to this affair.

This circus reminds me of another one - Monty Python`s Flying one, in which no-one expects the Inquisition. "Bring on the Comfy Chair! Now -- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven." That`ll teach him!!

GEORGE AND GRACIE RIDE AGAIN

Told you so. Unknown Belgian Herman van Rompuy becomes President of the EU Council, but the surprise was the appointment of Baroness Ashton as the High Representative for Foreign Affairs. She seems uniquely qualified for the role, having been Chair of a provincial NHS Trust, thrust into the House of Lords for being a Labour crony, found herself Leader of the House, then awoke one morning to find herself as Britain`s EU Commissioner and now catapulted into a position as head of a 7,000 strong EU diplomatic outfit and speaking on behalf of 27 countries on the world stage. Risen without trace and without ever having had to face an election. You really couldn`t make it up.

Still, at £320,000 a year she will no doubt be good value in furthering the cause of British interests during what might be a Conservative administration in the UK and being `mentored` by the Franco-German axis who are now the undisputed powerhouse of EU politics. There`s talk that the Germans want the Presidency of the EU Bank, which seems to confirm their unending pursuit for domination. Meanwhile, watch out for Rompuy and his EU wide taxes, his EU flag everywhere, EU anthem and EU football team. Not a happy prospect.

Deja vu is here again, just like George Burns and Gracie Allen. "Say goodnight, Gracie."

A POIGNANT FOOTNOTE..

A rather spooky footnote to my recent post concerning the sad death of Edward Woodward and the film `Breaker Morant.`

At the very end of the film, Morant, played by Woodward and his compatriot, Lt. Peter Handcock, played by Bryan Brown, are seen sitting in front of the firing squad as they await execution following conviction for murdering Boer prisoners. The footage for that sequence is shot from the rear and , as the moment of execution draws close, the two are shown to reach out for each other`s hand in a final moment of togetherness after all they had happened to the two of them. A touching scene - but one that was not scripted, just improvised quite spontaneously by the two actors, Woodward and Brown. It made for a poignant moment which added much to the drama of those final scenes in the film.

It wasn`t until years later that Woodward discovered, quite by chance, that in the real events that happened to the real Morant and Handcock all those years previously, they too had involuntarily held out their hands to each other and held them close as the firing squad completed their gruesome duty.

Spooky?

DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN?

"No taxation without representation" began as a slogan for the British colonists in the 13 colonies of the USA in the late 1700s. They believed that the lack of direct representation in the distant British Parliamnent was an illegal denial of their fundamental rights as Englishmen and therefore the laws taxing them as colonists and other laws applying to the colonies were unconstitutional.

I think it might be tomorrow evening that leaders of the 27 nations in the European Union will sit down amid the splendour of the taxpayer funded Brussels HQ and enjoy a lavish taxpayer funded bit of haute cuisine whilst at the same time conspiring among themselves as to who might become the unelected but taxpayer funded President of the EU Council. There have been dark mutterings that the case for Tony Blair to be handed the job has been gathering pace, although I suspect that might simply be because of the lack of an acceptable alternative. Surely there must be an an alternative more acceptable than the grandstanding, self-serving, warmongeringly less than careful with the actualite, discredited former Prime Minister.

One of those alternatives is apparently a guy named Rompuy from Belgium, who wants to see the introduction of a Europe-wide tax on the 500million who make up the Union. It may also be Rompuy - although it is certainly one of the many job seekers putting themselves forward - who wants to ban national flags and symbols and replace them all with the EU flag on anything from car number plates to passports.

Now, I`ve never been asked to vote for a President, but it looks like I`m going to get one. I`ve never agreed to daft tokenism like flags and symbols and I`ve never agreed to so much of my money being swallowed up by the largely unaccountable EU, who on the subject of accountability hasn`t had its own accounts signed off for years. I`ve discovered just how much money is going from this country to the EU and it`s frightening. In net terms alone, during the 90 minutes when Southampton take on Norwich City on Saturday, £1,113,000 will have departed to the EU, never to be seen again. For each of those 90 minutes, £12,366 will have left; £206.11 for each second. And the next second....and the next....and on and on and on it goes.

Now, aspiring President Rompuy wants to tax us even more without even being elected. And people wonder why I wanted a referendum! Britain is becoming more and more a distant colony of Brussels and whilst I accept that my attitudes to most things these days may belong to a different age, little wonder I sometimes feel I`m back in the 1700s! Pass the laudanum!!

MORE THAN JUST AN ACTOR

Edward Woodward, the fine actor, died today aged 79 in hospital near his home close to Padstow in Cornwall. Over a long and distinguished career, he displayed his virtuosity across a range of parts both on film and television. I suppose it is inevitable that he will be best remembered for his role in The Wicker Man - once described as the Citizen Kane of British horror movies. But for me, he will always be admired for his portrayal in the lead role of Breaker Morant.

It`s quite impossible to begin to summarise that film, first shown in 1980 and directed by that very good Australian director, Bruce Beresford, but its strength was that it dramatised real events and real people that were caught up in the Boer War. Three Australian lieutenants are court martialed for executing prisoners as a way of deflecting attention from war crimes committed by their superior officers and two of them, including Woodward`s central character, Lt. Harry `Breaker` Morant, were executed by firing squad. It`s a complex, compelling drama made yet more dramatic by being based on events that actually happened.

But what made it so compelling was Woodward`s portayal of a complex character, to the extent that you were convinced that you were watching the real Morant and not the actor. Morant himself was a superb horseman - hence his nickname - but also a published poet and one of the stand out moments in Woodward`s performance was his recital, whilst awaiting the firing squad, of part of Morant`s poem,`Butchered to make a Dutchman`s holiday`:-

It really ain't the place nor time

To reel off rhyming diction

But yet we'll write a final rhyme

Whilst waiting cru-ci-fixion!

No matter what "end" they decide

Quick-lime or "b'iling ile," sir?

We'll do our best when crucified

To finish off in style, sir!

But we bequeath a parting tip

For sound advice of such men

Who come across in transport ship

To polish off the Dutchmen!

If you encounter any Boers

You really must not loot 'em!

And if you wish to leave these shores,

For pity's sake, DON'T SHOOT 'EM!!

For more on the background to this award winning film, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breaker_Morant Thank you, Edward Woodward, for a memorable contribution to cinema history.

SKY BLUES...

No wonder Saints manager, Alan Pardew, looks puzzled. But he shouldn`t really. Almost every time the Saints are shown live on tv, they have `a bad day at the office.` And yesterday was no exception when they suffered their first home defeat since September to a Brighton team rejuvenated by the appointment of Gus Poyet as their new manager.

This weekend, there were no Premiership matches and no Championship matches and so SKY television were obliged to delve into the lower reaches of the third tier of English football to come across a live game to televise. In truth, Brighton deserved their 3-1 win as the `new manager` syndrome took effect. So no complaints about the result from me anyway.

Years ago, when we were flying high in the Premiership - or, more often than not, flying low - a result like yesterday`s would have had a serious effect on my wellbeing, because in those days it seemed that survival in the top flight really mattered. These days, I am able to accept `bad days at the office` like yesterday with a shrug of the shoulders and a whimsical smile because we lost a football match. That`s all. What a treat it is to have small expectations.

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE....

I wonder why it is and how it can be that, having lived for seventy years and spent most of my boyhood in the 40s and 50s, until today I had absolutely no idea that such a thing as the `child migration` to the then colonies of the British Empire took place.

Maybe, after all, I had a relatively sheltered upbringing, despite spending my first six years in wartime with the constant threat of bombing along the shores of Southampton Water. But I never had to experience the trauma of being `deported` - for that`s what it was - to some unknown corner of the world not knowing why or what might befall me.

The scale of the child migration policy has quite astonished me. Literally thousands of young children, some as young as three, removed from Britain and Malta, to Australia, Canada, Rhodesia as it then was and New Zealand. And it has been revealed that a large number of them were treated appallingly, suffering both physical and sexual abuse as well as deep seated psychological damage which, even after all these years, is still apparent in the interviews that have been given.

Now it`s just possible, although hardly defensible, that the Government at the time might have thought they were doing the right thing by these unfortunates, most of whom came from deprived backgrounds, orphanages and childrens homes. And it`s true, of course, that looking back from the vantage point of 2009, it`s easy to condemn the policy as inhumane, unthinking and just plain wrong. But I think we are right to condemn and the Governments of the UK and Australia are right to issue the albeit belated apology they are reported as making.

But as I look back down the years to my own childhood in those far off times, I am left to wonder about a few things. Firstly, whilst the apology is undoubtedly right, I wonder if it really will make any real difference to the victims and whether saying sorry really is enough both for them and for the rest of us, who may need a little more to salve our collective consciences. I wonder why I have lived all these years in blissful ignorance that this policy ever took place. But perhaps most of all, whilst my own upbringing might have failed the health and safety test, I wonder how my own life might have turned out had I been less fortunate than I was. As a child of those times, there but for the grace of divine providence I might have been among their number.

BEYOND RANTING

Woke up this morning - dark - raining - switched on the news and wondered, not for the first time, why it is that `news` is invariably bad. Not just bad but mostly annoying, frustrating, leading almost to a feeling of hopelessness that however strongly I might be offended by what I hear, I am powerless to do anything about it. Maybe that feeling comes from living in the New Labour Liberal Elected Dictatorship.

So what`s making me feel so dejected today? Well, there are the MPs at it again. Some of them are, I know, perfectly sensible and honest when it comes to their discharge of the public purse; others - probably the vast majority - seem to be squirming away from doing the decent thing and accepting the `punishments` dished out following their self-inflicted expenses scandals.

Then yesterday we heard about the BBC, their executive salaries and their own expenses scandals. In a strange fit of masochistic candour - or maybe naivite - or maybe sensing they should jump before being pushed - the BBC have published details of salaries and expenses for all of their `top` executives. And it`s quite astonishing how many there are and I really wonder what they all do. And their expenses are `interesting.` For example, Director General, Mark Thompson, claimed repeatedly for parking meters, producing receipts for as little as 70p, even though he has his own driver who picks him up every day when he gets off the train in London after commuting from his Oxford home. Over three months he claimed £3,364.

Another, £1,137.55 claimed by former head of audio and music Jenny Abramsky for a dinner to celebrate Terry Wogan's knighthood in 2005. Now it`s one thing for us licence payers to pay through the nose for Wogan anyway, but quite another for he and Ms Abramsky and their chums to have munched their way through over £1100 worth of `dinner` at our expense. Seems to suggest that the more they `earn,` the more they expect us to pay for their unthinking whims, which hardly amounts to a culture of responsibility among those who really should know better.

And so I think I`ve reached the point whereby the flagrant squandering of public money - mine and yours - by MPs, the BBC and countless unelected, unaccountable quangos - is so great that I just know I am powerless to do anything about it except moan. And on depressing mornings like today, I`m not sure I have the motivation to rant about these things with any conviction. Maybe my exasperation has finally reached a level which is now quite beyond ranting. TAXI !!

WRITE AND WRONG..

I`m not a fan of Gordon Brown. I`ve never been sure about him ever since he refused to legitimise his Premiership by calling a General Election and ever since he reneged on his solemn manifesto pledge to hold a referendum on the Lisbon Treaty. But there`s one thing I am pretty much convinced about and that is that he did not write his now public letter to grieving mother Jacqui Janes with anything other than the best of intentions.

In fact, for a serving Prime Minister beset with huge problems and under constant scrutiny and stress to take time out to write personally to each of the families of those service personnel killed on duty in Afghanistan is, frankly, something to be applauded. Okay, there were mistakes in the letter, most unfortunately the mis-spelling of Jamie Janes`s name, but I`m sure the mistakes were honestly made without any hint of causing deliberate offence. I suggest his biggest mistake was to carry on the `event` by telephoning Ms. Janes having already issued an apology, thus giving The Sun newspaper the fuel to carry on their personal vendetta against Gordon Brown.

It`s quite impossible for someone like me, who has thankfully not lost a son in armed conflict, to have the remotest idea of the pain and anguish felt by those who are bereaved. But I would like to think that I would rather be left to grieve in what peace I could find, rather than have my tragic circumstances so fully aired in public whilst at the same time being used to further the political stance of a national newspaper. I think too that I might just find it in my heart to forgive any `mistakes` whilst quietly appreciating the effort made by the country`s leader to pass on his undoubtedly genuine sadness.

Gordon Brown does a lot of things wrong but in this case, even I - of all people - am prepared to support his good intentions, warts and all. And I don`t say that very often.

TIME`S UP?

The picture shows `Sir` Alex Ferguson displaying all the restraint and dignity expected of a knight of the realm as he issues a now standard rant at referee Alan Wiley during the 2-2 draw with Sunderland. That game was played as long ago as 3rd October - five weeks ago, which is a lifetime in the unreal world of the Premiership.

It took until 19th October - over two weeks - for the Football Association to charge Ferguson with `improper conduct.` Over a week later, Ferguson admitted his guilt but requested a personal hearing, presumably so he could hector the FA into giving him a nominal slap on the wrist for being a naughty boy - again. Since then, the FA have still not set a date for the hearing into the original offence which by now has dragged on for far too long.

Now the FA Code says that `high profile disciplinary cases` would be dealt with instantly whilst more complex cases would be dealt with within 28 days of the original alleged offence. Ferguson has admitted his guilt, so it can hardly be described as a `complex case.` so it begs the question as to why things are taking quite so long to resolve.

In the meantime, of course, Ferguson has been allowed to remain on the touchline for recent big games against Liverpool and, yesterday, against Chelsea, as well as for recent European matches and, predictably, on each occasion Ferguson has been true to form in uttering yet more offensive rants against match officials. As well as yet another attack on referee Martin Atkinson following yesterday`s defeat against Chelsea, Ferguson was again caught on camera running up and down the touchline and attacking the fourth official in a manner which of itself should bring further charges to bear.

I have two suspicions. One is that the FA are simply incompetent - a strong possibility - especially in th administration of their own codes of practice. The other is that they are simply terrified of Ferguson and his mindless aggresssion towards all things other than Manchester United, a club to whom different rules seem to apply than to the rest of the football world.

Time should be up for this charmless bully and the FA should issue the strongest punishment at their disposal, guilty plea, personal hearing or not, for Ferguson`s continued antics do little for his reputation or that of his club. I recall the feeling of release and liberation when the news broke that Margaret Thatcher had left the building, but that will be as nothing compared to the sigh of relief felt by the thinking football world when Ferguson finally shuffles off to be heard no more.

BREAKING NEWS.....The FA have just announced that they will not be charging Ferguson as a result of his comments made on Sunday. It seems they also overlooked his raging antics towards the fourth official. They will also not take any action regarding Wayne Rooney`s mouthed `twelve men` jibe referring to referee Atkinson. I told you they were either incompetent or terrified. I suspect they may be both.

SAY IT QUIETLY...

Well, we certainly won`t be dancing in th street this evening. Near neighbour Scott Wagstaff was part of the Charlton Athletic team that lost 1-0 away at Northwich Victoria in the FA Cup this afternoon. Scott came off the bench for the last ten minutes but was unable to produce a game changing cameo performance as, in truth, Northwich thoroughly deserved their win.

Now and again, football - and FA Cup draws in particular - throws up some odd coincidences. A year or so ago, Scott had a couple of months on loan playing for Northwich and when I saw him the other afternoon, he was looking forward to going back there and meeting up with some of his old colleagues. Sadly, it turned out to be a disappointing return and next up for Charlton is another Cup match on Wednesday evening when they take on Southampton at St. Mary`s Stadium in the Johnstones Paint Trophy, of all things.

On Friday evening, the Saints took on Bristol Rovers at their Memorial Ground also in the FA Cup. Despite the Gasheads of Bristol riding high in League One, whilst the Saints remain in the bottom three, we came away with a 3-2 victory to gain a place in the second round, away to Northampton Town. Southampton against Northampton - another coincidence? Not any more, as it will be the third time in as many years that we have been drawn against each other.

The Bristol Rovers game produced another minor coincidence, for it was to Rovers that Saints splashed out £1million to secure the services of their top striker, Rickie Lambert, who notched 29 goals for them last season and has already reached double figures for us this term. Lambert didn`t score against his old club on Friday evening, but it`s surprising how often these things crop up.

Until recently, Northampton were `managed` by former Saints player, Stuart Gray, who also had a short period managing Saints. A former player for Northampton was Damien Matthew. He started as a 7-year old for a boys club I had something to do with all those years ago and he went on to play for Chelsea and Burnley before ending his playing career with the Cobblers of Northampton. Damien is now a coach at....Charlton Athletic and was in charge of their Youth team, which Scott captained to a good run in the FA Youth Cup. Another circle complete.

But finally, it was noticeable how Saints win at Bristol on Friday evening went largely unnoticed, except to the ardent fans. Not on tv, no reports as such on Sky Sports or in the Saturday papers and just the meerest mention on local tv, all of which suits me nicely as our measured progress continues after years of decline. I`m beginning to believe this dawn may not, after all, be a false one but we`ll keep it quiet just in case.

RANT OF THE DAY....

I was talking with one of my neighbours yesterday morning and he told me that he hadn`t bought a newspaper for years and years. The reason? Because they were always full of bad news. So too is the news on television and radio; it seems impossible to avoid it and the really depressing thing is that the more you listen, look and read, the worse the news seems to get.

Almost as if to prove my neighbour right, as yesterday unfolded, a string a bad news - some of it tragic - grabbed my attention. Too many things to recount them all here but they included, of course, the outrage in Afghanistan when five more British servicemen lost their lives and even more were seriously injured. It again got me thinking that if we are going to stay there despite all my instincts telling me we should just get out and leave, then we surely are entitled to expect our`European allies` to share more of the burden that we have taken on. I don`t hear HM Gov. pressing the case about that as forcefully as it should be pressed and it makes me angry.

And speaking of our `European allies,` we also heard yesterday that the infamous Lisbon Treaty was finally signed and sealed when the Czech Prime Minister, Vaclav Klaus, finally gave in. And whilst brave servicemen and women are fighting a losing battle in Afghanistan, the political elite of Europe will now be more concerned with who might be the President and who might be the High Representative for Foreign Affairs. Mercifully, it looks as if Tony Blair`s star is on the wane and we might end up with some Belgian nonentity as President of the European Council. As long as it ain`t Blair, that`s fine, although I would still have liked to vote for a President rather than have one foisted upon me.

Whilst Blair may not get that job, there are dark rumblings that the High Representative job might go to David Milliband, the UK`s Foreign Secretary. He looks more and more as if he`s doing his gap year, so difficult is it to take him at all seriously, but if our European partners led by Rosa Klebb lookalike Angela Merkel and Sarkosy the Gallic Dwarf want to continue their nonentity quest, then Milliband of the Remove is their man. What really makes me angry though is that I`m paying for all this nonsense through my taxes, I have no say in what`s going on and any notion I ever had about the will of the people being paramount has totally disappeared in the welter of lies, broken promises and self-serving arrogance which characterises the European Project.

There, that`s better.

POTS AND KETTLES?

It`s reported that Gordon Brown telephoned Hamid Karzai yesterday to congratulate him on his election as President of Afghanistan. Hang on. If I`ve got this right, the first `election` was dogged by widespread fraud to such as extent that a second election would have been held but for the withdrawal of Karzai`s only rival, Abdullah Abdullah. So no second election then but never mind, Karzai has been installed as President nonetheless.

Brown is also reported to have urged Karzai to act swiftly to "establish the legitimacy of his Presidency in the eyes of the Afghan people." Hang on again. If I`ve got this one right as well, didn`t Brown shoehorn himself into the Premiership of this country and deny the voters the chance to "establish the legitimacy" of his Premiership by refusing to hold a General Election?

Yesterday, Staff Sergeant Olaf Schmid of the Royal Logistic Corps was killed whilst defusing a roadside bomb in Afghanistan, bringing the total of British personnel lost in that conflict to 224 - even more than in the illegal Iraq campaign. And I`m beginning to wonder how much longer we can go on losing precious lives in a conflict that may have no solution in a country where corruption is rife, despite which we are ploughing £140million a year into a dubious attempt to give a foothold to `democracy` - a concept which may not even be understood let alone welcomed in that troubled land. And I`m intrigued as to how the notion of installing even a faltering `democracy` can have any legitimacy when imposed by unelected `leaders` via an election procedure which of itself has brought democracy into disrepute.

TESTING TIMES

It`s a sure sign of getting on a bit when your grandaughter passes her driving test. Sarah, who is 17, passed hers at the first attempt on Friday thus putting one over both her Dad and her Grandad, as we both failed our first tests. I don`t know what went wrong for Sarah`s Dad, but I vividly recall my own failure which took place in Maidstone on a Tuesday morning in about 1956.

The trouble with Maidstone in those days was that it didn`t have a by-pass and there were no motorways so that all the traffic between London and the ports like Dover went right through the middle of the town. And Tuesday mornings were when the town`s market was held - a big deal in those days, so maybe not the best time for a driving test. The test centre was pretty much in the middle of the town and I drove out of there rather nervously to join the queue of traffic crawling down the hill. And then we stopped.

For twenty minutes we didn`t move and with the test supposedly lasting about half an hour, I was asked to try and turn round and crawl back to the test centre, where I was told how sorry they were but the traffic conditions did not make it possible for the test to be properly conducted. And would I like to make another appointment for a free retest on any other day than a Tuesday morning, which I did and scraped through the retest despite confessing that I didn`t have a clue about one of the Highway Code questions I was asked. (I have long suspected that they were going to pass me anyway unless I was seriously dreadful as a kind of compensation for the first attempt.)

I`m convinced that the test these days is much more thorough and difficult than it ever was when I had mine. I never had to concern myself with a theory test and the car I learnt to drive - a Hillman Minx - was pretty `basic.` Having passed the test though, I had to wait years before I could own a car of my own and when I eventually did it was a white Ford Popular 100e named Emma, with a side valve engine and lots of eccentric features. I suspect Sarah, who has been saving up for years, might already have her sights set on a car to give her the freedom of the road and a whole new outlook on life. One of life`s rites of passage has been ticked off her list. I just wonder what the next one might be.

ONE FOOT OFF THE GROUND...

Well, here we are on another day in paradise. The news on tv, radio and in the papers is not just depressing but most of it just makes me angry.

Today, the `headlines` include the farce surrounding Tony ("I`m a straight kind of guy") Blair and the will-he-won`t-he end up, God help us, as President of Europe. We learn that Britain is still in recession, whilst most if not all the other leading western countries are not. So much for Gordon Brown telling us we`re `best placed` to come through it better than others. Then a succession of disgraced MPs standing up in Parliament to apologise for their expenses misdemeanours; half-hearted apologies delivered with just the hint of a smirk in the knowledge that they`re not being forced to pay back most of their ill-gotten gains. Then more `news` concerning the X Factor, Strictly Come Dancing and other irrelevancies. And on and on it goes with my grumpy factor rising to dangerous levels.

But one thing that has evoked genuine sadness was the passing, two days ago, of `Shep.` Born in the enchanting village of Instow in Devon, which looks out across the Torridge estauary to the equally charming Appledore, David Sheppard went on to have a successful career as a batsman for Gloucestershire before becoming not only one of cricket`s very best umpires but also one of its most engaging and respected. Shep, of course, was reknowned for his ritual of standing on one leg each time the scoreboard showed 111, which represents `Nelson,` cricket`s supposed unlucky number.

The superstition is said to have originated with Admiral Lord Nelson, who supposedly had one eye, one arm and one leg - even though he had both his legs but which still adds up to bad luck in anyone`s language. It was one of cricket`s most charming moments, watching the bulky figure of Shep trying to stand on one leg until the scoreboard ticked past the fateful number. So he will be much missed and somehow it seemed fitting that he should pass away, having lost his battle with cancer, in that same Instow where he was born 68 years ago.

In a week or so, Remebrance Day will come round again and silence should fall at 11.00am on the eleventh day of the eleventh month. As I respect the silence for fallen heroes, I might just raise a foot off the ground as I remember also one of the truly beautiful game`s more endearing characters, who will probably be doing the same as the Remembrance Day clock turns to eleven on the eleventh of the eleventh.

NOT A HAPPY BARNEY..

Poor Barney`s not very well. For the last few weeks he has been fine in himself - full of the usual mischief, full of running, being very playful as usual - but in the plumbing department there have been a few problems. I will spare you the details, dear reader, but let`s just say that he has been anything but `regular` - decidedly erratic, in fact.

Now we weren`t at all sure what the reason might be. It could be that he is simply missing Judy the Soft Wheaten Terrier, with whom he has clearly fallen in love. It could be down to his eclectic diet which all retrievers are prone to adopt as they are what is known in the trade as `opportunity eaters,` which simply means that when they are let off the lead in nearby woods, they can`t resist eating just about anything and everything irrespective of what it might be. Barney`s opportunistic diet has included items such as two socks, bits of rabbit, grass, quite a bit of wood and one unguarded moment saw him demolish the entire contents of a large bowl full of peanuts, cashews and cheese and onion crisps. No wonder he has been `erratic.`

But we have had some sleepless nights. It seems he doesn`t `go` in the daytime, but he gets us up three or four or even more times at night, so he can be let out to do what he needs to do. This clearly could not go on, so a couple of visits to the vets has seen him given a dose of antibiotics and instructions for me to provide `samples` for forensic examination - a task I have yet to complete. We hope he gets back to `normal` soon (whatever that may be) but as it`s his first birthday tomorrow, he can say goodbye to any thoughts of a party with cakes and goodies. Pity really. I was quite looking forward to that.

My third visit of the season to St. Mary`s Stadium yesterday saw Saints overcome a 1-0 half time deficit to storm to a 3-1 victory over high flying MK Dons. In fact, it was the third straight 3-1 win, having beaten Southend and Oldham in the previous two away matches. But despite a rich vein of form and just one defeat in the last 11 games, Saints still remain in the relegation zone at the bottom of League One (really Division three.)

No matter, for there is a new `match day experience` to be had at St. Mary`s these days. Gone are the stifling boardroom reshuffles, gone is Rupert Lowe hopefully never to darken the door of professional football ever again and gone are the failed management experiments which brought nothing more than failure, confusion and disenchantment amongst players and supporters alike. Instead, there is a new atmosphere; one which acknowledges that the fans have their club back, that it is in good hands with our new Swiss owner, Markus Liebherr, and those charged with the day to day management of the club`s affairs.

You can feel it in the air with the substantial crowd (over 21,000 yesterday) genuinely supporting the club once more. You can see it on the pitch, with a committed team playing well for each other and their new manager, Alan Pardew. And I guess you can detect that, for this season at least, to get away from the relegation zone, survive another season at this level and reach mid-table obscurity are perhaps the only realistic expectations, however much we might harbour thoughts of end of season play-offs. So we just sit back and enjoy the proper and compelling football being served up, safe in the knowledge that a huge corner has been turned after years of all round mediocrity, but most of all we just enjoy being there again. And it has been a long time since we did that.

RAZOR SHARP...

I bought some new razor blades recently, those Gillette ones that have about five blades all in one promising a comfortable shaving experience. They were pretty expensive but I was encouraged by the notice on the packet that suggested that they would `last up to three months.`

It got me wondering about a couple of things. The first is that surely their claim depends entirely on the strength of the beard, the frequency of shaving, what kind of shaving foam or gel you use and a host of other factors. So I took it to mean that the three months was the best case scenario. Then I wondered why on earth we bother to shave at all. After all, countless millions have never bothered and some of my best friends are bearded wonders. But I`ve always done it and it`s too late now to change the habit of a lifetime (well, since I`ve been growing whiskers anyway.)

I well recall my National Service days, which started with an early morning inspection to see if we were conforming to `good order and military discipline.` One of the items for regular inspection was whether we had shaved properly. One day, I must have been a bit pushed for time and so didn`t shave very carefully, leaving a few fluffy tell-tale bristles round the back of an ear.

"Have you shaved today, lad?" bawled the drill sergeant, about 3 centimeters from my face.
"Yes, sergeant," I tremulously replied.
"Did you use a mirror, lad?"
"Yes, sergeant."
"Well, next time use a ****ing razor!!"

There were times when I could hardly keep pace with the razor sharp wit.

LOOK AWAY NOW?

The furore over tomorrow night`s edition of Question Time on BBC One seems to be gathering pace. BNP Leader Nick Griffin is due to be on the panel for the first time, due to his party gaining two seats in the European Parliament and a handful in local councils in this country. All of which supposedly make him a `legitimate` politician and at the same time provide the BBC with the problem of maintaining their so-called political neurality and their apparent `duty` to provide fair representation to all legitimate political parties. Difficult.

Also on the panel will be Justice Minister Jack Straw, Asian Tory Baroness Warsi and opinionated black American feminist, Bonnie Greer. There might still be a couple of places to fill, so look out for a gay rights campaigner and a Rabbi. It`s all about balance you see. But already there are predictions about demonstations inside and outside the recording venue. South African permatanned Welsh Secretary Peter Hain has been in correspondence with BBC Director General about the legality of allowing Griffin to appear and as I write, the BBC Trust (a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one) are meeting to `review` the DG`s conclusion that there`s nothing to worry about.

Like Strictly Come Dancing and the X Factor, Question Time tomorrow promises to be little more than a sideshow, an end-of-the-pier fols de rol, a highly charged down market entertainment rather than the serious debating hour it`s supposed to be and you can be sure that attention will all be focussed on the answers rather than the questions.

Now, in much the same way as we are warned to `look away now` if we don`t want to know the football results, I`ve had a look at the alternative viewing that is available whilst Question Time is being aired tomorrow evening. Among a host of appropriate alternatives is `Disappearing Britain,` being shown on the History Channel, `House Wreck Rescue` on Discovery Real Time and `Brit Cops : Zero Tolerance` on Virgin One. As for me, on the basis that there may be trouble ahead, but while there`s music and laughter and love and romance, I might just face the music and watch `Shall We Dance?` on the excellent BBC Four. Or switch off and go to bed which may well be the best option of all.

Someone - can`t remember who - once said something to someone along the lines of, "I find the views you hold to be utterly repulsive, but I will forever defend your right to express them." Without holding any candle for Griffin or anyone else who might appear, I just wonder whether too many people in high places have forgotten about that.

TEE HEE...

Most people don`t like Mondays and I confess to have been no different when I was at work, chained to the yoke of the nine to five and beyond. But retirement brings an altogether different perspective to most things, including Mondays.

During the latter stages of my working life, I used to drive to the office on Monday mornings and wonder what it would be like to be teeing off on the golf course at about 9.00am rather than facing the start of yet another working week. So one day - just that once - I did just that. Just to see what it was like. Now followers of this blog will know that I`m not very good at golf - possibly the understatement of the year - but I do enjoy being out in the fresh air, getting some exercise and, best of all, hitting something really hard. So I enjoyed all of those things on my naughty Monday morning but I also enjoyed the feeling of escape, release from convention, doing something that maybe I shouldn`t be doing, somewhere where maybe I should not have been. And it felt great. Monday morning, I thought, take that!

Now I`m in the depths of retirement, Mondays are different - no stress, no demands, no conventions to conform to - I have the freedom (more or less) to choose what I do and when and where. But I don`t play golf on Monday mornings any more. It`s as if I want to hang on to the memory of that clandestine morning all those years ago, whilst at the same time sparing a thought for the millions who do have to face another Monday and who might wish to be somewhere else doing something different. I do think about you, you see.

A DIFFERENT HEROISM..

A few days ago, I wrote about Marcus Trescothick courageously making the journey to India to help his county, Somerset, compete in the Champions League Twenty 20. I`m pretty sure that, like me, the whole of the cricket loving nation hoped that he might get through it and might have hoped that he could rise from the depths of his anxiety and play for England again. My, how we`ve missed him.

Sadly for us, Marcus was once again forced to return home prematurely despite his valliant attempt to deal with the depression and anxieties that have seen him abandon overseas tours in the past. But what struck me about his latest homecoming was the way it was received by the press, the media and `ordinary` cricket lovers like myself.

There was a time - not all that long ago - when Marcus would have been criticised for being weak willed, wimpish, not fit to wear the shirt and all the other instant condemnations that used to rain down on what was assumed to be human failure. But we know more now. We have grown up a bit. We understand a little more about mental difficulties, what brings them on, what they can do to people and how overwhelming they can be. And I suspect that at least some of that understanding is down to people like Marcus Trescothick, who have been open and honest about their situations. And because of his standing as a sporting hero, he has been able to bring those problems to the attention of a wider and more understanding audience. As a result, we no longer condemn, but we sympathise and we understand.

It has been hard for Marcus to have his problems aired so publicly but it seems to have been a conscious decision on his part not to hide, but to bring it out into the open so that he can avoid the dreadful alternatives that come with denial. He will always be a sporting hero - his record speaks for itself both as a player and as a man - but maybe he is also a hero of a different kind to have helped us all to be a little more tolerant and understanding than we once were.

THEY`RE TALKING HIS LANGUAGE..

A few days ago, in one of the most wonderfully ironic moments that have marked the gruesome MPs expenses affair, former Speaker of the Commons, Michael Martin, was elevated to the peerage and morphed into Baron Martin of Springburn. It was Martin, of course, who presided over the whole expenses farrago and, at the taxpayer`s expense, tried to stop those same taxpayers from finding out how the MPs had spent the taxpayers` money.

Now normally, this `promotion` to the Upper House is routine for any Speaker. But Martin was the first Speaker to be forced out of office for more than 300 years. And the House of Lords Appointments Commission, which looks at all nominations for peerages, allegedly told Number 10 that his arrival might damage the reputation of the House of Lords. Gordon Brown simply waved those objections aside which just about confirmed that the peerage was part of the tempting package which persuaded Martin to quit as Speaker.

So, earlier in the week, there he was, resplendant in scarlet and ermine robes, shuffling towards the table of the House to hear the Clerk announce the ancient, time-honoured words: "Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom know Ye that We of Our especial grace, certain knowledge and mere motion … do advance, create and prefer Our trusty and well-beloved Michael John Martin blah, blah...and also that he may enjoy all the rights, privileges, pre-eminences, immunities and advantages to the degree of Baron duly and of right belonging, which Barons of Our United Kingdom have heretofore used and enjoyed, or as they do at present use and enjoy."

Rights, privileges, pre-eminences, immunities and advantages! They`re talking his language as he looks forward to building on the minimum daily allowance of £425 for bringing his own peculiar experience of life, evasion and sheet metal working to add to the proceedings of the House.

Now if you think I may have made that all up, just spare a moment to reflect on the prospect of former Second Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, following Baron Mick of Gorbals up the golden staircase. It is apparently also routine for ex-Home Secretaries to be granted peerages and one cannot escape the notion that the prospect of Smith following Martin will most definitely put the House of Lords Appointments Commission on guard once more. But I`m not sure it will make any difference, for what else can one expect from a political leadership not only out of touch with reality but also steeped in a moral decline of its own making?

LOVE AT FIRST BITE..

Our week of looking after Judy the Soft Wheaten Terrier is up tomorrow when her owners return from their holiday in Turkey. As you can see from the photo, she and Barney have been getting along very well. In fact, I think there is now a real bond between them and I`m sure they will miss each other when the time comes to say `goodbye.`

They have enjoyed their scampers through assorted woods, played for hours, bitten each other`s ears with what I can only imagine are canine love bites - there has been the occasional squeal mainly as a result of the heightened passion blazing between them, they`ve rolled around a lot and generally shown all the signs of a blossoming relationship. I haven`t yet dared mention to Judy that Barney has had a certain `procedure,` which will cramp his style somewhat, but then who am I to spoil their last few hours of blissful company with such trifling details?

Where we have been staying is very much `country` and we have enjoyed seeing loads of birds feeding in the garden trees - I`m reliably informed that there were blue tits, great tits and even a nuthatch, so I`ve learnt something new about birds! Mrs. Snopper kept hearing noises in the night - throaty growls and grunting mainly - and she wondered if it might have been badgers or a rutting stag or even wild boar, such is the remoteness of the location. I suspect it was probably me. Well, I can dream, can`t I?

SNOPPER`S SUNDAY ROAST..

Listening to the news and reading newspapers, it`s a job to know where to begin. In a week of news that stifles optimism, the highlights have been:-

- democracy gasping for breath as the Irish Referendum on the Lisbon Treaty allegedly resulted in an overwhelming `Yes.` For me the result is actually underwhelming not of itself, although I think that now the Irish have voted twice and it`s 1-1 after extra time, there might be a case for a jump off against the clock, but because it highlights once again the disregard for the democractic process by the clunking fist of Gordon Brown. Now I don`t have a problem with `authority` as such, as long as it is fair, reasonable and democratic. But I sure as hell have a problem with `authority` when it is unfair, unreasonable and plainly undemocratic. We were promised a referendum which was denied to us by an unelected Prime Minister and I find his refusal to honour democracy not only deceitful but also deeply offensive;

- delusions of adequacy coming to the fore once more in the form of Tony Blair, who is apparently the front runner for the Presidency of the EU. I imagined, in my crushing naivety, that Presidents of countries, never mind continents, should by and large be upright, honest, decent people who can set an example and inspire confidence in those over whom they preside. So how come we are likely to get a warmongering, sycophantic, self-serving, lying- through-his-teeth, grandiose poseur? Oh, of course, it`s the EU we`re dealing with, where it takes one to know one;

- sorry seems to be the hardest word if you`re `Sir` Alex Ferguson. He has issued a statement which is little more than getting his retaliation in first before the FA consider what action, if any, to take following yet another loudmouthed outburst against match officials. The statement was apparently issued via the Manchester United tv channel for which one has to pay a subscription to view and which one is unlikely to view anyway unless one is a Manchester United fan - preaching to the converted, I think it`s called. I just hope the FA take strong action, for unless they do then the football world will continue to be bullied by this serial offender. But I`ll believe it when I see it.

So is there any consolation to be found? I could go on as there is so much more to dull the senses and depress the spirit, but despite the rantings of the insufferable Ferguson, I have, like Albert Camus, found some small solace in the world of proper football where, on a dark and wet Friday evening, the Saints overcame the shrimpers of Southend and so take a giant leap towards respectability. What was it Camus said? Oh yes, "All that I know most surely about morality and obligations, I owe to football." They should put a sign saying that on the walls of Old Trafford and Soho Square.

Enjoy your Sunday.

A SMILE ON THE FACE

Back in March, 2008, I wrote a piece on this blog about the decision by Marcus Trescothick that he could no longer continue to play test cricket and that, instead, he would concentrate on serving his county, Somerset, with whom he had been associated for 17 years having been born in the county at Keynsham. His decision followed a series of difficulties he had encountered and which had been documented in his award winning book `Coming back to Me,`that catalogued the mental torture he could no longer endure when being asked to leave home for tours abroad.

Eighteen months on and it seems that the most talented of English opening batsmen is at least beginning to face down the demons that have plagued him for so long.

I`ve just finished watching - on the Eurosport channel - Trescothick`s Somerset Sabres clinch a thrilling one-wicket win over the IPL champions Deccan Chargers in the Champions League Twenty20 in Hyderabad. Trescothick had been granted special dispensation by Somerset to delay travelling until three days after his team mates and to be accompanied for the short tour by his wife, Hayley. His ability to make the journey at all, let alone feature in the game, represents a huge turning point for him and I could not be more pleased to see him with a smile on his face once more.

He does, indeed, have plenty to be pleased about. With Justin Langer`s retirement, Trescothick has been asked to captain Somerset next season and just last week, he was named Player of the Year by the Professional Cricketers Association for his achievements in the season just gone, in which he scored just under 3,000 runs in all competitions. In his darkest days, he reminded me of those other Somerset and England openers, Harold Gimblett and Mark Lathwell, who both also suffered similar difficulties. Gimblett tragically took his own life and Lathwell simply walked away from cricket for good.

I don`t expect to see Trescothick playing for England any more, but it looks as if he is enjoying his cricket and I hope this short, carefully managed tour of India will not only keep the smile on his face but also on the faces of those who, like me, wish nothing but good for a hugely talented and decent man. Welcome back to you, Marcus.

INTO THE UNKNOWN..

Ray Mears, eat your heart out. You ain`t seen nothing yet. You might think it`s rugged battling to survive in the wilds of far off countries but until you`ve explored the hinterland of far west Kent your claim to be a survival expert looks a little thin. In a day or two, Mrs. Snopper and I, along with Barney the Retriever, are heading west to spend a week in the far flung reaches of the county. The reason? We`ve volunteered to dog sit their soft wheaten terrier (Judy) whilst our relatives go off to Turkey for a holiday.

We`ve been over there before and on Sunday we went there to find out how to survive in their surroundings and get to know the locality a bit. We were seduced by a spectacular steak pie dinner which we enjoyed and we were taken on a whistle stop tour of the area to be shown where we might take the dogs for walks and restock our dwindling supplies if necessary. We were warned about the wildlife and we did indeed encounter a deer strolling across the road on our way home. There are also reports of big cats, pumas even, roaming wild - this part of Kent has become well known for the number of confirmed sightings over the years. And we`re told the owls might keep us awake at night.

So it`s wild, untamed, unknown territory. I`ve been and bought a large scale ordnance survey map which should help us keep on the straight and narrow and this morning we have been shopping to make sure we have enough essential supplies of crunchy nut corn flakes, assorted cakes and pastries, pots of custard to go with Mr. Kipling`s exceedingly good apple pies and other indispensable items to sustain us during our adventure. You can tell from the shopping list just how courageous and daunting our week promises to be.
So wish us well. It might be a while before I can post any news of our pioneering quest so in the meantime, I`ll leave you with this image of the untamed wilderness we are about to enter:-


Click on the photo and with a little patience, a larger image should appear. It looks really daunting, doesn`t it? And I think at our age, we`re very brave to even attempt it.

MAYDAY, MAYDAY...

Well, my next door neighbour didn`t have to find his own way home and he doesn`t have to move house after all. A 4-1 humbling of his Gillingham team by a rampant Saints side at St. Mary`s yesterday finally hauled us out of the ten points penalty and into positive territory. Mind you, we are still anchored at the bottom of the league but yesterday`s performance gives real hope that Saints can climb to a position of respectability before too long.

Apart from the result, I think my neighbour enjoyed his day out and I showed him some of the sights of the imposing and historic city of Southampton on our stroll to and from the stadium. The return fixture at Gillingham`s Priestfield Stadium is not until 1st May next year. My neighbour has kindly offered to return the compliment by showing me the sights of Gillingham, encaptured by the picture above showing their expectant fans en route to Priestfield through the captivating environs of that beguiling Medway Town. I can hardly wait.

AT LAST!!

Our Golf Correspondent reports..

The par 3 hole on the challenging Princes Course at Hever Castle is the one that bears the title of `stroke index 1.` And not surprising, for it is almost all water. The tee, set with a slight elevation, is placed about 20 yards from the edge of a daunting lake which leads to a tiny island green 170 yards away where today the pin was placed only a few feet from the far edge of the water. A daunting prospect, therefore, for any golfer and one which has defeated Snopper almost every time he has attempted it. Even he has lost count of the number of golf balls he has lost in those dark forbidding waters.

But today, on his return to the fairways after a few weeks absence due to matters beyond his control, Snopper took his little grandfatherly four wood, struck the ball sweetly and saw it rise majestically over the lake and land a few feet from the pin. Two putts saw him par the hole for the first time in a long and undistinguished career. "About bleedin` time," he beamed in a post match interview.

From then on, however, the euphoria and the adrenalin rush of that moment seemed to play on the rest of his round, which inevitably ended in the now familiar mediocrity. No matter, for in that one moment on that testing hole, Snopper felt what it would be like to be a real golfer rather than persist with the haphazard, hit and hope hacking which is the hallmark of his game.

AS EVER WAS..

Once again, all that is really needed to comment on Saints` game last night is a picture of the fans looking their habitual glum selves. The other day I suggested that this week`s fixtures against Bristol Rovers last night and Gillingham on Saturday might finally drag us out of negative territory. Well, things seemed to be going ok at St. Mary`s last evening in front of an impressive philosophical gathering of 19,727. We were one up, pulled back to 1-1, went two up, pulled back to 2-2 and then, in the sixth minute of the five minutes of added time, Bristol Rovers won it 3-2 with a stunning strike from the edge of the area.

So we are still stuck on minus one point after ten games and still at least ten points adrift at the bottom of the league. The Gillingham game on Saturday now takes on added significance, for if we lose that, which we are perfectly capable of doing, then patience with manager Pardew might begin to wear a little thin. But there`s a long way to go; it`s a marathon not a sprint; Rome wasn`t built in a day and we must move on and put last night`s disappointment behind us at the end of the day. It is, indeed, as ever was.

This morning, our Saints supporting postman brought me my ticket for Saturday`s game. I`m taking my next door neighbour with me, who is an ardent Gillingham fan. I`ve told him that if his team win, then he`ll have to find his own way home. And then move. Seems fair.