The longer I live in Manchester, the more I love it. Today was the Manchester Day parade. The first I think. There was much nervousness when first suggested many months ago. Would it work? How would people react to it? Would anyone actually do anything for it? I hadn't seen much about it, and didn't see any advertising of it. But one of my patients is leading a drum and percussion band and I promised to go along to see him.
It is Father's day today. One of two days in the year when dad gets to choose. The other, of course is my birthday. So today I chose to have lunch in Castlefield before going on to the parade. It is a lovely bright sunny day, and we catch the bus into town. A short walk through the centre and along the canal, and we emerge at Dukes 92. The place is packed, but amazingly there's a table right in the sun. A BBQ is on , so that's what we go for. The meal is over priced and awful, but it's such a nice day we don't really mind. It must be awful being famous and not being able to go out into town on such an occasion, and just taking in the atmosphere.
Note to self - get BBQ back.
Then on to Deansagate. There are thousands of people lining the street. Many many more than I was expecting. As we walk past a man in a yellow jacket, he calls 'doctor Benett. You're my doctor init'. I shake his hand a try to remember if I've ever seen him. He does look familiar, but I can't recall his name.
'See what I mean about being famous' I whisper to Rachel.
As the parade begins a sense of excitement spreads through the crowd. Everyone stands just a bit taller. Well we might, for the procession lasts over a hour, with too many exhibits to count, but may be thirty or more. There's a Chinese dragon and further on a tiger, Scots bag pipes, Irish dances, Jamaican calypso amongst many others. The Empires' Storm Troopers at one point march menacingly down the main street led by Darth Vader himself. They are followed by a bus carrying what looks like a load of Christian feminists singing something that is totally drowned out by the rest of the noise.
My patients' troop also took the parade by storm. Their rhythmical drums being lead by Samba dancers. Their brass section is conducted, rather incongruously, by a white man in a suit.
The whole spectacle was magnificent. A brilliant tribute to Manchester and it's people. And the weather helped for once. I love Manchester.
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Sunday, 6 June 2010
A perfect baguette
Nick threw a party for Jo yesterday and many of the usual faces were there. It was fun and we had a great time. Relatively early on Sarah asked me what a perfect baguette was. I have mentioned it in an earlier blog.
The idea of a perfect baguette first came up, for me anyway, when I went on a cycling holiday about five years ago with Tim Ade Chris and Simon. We cycled in France in the Dordogne region. At lunchtime we would stop for a beer and baguette. Tim and I came up with the idea of searching for the perfect baguette as each successive one we had got better and better. We wondered if they could continue to get better and better and, indeed, whether we would recognise the perfect baguette when we had it. So we thought of doing a sort of travel book and call in 'In search of the perfect baguette'. It would be, of course, a metaphor for the search for happiness, the questions being whether we would recognise it when we saw it and whether it was, in any case, achievable at all. In the end Heidi explained to Sarah what I had meant.
***
The Policeman glared through the car window to see two boys with bleary eyes staring back. The thought that the Devil himself was about to take us away had turned to rabbit-like paralysis as the torch shone in our eyes.
'Who's driving this car' he asked sternly.
'I am' I replied in as un-guilty a tone as I could.
'Have you been drinking?'
'N no' I stuttered indignantly.
'Well who's car is this?' asked the still sceptical Policeman.
Silence.
Spud looked at me.
I looked at Spud.
Then completely inexplicably and at preceisely the same time I pointed at him, and he pointed at me.
There was another silence, probably shorter than it seemed, as the absurdity of what we had just done, sunk in.
'May I ask you to step out of the car sir?' said the Policeman in a Yorkshire Dixon of Dock Green sort of way' 'I shall have to ask you to breath into this bag'. I tried really hard, and succeeded, in not saying 'certainly ossifer'. I was trying, by this time, not to giggle nervously, as the farcical nature of our predicament became clearer. I was confident about the breathalyser test as I'd only had one pint that night and that was about four hours ago. Sure enough the test was good.
'I'd like you to accompany me to station, for a statement'. We protested of course, but there was no way of changing his mind, he needed to know that what we were saying about the true ownership of the car was in fact correct.
So that's how we got to spend the night in Malton police cells. We were allowed a phone call, so we decided to call Spuds brother, and I called my friend Phil. I asked him to let my parents know that I was out for the night and would be back in the morning. He promised to spare the details. To this day I'm not sure if they know about the truth of that night.
But it wasn't over yet. We still had to get back, and I still didn't know my 'A' level results
***
Nick and Jo look like they may have found their own perfect baguettes. I hope so, they make a great couple
The idea of a perfect baguette first came up, for me anyway, when I went on a cycling holiday about five years ago with Tim Ade Chris and Simon. We cycled in France in the Dordogne region. At lunchtime we would stop for a beer and baguette. Tim and I came up with the idea of searching for the perfect baguette as each successive one we had got better and better. We wondered if they could continue to get better and better and, indeed, whether we would recognise the perfect baguette when we had it. So we thought of doing a sort of travel book and call in 'In search of the perfect baguette'. It would be, of course, a metaphor for the search for happiness, the questions being whether we would recognise it when we saw it and whether it was, in any case, achievable at all. In the end Heidi explained to Sarah what I had meant.
***
The Policeman glared through the car window to see two boys with bleary eyes staring back. The thought that the Devil himself was about to take us away had turned to rabbit-like paralysis as the torch shone in our eyes.
'Who's driving this car' he asked sternly.
'I am' I replied in as un-guilty a tone as I could.
'Have you been drinking?'
'N no' I stuttered indignantly.
'Well who's car is this?' asked the still sceptical Policeman.
Silence.
Spud looked at me.
I looked at Spud.
Then completely inexplicably and at preceisely the same time I pointed at him, and he pointed at me.
There was another silence, probably shorter than it seemed, as the absurdity of what we had just done, sunk in.
'May I ask you to step out of the car sir?' said the Policeman in a Yorkshire Dixon of Dock Green sort of way' 'I shall have to ask you to breath into this bag'. I tried really hard, and succeeded, in not saying 'certainly ossifer'. I was trying, by this time, not to giggle nervously, as the farcical nature of our predicament became clearer. I was confident about the breathalyser test as I'd only had one pint that night and that was about four hours ago. Sure enough the test was good.
'I'd like you to accompany me to station, for a statement'. We protested of course, but there was no way of changing his mind, he needed to know that what we were saying about the true ownership of the car was in fact correct.
So that's how we got to spend the night in Malton police cells. We were allowed a phone call, so we decided to call Spuds brother, and I called my friend Phil. I asked him to let my parents know that I was out for the night and would be back in the morning. He promised to spare the details. To this day I'm not sure if they know about the truth of that night.
But it wasn't over yet. We still had to get back, and I still didn't know my 'A' level results
***
Nick and Jo look like they may have found their own perfect baguettes. I hope so, they make a great couple
Friday, 4 June 2010
An encounter with the Devil
OK enough suspense. What happened between Scarborough and getting my 'A' level results?
Travelling back from Scarborough was fine, but we'd forgotten one thing. Petrol. Suddenly one of us noticed that the petrol gauge was desperately hovering around the 'empty' point. 'We'll have to stop for petrol' one said to the other. But there was nowhere to stop, as we rushed past a sign to Malton. Maybe there's somewhere open on the way, but come to think of it, all of them had been closed so far.
'We'd better stop at the next lay by and get some in the morning' I said to Spud, or he said to me. So we stopped. Spud got in the back and I stayed in the drivers seat, and we settled down for a broken nights sleep. I thought we were both in the front, but Spud thinks he was in the back. Anyway I don't think it matters too much, but visually it works better if we were both in the front. So you decide.
There are no street lights. The stars are extra bright, the extra bright they are when the rest of the countryside is the colour of pitch. We're in a lay by in North Yorkshire and of course all the weird horror films you'd ever seen suddenly come to mind, especially when you are two rather overtired and excitable young men. Eventually, after seeing off ghouls and ghosts and werewolves we settle down.
You know what it's like, you're just dropping off to sleep and something wakes you with a start. You're already a bit on edge. It doesn't matter what it is but you're just not with it for a couple of seconds, and for a brief moment you think something terrible is happening. So we'd just dropped off into a deep weary sleep, a dreaming sleep, a sleep when weird things happen. Suddenly there's a loud bang on the window.
There staring through the window is someone dressed in a blue pointy hat and shining a torch at us, so that his face is distorted in the light. It is, of course, a policeman, but for a moment it could have been the Devil himself. I've learnt since then that the Devil takes a female form, but then I still thought he was male. Both of us are completely startled AND paralysed. 'We're not bad boys'. 'We're really sorry, but we haven't done anything wrong' thoughts rushing through my head, you know, when you see a policeman you feel you must have done something wrong. Then we realised that we actually hadn't done anything wrong, and all he wanted was for us to wind the window down.
But we had done something wrong.
Travelling back from Scarborough was fine, but we'd forgotten one thing. Petrol. Suddenly one of us noticed that the petrol gauge was desperately hovering around the 'empty' point. 'We'll have to stop for petrol' one said to the other. But there was nowhere to stop, as we rushed past a sign to Malton. Maybe there's somewhere open on the way, but come to think of it, all of them had been closed so far.
'We'd better stop at the next lay by and get some in the morning' I said to Spud, or he said to me. So we stopped. Spud got in the back and I stayed in the drivers seat, and we settled down for a broken nights sleep. I thought we were both in the front, but Spud thinks he was in the back. Anyway I don't think it matters too much, but visually it works better if we were both in the front. So you decide.
There are no street lights. The stars are extra bright, the extra bright they are when the rest of the countryside is the colour of pitch. We're in a lay by in North Yorkshire and of course all the weird horror films you'd ever seen suddenly come to mind, especially when you are two rather overtired and excitable young men. Eventually, after seeing off ghouls and ghosts and werewolves we settle down.
You know what it's like, you're just dropping off to sleep and something wakes you with a start. You're already a bit on edge. It doesn't matter what it is but you're just not with it for a couple of seconds, and for a brief moment you think something terrible is happening. So we'd just dropped off into a deep weary sleep, a dreaming sleep, a sleep when weird things happen. Suddenly there's a loud bang on the window.
There staring through the window is someone dressed in a blue pointy hat and shining a torch at us, so that his face is distorted in the light. It is, of course, a policeman, but for a moment it could have been the Devil himself. I've learnt since then that the Devil takes a female form, but then I still thought he was male. Both of us are completely startled AND paralysed. 'We're not bad boys'. 'We're really sorry, but we haven't done anything wrong' thoughts rushing through my head, you know, when you see a policeman you feel you must have done something wrong. Then we realised that we actually hadn't done anything wrong, and all he wanted was for us to wind the window down.
But we had done something wrong.
Thursday, 3 June 2010
Scarborough by night
I've been to the gym this morning in an attempt to regain a little fitness for the up coming bike ride from Edinburgh to Newcastle. Apparently, people normally take five days over it. Why the hell we're doing it in three I don't know. I don;t suppose once a fortnight is going to help really, but I've paid my membership and I feel good after it. I'm banking on everyone else being enthusiastic amateurs. I'll wrote about it. You'll see.
I had an encouraging message from Kim in Australia, welcoming my return to the blogosphere. I didn't think anyone still read them.Better be careful what i say. Already got into big trouble.
Alright I haven't forgotten. The day of the exam results thirty five years ago. We set off to Scarborough. Me and Spud, and Spud's dads car and very little money. The roads were clear and we got there by 3.30am. We stopped on the cliff over looking the bay. The moon was full, and glistened on the quiet water. The lights lined the streets. Quiet. At three o'clock in the morning, I can report, Scarborough is silent. Even a simpering ghost would have disturbed the tranquility. Scarborough was dead.
We looked at each other. Spud lit a roll up and we looked at each other again, and repeated the earlier conversation. 'What do we do now?'... 'We better get back then' two 17/18 year olds told each other. And that's what we tried to do.
***
I went to my home group tonight for the first time in ages. I don't know why I have missed them I guess they weren't in my diary. The home group is a group of people attached to the church, it's a sort of Bible study /social group. Tonight was a social occasion. We went to someones house way outside Manchester in a little Cheshire village called Nether Peover. The house is beautiful and we are entertained to wonderful food and sparkling rose wine. It is good catching up with them and I intend to restart going. They are mostly medics or headteachers and people like that, and they have a bit of an evangelical fundamentalist bent, and they can be a bit overpowering to people not from that social stratum, but they are good people with sharp and inquisitive minds. They are also funny, which helps a lot. I like them.
My spiritual life has been rather neglected recently and, prompted by Spud, needs reinvigorating. Spud is the guitarist for his church band, would you believe. A most unlikely convert, although, come to think of it he has always had a spiritual bent. I think he was a 'Christadelphian' when we were young. He, or his church anyway, were on the morning service last Sunday and he sent me a link to hear it. The programme was very good, although I only listened to the music. Fortunately I new all the tunes since they are much the same as the ones played at my current church. In fact both churches are called Emanuel, his in Norwood and mine in Didsbury.
Anyway the link to the podcast is as follows: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006qnds
And that wasn't the only link of the week. Try this one, it's funny http://en.tackfilm.se/?id=1274644354921RA41
I had an encouraging message from Kim in Australia, welcoming my return to the blogosphere. I didn't think anyone still read them.Better be careful what i say. Already got into big trouble.
Alright I haven't forgotten. The day of the exam results thirty five years ago. We set off to Scarborough. Me and Spud, and Spud's dads car and very little money. The roads were clear and we got there by 3.30am. We stopped on the cliff over looking the bay. The moon was full, and glistened on the quiet water. The lights lined the streets. Quiet. At three o'clock in the morning, I can report, Scarborough is silent. Even a simpering ghost would have disturbed the tranquility. Scarborough was dead.
We looked at each other. Spud lit a roll up and we looked at each other again, and repeated the earlier conversation. 'What do we do now?'... 'We better get back then' two 17/18 year olds told each other. And that's what we tried to do.
***
I went to my home group tonight for the first time in ages. I don't know why I have missed them I guess they weren't in my diary. The home group is a group of people attached to the church, it's a sort of Bible study /social group. Tonight was a social occasion. We went to someones house way outside Manchester in a little Cheshire village called Nether Peover. The house is beautiful and we are entertained to wonderful food and sparkling rose wine. It is good catching up with them and I intend to restart going. They are mostly medics or headteachers and people like that, and they have a bit of an evangelical fundamentalist bent, and they can be a bit overpowering to people not from that social stratum, but they are good people with sharp and inquisitive minds. They are also funny, which helps a lot. I like them.
My spiritual life has been rather neglected recently and, prompted by Spud, needs reinvigorating. Spud is the guitarist for his church band, would you believe. A most unlikely convert, although, come to think of it he has always had a spiritual bent. I think he was a 'Christadelphian' when we were young. He, or his church anyway, were on the morning service last Sunday and he sent me a link to hear it. The programme was very good, although I only listened to the music. Fortunately I new all the tunes since they are much the same as the ones played at my current church. In fact both churches are called Emanuel, his in Norwood and mine in Didsbury.
Anyway the link to the podcast is as follows: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006qnds
And that wasn't the only link of the week. Try this one, it's funny http://en.tackfilm.se/?id=1274644354921RA41
Monday, 31 May 2010
May Bank Holiday and a trip to Scarborough
It's May Bank Holiday today. Sarah and I have begun semi-serious training on our bikes for the Edinburgh to Newcastle trip we're attempting in about a months time. Seventy miles in three days, the prospect becomes more frightening the more I say it. So today we've done a lot of cycling. We cycled all the way to Salford Quays and had a lovely time in the sun. Hopefully our East coast trip in a few weeks will be just as wind free and sunny, but not too hot, and perhaps a light breeze.
Talking of the East coast, where was I? Oh yes, the day before our 'A' level results. The following day would determine the rest of our lives. I needed four 'A' grades and Spud needed similar. Several of my class were trying for medical school. Those who weren't were hoping for an Arts degree. Phil had already got into Oxford, well virtually, I think he needed two 'E's or something. The rest of us were worried.
So that night we decided to go out, and where better than to the Top Ten club, venue for many a rocking evening with Harvey.
Harvey was our band. Me, Spud, my brother Peter, Pete on key boards and Geoff the drummer. We were Harvey and had, not quite, taking the town by storm. The first high school band, and it was great.
We played at a few venues around Huddersfield, but our favourite was the Top Ten. We'd start off with Jumping Jack Flash or 'Alright now' and go through the, admittedly meagre, repertoire and finishing with 'Nights in White Satin'. The girls loved it, and after all, that was the point. Hopefully if enough of our friends were in they'd cheer and we'd do an encore. They got an encore whether they cheered or not, and for this we did 'The House of the Rising Sun'. It was the best and rockyest version ever and I loved it. I can still remember finishing with it at a school disco and the house coming down. I controlled the audience with a flick of my hair. OK so this bit might have become embellished over time, but who cares. These were great times, and they were about to end for ever. So why not end them at the Top Ten Club. No gig tonight, just a handful of anxious sixth formers.
Now sixth formers with no money can spin out a glass of beer, and that's what we did. There was Gordon and Phil and me and Spud, and a few others. The somber and sober evening drew to a close. The chairs were going onto the table tops and the hoover sounded chucking out time.
'What do we do now?' one of us asked. I can't remember if it was me or Spud. For everyone else it was time to go home. For me and Spud, the night was yet young. 'What is there to do?'. 'F all here' we stared out of the window as the occasional car or taxi drove up a silent main street.
'I know, lets go to Scarborough' he said to me or I said to him, I can't remember. And that's how we got the idea. Spuds parents were in Majorca for the week, but their car was in the garage, and I had a driving licence. And that's how, at 2 o'clock in the morning we set off for Scarborough.
Talking of the East coast, where was I? Oh yes, the day before our 'A' level results. The following day would determine the rest of our lives. I needed four 'A' grades and Spud needed similar. Several of my class were trying for medical school. Those who weren't were hoping for an Arts degree. Phil had already got into Oxford, well virtually, I think he needed two 'E's or something. The rest of us were worried.
So that night we decided to go out, and where better than to the Top Ten club, venue for many a rocking evening with Harvey.
Harvey was our band. Me, Spud, my brother Peter, Pete on key boards and Geoff the drummer. We were Harvey and had, not quite, taking the town by storm. The first high school band, and it was great.
We played at a few venues around Huddersfield, but our favourite was the Top Ten. We'd start off with Jumping Jack Flash or 'Alright now' and go through the, admittedly meagre, repertoire and finishing with 'Nights in White Satin'. The girls loved it, and after all, that was the point. Hopefully if enough of our friends were in they'd cheer and we'd do an encore. They got an encore whether they cheered or not, and for this we did 'The House of the Rising Sun'. It was the best and rockyest version ever and I loved it. I can still remember finishing with it at a school disco and the house coming down. I controlled the audience with a flick of my hair. OK so this bit might have become embellished over time, but who cares. These were great times, and they were about to end for ever. So why not end them at the Top Ten Club. No gig tonight, just a handful of anxious sixth formers.
Now sixth formers with no money can spin out a glass of beer, and that's what we did. There was Gordon and Phil and me and Spud, and a few others. The somber and sober evening drew to a close. The chairs were going onto the table tops and the hoover sounded chucking out time.
'What do we do now?' one of us asked. I can't remember if it was me or Spud. For everyone else it was time to go home. For me and Spud, the night was yet young. 'What is there to do?'. 'F all here' we stared out of the window as the occasional car or taxi drove up a silent main street.
'I know, lets go to Scarborough' he said to me or I said to him, I can't remember. And that's how we got the idea. Spuds parents were in Majorca for the week, but their car was in the garage, and I had a driving licence. And that's how, at 2 o'clock in the morning we set off for Scarborough.
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Spud and a trip to Scarborough
There we were overlooking Scarborough at 3.30am. Spud and me. Wondering what to do next. We were 17 and the world was about to be our oyster. It was the day of our 'A' level results.
Last Wednesday I had been invited to speak to a pharmaceutical company and their 'advisory Board'. An expenses paid trip to London to tell them how I manage angina, so that they can work out how to position their new drug. I get asked to these things now and they are a moderate source of income. I don't know what the going rate is, but I thought 500 was OK.
Two weeks earlier I had got a surprise when, who should appear on facebook, but me old mate Spud. He had responded to me posting my frustration and disappointment with the outcome of the election. Not that I can be critical of anyone else. I voted LibDem and got ConDem(ed). Never again. Still with any luck they will crash and burn between them, hopefully without causing too much damage to the rest of us. Mea Culpa. Anyway Spud, through face book, said he agree. No one else commented.
I hadn't seen Spud since the first few weeks of University. We both came to Manchester and, at the time, almost inseparable. Once at uni we went our separate ways, until one day I discovered that he had dropped out. That was the last I heard of him. Until a couple of weeks ago. Oh sure, there were rumours that he was working at Heathrow as a baggage handler, but nothing concrete and no way of confirming it. It turned out, from facebook that he was alive and well and living in London.
Facebook is a wonderful medium I think, despite it's problems with security. So we began to exchange messages, feeling our way about whether to meet up again.
Dave Goodridge 18 May at 19:44 Hi Ivan
Sorry for not replying earlier, I'm communicationally challenged [strange for a so called professional communicator]. I'm OK still seventeen, although appearance now belies that fact. I'm now living in a flat (should I say apartment) in Ruislip, a quiet NW London suburb (well it was!) since my strange wife kicked me out of the family abode five years ago.
Oddly enough after years of bashing me banjo I'm now a civil servant (only middle ranking - not one of yer mandolins you understand). I work on International Trade Policy in Dept of Business and DFID - a vague area for a vague person I hear you chortle, still it's a living, just!
Strange times wot wiv the election, at least we have a Lib dem Secretary of State [call me Vince] and a Lib dem Minister [call me Ed], could have been worse, much worse.
I 'became' a Christian few years back, full immersion etc like your mob but I'm not very good at it! You know me.
A quick plug they're broadcasting our morning service on Radio 4 on 30th May - listen out for how not to play guitar in a worship band.
This is probably a bit long for social networking but you can email me on davejgoodridge@tiscali.co.uk
all the best doc. .
Ivan Benett 18 May at 23:30 What do you mean 'my mob'??? great to hear from you old chum. I'm down in London on Tuesday night if you're about. Probably staying around Victoria station in a hotel. I'm pleased you are still trying to perfect your riffs and entertaining the troops. Glad also you're still 17...me too. Two ex wives and four kids to prove it.
My mum is staying with me for a couple of days, She says Hi .
Dave Goodridge 18 May at 23:45 I recall in my ever misty memory that your family were of the Baptist persuasion. Do you mean next Tuesday? We could meet up as I work in Victoria literally 5 mins from the station. .
Ivan Benett 19 May at 22:56 Ey lad, next Tuesday night. I hope you haven't lost your Yorkshire accent. Remember Masham police cells?? Anyway it would be great to see you on Tuesday evening. I'm staying, hopefully, at the hotel in Victoria but yet to confirm, and attending a meeting on the Wednesday.
My phone number is 07900357867. Send me yours and I can let you know exactly .
Dave Goodridge 19 May at 23:42 Accent still intact even after 18 years in this beer desert and 15 years wandering before that. Never forget Malton, it makes a good tale for the kids, they think they're the dogs - little do they know! If you're stuck for a place you can rough it at my hovel [not that rough I have a bed settee and lots of toys], it's about an hour out of town but you'd have the advantage of being guided by a professional commuter. Be great to meet up on Tuesday whatever, my number is 07751234567
cu anon
And so we met up last Tuesday evening and remembered our trip to Scarborough that fateful night.
Last Wednesday I had been invited to speak to a pharmaceutical company and their 'advisory Board'. An expenses paid trip to London to tell them how I manage angina, so that they can work out how to position their new drug. I get asked to these things now and they are a moderate source of income. I don't know what the going rate is, but I thought 500 was OK.
Two weeks earlier I had got a surprise when, who should appear on facebook, but me old mate Spud. He had responded to me posting my frustration and disappointment with the outcome of the election. Not that I can be critical of anyone else. I voted LibDem and got ConDem(ed). Never again. Still with any luck they will crash and burn between them, hopefully without causing too much damage to the rest of us. Mea Culpa. Anyway Spud, through face book, said he agree. No one else commented.
I hadn't seen Spud since the first few weeks of University. We both came to Manchester and, at the time, almost inseparable. Once at uni we went our separate ways, until one day I discovered that he had dropped out. That was the last I heard of him. Until a couple of weeks ago. Oh sure, there were rumours that he was working at Heathrow as a baggage handler, but nothing concrete and no way of confirming it. It turned out, from facebook that he was alive and well and living in London.
Facebook is a wonderful medium I think, despite it's problems with security. So we began to exchange messages, feeling our way about whether to meet up again.
Dave Goodridge 18 May at 19:44 Hi Ivan
Sorry for not replying earlier, I'm communicationally challenged [strange for a so called professional communicator]. I'm OK still seventeen, although appearance now belies that fact. I'm now living in a flat (should I say apartment) in Ruislip, a quiet NW London suburb (well it was!) since my strange wife kicked me out of the family abode five years ago.
Oddly enough after years of bashing me banjo I'm now a civil servant (only middle ranking - not one of yer mandolins you understand). I work on International Trade Policy in Dept of Business and DFID - a vague area for a vague person I hear you chortle, still it's a living, just!
Strange times wot wiv the election, at least we have a Lib dem Secretary of State [call me Vince] and a Lib dem Minister [call me Ed], could have been worse, much worse.
I 'became' a Christian few years back, full immersion etc like your mob but I'm not very good at it! You know me.
A quick plug they're broadcasting our morning service on Radio 4 on 30th May - listen out for how not to play guitar in a worship band.
This is probably a bit long for social networking but you can email me on davejgoodridge@tiscali.co.uk
all the best doc. .
Ivan Benett 18 May at 23:30 What do you mean 'my mob'??? great to hear from you old chum. I'm down in London on Tuesday night if you're about. Probably staying around Victoria station in a hotel. I'm pleased you are still trying to perfect your riffs and entertaining the troops. Glad also you're still 17...me too. Two ex wives and four kids to prove it.
My mum is staying with me for a couple of days, She says Hi .
Dave Goodridge 18 May at 23:45 I recall in my ever misty memory that your family were of the Baptist persuasion. Do you mean next Tuesday? We could meet up as I work in Victoria literally 5 mins from the station. .
Ivan Benett 19 May at 22:56 Ey lad, next Tuesday night. I hope you haven't lost your Yorkshire accent. Remember Masham police cells?? Anyway it would be great to see you on Tuesday evening. I'm staying, hopefully, at the hotel in Victoria but yet to confirm, and attending a meeting on the Wednesday.
My phone number is 07900357867. Send me yours and I can let you know exactly .
Dave Goodridge 19 May at 23:42 Accent still intact even after 18 years in this beer desert and 15 years wandering before that. Never forget Malton, it makes a good tale for the kids, they think they're the dogs - little do they know! If you're stuck for a place you can rough it at my hovel [not that rough I have a bed settee and lots of toys], it's about an hour out of town but you'd have the advantage of being guided by a professional commuter. Be great to meet up on Tuesday whatever, my number is 07751234567
cu anon
And so we met up last Tuesday evening and remembered our trip to Scarborough that fateful night.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
How things have changed
Manchester City 0 Manchester United 1, Tottenham Hotspurs 2 Chelsea 1, what a good day of football! Those poor City fans should know better than to raise their hopes, but they did. They really thought they could do it, which is what makes it all the more sweet for us and sour for them.
This week has seen the start of the election campaign, and it took off with the leaders debate. Everyone, including me, thought Nick Clegg stole the show. I even said I would vote Lib Dem. I'd certainly consider it more now. A poll today puts them on 29% of something, and the other two only just ahead. I do believe they have the most progressive policies, Labour need a spell in opposition, and the Tories remain odious. Nobody really likes either of the old parties. I could be a very unusual election, for sure.
The other big news is the 'cloud' of volcanic ash. No one can actually see it from down here, but it has put a stop to all flights in or out of UK airspace, which means Emily is stranded here. Mum and dad too can't fly off to the Gambia, and we have had to forgo our Jersey trip. It's lovely to see more of Emily.
This week has seen the start of the election campaign, and it took off with the leaders debate. Everyone, including me, thought Nick Clegg stole the show. I even said I would vote Lib Dem. I'd certainly consider it more now. A poll today puts them on 29% of something, and the other two only just ahead. I do believe they have the most progressive policies, Labour need a spell in opposition, and the Tories remain odious. Nobody really likes either of the old parties. I could be a very unusual election, for sure.
The other big news is the 'cloud' of volcanic ash. No one can actually see it from down here, but it has put a stop to all flights in or out of UK airspace, which means Emily is stranded here. Mum and dad too can't fly off to the Gambia, and we have had to forgo our Jersey trip. It's lovely to see more of Emily.
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