Emily is home tomorrow - yeay. With new boyfriend Sean. It's weird her being away for so long, and the longer she stays the more likely it is to become permanent. Still whatever makes her happy. I'll always be proud of her and be there for her. I wonder what this Sean is going to be like then. No pressure on him I guess. Shall I do the fierce, fatuous or hilariously funny father? I don't know yet, I'll be meeting him tomorrow. Better be sensible I suppose.
Lizzy is waiting for her 'A' level results in a week or so. I'm so proud of her too. Let me make it clear, I'm proud of all of my children in equal measure, and will be proud of Lizzie whatever her results. She wants to go into a very demanding profession, social work. She has a distant aunt who is high up in the Aussy system. It would be good if she did a placement out there. I'd go with her of course.
What about Rachel, you can't say fairer than top marks in her year at Uni? She's working too long hours as a waitress. Jonny, I've spoken of recently anyway, and is, as far as I know, safe and well and on the way to Santiago.
I have a new charge though. Hammid is a nineteen year old from Afghanistan. He is seeking refugee status but the crazy system is blocking him. His father was shot by the Taliban and his brother too. He was smuggled here in a van, but because he had to stop in France when he developed appendicitis, he can't seek asylum here, only in the first port of call. He's scared witless, but the authorities wont listen. meanwhile, I'm determined to keep him safe.
I'll be 54 at the end of this week. 54 years OLD
Friday, 6 August 2010
Monday, 2 August 2010
Relief
It is with great relief that I can announce that Jonny has been able to pick up the money I sent him through Western Union. It was accompanied by a phone call from a very relieved Jonny too. It is still amazing to me that the money transfer could have happened at all, so far away.
There we are then. It saves me wondering how he will survive.
Emily is coming home this weekend, for a week. I'm looking forward to that too. I haven't seen her for what seems like ages. I do miss her greatly.
On another, more exciting note, Sarah and I are going to Sipan Island, Croatia for a week. It looks absolutely spectacular. I can't wait. I have found a photo of the place.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Jonny's in Bolivia
I wasn't sure where Bolivia actually is, so I got hold of map. It has borders with five other South American countries. It's where Jonny, my wandering son, is right now. It's also where Ernesto “if you tremble indignation at every injustice then you are a comrade of mine” Guevara was killed.
He's in Vallegrande to be precise. A small town south-west of Santa Cruz de la Sierra. It was here, at the hospitals mortuary, that the body of 'Che' Guevara was put on public display after his execution by the US backed Bolivian army in 1967. His burial site was kept secret to stop it becoming one of pilgrimage, the cowards. In 1995 his body was discovered near the airstrip at Vallegrande . On October 17, 1997, the remains, were sent to Cuba, with those of six of his fellow combatants. They were laid to rest with full military honors in an especially built mausoleum in the Cuban city of Santa Clara, where he had lead the decisive military victory of the Cuban Revolution. Before he was killed his executioner, Mario Terán, asked if he was thinking about his own immortality. "No", replied Che, "I'm thinking about the immortality of the revolution."
Jonny's there but can't access any money. There are no cash points that work in Vallegrande. The Bolivian currency is the Boliviano. The exchange rate is about 10:1. There seems to be a bank though, and an Internet cafe. Thank goodness for modern technology and the wonders of science. So no need to panic.
It turns out there is a simple way of transferring money these days. It took me a little time to find out, and some help from Rachel. The transfer has to be through the Western Union bank. You can do it online if you register, but strangely they don't take visa debit cards. So we had to do it by phone 0800 833 833. It's so much better to talk to someone who knows what they are doing in these situations. I'm still unsure if he's going to pick up the money, but we've done what we can for now. Unfortunately I told Anne who, like when she was told that his airline had crashed, began to 'spaz out'. It's what mothers do. Of course the aeroplane hadn't crashed, just the company - Zoom.
I remember I was in Paris with my cousin Marilyn. I had been tipped off by Rachel that this had happened and had sorted it out already when I got the panicky call. I was tempted to keep the suspense going but it wasn't worth it.
So I hope Jonny gets the money and is safe. I'm also very proud of him for making this trip and taking the risk. It's what I would have liked to have been brave enough to do. I'm glad he made the pilgrimage.
Thieving bastard
I don't know what to say really. Last Tuesday some bastard stole my new red 'stumpjumper' specialized bike from the locked garden shed. They can in and unscrewed to door from its hinges. Fortunately I don't have an emotional attachment to it, except it was the on hat accompanied me on my trip from Edinburgh.
Then, to compound the damn cheek of it, he came back to take whatever else was there. This time though Hamid spotted him and gave chase. He didn't catch as he disappeared down a side street. I'm not sure what Hamid would have done if he'd caught him. Apparently he was a big white guy with a shaved head. I suppose i can get it back on insurance so it's not all bad.
The worst aspect of it is the feeling that I must have been watch with the bike and putting it into the shed. I used to feel very safe here, at least after Sam let. Anyway, mustn't let these things get to you, and I still have my old trusty bike.
***
On a hot summers night in 1974, four or five young men were beging to get ready for a streak.
I was at the front and off came the clothes. 'Come on guys' I beckoned as I ran out through the glass front door. I headed up the path a short way and turned to see how far back my chums were. My colleagues, my compadrays, my fellow travellers.
They weren't anywhere. Well they were, they were just heading back inside and closing the door behind then. Quick as a flash, a streek even, I ran back to prevent them closing the door, and then, no doubt locking me out in my birthday suit.
I stretched out my arm to the wooden frame and missed.
I can remember a lot of lughter from behind the door, then a great shattering sound of splintered glass, more laughter which then sudddenly changed to silence. Smiling faces became ashen.
I looken down to see glass all over the floor, and then saw my left arm. A six inch flat had been sliced to reveal white shinny bone, and higher up a four inch gash also to the bone. I had no pain.
As I looked at the bare flesh it quickly began to turn red, and then to drip blood onto the floor. My brother was lead off to sit down while other sensible people called an ambulance. While waiting for them I had to get some of my clothes back on. With my left arm in the air to try to stem the blood flow i out on my underpant. i gave uo with the rest. Fortunately all function was present and correct. I had missed any major nerves or arteries, and no other exposed part of my anatomy had been damaged.
The ambulance took me to casualty, and the poor registrar was got out of bed. i remember how meticulous he was. The adrenalin pumpng through me had made me high and I was jabbering away to the nurse, telling how I'd been accepted to medical school, what we'ed been up to and all sorts of nonsense until eventually she say 'I think it would be better if we just had quiet while the doctor finishes off'. I got hte message and shut up.
My parents came to see me later that day. Dad had to be given a chair to sit down. Few words were said as the space between anger and relief has no words.
I was in hospital for a week, and had become a legend at school. Jack Addy the teacher in charge of the 'special paper' had come in to see how I was, and thinly disguised his 'disappointment' with me not taking the paper more seriously. As for my friends I got lots of visitors and was briefly a hero.
I don't know what happened to Grahams parents front door. I assume it got mended. Grahams parents never spoke to me again
Then, to compound the damn cheek of it, he came back to take whatever else was there. This time though Hamid spotted him and gave chase. He didn't catch as he disappeared down a side street. I'm not sure what Hamid would have done if he'd caught him. Apparently he was a big white guy with a shaved head. I suppose i can get it back on insurance so it's not all bad.
The worst aspect of it is the feeling that I must have been watch with the bike and putting it into the shed. I used to feel very safe here, at least after Sam let. Anyway, mustn't let these things get to you, and I still have my old trusty bike.
***
On a hot summers night in 1974, four or five young men were beging to get ready for a streak.
I was at the front and off came the clothes. 'Come on guys' I beckoned as I ran out through the glass front door. I headed up the path a short way and turned to see how far back my chums were. My colleagues, my compadrays, my fellow travellers.
They weren't anywhere. Well they were, they were just heading back inside and closing the door behind then. Quick as a flash, a streek even, I ran back to prevent them closing the door, and then, no doubt locking me out in my birthday suit.
I stretched out my arm to the wooden frame and missed.
I can remember a lot of lughter from behind the door, then a great shattering sound of splintered glass, more laughter which then sudddenly changed to silence. Smiling faces became ashen.
I looken down to see glass all over the floor, and then saw my left arm. A six inch flat had been sliced to reveal white shinny bone, and higher up a four inch gash also to the bone. I had no pain.
As I looked at the bare flesh it quickly began to turn red, and then to drip blood onto the floor. My brother was lead off to sit down while other sensible people called an ambulance. While waiting for them I had to get some of my clothes back on. With my left arm in the air to try to stem the blood flow i out on my underpant. i gave uo with the rest. Fortunately all function was present and correct. I had missed any major nerves or arteries, and no other exposed part of my anatomy had been damaged.
The ambulance took me to casualty, and the poor registrar was got out of bed. i remember how meticulous he was. The adrenalin pumpng through me had made me high and I was jabbering away to the nurse, telling how I'd been accepted to medical school, what we'ed been up to and all sorts of nonsense until eventually she say 'I think it would be better if we just had quiet while the doctor finishes off'. I got hte message and shut up.
My parents came to see me later that day. Dad had to be given a chair to sit down. Few words were said as the space between anger and relief has no words.
I was in hospital for a week, and had become a legend at school. Jack Addy the teacher in charge of the 'special paper' had come in to see how I was, and thinly disguised his 'disappointment' with me not taking the paper more seriously. As for my friends I got lots of visitors and was briefly a hero.
I don't know what happened to Grahams parents front door. I assume it got mended. Grahams parents never spoke to me again
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Castles and Queens in Mid-Devonshire
Some of my friends have said my blogs are too long. Actually it's not 'some' of my friends, it's Jonny Oldham. His attention span is clearly very short, and let's be fair, he's not very bright. So I'll keep it short this time and talk very slowly.
Down in Devon on Saturday morning, we woke up to The Western Morning News (voice of the West Country since 1860) declaring front page news that a great offer was starting today. 2-for-1 West country cream teas, details inside. I didn't bother to read the article. David Miliband had given them an exclusive interview, and in a scoop asked whether it is to be 'the end of the road for speed cameras?' I didn't read these either.
1 e4 c5; 2 Nf3 Nc6; 3 Bb5 Nf6; 4 Nc3 Qc7; 5 d3 d6; 6 0-0 e6; 7 Bxc6+ Qxc6; 8 e5 Nd7; 9 d4 d5; 10 a4 b6;11 Re1 h6; 12 Ne2 a6.
Once we'd woken up and taken in this amazing news, we set off for a walk on Dartmoor. Not too strenuous you understand, just enough to make us feel we deserved a lunchtime pint and lunch.
13 h4 Bb7; 14 c3 c4; 15 a5 bxa5; 16 Rxa5 Qb6; 17 Ra1 a5; 18 Nf Bc6; 19 Nh2 Nb8; 20 Qh5 Bd7; 21 Re3 Ra7; 22 Rg3 Qb3; 23 Qe2 Ba4; 24 Nh5 Qc2; 25 Qe1 Rh7
The Devonshire countryside is quite beautiful, with it's undulating hills, green fields and tree lined roads. We were expecting rain but none came. Egg ham and chips and a couple of pints and we were all pretty tired.
26 Ng4 Nd7; 27 Ne3 Qb3; 28 Bd2 g6; 29 Nf4 Be7; 30 Qb1 Bxh4; 31 Rh3Be7; 32 Nxg6 fxg6; 33 Qxg6+Rf7
Then it's back to Ade and Sue's for an afternoon nap. Up again and me and Ade do a bit of business talk while we are still sensible. Then it's time for dinner and wine. Couple of bottles of bubbly, a Chablis, and bottles of red.
After dinner its conversation, TV and games. Only this time I decide to challenge the others to a game of chess. Sue needs to go to bed as up early for work.
34 Rf3 Bf6; 35 Rxf6 Nxf6; 36 exf6 Kd8; 37 Ra3 Qb5; 38 Ng4 Rad7; 39 Ne5 Qxb2; 40 Nxf7+
I do pretty well to start with, attacking, confident, and decisive. The two of them are a bit undecided on tactics, but play safe. Although they are white and have started, they fall behind as I go one Castle up, following a cunningly devised trap. There can be no way back for them now. I'm starting to prepare my winners speech. Gradually the wine and over-confidence start to take over and then two fatal mistakes. For no reason whatsoever I hand over one of my Castles. Never mind, back to level pegging, and really I'm in a much stronger position. No problem, my Queen is controlling the board. Couple more moves, and why the hell did I do that? I've lost my Queen, just didn't notice that Bishop. Must have been in my blind spot, or just careless.
It's hopeless. Black resigns
Meanwhile back in 1974, on midsummer night, more or less, the sun had risen on the end of school party. The remaining few were wondering what to do now. The Tams had just finished 'Be young, be foolish, but be happy'. We were.
So we decided to go for a streak.
Down in Devon on Saturday morning, we woke up to The Western Morning News (voice of the West Country since 1860) declaring front page news that a great offer was starting today. 2-for-1 West country cream teas, details inside. I didn't bother to read the article. David Miliband had given them an exclusive interview, and in a scoop asked whether it is to be 'the end of the road for speed cameras?' I didn't read these either.
1 e4 c5; 2 Nf3 Nc6; 3 Bb5 Nf6; 4 Nc3 Qc7; 5 d3 d6; 6 0-0 e6; 7 Bxc6+ Qxc6; 8 e5 Nd7; 9 d4 d5; 10 a4 b6;11 Re1 h6; 12 Ne2 a6.
Once we'd woken up and taken in this amazing news, we set off for a walk on Dartmoor. Not too strenuous you understand, just enough to make us feel we deserved a lunchtime pint and lunch.
13 h4 Bb7; 14 c3 c4; 15 a5 bxa5; 16 Rxa5 Qb6; 17 Ra1 a5; 18 Nf Bc6; 19 Nh2 Nb8; 20 Qh5 Bd7; 21 Re3 Ra7; 22 Rg3 Qb3; 23 Qe2 Ba4; 24 Nh5 Qc2; 25 Qe1 Rh7
The Devonshire countryside is quite beautiful, with it's undulating hills, green fields and tree lined roads. We were expecting rain but none came. Egg ham and chips and a couple of pints and we were all pretty tired.
26 Ng4 Nd7; 27 Ne3 Qb3; 28 Bd2 g6; 29 Nf4 Be7; 30 Qb1 Bxh4; 31 Rh3Be7; 32 Nxg6 fxg6; 33 Qxg6+Rf7
Then it's back to Ade and Sue's for an afternoon nap. Up again and me and Ade do a bit of business talk while we are still sensible. Then it's time for dinner and wine. Couple of bottles of bubbly, a Chablis, and bottles of red.
After dinner its conversation, TV and games. Only this time I decide to challenge the others to a game of chess. Sue needs to go to bed as up early for work.
34 Rf3 Bf6; 35 Rxf6 Nxf6; 36 exf6 Kd8; 37 Ra3 Qb5; 38 Ng4 Rad7; 39 Ne5 Qxb2; 40 Nxf7+
I do pretty well to start with, attacking, confident, and decisive. The two of them are a bit undecided on tactics, but play safe. Although they are white and have started, they fall behind as I go one Castle up, following a cunningly devised trap. There can be no way back for them now. I'm starting to prepare my winners speech. Gradually the wine and over-confidence start to take over and then two fatal mistakes. For no reason whatsoever I hand over one of my Castles. Never mind, back to level pegging, and really I'm in a much stronger position. No problem, my Queen is controlling the board. Couple more moves, and why the hell did I do that? I've lost my Queen, just didn't notice that Bishop. Must have been in my blind spot, or just careless.
It's hopeless. Black resigns
Meanwhile back in 1974, on midsummer night, more or less, the sun had risen on the end of school party. The remaining few were wondering what to do now. The Tams had just finished 'Be young, be foolish, but be happy'. We were.
So we decided to go for a streak.
Saturday, 24 July 2010
The Family
Yes, me and Tim are down in Devon for the weekend. Ade's fiftieth birthday was on Tuesday so we're down to put a bit of a dampener on things. Literally, they say it's going to rain cats and dogs. Adrian and Sue do indeed have cats and a dog, but no sign of rain so far I'm pleased to say.
The weekend began with us arriving last night. Reasonable drive down Friday night with relatively little hold ups. Met them in Winkleigh and back to theirs for food, wine, 'Trivial Pursuits' and trivial pursuits. It's started well, but what's going to happen next I wonder?
What happens when the music stops?
That is what we were also thinking on mid-summer night in 1974. What do we do now?
We had had a fun night. We had literally danced the night away. At the height of the evening we were all joining in with 'Schools out' and bouncing around to 'Come on Eileen', and busting moves to tunes like Dianna Ross's 'chain reaction' and of course my brother's favourite 'Midnight train to Georgia'. People have asked afterwards if we were dunk. Well we really weren't. There was little to drink at the party anyway, and for some reason Graham's parents had locked all theirs away. We were high though. No not that sort of high. We were good Grammar School boys and girls. We were a wholesome high, giddy and wanting the night to last for ever.
Actually the really sensible ones had gone home, the boys with girlfriends, the girls without boyfriends, leaving mostly the boys without girlfriends. I can't remember, but if Maria had been there she had long gone home. We certainly didn't want to repeat the farcical performance outside her house when I brought her home at one minute past eleven, a couple of weeks earlier.
I hesitate to joke about it even now. Maria was Italian, her family was Sicilian. She had been introduced to us all through her brother, who was at our school and a fabulous footballer. Maria was beautiful, and we were 'going out'. At that age and time, going out meant meeting up in town for a couple of hours at El Greco's or where ever. Maria had to be back by eleven. So that night I drove her back ever so slightly late. There at the gate, in the dark, with a street light behind him, was a stocky, angry Sicilian. 'Don't worry', my passenger reassured me. 'I'll explain' she said.
She didn't really get a chance to explain, for before I could put on the hand break, the drivers side door was flung open and I was hauled out. A diminutive Italian, arm waving and battering about my covered up head, was shouting in a strange language. I don't know what he was saying, it was a stream of, what I presumed, was Italian. I think he probably meant to say 'I'd be grateful if you wouldn't mind awfully bring my daughter back at the appointed hour next time', but it could have been much worse. Come to think of it it probably was worse, as there was Maria, also battering him and shouting stuff in Italian and screaming. It wasn't proper fighting you understand, we might as well have had pillow cases. I can only imagine the sight of two people hitting each other, with the third crouching under his protecting arms, shouting 'get off, get off' silhouetted against the night sky with Italian expletives and duck down filling in the air.
It stopped in the end and I drove off.
We laughed about it later. In fact I quite liked to old man after a while. He even asked me to join a game of poker with him one afternoon, and lent a fiver. After the game he said I could keep it. Wow.
He never said 'welcome to the family' though. Perhaps that's just as well
The weekend began with us arriving last night. Reasonable drive down Friday night with relatively little hold ups. Met them in Winkleigh and back to theirs for food, wine, 'Trivial Pursuits' and trivial pursuits. It's started well, but what's going to happen next I wonder?
What happens when the music stops?
That is what we were also thinking on mid-summer night in 1974. What do we do now?
We had had a fun night. We had literally danced the night away. At the height of the evening we were all joining in with 'Schools out' and bouncing around to 'Come on Eileen', and busting moves to tunes like Dianna Ross's 'chain reaction' and of course my brother's favourite 'Midnight train to Georgia'. People have asked afterwards if we were dunk. Well we really weren't. There was little to drink at the party anyway, and for some reason Graham's parents had locked all theirs away. We were high though. No not that sort of high. We were good Grammar School boys and girls. We were a wholesome high, giddy and wanting the night to last for ever.
Actually the really sensible ones had gone home, the boys with girlfriends, the girls without boyfriends, leaving mostly the boys without girlfriends. I can't remember, but if Maria had been there she had long gone home. We certainly didn't want to repeat the farcical performance outside her house when I brought her home at one minute past eleven, a couple of weeks earlier.
I hesitate to joke about it even now. Maria was Italian, her family was Sicilian. She had been introduced to us all through her brother, who was at our school and a fabulous footballer. Maria was beautiful, and we were 'going out'. At that age and time, going out meant meeting up in town for a couple of hours at El Greco's or where ever. Maria had to be back by eleven. So that night I drove her back ever so slightly late. There at the gate, in the dark, with a street light behind him, was a stocky, angry Sicilian. 'Don't worry', my passenger reassured me. 'I'll explain' she said.
She didn't really get a chance to explain, for before I could put on the hand break, the drivers side door was flung open and I was hauled out. A diminutive Italian, arm waving and battering about my covered up head, was shouting in a strange language. I don't know what he was saying, it was a stream of, what I presumed, was Italian. I think he probably meant to say 'I'd be grateful if you wouldn't mind awfully bring my daughter back at the appointed hour next time', but it could have been much worse. Come to think of it it probably was worse, as there was Maria, also battering him and shouting stuff in Italian and screaming. It wasn't proper fighting you understand, we might as well have had pillow cases. I can only imagine the sight of two people hitting each other, with the third crouching under his protecting arms, shouting 'get off, get off' silhouetted against the night sky with Italian expletives and duck down filling in the air.
It stopped in the end and I drove off.
We laughed about it later. In fact I quite liked to old man after a while. He even asked me to join a game of poker with him one afternoon, and lent a fiver. After the game he said I could keep it. Wow.
He never said 'welcome to the family' though. Perhaps that's just as well
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
1974
Graham's house was down the hill for the Horse and Jockey. So we gathered there first for a few drinks. Not all of us were yet eighteen, but in any case we had got used to going into pubs by then. The Zetland, in town opposite the Poly, was where we normally met. It was a cellar bar and all the young things from Huddersfield gathered there on Friday nights to meet up with friends or chat up girls. Not tonight though. Tonight we had gone out to Lindley for a party.
1974 was a year rather like this year. We had had a general election which, by the way, had politicised many of us. Ted Heath had called it in the hope of gaining a stronger majority, banking on public sympathy for the government against the unions. Anyway it backfired with the result that we had a hung parliament. Only this time it was a Labour Prime Minister, with the Liberals propping him up. I couldn't vote yet, but some of my friends did. The sixth form common room had been a hotbed of political debate.
It was also a world cup year. England had failed before it even got going, they hadn't qualified. Holland lost in the final, this time to West Germany, the hosts. The team of Johan Cruyff and total football fluffed their lines in the last game, and missed their place in history.
1974 was also the year when streaking first came to public attention, as it were. Who can remember Michael O'Brien? No? Well he was the first known streaker at a major sporting event when on April 20, 1974, he ran out naked onto the ground of an England vs. France game at Twickenham. You think it was Erica Roe, but she wasn't until 1982 and it was against Australia at cricket.
The Bay City Rollers had four songs in the charts, along with Marc Boland, David Bowie, The Chi-Lites, Cockney Rebel, Eric Clapton, Showaddywaddy and so many others. These were the soundtrack of our sixth form and of our youth. We danced to them every Friday night at the Tennis Club disco.
Tonight was to mark the end of that carefree life, the end of school. So we were out to enjoy it, and to make it last as long as possible. Everyone who was anyone was there, except I don't remember Maria being there. Soon we would be doing summer jobs, then dispersing to universities, and although we would pledge to be friends for ever, it didn't happen like that.
1974 was a year rather like this year. We had had a general election which, by the way, had politicised many of us. Ted Heath had called it in the hope of gaining a stronger majority, banking on public sympathy for the government against the unions. Anyway it backfired with the result that we had a hung parliament. Only this time it was a Labour Prime Minister, with the Liberals propping him up. I couldn't vote yet, but some of my friends did. The sixth form common room had been a hotbed of political debate.
It was also a world cup year. England had failed before it even got going, they hadn't qualified. Holland lost in the final, this time to West Germany, the hosts. The team of Johan Cruyff and total football fluffed their lines in the last game, and missed their place in history.
1974 was also the year when streaking first came to public attention, as it were. Who can remember Michael O'Brien? No? Well he was the first known streaker at a major sporting event when on April 20, 1974, he ran out naked onto the ground of an England vs. France game at Twickenham. You think it was Erica Roe, but she wasn't until 1982 and it was against Australia at cricket.
The Bay City Rollers had four songs in the charts, along with Marc Boland, David Bowie, The Chi-Lites, Cockney Rebel, Eric Clapton, Showaddywaddy and so many others. These were the soundtrack of our sixth form and of our youth. We danced to them every Friday night at the Tennis Club disco.
Tonight was to mark the end of that carefree life, the end of school. So we were out to enjoy it, and to make it last as long as possible. Everyone who was anyone was there, except I don't remember Maria being there. Soon we would be doing summer jobs, then dispersing to universities, and although we would pledge to be friends for ever, it didn't happen like that.
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